Work Text:
you know you need to get yourself to sleep and dream
a dream of you and i
there's no need to keep an open eye
i promise i'm the one for you
just let me hold you in these arms tonight
⚘
Kiyoko slips on her cardigan, and reaches up to pull her hair out of its bun. She searches for each, singular, bobby pin, placing them on the hardwood floor in front of her. A simple, black one, the tip of it painted silver. Tobio painted it when he was two, and Kiyoko’s still surprised it lasted this long. A section of hair falls out of place. One that’s painted a dusty pink, white polka dots lacing the top. Mother designed it with Tobio, sitting at the table, which remains splotched with paint even today. Another section. A red one, acrylic chipped off at the edge. Father. Another section.
She arranges them into a straight line, raising both arms behind her and pulling off the hair tie. Kiyoko huffs a sigh at the release, scalp aching tenderly. She picks up the bobby pins, leans over, and places them into her small pouch.
Kiyoko makes a move to stand up, gripping onto the bar on the side. The bruises on her thighs and arms stand out on her pale skin, muscles sore and pulling. Sunlight pours through the glass windows of the studio built in their backyard, dousing the place in gold. She grabs the duffle bag and places it on her shoulder, adjusting her black leotard under her cardigan. Kiyoko shuffles into her shoes, wincing slightly at the pain in her toes.
She slides the door open, stepping onto the grass, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. Kiyoko’s done with practice for today, and the only other things she has to do is take a shower, maybe sit at one of Tobio’s sessions.
And as dust dances beneath the sunlight of golden hour, green gardening gloves and waist length honey-blonde hair, Kiyoko is left reeling with no other thought nor intention other than to feel it beneath her fingers.
What?
Kiyoko doesn’t know exactly how to proceed though, and is left staring with her bag dangling off her shoulder, raising a hand to shield herself from the sun.
The woman is wearing a floppy sun hat, floral dress digging into the dirt beneath her knees as she prods at the flowers. She pats at the ground with delacance and gloves that are definitely much too big, haphazardly attempting to brush off her hair with a shrug of her shoulder.
Ah, Kiyoko knows, now.
Kiyoko plucks her pouch from the duffel, unzipping it and pulling out a hair tie, rolling it onto her wrist. She places her bag on the ground, bending down to put on her shoes properly. Trudging through the grass, Kiyoko mentally prepares herself for what she’s about to do.
As she moves close to the woman, her throat only closes farther, the air around her seemingly glowing with the hour. Kiyoko watches as the blonde grabs a packet of seeds from the basket beside her, then wiping her cheekbone with the back of her wrist, leaving a trail of dirt in its wake. Kiyoko tapped on her shoulder.
“I can tie your hair back, if you'd like.” Kiyoko gestured to the hair tie on her wrist as the woman faced her. She flushed bright red as she met her eyes, and Kiyoko’s lips quirked up. The woman stammered slightly, but nodded. Kiyoko hooked a finger beneath the string of her hat.
“May I?” The woman blinked.
“Ah, s-sure.”
Kiyoko lifted the string away from her face, then placed the hat on the grass beside her. The woman instinctively pushed her hair back behind her ear. Kiyoko shifted to be properly behind her, gently leaning one knee on the dirt. She raised both arms and brought all her hair back, separating it into three sections. She twisted the sections, forming a braid. It’s so soft beneath her fingers.
“Your hair is very long,” Kiyoko comments softly. The woman perks up.
“Ah! Yes, I’ve been growing it out for a while,” She said, fiddling with the ends of her gloves. Kiyoko reaches the end of the braid, rolling the hair tie off her wrist and tying it around the strands. She hummed in approval, picking up the hat and placing it back on top of her head. Kiyoko thumbed at her cheek, successfully wiping the dirt off.
“There,” Kiyoko breathed, watching in amusement as the red spread high on the woman’s cheeks and ears, crawling down her neck.
“U-um, thank you!” She exclaimed, her lashes fluttering against the sun.
“Of course. I’ll see you again tomorrow, I assume?” The woman blinked up at Kiyoko, her eyes widening at the question, then nodding her head. Kiyoko shot her a small smile, standing upright and moving back to where she dropped her duffel. She raised a hand to her mouth, smiling giddily. It was a little childish, yes, but- oh.
⚘
“I didn’t even get her name,” Kiyoko said, laying her head atop her knees. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her. A hum came from beside her.
“She said she’d be here tomorrow, right?” Tobio insinuated. The sound of a pencil scratching against paper filled the room.
“Well, yes.”
“Just ask her then,” Silence followed after, Tobio looking up from his sketchbook, mildly intrigued.
“Or,” Tobio reckoned. “You can just ask Mother. She’s probably the one that hired her.” Kiyoko ran her tongue against her teeth in contemplation.
“I’ll just ask her tomorrow.”
“That’s what I told you to do in the first place.” Kiyoko narrowed his eyes at Tobio.
“And how exactly is it going with the model?” Tobio’s expression shifted into a scowl, ears turning red. He looked down, pausing for a moment before speaking up.
