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“Please just belong to me.”
Ayumu has Yuu’s leg locked between her own, and Yuu’s entire body shaking beside her. Her arm lies just beneath her best friend’s chin, and she can feel the tension in every breath Yuu takes. It’s so overwhelming, the weight of those wishes keeping her locked atop Yuu’s bed and the weight of Yuu’s own dreams trying to push her away. But Yuu herself is so gentle, she doesn’t even fight her.
It takes everything for Ayumu not to bawl her eyes out and stain Yuu’s bedsheets with those painfully honest emotions stirring within her. And something in the back of her mind is deriding her for even thinking such a thing. She wasn’t supposed to show the hurt. A true idol wouldn’t let it show, would she? She’d smile in the face of it and laugh it off and the audience’s applause would settle everything. Right…? That’s what Setsuna would do. That’s what anyone else would do.
Yuu rolls onto her side and places both arms around Ayumu. She squeezes. To be held like this… is so comforting. But it stings. It’s the bitter aftertaste left behind that she can’t stand. And the feeling of Yuu’s breaths calmly brushing her cheek.
Yes, just like this… Please, let us stay like this forever.
Ayumu Uehara doesn’t ask for much. She would be satisfied with just one fan, as long as that fan was Yuu. Yuu gave her the courage to be an idol, so it’s thanks to her that she can chase this dream. But… what’s the point of a dream if dearest won’t see it through with her…?
Her… dearest… friend…
“Ayumu, I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand.”
That’s right. What is she thinking? Why does she care this much if Yuu is there for everyone, if Yuu’s eyes aren’t only on her? She’s been wondering this whole time, why it bothered her so much to see Setsuna clinging to her that evening. But there is no sensible answer, just a gnawing feeling in Ayumu’s chest of losing something so dear to her. Why did Setsuna… no, not just Setsuna. Why did the entire School Idol club have to steal her away?
And why can’t I just accept it…?
Sickening, so sickening. There’s something sincerely wrong with her. It’s so wonderful to be so close, but why? Why does being hugged by Yuu make her feel so warm? Why does it hurt so much to imagine Yuu hugging anyone else like this? That part of Ayumu that hates herself so much whispers from within. Disgusting, it says with such vitriol.
Ayumu rustles against the bed. She knows she should say something, at least explain what she’s feeling, help Yuu understand. But that would require herself to understand. She lifts her head from where it’s been glued to the sheets and releases the lock she’s had around Yuu’s foot. In the corner of her eye, she can see a glint in Yuu’s eyes. Yuu looks at her in such a tender manner, as if admiring everything about her. Ayumu loves how Yuu always calls her cute. She wants to hear it again and again, and more than that.
She catches the faintest glimpse of Yuu’s lips. Her tender smile shining in the summer moon’s faint light. That smile which has been supporting her all along.
But she’s not focused on that smile. It’s something else.
For a moment, she allows herself to imagine it. Another world, where they’re together, just like this. And she imagines, Yuu looks into her, and sees what she desires. And she imagines how lovely it would be to feel that. To be accepted, and reciprocated. To kiss the one she wishes for most.
She’s so disgusted by her own feelings.
Rather than words, she can only make the faintest squeak of shame, trapped somewhere inside her throat as she forces herself away. She pulls with all the strength Yuu has helped her build up and pries herself from Yuu’s arms. And the stamina comes in handy when she rushes out of Yuu’s apartment, fumbling her way through the door and instantly diving directly back into her own bed.
Pitiful, pitiful, pitiful. A sorry excuse for a school idol. How could Ayumu dare call herself an idol -- how could she even call herself Yuu’s friend after that? School idols aren’t supposed to fall in love. Not with anyone. But especially not with another girl. Not with her best friend.
That’s all Ayumu could think as she stuffed herself between her blankets and pillows and finally allowed herself to cry, finally allowed the feelings to spill themselves everywhere around her. As long as Yuu doesn’t see her, at least. As long as Yuu doesn’t ever have to see her again.
She couldn’t bear to see that smile
There’s no escaping it. Tomorrow will surely come, and tomorrow she’ll have to find an excuse. “Haha, sorry. Just pretend that never happened.” or “Forget what I said last night. It was just a misunderstanding.” But Yuu is too perceptive, she pays too careful attention to those around her and has always -- until recently -- focused that attention on Ayumu. She’d surely see right through the lie and ask what was really bothering her.
She reaches for her nightstand -- the least she could do is apologize -- but soon realizes that her phone is not there. It’s still on the floor beside Yuu’s, or maybe Yuu has picked it up by now but either way that means Ayumu has no way to contact her, no way to confront her or say something to get out of that confrontation.
There’s a knock at her door. It’s gentle enough to not disturb the neighbors, but she can still hear it clearly. Her heart won’t calm down, it’s trying to escape her chest because there is nobody in the world who would be knocking for her at this hour besides the one person she absolutely cannot see right now. Yuu is so kind, she’s probably here to drop her phone off but there’s no way she can see that face. It would destroy what little is left of her.
Tonight, Ayumu Uehara will cry herself to sleep. She will ignore the rapping on her apartment door, trying so hard to forget everything she said, everything she did and everything she felt. She will keep thinking of how disgusted she is in herself for being like this. It’s her first time -- the first time she’s ever hated herself for being a lesbian, the first time she’s ever acknowledged that part of her. The first time she’s mouthed the word to herself, quietly under her pillow, carrying a sense of confusion along with the motion. Tonight, it will hurt. It will hurt like nothing she’s ever felt, like being stabbed and slowly feeling the sharpness within her chest.
Tonight, there’s no escaping the weight of her desire, her wishes.
…
Perhaps tomorrow will be brighter.