Chapter Text
it rains for three days straight.
kumi supposes it's the heavens' way of emphasizing with her trying to cope with the news.
i'm happy for you, she told shiho. it's not exactly a lie. and maybe subconsciously, kumi knew this day would come. she just didn't think it'd come so soon.
"so...?" she hears a voice over the phone, "would you do it?"
"of course. it'll be an honor."
"yay! thank you so much. i guess that's why they call it maid of honor, huh."
"this is hardly the time to be funny, shiho. you're getting married. are you sure you're ready?"
"i don't know, but," she pauses, "but i love him."
i know.
there's a male fish in the deepest depth of the ocean that bites unto the female, latches on to her for survival and for mating, indefinitely, like a sperm-producing parasite.
that fish would look at shiho's relationship with takumi and say, "that's fucked up."
kumi really doesn't know what she saw in him. she's been with shiho long enough to name more than a dozen men her best friend has dated and she can definitively say that takumi is not the best-looking one by a large margin. for the first month of them dating, he was seeing several other women, shiho chucked it up to his spontaneous side as if infidelity was a personality trait and even now, newly engaged and all, he refuses to pick her up when they go out on a date because her apartment is "out of his way".
well, shiho is out of his league, but here we fucking are.
he also does this thing called never-admitting-you're-wrong, that drives shiho insane and when all is said and done, kumi is always the one left picking up the pieces.
(she will say that for a while, kumi reveled in it—the thought of shiho needing her after every fight—before realising that there's only so much screaming and crying shiho could handle. it was selfish, but it's nice to feel needed, until you're not.)
"hey, kumi?"
"yeah?" kumi replies as she snuggles closer to the dry side of her pillow, her phone resting on the dry side of her cheek.
"i really appreciate you going to the wedding. i know you're not biggest fan of takumi but i really want you there."
"i'm your best friend, silly. there's no way in hell i won't be there."
/
the next time they see each other, it's 40 degrees out, shiho is donning a turtleneck in the middle of the excruciating summer heat and kumi immediately knows what it means. she usually takes her time to admire shiho's face. her bangs have reached her eyes that she has to get them out of the way every five seconds. she's wearing a shade of lipstick that she doesn't really like but takumi said he prefers (what kind of man has a "preferred lipstick shade" for her girlfriend?).
"he still got you wearing that thing? didn't you say you hate that color?" kumi scoffs, "that brand tests on animals, katoshi!"
"i know, but," she says, "at the end of the day, he's the one who gets to taste it so,"
"you're so gross." kumi says, trying to get the picture of shiho getting kissed by that man-child she now calls her fiancé out of her head. her attention goes back to shiho's turtleneck.
"someone had an eventful evening," kumi spats, "he must be so impressive if he got you to take his last name."
shiho had the decency to blush, lightly nudging kumi's shoulder in embarrassment, "shut up."
they sit in the corner of the cafe where the air conditioner hits their table directly, kumi assumes shiho needs all the ventilation she can get. even without the wool on her torso, she tends to run hot.
"i think we should put a pin in buying the wedding dress." shiho says after the clerk leaves their drinks on the table and walks away, "unless they sell wedding scarfs, i can't have atelier employees looking at my neck in the fitting room and making up all kinds of stories in their heads."
kumi can't enjoy the thought of shiho in a wedding dress when she's bombarded with the thought of shiho with hickeys she's not responsible for. "you can say your fiancé put them there,"
"that's too much information already."
"it's probably not that bad."
"oh, please," shiho tugs the neckline of her top down and kumi sees the skin of her neck littered with purple marks that ends where her jaw begins and she wonders how shiho looked in the process of getting them. shiho's face start to turn bright red when kumi reaches a hand out to touch one.
"this one looks like it hurt," she says, pulling her hand away and keeping it busy by grabbing her iced coffee and start drinking it.
"it didn't," shiho breathes out, evading her eyes before pulling the sleeve up to hide it again. "i wish it did, then at least i'd feel something."
kumi almost chokes on her coffee, "what?"
"i can't even talk about it, it's so embarrassing."