“The little shit is beautiful but so insecure. He doesn’t make it obvious at all, but I can tell. I have no idea what to do about it, or how to even ask him to model for me in the first place. And he’s so irritating Kiyo, you have no idea. I can’t just go ask someone else- well. I mean I can but-” Kiyoko listened to him ramble on, and she had to stifle a smile at how clear it was. She had an idea as to how the situation was going to end.
She couldn’t say the same about her situation though, her harbouring crush on their new gardener. Kiyoko couldn’t really blame herself, despite having exchanged only a few words with her. She was beautiful, her endearing flusteredness and the way her fingers moved against the dirt and the flowers was an art form in and of itself.
Kiyoko was a little mad that she didn’t ask for her name or introduce herself, and also for just walking up to her completely disheveled from practice. It wasn’t that Kiyoko was unaware of her looks, she’s heard it from plenty of people, but the negative thoughts lingered. Was she flustered because that was just her nature? Or because I’m a part of the family she’s working for? Did she think the offer to tie her hair was strange? Was she even interested in women?
“Go take a shower. You look gross.”
Ah, well. She’d find out tomorrow.
⚘
Kiyoko realized as she was brushing her teeth the next morning that she had no idea what the gardener’s work schedule was, and had no idea what to do to find out. She refrained from asking her mother, because she knew that it would come with a barrage of sneaky questions and endless teasing. In fact, Kiyoko had kind of been avoiding her since yesterday, afraid she would take one look at Kiyoko’s face run up to her to ruffle her hair with affectionate cooing, squeeze her cheeks and go ‘oh look at my beautiful baby in loooveee’ or something of the sort.
It was what happened with Tobio, anyway.
He gave Mother the cold shoulder for maximum one hour, before giving into one slightly upset look from her.
Today was Kiyoko’s designated break day, her joints straining painfully as she stretched at the top of the staircase.
She ended up going to her studio anyway, definitely way too early in the morning, grabbing a small pack of fugashi and a box of strawberries and stuffing them into a bag with her. The studio was small, three walls lined with mirrors and the last entirely glass, including the door.
It was convenient for her, giving Kiyoko a full view of the almost obnoxiously large backyard. She brought her laptop with her, figuring she might as well search for a piece of music that piqued her interest for her next performance. Kiyoko choreographed most of her own work, so she had an idea of what she wanted to do for this one. Finding music wasn’t always difficult, but this time around she was struggling to find one that fit the idea in her mind.
After about an hour of searching with no luck, she closed her laptop and made way for the strawberries in her bag. Kiyoko hoped they were sweet, but if not, she brought other things. She turned to peer through the glass, and saw the woman come through the gates, basket in tow. She wasn’t wearing a hat this time, and the front section of her hair was dutch braided to the side. She was wearing a pink floral dress, a section cut out at the top. The tingling feeling of blood pulsing beneath Kiyoko’s finger’s ache for a chance to ghost them over her collarbones.
Kiyoko shot up to her feet, then paused as the woman went up to the hose perched against the cement on the side. Kiyoko figured she might as well let her do her job first, watching as she switched the mode on the hose to a much gentler one, after jumping at the high pressure at first.
Cute.
She fluidly raises the hose over the flowers, blooming or to be, and then Kiyoko’s world is all gold, green, and color.
Kiyoko’s patience has thinned out, and she swiftly makes for her bag, slides the door open, and steps onto the grass. She’s walking a little fast, maybe. Kiyoko is close enough, and taps her shoulder. She watches as her hands- ungloved this time- jolt and almost drop the hose, water still running. She turns to Kiyoko, honey in an ocean.
“A-ah! Um, good morning!” She smiles, all teeth and flushed cheeks and shoulders hunching, and Kiyoko reels, reels from the force.
Kiyoko smiles back.
“Good morning,” Kiyoko says. A gentle breeze flows up her skirt, goosebumps rising against the strangely unsettling warmth of it. She hears a little yelp, and the woman fumbles with the hose to turn it off. She bends down to pat at the dirt, bare skin pressing against it.
“Is everything alright?” Kiyoko questions. She tilts her head up to Kiyoko, then back down again. She traces a petal from a flower, a droplet of water clinging desperately to her finger before falling. She looks at the flowers as if they were the most valuable thing in her world.
“I can’t let them drown,” She says. “I can’t.”
Save me, Kiyoko thinks. Save me.
“Shimizu Kiyoko,” Kiyoko blurts, albeit suddenly. She snaps her head up, hair trailing after her. She blinks before flushing an even deeper shade of red, and oh she’s so close Kiyoko can just-
“Oh! Umm, nice to meet you, Shimizu-san!” She stutters, fiddling with the ends of her dress.
“Just Kiyoko is okay.” Her chin dips down, before picking up again. Her eyes crinkle at the sides.
“Yachi Hitoka,” She says, “J-just Hitoka is okay.”
Hitoka.
Kiyoko raises the bag in her hands.
“Alright then, Hitoka-chan.” Kiyoko jerks her head in the direction of the studio. “Strawberries?”
“Strawberries?” Hitoka tilts her head in confusion.
