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Komaeda loves beautiful things.
The scenery around the two right now is exactly that. Acres of pink and white flowers, left to grow wild and unmanaged during days of despair. The foggy sight of Mount Fuji in front of a dark red sky as the sun begins to dip lower on the horizon. It casts a glow on the lake, and wraps the landscape in a rose-gold blanket as it descends in the sky. The humid summer air has her sweating, but still retains that comforting, nostalgic warmth, and it does smell rather unpleasant— and they have the pollution to thank for that— but not as much as the cities do.
Kamukura’s hand is warm against her icy skin as she pulls her through fields of colorful phloxes. They’ve both discarded their jackets and shoes long ago, tossed somewhere where the blades of grass ended and the endless sea of flowers began. Bare feet padding against soft dirt and ankles nipped at by dwarfed blossoms, the hum of insects near the water quiet in their ears, sounds of destruction and chaos far, far away.
It’s... nice. A moment of hope and peace— serenity— during the age of despair. It eases her headache, just a bit.
“Isn’t it just breathtaking, Kamukura?” She casts a glance at the woman behind her, “How lucky are we to find this place? Amidst despair, of all things!”
(She knows the name of this place. She knows she does. She’s spent afternoons at this place with her parents before their death, tried to keep up with it ever since.
But it escapes her, for now.)
Kamukura says nothing in return. The only sound she gets as a reply is the low buzz of insects.
When Komaeda looks back again, though, there’s a cluster of flower stems in Kamukura’s clenched fists.
“Ah, is that really allowed? This is a public space, isn’t it?”
“No one’s here to stop me.” Is her reply. Then she’s being tugged along, over to where the flowers begin to dip in size and where the grass finally begins again.
Komaeda loves beautiful people.
Calling Kamukura a beautiful person is an extreme understatement, but the proper words to describe her perfection aren’t with Komaeda at the moment. So ‘beautiful’ is enough, for now.
Cross legged in a field of pink and white flowers, nimble fingers joining thin green stems into a ring in her hand. Their knees brush together as Komaeda watches in awe, nothing but comfortable silence between the two as Kamukura works almost too quickly for her eyes to follow.
‘You’re really good at this’ sits on the edge of her tongue. It’s something she’s told Kamukura hundreds of times before, all in varying circumstances. She’s sure she gets the point now, but she still says it anyways.
Kamukura’s reply is setting the crown in her hands on Komaeda’s head. “For you,” She tacks on; the delivery almost feels a bit cheesy, but she can appreciate the effort.
Her face feels uncomfortably hot, a rather familiar spread of warmth across her cheeks she experiences all too often around her (not that she hates it), as nervous laughter bubbles up her throat. “I’m amazed you’d even want to give me something, Kamukura.”
Komaeda removes it from her head and admires the work done in her hands, tight knots and perfect braids created in what must’ve been just a handful of minutes. The flowers alternate in color— pink, white, pink, white— until they loop around to meet at the back. Soft petals with a sweet, pleasant smell. Her eyes flicker between the crown and Kamukura nervously, who stares at her passively, the usual intensity of her stare nowhere to be found.
She places it back on her head, cheeks still hot from her flustering and blush. “Really, I feel so blessed that someone as great as you would want to give me a gift... Thank you.” Her voice trembles a bit more than she wanted it to, but that’s fine. “But now I feel awful; I haven’t done anything for you— do you want me to braid your hair? Could I? Please?”
There’s a pause before Kamukura offers her hair to her with a simple nod. A thick black (dark brown in the light, how lovely) curtain of hair that Komaeda carefully portions into thirds, combing through it with her fingers and admiring how it clings to her like it has a mind of its own. She plays with stray curls and flyaways, tries to take out all the miniature knots she can and stops more from forming. Throughout all the years with Kamukura, she’s barely seen her hair matted or frayed... which is a miracle, because Komaeda can’t say the same for herself. Kamukura’s hair is just as perfect and well kept as she is.
It’s still so quiet— but it’s a wonderful silence. One that Komaeda doesn’t feel the need to talk through, even if sitting in total silence with Kamukura makes her grow more and more flustered as time goes on.
She’s a clumsy braider, making mistakes she apologizes for while Kamukura tells her “It’s fine, just keep going.” It’s a loose braid, thick and long, tied off with a spare hair-tie she has hanging on her wrist, that has Komaeda picking out blades of grass and leaves by the time she’s done with it.
She leads Kamukura up and off of the ground for a moment, (giggles at how startled Kamukura looks when she stands a lot faster than anticipated because there’s less hair to weigh her down now) plucking blossoms off of their stems to adorn her braid. It’s a messy arrangement— she doesn’t have the eye for design and precision that Kamukura has— but it’s still beautiful in an innocent way. And Kamukura doesn’t seem to mind either.
“You know we’ll have to go back soon.” Kamukura reminds her quietly.
It’s later now, the deep violet sky covered in a sprinkling of white stars. Crickets chirp softly in the distance. They’ve stayed here much too long; the crown still sits on Komaeda’s head, and the flowers are still in Kamukura’s braided hair, and they’ve spent what must be hours at this point in this desolate field surrounded by pink and white. Skinny dipping in the lake not too far away before dressing once again and traversing through field after field of flowers. Kamukura pointing out each variety there; asters, pulmonaria, violets and lavender, all while Komaeda threads their hands together and walks beside her. Listens to her talk and talk about flower cultivation and how to make a good bouquet— nothing they'll be doing any time soon, and nothing that Komaeda particularly cares for (she doesn't think Kamukura does either), but the sound of her voice is too comforting for Komaeda to want her to stop.
Kamukura is somehow even more gorgeous (yes, that’s the word) when they’re alone together like this, ruby red eyes and bare tanned skin only for Komaeda to see. It’s not a sight, or even a presence, she deserves, but if Kamukura is willing to let Komaeda be greedy, then who is she to deny her?
“Are you sure they even miss us?”
She doubts they do; the other Despairs are probably celebrating their disappearance.
“It’s not about whether or not they miss us. Enoshima will want us back whether you like it or not.”
That puts a frown on her face. It’s always Enoshima who comes and ruins the peace between them, intentionally or not. It’s frustrating. She can feel her headache returning just thinking about it.
“We’ll be fine.” Kamukura presses a kiss above her eyebrow, leaving Komaeda's cheeks to turn pink once again, “Let’s go.”
When she touches that spot, a bit of Kamukura’s lipstick transfers onto the tips of her fingers.
Kamukura pulls her to her feet and leads her back where they came from, warm hand encasing Komaeda’s much colder one. The temperature has dropped significantly, a cool breeze blowing through the field, whipping Komaeda’s hair against her cheeks and half blocking the view of Kamukura in front of her. She helps her put back on her blazer, helps her tie her tie and button up her shirt, hands lingering for a beat too long afterwards.
Even as they begin the trek back to Tokyo, Kamukura holds her hand, instead of the chain dangling from her neck. Her grip isn’t firm, but relaxed, and Komaeda is only a few steps behind as she leads them both down alligator backed streets. Komaeda wishes she would hold that instead, but also cherishes the feeling of Kamukura’s flesh against her own with every cell in her body.
She doesn’t mind experiencing despair a thousand times over if it means they’ll have more moments together like this. Hidden away from the world for just a few hours, where only she can see Kamukura.
A luxury she surely doesn’t deserve, but is oh so willing to take.