"for you and me, both."
kumi is more than happy to drop the topic of shiho's sex life right there. it's one thing to gossip with your best friend about her parade of boyfriends and their... performances, it's another if you're in love with her.
but it just keeps getting brought up.
"takumi's picking me up for the first time ever," shiho exclaims, "we're going to the city hall to fill out some paperwork."
"wow, this is really happening... you're getting married." kumi mumbles, "you're getting married."
"i already heard the you're-not-ready speech a hundred times. i thought you're happy for me?"
i'm trying to be, " i am, i am," kumi sighs, "i just feel like you could do better, you know?"
shiho just kind of collapses in her chair and deflates, "yeah," she sighs, "okay, fine, i'm telling you about it."
"about what?"
"you have to promise me you're not gonna tell anyone else, okay?"
"i promise," and kumi anticipates, hoping for something like a signal, an admission of reluctance about the wedding, or an outside force that required them to get married, because another "because i love him," from shiho hits kumi's ears so wrong that she's jealous of van gogh.
"okay, here's the thing…"
/
it's a bad idea.
as the eldest in the room, she knows she should tell them it's bad idea. a fake kidnapping for shiho's bachelorette party is a non-starter. she already has enough topics to talk to a therapist about, kumi can't be the reason "being kidnapped by my friends" is going to be one of them.
"we are not kidnapping katoshi, okay? give me something else."
"no one said anything about any kidnapping," kyoko replies, "i just said put a bag over her head and stuff her in the trunk of your car on the way to the venue!"
"that's kidnapping 101, do you not hear yourself?" she raged, "come on, people, give me ideas!"
"what if—"
"everyone except kyoko, give me ideas."
"are we really brainstorming for her bachelorette party right now? we should be planning how to hijack the wedding." mirei chimes in.
"that's good but i'm surprised you know what hijack means," manafi says before beelining for kumi, "we thought you'd be the first one to be against this."
she invited her friends to her apartment to plan for shiho's bachelorette party.
(god, it's like she hates herself.)
there's a sliver of hope in the back of her mind that this wedding might not happen, but none of the potential reasons include shiho loving her back, so really, what's the point of her driving a wedge against this whole affair? in fact, she's already made a very detailed and thorough powerpoint presentation entitled, Why You Shouldn't Marry Him, but shiho is very adamant about tying the knot. aside from the groom being an asshole to waitstaff, and that he's made her bestfriend cry six times in the week leading up to their engagement, he's just straight up a terrible human being.
kumi could almost hear shiho's but i love him from here.
"what do you mean? shiho's getting married, we should support her." kumi says as she feigns confusion. their mutual friends might have known of her... attraction to shiho despite years of trying to suppress it, because when you're hit with the engagement news of the love of your life at 2 am via phone call so you invite everyone (except shiho) for a night out—and seven tequila shots later, you're crying in their arms—they tend to ask questions.
manafi rolls her eyes, "first of all, you're in love with her. second, her fiancé is a moron."
kumi likes to pride herself with how much shit she can handle. she's practically planning the wedding what with all the cake testing, choosing the centerpiece, hiring a band, making a wedding playlist, even helping shiho write her vows but she knows at some point she's gotta call time of death on the martyr act.
(to be fair, that wedding playlist was created ten years ago, with shiho in mind and kumi in the opposite side of the altar. no one questions legality if you only daydream it.)
"what if we kidnapped her fiancé instead?"
"kyoko, i swear to god,"
"look," yuka tells her, "you don't have to do this. all this planning and managing for a wedding that you don't even want to be at has got to be exhausting, even for you."
there's a framed photograph in her living room of shiho in a star wars convention. kumi was dressed as obi-wan kenobi that day, and shiho as darth vader. shiho wore that mask the entire day and no one knew who was underneath, but kumi did. every time she showed that picture to someone, they assume she just took a picture of a random cosplayer, or that she's obsessed with a fictional character, but kumi couldn't care less about darth vader. she just likes the metaphor of hiding something in plain sight for everyone to see, but it was shiho all along.
kumi sighs, "i'd rather be there and suffer than not be there all, because guess what, she's not gonna end the whole thing because i don't like it," she deflates , "because she loves him."
she hears a snicker from manafi saying, "wanna bet on it?" and she's quickly shushed by yuka.
she loves her friends but really, what the hell do they know about falling in love.