“Mhmm.” Kiyoko offers a hand to help her stand. “And fugashi.” Hitoka lets out a small gasp.
“Fugashi?! Really?” Hitoka slips her hand into Kiyoko’s, fingers curling around it, and the butterfly in her wrist is just about flying away.
“It’s my favorite.” Hitoka says, nose upturned. Kiyoko smiles slightly.
It seems like the situation is just beginning to dawn on Hitoka, her hold tightening momentarily. “W-wait! Um, is this really okay? I mean, I kind of work for you, and now I’m snacking with you? I uh-”
“-It’s completely fine.” They’re still holding hands. “Alright, just in here.” Kiyoko reluctantly lets go of Hitoka’s hand to slide the door open, then takes her shoes off to step in. She gestures to a place on the hardwood floor, against a mirror. Hitoka follows suit, looking around with a curious glint in her eyes.
“Is this… a studio?”
“Yes. I dance here, and my younger brother holds art galleries here, sometimes.”
“Ah! Ballet right?” Her hand flies to her mouth reflexively. “Wait- um, that sounded creepy. I mean, I knew I heard the name Shimizu somewhere else, I just-”
“It’s okay, really.” Kiyoko says, amused. “Yes, ballet among other things. Contemporary, and sometimes-” She huffs a laugh. “-tap.” Kiyoko takes out the box of strawberries, the box opening with a soft click. She hears socked feet shuffle over next to her, and Hitoka takes a seat, smoothing out her dress. Kiyoko idly pushes over the pack of fugashi towards her. Hitoka looks at Kiyoko expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
“How I got roped into doing tap dancing is a little funny.” Kiyoko plucks a strawberry from the box, taking a small bite from the bottom.
“My friend made a bet on it. Well, he did. Koushi was convinced that I would be good at it, and I was convinced he would be great at contemporary.” The telltale sound of that candy opening came from beside her, but Hitoka was still listening intently.
“So he proposed that if I took some tap classes, he would take contemporary. And he was great at it. But he is much greater at tap, mostly because that’s his passion.” Hitoka bit into her fugashi with a quiet ‘crunch’, nodding solemnly.
“How were you at tap dancing?”
“I was alright. Taking tap dancing classes ended up improving my showmanship and even my rhythm. It was useful. And fun.” Hitoka stared up at the ceiling.
“I see. Is it difficult? Pursuing multiple genres, I mean. Doesn’t it… clash?”
“Not necessarily. Practicing more than one can improve the other, each genre has something specific to diversify their spectrum.”
And just like that, they throw themselves into conversation, and it’s so, very easy. Kiyoko feels elated, being able to talk about her passion with someone that’s willing to listen. Hitoka listens.
Kiyoko wants to listen to her, though.
“What about you?” Kiyoko asks, grabbing a fugashi for herself. “Is there a specific reason you like gardening?”
Hitoka taps her index finger to her chin. “Hmm, well. It… it doesn’t really rain much, here. My Dad’s entire house is-” She gestures with her hands.”-overflowing with plants and vines and green, so I kind of grew up with it?” She holds a corner of an empty fugashi wrapper.
“I’ve always liked the flowers a lot, while my Dad was more of a fruits and veggie kind of guy.” Hitoka smiles down fondly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The small backyard we do have, he made a tiny greenhouse for me.” Kiyoko sees Hitoka visibly brighten at the thought.
“You’ll have to take me sometime, Hitoka-chan.” Hitoka lets out a squeak, turning her head so fast Kiyoko almost winces.
“O-of course!”
Hitoka smiles, sheepish.
“Alright, go ahead, continue.”
“Huh? Oh! Right… well I said it doesn't rain much, and flowers kind of rely on water.” There are three freckles right in the corner or Hitoka’s left eye. Kiyoko can’t handle this information right now.
“I’d like to be the one to give them the rain!”
Kiyoko wants to kiss the freckles, very, very, bad.
⚘
Hitoka wields the water made rain, and perhaps it’s a little over-the-top to say she’s the sun Kiyoko would turn to, for. And Kiyoko can. Turn for her, that is.
⚘
“These are amaryllis. The ones I’ve grown are bright red, but they can be lighter. They start as bulbs, and they take around… eight to ten weeks to bloom.” Hitoko shuffles over to the series of pots a few feet away. Kiyoko follows suit. “They stand for pride.”
Hitoko claps her hands together. “These are asters. I have a range of colors, but they’re all so beautiful! Over there-” She points. “-are the purple ones. Then, the pink ones. I have a few light blue ones over there.” Hitoka talks about their varieties, how her dad brought her New York asters after a trip. “They’re a symbol of love and… daintiness and wisdom too I think?”
Hitoka spins on her heel, her shoes scuffing at the concrete. “These are bluebells. They’re native to England and France.” She pouts slightly, hands joined together at her back. “Looking at them makes me a little bit sad, though.”
“Why?” Kiyoko asks.
