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“Alright, you can drop the act now. Something’s bothering you.” Michiru’s voice was sympathetic but stern. Nothing got past her, especially when it came to her partner.
Haruka sighed, pushing long fingers through sandy hair and rubbing the back of her neck, an anxious reaction she’d developed when Michiru probed her to open up.
“Ruka,” the artist said softly. “Stop walking.” They were in the middle of the park, and the sun hung low, painting the sky in vibrant and saturated oranges and yellows. Michiru reached up, the frustratingly tall wind warrior a head above her, and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before brushing her fingers over her cheekbone, settling her palm against her face. The blonde instinctively leaned into it, eyelids briefly fluttering shut. A pair of high school sweethearts, represented by their green and red uniforms that indicated their intellect and talent.
They’d been on their way back to the racer’s dorm—though it was Haruka’s in name only. Really, the two shared the space, acting less like high school students and more like a young married couple. The thought always made Michiru smile softly. A couple of teenagers they appeared, though no one could see the weight of the thousands of years apart that hung heavy on their shoulders. Slowly, as their memories returned, so did the age old ache, leading the two to become inseparable—to make up for all those years apart.
It was been a nice day, and one they’d thought would grant them mercy; which wasn’t the case, unfortunately. Former friend of the pair and talented competitor of Haruka, Elsa Gray had been the newest target of the Death Busters. Though defeating Eudial’s daimon had been a pinch, the encounter left the two of them deeply unsettled—they’d brought Elsa for tea after, hoping to soothe their own consciences, but it did little to ease their minds—which Michiru had a feeling was the reason for Haruka’s heavy mood.
“Elsa… not only is she someone who we both know personally but… she’s got a heart as pure as they come. I’m just—I’m overthinking,” Haruka laughed dryly. Attempting to brush it off. Michiru had spent so long, eons and eons, learning to peel back the monarch of Uranus’ thick armor, that the attempt hardly fazed her.
“Haruka,” Michiru murmured the blonde’s name, the shape of the words familiar and gentle rolling off her tongue. Her hand left her cheek and reached down to hold her partner’s hands. A gesture she knew had a soothing effect on her wind soldier, she held Haruka’s hands between her palms. She never got tired of the feeling of their hands together, fitting so perfectly like everything else. Haruka’s hands her larger than hers, but soft—almost like a child’s hands. A lump formed in Michiru’s throat. She remembered a time when these hands were scarred and rough. She should savor this.
“What?” The great warrior of Uranus asked softly, some of the tension having already left her voice. That was good, and Michiru resisted the urge to kiss her right there.
“When the time comes—”
“Don’t.”
“No. When the time comes, I’m going to make sure I do it. I won’t let you.” Her voice was firm and decided as her deep turquoise eyes met stormy gray.
“That’s not what I meant,” Haruka murmured, voice low and small, the way it got frequently when the topic of their duty arose.
“I know. But its what I mean.”
“Don’t,” Haruka repeated, ducking her head and letting her bangs hang over her eyes.
Michiru wanted to lift her chin with her hand but opted to keep their hands together, so she gave her companion a comforting squeeze between her palms.
“I have to—and you have to let me. If not for yourself, for me. I feel… I feel like I have to.” She chewed her lip. She’d slipped, but it was the truth anyway. A lousy reason for sure, but the truth nonetheless. “I forced this up—”
“Michiru.” It was Haruka’s turn to be firm. “You know how much I hate when you say that—and you know its wrong too. Don’t try and correct me. Please.” The twinge of desperation made Michiru’s heart ache.
“My mind’s made up. I have to be the one to bear the burden,” she shook her head, struggling to maintain eye contact. “I'm going to be the one to bear the burden.”
“This sounds like a goodbye,” Haruka’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“It’s not. It’s another promise.” And one she knew she could keep, but she didn’t say it. “Whatever I can do for you… I have to.”
