Work Text:
Miki turned the gear of the bike she was working on one final time before putting down her wrench and breathing out a light sigh.
“Your knees must hurt a lot, Miki-chan,” Aya, leaning across a toolbench a few feet away, offered non-chalantly. Ever since Miki had been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, Aya found herself worried sick about whether or not hours spent crouching or kneeling would be too much for her girlfriend. But she would never admit that; as Miki had put it once, “It’s not like you to be so doting, Aya.”
“I’m fine,” Miki straightened, grabbing the bike in front of her to pull herself up onto her feet, “You really don’t have to worry about me, Aya.”
“You should use honorifics when we’re at work.” Aya grunted, her eyes gliding away from Miki.
“We?” Miki laughed, “Last I checked, I’m the only one who works here.”
Aya reddened and grunted again, folding her arms in frustration but saying nothing.
“Oh, okay, there’s my grouch…” Miki took a step towards Aya, extending a hand towards her, only to catch air; Aya had moved away.
“I’m not a grouch! I just like things being more formal.”
Miki sighed heavily. “Fine,” she turned away, busying herself with her apron as she wiped the grease off her hands and removed the garment, hanging it up for the night. “I’m heading home, Aya-chan. Are you still coming around tonight?”
“Wouldn’t you rather rest?” the question came out before Aya could stop it, though she instantly regretted posing it. Miki had stopped dead in her tracks, fingers folded into half-lax fists, and turned around to face Aya again. Aya could see how tired Miki was like that; how tired she’d made her.
“Yeah,” Miki echoed, “I guess I would.”
Miki threw back her head and swallowed her water quickly, feeling the pill she was trying to drown catch and lump in her throat, the feeling of it staying there even as the object itself went down. She frowned and put down the glass with a slam; she’d always hated taking the myriad of pills RA had gifted her. She’d always hated the feeling of swallowing things whole.
Sighing, she moved out of the kitchen into the living room, where she flopped down onto the waiting couch face-first, letting her body sink into its leather fabric.
Her brother wouldn’t be home with dinner for two hours, time she was supposed to be doing her homework with. And yet…
Heaving herself up, she reclined against the back of the couch and reached for the remote scattered a few feet away from herself, turning on the TV. Flipping through the channels non-chalantly, she scanned for something that would interest her, anything at all. As long as she didn’t have to do homework.
This would be more fun if Aya was around. Things were always more fun that way; the girls could watch one of those cheesy romantic comedies Aya loved, compare themselves to it, or compete in a video game, or cuddle and talk and laugh for hours and hours. Anything but homework.
Then again, that was before. Before Miki’s diagnosis. Before the first time they’d been together during a flare and Aya saw Miki at what she liked to think of as her worst. Aya had changed, since then. Had become distant, hyper-responsible. Treating Miki less like her girlfriend and more like a porcelain doll. Miki made a face thinking about it; she hated the thought of criticizing Aya, especially since she knew that Aya was just worried. But did she have to deal with it in such a catastrophic way?
I may be disabled, but that doesn’t mean I can’t look after myself! Miki flopped back down onto her back, sighing to herself in frustration.
Maybe they just needed a break, until she found her rhythm a little…
The phone rang suddenly, and she heaved herself up, feeling a strain in her wrists as she did. She’d have to remember to stop putting so much weight on them. Rushing over to the phone, she picked up the receiver and muttered a breathless greeting.
“Miki?” Aya’s voice came shaky over the other line.
“Oh.” Miki sighed out in relief, “Hey, Aya—Or should I say Aya-chan?”
There was silence on the other line. Miki felt a flash of irritation sear across her chest; had Aya called her for nothing? Was she just going to pretend like everything was normal, that this was normal for them?
“You have a right to be mad,” came the final answer, sounding heavy and defeated, “And I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for being formal and cross with me in the shop, or sorry for something else?” Miki tried to temper her voice; at least, she told herself she did, later on, that she had, so that the roaring, cutting tone with which she’d spoke didn’t seem as mean when she was reflecting on it, regretting it, long after they’d hung up on each other.
“What else is there?”
Miki didn’t say anything else, only stared into space incredulously, unable to do anything but listen to the static of Aya’s erratic breathing. Hold… Hold… Deep exhale. Hold… Hold… Deep exhale...
“Miki?”
“Good night, Aya-chan.” Miki gripped the phone tighter, “I have some homework to do.”
“Miki, wait—“
She still wasn’t sure what convinced her to keep holding the phone to her ear, to make an audible sigh so that Aya knew she was still listening. Normally, she would have hung up immediately after deciding that that was what she’d needed to do. But she supposed that was part of love’s magic; it convinced you to do almost instinctively things you wouldn’t otherwise so much as think of.
“I’m sorry for treating you so preciously, okay?” Aya spoke slowly first, picking up speed as she continued, “I’m just so incredibly in love with you, I never want to hurt you or for you to get hurt. And I know you can take care of yourself, it’s just… You’re always so go-go-go, and the articles I read on RA said that could be a bad thing, and I’m afraid that if I don’t slow you down, one day you’ll be forced to, and then where will you be… Where will we be…”
“We’re gonna be where we are,” Mikki cut Aya off, her voice edged with firmness. “It’s simple as that. I love you and I’m not going anywhere and I can take care of myself. I appreciate the concern, but in this huge amount? Aya, I’m not the one who’s changed or gone anywhere—you are. You’ve changed a lot, and you never needed to.”
She paused to breathe, shallowly enough so that she could hear Aya gasping through an emerging sob on the other end of the line. She softened.
“All right, all right… How about you come on over here? Bring your favourite movies. Remember when we used to have movie nights? And we would wear our pajamas and eat sweets together? How about that?”
“O-Okay.” Aya’s voice crackled, “I’ll be over in half an hour.”
“I know,” Miki returned warmly, her heart suddenly beginning to pound nervously in her chest, “I’ll be waiting for you.”
They fell asleep together that night, a romantic comedy playing in the background just like old days, just like always. Aya, surprisingly, loved romantic films. Just one of those small things, Miki supposed, that made Aya such a marvel; her taste in films didn’t lie ‘below’ her tough exterior. In fact, it was a part of it, if it interfered at all. Aya was just Aya. Completely genuine.
Perhaps that was what had scared Miki so much. If even tough, genuine Aya was so concerned for her, how did others see her? As pitiable? Incapable?
Breaking?
She didn’t want to think about that; after spending all night with the girl she loved, being reassured, reassuring, she was ready to discard those opinions. She knew she wasn’t any of those things. And so did Aya, deep down; she was just scared. And Miki was no stranger to fear.
“Miki?” a hushed whisper jerked Miki from her drowsy thoughts. She turned over to face Aya, a lazy smile spreading instinctively on her face.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Aya was looking beyond Miki, to the wall behind them, her hands clasped in front of her. “And… I love you.”
“I know. I love you, too.” Miki pulled herself closer to her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around Aya’s hips and kissing her on the forehead. “I mean it. We’re gonna be okay."