“They don’t really mean anything sad. I think they stand for humility. But,” Hitoka unclasps her hands and gestures towards the purple flowers. “They’re so… downturned. They grow a whole thirty centimeters, but look down.” She runs the knuckle of her index finger across the bottom of the petal. She clears her throat. “Anyways! These are geraniums. Hinata gave them to me because-” She forces her voice an octave deeper. “‘They stand for true-friendship’. I thought it was funny. He did his research.” Hitoka let out a small giggle.
“The colors are beautiful, though. And they actually smell quite nice.”
Kiyoko raises a brow.
“U-um! I know I’m like, a gardener who’s ridiculously obsessed with flowers and all. But. I can admit,” She lowers her voice. “they don’t usually, um, smell amazing.” Kiyoko huffs a laugh at that, scanning the greenhouse. It’s hard to miss anything, really. The colors are so vibrant, especially under the slightly blue tinted glass. When Kiyoko asked why, Hitoka said that they grow best under tints of red and blue, against the popular assumption that they grow best under green light.
Kiyoko isn’t a flower enthusiast, not really.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what those are. Nevermind Hitoka making it glaringly obvious she was avoiding them.
“What about those, Hitoka-chan?” The second Kiyoko lifts her finger and looks over at Hitoka, she’s painted as red as the flowers, and Kiyoko is very amused.
“S-Shimizu-san. Okay. U-um, those are chrysanthemums,” She pauses, twiddling her thumbs and shuffling over to stand beside Kiyoko and the flowers. “These are ‘garnets’. They aren’t going to last much longer, but they do have some time left. Chrysanthemums can come in a lot of different colors, but these are red. S-so. They stand for- urm-”
“May I?” Kiyoko lifts her hand towards the flower, which is slightly swaying. Kiyoko sees Hitoka’s throat shift with a swallow, and she nods. Kiyoko gently plucks it from the dirt, then lifts her hand to tuck her falling hair behind her left ear. She places the bright red flower along with the strands, brushing the pad of her thumb to the petals and straightening them slightly. Kiyoko moves back to get a better look at Hitoka’s face, humming in satisfaction.
“As beautiful as always, Hitoka-chan,” Kiyoko says, following with a toothy, genuine smile. Hitoka sputters, muttering her thanks.
And well, Kiyoko’s not backing down now.
She leans down, pushing her index finger against Hitoka’s chin, tilting it sideways. Hitoka stares in shock, her nose airbrushed red. Kiyoko presses a kiss against the corner of her eye, right onto the freckles. Kiyoko feels Hitoka’s lashes bend against her lips, and Hitoka lets out a small squeak of surprise.
“U-ummm…” Hitoka pulls her bottom lip through her teeth, trying to avoid Kiyoko’s gaze. And maybe Kiyoko’s a little thankful for it, because she cannot imagine how red she is right now.
“W-well I didn’t get to tell you their meani-”
“I know the meaning, Hitoka-chan.” Her eyes widened.
“You do?”
I love you.
“Mhmm. Oh, I meant to give you this.” Kiyoko slid her bag from her waist to her front, pulling out two pieces of paper.
“Invitations,” Kiyoko says. “To my dance recital, and Tobio’s gallery.”
“... Oh.” Hitoka breathed.
“Dress nice, Hitoka-chan.”
⚘
Watch me, Kiyoko thinks, watch me turn for you.
⚘
Kiyoko stretched her leg up behind her, feeling the strain in her quadriceps and shoulders. She heard the door click behind her, before-
“Kiyooo my baby!” Her mother called, her heels clacking against the floor. Kiyoko sighed, bracing herself for what she knew was about to come. Her mother stood in front of her squishing her cheeks, mumbling reassurances that Kiyoko would never admit she needed if her life depended on it.
“It’s almost time to perform my love, go get dressed.” She grabbed Kiyoko by the shoulders and ushered her out the door.
“You have that cute girl to impress tonight. Look pretty,” She said, giggling a little as she pushed her into the dressing room. Kiyoko recoiled.
“Mother.”
“Yeesss?” She peaked back through the door.
“Nevermind,” Kiyoko muttered. The door closed behind her, but not without an ‘ah young love’ following it. Kiyoko had to suppress a smile.
Kiyoko shuffled into her dress, a bright red with sequins and lace flowing across the top and the skirt. She sat in front of the mirror, lightly dabbing on some red lipstick to accompany the outfit. She leaned down to her bag, pulling out her hairbrush and her pouch. She placed it on the table in front of her, and turned to a knock on the door. Mother already came and saw her, and Tobio’s preparing for his gallery, so who…
“Come in,” Kiyoko said, hesitantly.
The door opened, and Kiyoko’s breath caught in her throat.
Hitoka waved to her, her nails painted white. The bracelet on her wrist jingled with the movement. She wore a white, silk dress that ran off her shoulders, the arms loose and the middle fitting perfectly against her body. She wore a pair of white heels to match, and a small necklace that swayed across her collarbones.
There’s silence, as Kiyoko stares, hairbrush abandoned.
“Is there something on my dress?” Hitoka looked down at herself. “Is this too much? Do I look bad? Oh no-”
“Hitoka-chan, you look stunning. No, there’s nothing on your dress. And no, it’s not too much, this is a big event anyway.” Kiyoko shoots her a smile, picking her brush back up and turning back to the mirror. Hitoka lets out a relieved breath.