/
it's getting out of hand, which is funny because it's shiho's. the hands. shiho's hands are—
kumi can't even think straight, not that she ever did but there is an arm clutching tightly around her, and not that she's complaining, but her heart could take it down a notch a bit.
shiho has always been touchy, especially when drunk, but not like this. the hand on her waist is making it very difficult to maneuver through the dimly lit dance floor that is covered in confetti and booze, the music is too loud that shiho has to whisper in her ear and kumi almost slips and takes them both down when she feels shiho's breath against her skin. in her defense, kumi would want to get batshit drunk too if she's going to be marrying someone with dumbbells for brains but shiho supposedly loves him, if kumi counts the eleven times she's screamed it in between shots.
"you okay?" she asks, steadying the bride-to-be on the stool as she gestures to someone else for a glass of water, "it's only been twenty minutes and you're drunk already?"
"why are you not drunk?"
kumi barely remembers the last time that she got drunk but she knows there was sobbing and screaming and god, i love her so much, and she planned this party for a month; if shiho throws up in her face, it's going to be because of excessive drinking, not homophobia. "well, someone's gotta take you all home,"
shiho sighs and the stupid drunken smile on her faces disappears, "you're so reliable, kumi, and responsible, and intuitive, and," she hiccups, "such a rock and so kind and so good at cooking."
she's just babbling now and it's probably the liquor talking but kumi still blushes. thank god she paid extra for a light dimmer if it means shiho won't see the twinge of pink in her cheeks. she feels a finger jabbing on her chest repeatedly after every syllable, "you'd make such a good wife, kumi."
"oh, i don't know—"
"you would, you would! you'd be the best wife anyone could ever ask for!" she hiccups again, "if i didn't have takumi, i'd marry you in a heartbeat."
maybe i should've let kyoko kidnap him.
"that's just the tequila talking, where's that water i asked for—"
"no, no, no, i mean it," she drones on, but before kumi can feed her delusions, the head on her shoulder starts quaking, the grip on her waist get tighter, and there is a wet spot on her sleeve that was not there before, "i can't do this, kumi, i can't,"
she pulls shiho's face closer and she's crying, oh no, she's crying, and kumi may seem like she has her shit together but she never knew what to do every time shiho shows up on her door, cheeks flushed and flooded you'd think it was raining outside, and it hurt to see (and that, she sees quite often since takumi), but there was nothing else she could do except wipe her tears away and hold her long enough to calm her down.
and so she does, tighter than ever before.
"i can't do this, i really can't," shiho sobs, shaking her head, face cupped in the palm of kumi's hands, "i can't marry him."
"why?" kumi asks, and there it is again—the selfishness, the hope bubbling in the surface of her chest that she'd kept hidden underwater for so long, coming up for air at the slightest sign of survival. because of me? she wants to ask. and then there it went, as quickly as it came, and is replaced by guilt as she sees the look in shiho's eyes. she's afraid.
"i'm scared i'm gonna be a terrible wife. i can't do anything, kumi. i'm not like you who's always on top of your shit, i eat microwavable meals everyday! i bought this shirt i'm wearing today, you know why? because i haven't done laundry in two weeks! what kind of wife serves cup noodles and ready made meals to her family? what if takumi leaves me because i can't cook to save my life?"
right, of course. it was a silly thought, anyway.
"shiho, listen to me," she says, smiling as she wipes the tears on shiho's face, "you make the best gyōza."
that earns a laugh, "that's not fair, you eat everything i cook."
"yeah, because they're good! and don't worry about the house chores. you'll get the hang of it in no time, plus, what kind of a deadbeat husband would takumi be if he doesn't help out?" kumi fixes her hair, tugging strays to the back of her ear and pats shiho on the head, "you'll be a great wife."
as shiho composes herself, says thank you, you're such a good friend with a kiss on the cheek, kumi feels heat spiking up to her eyes and she regrets appointing herself as the designated driver, because now she really needs a drink.
and just like that, she's drowning again.