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Maki is hiding something.
But, to be fair, that’s not new.
Maki’s hidden things from her, or well, tried to, all their life, Mai thinks as she pulls yet another pair of dry black trousers off of a hanger. Not that Maki doesn’t look good in these trousers (because they do) but she’s starting to think their wardrobe needs a makeover.
Maybe Kugisaki could be roped into this too, given the number of times Mai’s caught her ogling Maki. There’s no way that brat doesn’t have a Pinterest board of outfits she’s dying to see Maki in. No way.
Mai folds the trousers, placing them onto the pile of four other pairs of pretty much identical pants.
Maybe she can get them to try navy.
“Hey,” she says in the evening and Maki twitches visibly. They squeeze their phone tight and the screen blackens immediately, too far away for her to see anything meaningful anyway.
Mai raises her eyebrows.
Hm.
“Didn’t take you to be one to be watching porn before dinner.”
Maki stares back at her like they don’t understand what she just said.
“Headphones,” says Mai. “Put headphones in if you’re gonna watch anything with—”
“I wasn’t.”
Mai shrugs. “I’m not judging. I’d just rather not hear sounds while cooking.”
Maki’s throat bobs.
“I really wasn’t.”
“And I really don’t care,” she says, which is half a lie because she does care a little bit. They’re both horny for so much of the time but sometimes Maki goes through these days when Mai almost wishes she could tap out and get someone else to tap in. Then she remembers she’s a horrible person while jealous and decides not to. (The thought, however, of Kugisaki’s face if Mai were to ever float this idea past her, well, let’s just say she’s enjoyed that particular image quite a little more than she should.)
Maki looks at her a while longer. Then they get up from the couch and for a moment Mai doesn’t know how to read the look on their face.
She barely resists the urge to take a step backwards, stubbornly resists the urge to give in because she’s outmatched in so many other things but not stubbornness. No, she refuses to lose this one.
“What?”
Maki grins.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” they say all up in her face and now Mai huffs but doesn’t stop them from kissing her.
She looks up from her book on a balmy morning a few weeks later.
“You’re late,” she says.
Maki stiffens by the door but closes it behind them anyway, kicking off their trainers. They don’t say anything to that, which is, to be honest, the biggest tell of them all—Maki knows she knows when they’re lying to her.
She looks Maki over.
No new scratches, no new bandages. No limp, just a little stiffer than usual—probably from the lying. They don’t seem hurt, which really is all that is important.
Mai’s their partner, not their minder and so she simply scowls at them and tells them to take a shower before they try anything funny.
Maki looks at her for a moment, looks at her like they want to say something. Mai watches the words disappear behind Maki’s lips, decides she’ll wait.
There’s nothing either of them can be too late for this time.
Tonight Maki spends more time than they ever have running their fingers down her jaw, takes breathless moments and holds them right there in time, eye traveling across her face like they’re trying to commit her to memory.
Mai closes the distance between them after a few heartbeats, draws Maki into a slow kiss.
This happens still, even after the years that they’ve been through together, after all of what happened. Mai feels their hands wind down her body, skating over the scar that cracks across her stomach.
Maki’s hands shake. Their lips tremble under hers.
Mai kisses them harder, knows she can’t kiss the unease away but tries anyway.
Tonight Maki lets her but tonight it doesn’t seem to work.
It’s still bothering Maki.
Something is, Mai knows, because Maki keeps looking at her then looking away the moment she catches them. It’d be disconcerting if it were anyone else but it’s Maki and Mai trusts Maki with just about anything now. They’ve lived together for so long, have been through so much and the only part about this that bothers Mai is how it has been bothering Maki all these months and still they haven’t said a word about it.
It’s not that they don’t keep secrets from each other—Mai certainly has a few that Maki never needs to know about—but she’s starting to wonder what this is that has Maki looking at her like that but not be willing to say a thing.
She wants to say she’ll wait but it’s been months and this morning she wakes up to see Maki sitting on the edge of their bed, looking intently down at their phone.
Their fingers aren’t moving. Their eyes are barely moving. They’re just staring down at the screen, having not even noticed that she’s up.
It’s strange, she decides as she studies Maki’s jaw in the early morning light, as she takes in the sharp angles that have been sharpening over time, as she reaches for the muscles that have been growing, as she reaches for the Maki who she loves all the same, the Maki who isn’t the same but is still here and is still hers.
“Hey.”
The phone screen goes black again and Maki turns immediately.
There’s a brief troubled look before that too fades away. Maki lets her pull them back down into bed, lets her pull them to her, lets her hold them and it is a few heartbeats before they reach out around her, a few moments before their hands close around her.
“What’s wrong?”
Maki stiffens but doesn’t say anything immediately.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Mai says, “if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’m here.”
Maki’s eye snaps to hers. They swallow and Mai can feel the movement against her skin, swears she can feel Maki’s pulse speeding up.
It might be hers, she’s not sure.
She watches Maki’s expression after they go quiet, watches and waits for more of their words but more don’t seem to come.
“I’m glad you told me,” she says as she trails her fingers over Maki’s jaw, propped up on her elbow, “but I think you underestimate how well I know you.”
Maki is watching her with that one eye that widens with her words.
“You knew.”
Mai shrugs. “Wasn’t too hard to tell. The signs were there.”
She nuzzles close to Maki’s pulse point, teeth out to nip at their skin.
“And you’re not… mad.”
She freezes, head turning immediately.
“Mad? Why would I—No. Never.” Her hand searches for Maki’s, pulls the limp digits into her own, wrapping around them, squeezing gently. “Is that why you didn’t tell me? You—”
Maki swallows.
“I just—” They shake their head and the look in their eyes is so lost Mai has to fight the urge to say something, has to fight herself so she’ll let Maki finish.
“I feel more like me,” they say and every word is soft and slow like they’ve chewed on it for so long, like it’s been bouncing around inside their head for since they were born, “but I know I look less like you. And that’s… I feel like I only just got you back and now I’m—”
They shake their head again.
“I want this. I know I do. But it also feels like I’m letting go of what we have and I—”
The word peters out into silence. All there is now is Maki looking at her like they want to hope but are too afraid to give in to it.
Mai leans close and she can feel the small pause in Maki’s breath.
“You know,” she says, lips ghosting over their skin, “it’s been a long time since I thought we were alike.” She presses a kiss to their cheekbone. “We’ve always been so different it’s funny to think we’re twins.”
Maki frowns and their eye travels across her face as if to disagree.
Mai raises her eyebrows because in all her memories Maki has shone the brightest, laughed the loudest, run the fastest, their spirit blinding through the confines of their cage of a home.
She says this much but it twists Maki’s mouth something sad, sets their jaw.
“When I got my hair cut,” Maki says, looking at her, “all I could think of was how I looked so much like you, how it could be you looking back at me in the mirror. And now, now I know it still feels right but it’s different… I don’t—I don’t see you. I…”
Their voice trails off.
“Now you see you,” says Mai and it doesn’t surprise her how there is nothing but joy in those words.
Another brush of her lips to Maki’s.
“We’re not the same, Maki. We’ve never been exactly the same. You know that. You know you’re not me. You know I’m not you.”
“I know. But I—”
“You’ve always been a little slow.” She smiles at the affronted frown on Maki’s face. “But now you’re finally becoming who you’ve always been and you shouldn’t let anyone or anything stop you. Not me, not yourself, no one.”
She shifts, straddling Maki, forces them to look up at her with a finger under their chin.
“You’re you and I love that for you. I love that about you.”
Maki’s breath catches and she can feel their heartbeat racing under her fingers.
“I love you," she says.