Kiyoko is going to act as if the red on her face came from the tube of liquid blush sitting on the table.
“U-um, Kiyoko-san,” Hitoka says, looking at a point above her head. She pauses, her shoulders straightening slightly. And then- “You look beautiful.”
Now, Hitoka is a generally shy and nervous person, Kiyoko knows as much. She finds it extremely endearing, her tendency to trip over her words and flush at every little thing. Kiyoko knows that.
So the fact that Hitoka just looked her dead in the eye and called her beautiful, no hesitance or stuttering, with a smile that leaves no room for doubt, has Kiyoko ridiculously red-faced and tongue tied.
“A-ah, thank you.” She attempts to take a steadying breath, swallowing down against glass shards. Kiyoko tightens her ponytail, looping her donut bun around it.
“Are you nervous, Kiyoko-san?” Kiyoko pulls a bobby pin from her teeth, weaving it into her hair. She gives a shake of her head.
“No, not very much. I’m used to it,” She says, adding another bobby pin.
“Wow! Really? I would probably faint if I’m being honest. I saw the auditorium and just-” Hitoka gives a full body shiver, shaking her head. “I can’t even imagine.” Kiyoko huffs a laugh, wrestling to get the last bobby pin in. A section of her hair falls out anyway, and Kiyoko shuffles through her things to try and find another one. Her brow creases.
“Oh! Do you need a bobby pin? I think I might have one. It might have a design on it though,” Hitoka says, opening her bag and looking through it, her hair falling over her shoulder.
“That’s alright. Thank you,” Kiyoko says, plucking the clip from her outstretched palm. It was a light blue, and there was a small, blue flower at the end. Kiyoko smiles.
“What’s this flower?”
“Ah! W-well, it’s plastic, but-” Kiyoko laughs behind her hand. “-it’s supposed to be a forget-me-not.”
“I see.” Kiyoko successfully secures her hair this time, her eyes then flicking over to the clock.
“You should find a seat up front, Hitoka-chan.”
“H-huh? Oh, okay. Umm…” Hitoka clips her bag closed, and walks over to where Kiyoko sat. She leans down and presses her lips to Kiyoko’s cheek, so fast and so chaste that Kiyoko doubts it even happened. She squeaks a ‘good luck’ before she practically sprints out of the room, and she probably would have if she wasn’t wearing heels. Kiyoko bites her lip, swallowing the giddy feeling rising in her throat.
Oh, Kiyoko is so whipped.
⚘
Hitoka is weak for pretty women.
The fact isn’t a secret, not at all. Men are terrifying, and women are pretty. That’s all there is to it.
Hitoka is so extremely weak for Shimizu Kiyoko.
Like, who wouldn’t be? She’s beautiful and talented and nice and the list goes on. Hitoka’s most valued achievement is making her smile and laugh and blush and wow Hitoka is so in love.
So now, she’s conflicted. What does she do with the thought? Are the feelings just going to… brew? Hitoka would never in a million years think about confessing. Ever. If it took that much willpower to look her in the eye and give her a compliment… Yeah. Never. She’d probably drop dead on the spot regardless of Kiyoko’s answer.
And as Hitoka fiddles with her fingers in her front row seat, she feels nervous for Kiyoko. Hitoka is sitting in the very front row, she got there pretty early. People keep filtering in, just as Hitoka thinks there aren’t any seats left. The rows are never ending, it seems. Kiyoko had said she wasn’t nervous, that she was used to it. Her mind is spinning with hypotheticals anyway, thoughts that are very negative and unnecessary.
It feels like forever and a millisecond has passed when Kiyoko’s being revealed from behind the curtains, a thousand symphonies and all variations of light are ringing and cutting through the air, only for her. The audience claps for only a few seconds before quieting, and Kiyoko’s eyes remain closed all through it. Hitoka feels like she’s been punched. There’s a bald guy on the piano who’s playing the piano like a waterfall, as glittering and brilliant as Kiyoko’s fluid movements.
The lights are incandescent, glowing down on Kiyoko so brightly that Hitoka sees specks of dust follow Kiyoko’s dance. Her legs cut through the air, conducting the still audience’s breathing as she balances on her toes. Kiyoko spins and turns and jumps like a flower blooming in golden sunlight, and when Kiyoko’s eyes meet hers through all of it, everything’s in slow motion for a moment, and Hitoko has to clasp her hand around her mouth to keep from releasing a sob.
Kiyoko dances so beautifully, and when her performance ends Hitoka’s staring as she her heartbeat roars in her ears, and a tear clings to Hitoka’s lashes before she blinks, and Kiyoko’s back behind the curtains.
Hitoka takes a shaking breath in, and she can’t hear it over the applauding from the audience. It goes on for a good minute, before quieting, and that’s when Hitoka realizes she’s been grabbing someone’s hand beside her very hard. Hitoka snaps her head to the side before she’s about to apologize profusely, but then-
The hand in hers is holding on just as tight.