Whether or not the blonde felt the weight of her words was unknown to the violinist, but she must’ve understood something, because she replied by pressing her forehead to Michiru’s. Another one of their gestures, one that had become so achingly familiar, that never ceased to ease the thoughts of the outer guardians. When they’d first begun to feel the rush of memories, they’d discovered that pressing their foreheads together soothed the splitting pain that their remembrance brought, and the two fell into the habit of doing it whenever they got upset.
They stood there hand and hand and heads together for who knows how long, but it was nothing compared to the time they’d stood apart. Such fleeting time on earth, and each day brought a new threat. There was no rush. The sun dipped even lower and the sky darkened behind their closed eyelids.
“I love you,” Haruka broke the silence first, words tumbling from her mouth. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, and Michiru knew it wouldn’t be the last, but every time without fail it brought fluttering to her stomach.
“I love you too,” the deep sea guardian replied, pulling her head away and opening her eyes.
“I wish there were more I could do for you,” the wind guardian muttered, laughing softly.
The artist raised her brows. “Like what?”
“Like—I don’t know. You’re so good at these things. You always know what to say. You know—words and stuff,” she mumbled in reply, ducking her head again.
Michiru giggled, and lifted herself on her tip toes to plant a kiss on her partner’s cheek. “So eloquent,” she teased.
“See? Like that. You’re so… you know what to say to me.”
It puzzled Michiru, the way Haruka thought she should repay her or act similarly—as if she didn’t understand just how much her being their meant.
It had been so lonely, and watching Haruka from afar--it had eaten away at the young artist. Learning that it was she, Haruka Tenoh, who was her destined partner, overjoyed her, and she remembered feeling sick about it. She shouldn't be happy to see another suffer the same fate she did, be forced to give up her life for the sake of the world. And yet, Michiru couldn't quite put a damper on her happiness, hoping that one day they'd be together. Of course, she'd never directly admitted this, as much as it pained her-- it was still embarrassing, selfish, and shameful in the eyes of the artist. And yet, she couldn't stop herself from wanting to pour her heart out right then and there, in the middle of the park. .
“You, being here with me—its all I could ever ask of you. You’ve given up so much and I… a selfish part of me tells myself you did it for me. Because I… well, I didn’t want you to, but secretly, deep down—”
“You’re right,” Haruka interrupted, and pulled her hands from Michiru’s to wrap her arms around her waist and pull her closer, closing the already fleeting distance between them. The normally composed artist fumbled forward a bit, pressing her hands to Haruka’s chest and gripping her shoulders. "I did it for you. The same way you did it for me." With those words, she brushed her lips against her partners, asking permission before initiating anything.
“We’re—we’re out in the middle—we’re in public—" A rare occasion, for the sea warrior to be at a loss for words.
“So eloquent,” Haruka murmured against Michiru’s lips, before closing any remaining space completely. The violinist’s eyes flew open, not used to such public displays of affection, but melted into her touch, hands tangling in cropped sandy hair before she felt hands around her wrists.
“We’re in public!” the racer teased, and Michiru’s face warmed as she let out a deep breath.
“That’s what you do for me,” she breathed.
“Huh?” It was the blonde’s turn to raise her brows.
“That. Making me… get like that. Throwing all caution to the wind and just thinking to myself fuck it because I—I love you. More than anything in the universe.” To the wind, she almost laughed. It was true, she surrendered everything, all she was, to the wind-- to Haruka, guardian of the wind and heavens themselves.
Haruka blinked, a grin adorning her face as she was left with no choice but to kiss her again, before shortly pulling away.
“Lets go home before we give the tabloids something to lose their minds over,” Haruka laughed.
“I already feel the hostility from your fangirls—they might kill me for this one,” Michiru giggled in reply.
“You know I don’t care what they think.”
“I know.” I know you, she wanted to say, but left it unsaid. She knew she’d make it known later, once they’d reached their shared dorm.