Hitoka blinks before releasing the hand slightly. The silver-haired man seems to be in a haze as well, eyes still fixed on the stage. “U-um, I’m so sorry-”
“That was her best performance to date,” He breaths, turning to look at Hitoka.
“H-huh? Um, this is the, uh first I’ve seen.”
The man’s brows raise slightly, giving her a once over and asking for Hitoka’s name.
“I-I’m Yachi Hitoka-” The man throws his head back and laughs brightly.
“Of course you are. Sugawara Koushi,” he says, shooting Hitoka a wide smile. Hitoka’s eyes widened in realization.
“W-wait! You-you’re tap dancing guy!” Hitoka exclaimed, before covering her mouth with her hands. Sugawara looks taken aback for a second, before bending over, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“You are a delight. I see why Kiyoko likes you,” Sugawara says, wiping a tear. Hitoka flushes at his words.
“W-well, um-” Sugawara flaps a hand before rising from his seat, outstretching his hand to help Hitoka up.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, but I’m really not supposed to be here right now. If Kiyoko finds out I’m here instead of getting ready, she’ll kill me.” Hitoka takes his hand and stands before smoothening out her dress.
“Are you performing as well?”
“Yeah, but not right now. I will soon, though.”
“Ah, I’m sorry I won’t be able to see it, Sugawara-san. It was really nice meeting you too!”
“You’re heading to Kageyama-kun’s gallery next, right?” Hitoka nods.
“Well, I’ll see you then!” Sugawara sends her a wave, attempting to secretly walk up the stage stairs on the side before a scary looking guy in a security uniform ushers him out. Or tries to, at least. The lights are dim, but Hitoka watches Sugawara bat his lashes at the man, and he flushes, letting Sugawara behind the curtains. He gives a pat on the security guy's shoulder paired with a dashing smile, before leaving. The security guy drags a hand across his completely red face, hand on his hip. Hitoka giggles in amusement.
She walks towards the door on the side where people are walking out, shuffling down the hallway and stepping into an elevator. It’s a little stuffed, but Hitoka stands waiting to arrive on the seventh floor. Even the elevators are fancy.
Kiyoko had texted Hitoka her room number for after the performance, and turns her head looking for #723. She walks through the ridiculous maze of the hallways, before her eyes finally land on the right number. There’s some enthusiastic yelling coming from the other side of the door, and Hitoka hesitates before turning the knob. Is this the right room number?
Hitoka’s question was answered when she saw Kiyoko sitting in front of the mirror with an irritated expression on her face, or as irritated as it could get. There were two men on either side of her, waving their hands excitedly.
“U-hm-” Kiyoko’s head snapped towards her voice as Yachi shrunk away slightly.
“Oh?” The man on the left towered over her, kind of, he seemed to only be a couple inches taller than Yachi.
“Who’s this?” The guy on the right was definitely more intimidating, and Yachi recognized him as the bald guy on the piano. Yachi swallowed, trying to convince herself that there was no reason for her to be scared of these men-
“Tanaka, Nishinoya. Stop,” Kiyoko spoke from behind them, and they immediately stood straighter, moving to the side.
“Yes ma’am,” They droned, and Kiyoko shot them a final warning glare. Yachi’s hands were shaking slightly behind her back, and Kiyoko placed one of her own on Yachi’s shoulder. She flinched slightly, but eased into the warm touch.
“Are you ready to go, Hitoka-chan?”
The men, Tanaka and Nishinoya, have their jaws dropped behind Kiyoko, staring, really staring, at Yachi. Kiyoko released a frustrated sigh.
“This is my friend, Yachi Hitoka.”
They were both staring wide eyed at Kiyoko, before the shorter one with spiked hair spoke up.
“Yachi Hitoka? That Yachi Hitoka? The one you-”
“-You did well on the piano today, Tanaka, and I have faith that you will perform well too, Nishinoya. Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Kiyoko said in a slightly deadpan tone. Yachi blinked rapidly as Kiyoko slid her hand into hers and tugged her out of the room, leaving the men extremely flustered in the room.
Kiyoko’s presence radiated warmth as she spoke about Tanaka and Nishinoya with a slightly fond look, guiding the both of them back to the elevator. She was wearing a different long sleeve dress, it flowed down to her ankles and fit snug against her neck. It was a deep blue, almost black, and reminded Yachi of her hair.
Yachi couldn’t help but beam as they stepped foot outside, Kiyoko’s hand still in hers.
⚘
Kiyoko stepped out of the car, outstretching her hand to help Hitoka stand as well. She stumbled slightly, and Kiyoko huffed a laugh just to be able to watch the flush creep up her neck to her face.
“Ah- I don’t really… um wear heels a lot, so-”
God, Kiyoko’s cheeks hurt.
Kiyoko decided to keep holding Hitoka’s hand, just in case she gets lost, of course. Tobio chose a studio that was in a busier part of the city, a little out of character. Kiyoko knew the reasons behind it, and even though Tobio refused to show her the pieces that Tobio has been working on for months.
Again, she had a vague idea of what it could be.
Kiyoko crossed the street, gaze falling onto a head of blonde hair in front of the glass doors. This could either be a hit or miss.
“Saeko-san,” Kiyoko called, and she looked over to Kiyoko and Hitoka, clapping her hands and gesturing them over.
“Shimizu! How’re you doing?” Saeko asked, clicking her pen and jotting something down on her clipboard.
“I’m doing good. How are things going over here?” She looked up from her task, giving Kiyoko a once over and doing the same for Hitoka. Kiyoko felt Hitoka idly twisting Kiyoko’s ring in her hand, and she smiled.
“Who do we have here?” Saeko said, leaning her elbows on the desk in front of her. Kiyoko looked down at Hitoka, who is red faced and has her shoulders hunched. Kiyoko tried suppressing her smile. It didn’t work.
“I-I’m Yachi Hitoka! Nice to meet you!” Hitoka chirped, tucking her hair behind her hair.
“Tanaka Saeko! Lovely meeting you, go ahead inside, pretties.” Hitoka flushes at the nickname, and Kiyoko nods at Saeko and tugs Hitoko into the studio. The secretary nods at them, before gesturing towards the spiral staircase on the left, fairy lights wrapped around the handles. Hitoka’s mouth is parted in a small ‘o’ shape, head turning as she takes in the place.
“Tobio really went all out this time,” Kiyoko comments, their heels clicking against the marble floors. Hitoka giggles.
“You’ll be surprised.”
“I still don’t know why he showed you before he showed me.”
Hitoka looked up at her, smiling. Her eyes crinkled at the sides, and she squeezed Kiyoko’s hand.
“Kageyama-kun only showed me two of them. He really is very talented.” Pride blooms in Kiyoko’s chest, and she still hasn’t stopped smiling.
“Hmm.”
They turn down the hallway, and the sight that greets them takes a few seconds to process.
Canvases are hung on the walls, the high ceilings never ending. People fill the room, chatting idly. There’s a long table filled with appetizers and snacks, glittering with candles in the dim-lit room. The flames twinkle everywhere, and Kiyoko can see the reflection of every one in Hitoka’s eyes. Her eyes are fixed on a point behind her, and she’s gripping Kiyoko’s arm gesturing towards whatever it is. Kiyoko can barely hear her, but turns anyway, and things just got ten times worse (better).
The canvas Hitoka is pointing towards is rectangular and long, and color fills every space, even at the edges. Life is visible in every stroke, the candlelight illuminating it in gold.
It’s of Kiyoko and Hitoka laying in the grass, flowers thrown all over them. They’re both smiling, and everything is there, the dip in Hitoka’s cheeks, the slight tilt of her smile, every freckle, the exact color of her blush. Kiyoko looks at her own face, and she’s aware that Tobio specializes in hyperrealism, but Kiyoko once again finds herself questioning how Tobio catches every miniscule detail.
She realizes her mouth is hanging open as she hears a familiar laugh behind her, and she looks over, still in shock.
“Damn Kiyoko, did you ask for this?” Koushi says, a flute of champagne in his hand. He whistles lowly
“I- no, I didn’t.”
“You look surprised.”
Kiyoko snatches the glass away from him, and Koushi just lets it happen.
“I am.”
Koushi gasps as he moves next to Hitoka, and Kiyoko’s about to drag him back, but-
“Ah, Sugawara-san!”
“Yachi-san! What are you thinking about this piece?”
Yachi looks surprised for a moment, but her face splits into a wide smile.
“It’s beautiful! The first time I saw Kageyama-kun’s work, I knew I would be surprised every time.”
“Right? I-” Koushi was cut off by a man approaching them from behind.
“Suga- ah, I’m sorry.” The man gave a nod. “I’m Sawamura Daichi. I was looking for Suga, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Kiyoko shot Koushi a knowing look, and even HItoka looked amused.
“No no, that’s alright. Please, take him away.” Hitoka nods enthusiastically.
“Well,” Koushi outstretches an arm for Sawamura to take. “You heard them. Sweep me off my feet, Daichi,” Koushi drawls, smirking mischievously as Daichi sputters.
Huh.
They walk away, or, Koushi drags Sawamura away, and Kiyoko turns to Hitoka.
“You’ve met Koushi before?” Kiyoko asks. Hitoka’s brows raise.
“Ah, I have! He was sitting beside me at your performance.” Kiyoko’s face falls slightly.
“He was watching instead of getting ready?” Hitoka slaps a hand to her mouth, as if she’s the one in trouble.
“Oh um-” Kiyoko shakes her head laughing, resting her hand against Hitoka’s bare shoulder.
“It’s alright, Hitoka-chan. I’ll be mad at Koushi later.”
“Well-”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Kiyoko waves a hand.
“Let’s go check out the main piece, shall we?” Hitoka nods.
“Where’s-”
“Kageyama!” Kiyoko and Hitoka turned to the shout.
“Looks like we don’t need to look,” Kiyoko muttered. Hitoka giggled beside her. Her glass abandoned, Kiyoko slipped her fingers into Hitoka’s hand and walked over to where Tobio was standing… awkwardly, very.
“Hinata-kun! Kageyama-kun!” Hitoka called, waving out to them. Hinata stopped mid hand gesture, engulfing Hitoka in a hug, and Kiyoko smiled fondly. Kiyoko faced Tobio, who was looking pointedly away from HInata, his face turned in a scowl, or what was supposed to be one. Kiyoko really couldn’t tell, with the tips of his ears burning red. Finally, she turned toward the painting, and instantly shot a grin at Tobio, who was looking increasingly more flustered by the second.
This canvas was practically five feet tall, not very wide. Tobio had always worked with an interesting array of canvas sizes, but this was something Kiyoko couldn’t remember him doing.
This was a full body painting of Hinata, though the bottom portion of it was crowded with sunflowers ranging in height. Kiyoko felt like she was intruding, Tobio brought to life a memory that would have otherwise remained preserved. Hinata had an arm up, shielding himself from the sun, and if Kiyoko looked hard enough, every fold of his clothing was deliberate, every curve of his face. If Kiyoko compared the lines of Hinata’s hand in the painting with his hands in real life, she wouldn’t really be surprised if everything was the same.
“Amazing, Tobio.” Kiyoko was genuine in her compliment, and Tobio could tell.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your performance.” Kiyoko shook her head.
“I’d say this was pretty important.” Tobio gave Kiyoko a half hearted roll of his eyes, and directed his gaze back to Hinata and Hitoka. Kiyoko did the same.
Hitoka was squinting at the painting, careful not to touch it, and squinting back at Hinata, and they kept exclaiming in shock every few seconds. Hinata narrowed his eyes at Tobio, and Kiyoko saw his shoulders hunch slightly.
“You sure you didn’t just take a picture, Kageyama-kun?” Hinata accused, moving to stand a little too close in front of him.
“Hah? You were literally there while I was painting half of this,” Tobio sputtered, taking a step away from him. Hinata only moved a step forward.
"Then you were looking reaaalll hard then, huh?" Tobio's eyes widened, his jaw slack.
Kiyoko watched, incredibly amused and kind of delighted, as Hinata got onto his tip-toes and pressed a lips high on Tobio’s cheek.
“Thank you, Kageyama,” Hinata beamed. Tobio’s face was an absurdly violent shade of red, and he turned on his heel and stomped off, like a child. Hinata only followed after him.
Hitoka and Kiyoko both burst out laughing as soon as they were out of earshot.
⚘
The gallery emptied out, and the only ones left in the entire expanse of the room were Kiyoko, Hitoka, Tobio, and Hinata. They had walked through the rest of the pieces, and there was even one of Kiyoko in her studio practicing.
Tobio wasn't selling a single one of them.
Hitoka now sat on an empty stool, which Kiyoko had to help her get onto, it was quite high. Her legs swung back and forth, and she was chewing on a piece of chocolate. They were the same height now, and Hitoka was almost taller.
In typical Tobio fashion, he had brought a set of paint with him, along with a couple brushes. Hinata had drawn a heart on Tobio’s face, and he practically stampeded out the gallery and to the bathroom to wash it off. Hinata trailed after him, laughing brightly.
And now, Hitoka was painting on Kiyoko’s face, mumbling about whatever thought was running through her mind at the moment.
“Oh! I have an idea,” She said, plucking out a shade of red. Hitoka dipped the small paintbrush in it, and gently tilted Kiyoko’s head to the side.
“Be careful, don’t get any on your dress.” Kiyoko whispered, not really finding the need to speak louder when she was so close.
Kiyoko’s eyes slid shut, and the only thing she focused on was the cool of the paint against her skin and Hitoka’s unconscious humming.
She pulled back after a moment, satisfied with her work, and Kiyoko opened her eyes.
“What did you paint?” Hitoka giggled, taking a picture with her phone before placing it down on the table.
“A little flower around your beauty mark!” Kiyoko’s eyes widened, and she was about to touch the spot, before Hitoka wrapped her fingers around her wrist.
“It’s not dry yet, Kiyoko-san.”
Kiyoko swallowed, staring at the way Hitoka’s head tilted slightly to the left with her smile. Stray strands of her hair glittered gold under the candlelight, and Kiyoko brought her hand out to press the split ends down. The silk of her dress gleams in the dim light, and Hitoka’s leaning back into Kiyoko’s hold. Hitoka’s lashes flutter, and Kiyoko slides her hand down to cup her jaw and brush her thumb against her cheek.
“Can I kiss you, Hitoka-chan?”
Her eyes fly open, and she’s immediately flushing red. Kiyoko follows the red spreading in her cheeks with her finger.
“Please,” She whispers, barely audible, but it’s all Kiyoko needs to press her lips to Hitoka’s. It’s so gentle, and when they part after the quick kiss, Hitoka’s kissing her again. She jolts back, but Kiyoko pulls her into another one, and another, and soon enough, they’re laughing against each other's lips. Their breath is hot against their cheeks, and their noses bump against each other.
This is all Kiyoko can ever wish for, she thinks, as her heart blooms in her chest.
⚘
sunflower still grows at night
waiting for a minute till the sun's seen through my eyes