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Kohane thought that the way An looked when she concentrated - really concentrated, that is - was cute.
Really cute.
Cute enough, at least, that the slight furrow to her brow as she frowned at the page before her was enough reasoning (according to whatever warped logic her brain was following, at least) for Kohane’s heart to begin hammering beneath her ribs.
The sleeve of her jacket tickled her nose as she rubbed it against her face in a (perhaps futile) attempt to cover the smile that had begun to spread across her face, and when An bit into the corner of her cheek in thought, Kohane fought the urge to lean across the table and smooth down the creases of her frown with the pad of her thumb.
Akito probably would have scoffed at her and called her helpless, had he seen how intently her eyes followed An’s pencil in the following moments as it scratched the page, before stopping, then starting again - each interval punctuated by a quick glance that An sent her direction.
And Toya… well, Toya probably would have silently judged her too.
(She found that couldn’t really blame either of them. Honestly, she thought it was a little laughable too - if not incredible, how even the little things about An seemed to make her heart race.)
The (not so) secret grins she shot Kohane’s way after a performance; the way she would mumble Kohane’s name whenever she was particularly tired and draped herself over her shoulders in a way that was entirely too close for Kohane to handle or the way she would shoot a blindingly proud smile Kohane’s way whenever she got an answer right on a quiz.
All of those things, among the many (countless) others, was just another added somersault within her chest, and all she could do was cover her rapid warming cheeks with her hands and hope that An wouldn’t tease her too much about it later.
( “Aww, I love you too, Kohane!” rang in her ears, and she prayed that remembering the way that An had nuzzled into her cheek wouldn’t furthen the blush that crept up her neck.)
Kohane watched as An hesitated, then, pencil hovering uncertainly over the page as she gave a small, subconscious shake of her head that Kohane was certain An herself hadn’t even noticed, before crossing whatever she had written out.
And when she lifted her pencil, twirling it between her finger and thumb for a few moments before lifting it a little more and chewing on the end of it, Kohane fought the urge to scold her for it.
Because in moments like this, it was best that Kohane stayed quiet.
Or so Toya said at least, lest she blurt out every answer that caused An to frown in one big rush again.
An certainly appeared to share the sentiment with him, at the very least, as she stubbornly insisted that she could figure it out on her own once Kohane explained the basics to her.
Kohane had a hunch that really, An was simply trying to impress her, since her test scores remained to say otherwise, but she digressed - because who was Kohane to deny her if that was what An really wanted?
And so instead, she simply lowered her head so that her cheek was resting on her arm, and let her eyes idly roam over the features of An’s face, even if it did little to help dull her reddened cheeks.
She took in the way that the stray strands of her hair fell loosely across her shoulders, framing her face and adorned with the star clips that made it appear as though what laid atop her head was instead a little pocket of the galaxy itself.
And every now and then, Kohane would notice how An would push those strands back behind her ear, and the way that she would smile heart-wrenchingly at Kohane as she did so, only to repeat the process a few minutes later as she shifted.
(An could never stay still for long, it seemed, and her hair was, apparently, equally as unrestrained - even with the ponytail that had meant to keep it in place.)
Kohane idly recalled each and every one of their performances, so free and bright and dazzling, and how An had never pushed her hair back then, so what was the difference now?
She had remained seemingly uncaring, even when the sounds of their singing had faded, as she had turned to Kohane with that smile of hers (the one that seemed to say she was the only thing that mattered,) hairs clinging to her forehead and cheeks with the slight sweat she worked up.
Her eyes had gleamed (no, they still did - whenever Kohane’s eyes met with her’s), when she looked at Kohane after those performances, so bright that they were reminiscent of the clips that decorated her hair, and every time, Kohane had matched her smile, and her look of adoration, with one of her own.
Oh, what she would have done to have An’s eyes focusing on her now, instead of a page full of problems.
A sigh escaped from her lips, quiet and yet far too loud for the near silence that had extended between them. The idle rustling of the autumn trees, it seemed - faint and heard only through the slight opening of An’s window, wasn’t enough to distract her from the sound, and An’s eyes flitted towards her. She stared at her quizzically, for a moment, tilting her head ever so slightly and pursing her lips as if to say, ‘What’s wrong?’
Kohane matched the purse of An’s lips with her own, and merely shook her head, ignoring the slight discomfort it produced from her current position. It brought about a slight chuckle from the girl before her, who then leant into the palm of her hand, and smiled.
“You look cute when you do that, Kohane.”
Kohane flushed under the compliment, that same, persistent heat creeping further and further up her neck in a way that she knew wasn’t caused by the heat of the sun, and she bit back the objections that rose on her tongue. “You’re supposed to be focusing, An-chan…”
An only sighed dramatically at Kohane’s (admittedly weak) retaliation. “Well,” she huffed. “It’s not my fault you’re so distracting. When you did that it was like…” she paused, snapping her fingers as her sentence trailed off.
Kohane raised an eyebrow half-heartedly as she did so, the look of defiance that she attempted to convey quickly betrayed by the smile that quirked at the corner of her lips. She found that even though An’s words had slipped past her tongue, her eyes remained firmly trained on her face - intrigued by the moments to come.
The warmth of their domesticity was smothering, though not unpleasantly so, and the passing question of just when it had become so comfortable between them flickered through her mind.
(Though perhaps it had simply always been like this, and it was only days, or weeks or months after their meeting that Kohane had begun to notice it, until it had grown to something so prominent that neither of them could ignore it.)
“Ah!”
With a final, definitive snap of her fingers, An’s revelation caused Kohane to jolt in her seat, her head snapping up with wide eyes to meet with An’s. Her hand made a soft thump as it hit the table with the way that she startled, and yet An seemed to remain oblivious, clapping her hands together in exaggerated delight.
“Like some kind of baby animal rubbing their cheeks, you know what I mean?” she laughed, pushing out the words in a rush as if they might have vanished from her mind as quickly as they had come. “Super cute.”
You’re the cute one, Kohane wanted to protest, though the words remained unsaid. Her shoulders untensed naturally then, as they always did around An, and she shook her head fondly, giggling. “Do you get distracted by cute things too when you’re actually taking the exams then?”
An gasped in mock offence.
“No! No way, you’ve got me all wrong Kohane,” she huffed, puffing her cheeks out and clutching at her chest as if Kohane might have stolen a part of her heart away to inspect her intentions. “I don’t get distracted by cute things - I get distracted by you ,” she stated, her tone far too proud for someone who was pointing a finger almost accusingly in Kohane’s direction.
Kohane’s jaw dropped slightly with her admission, though the action went unnoticed by An, who only continued her animated ramblings - providing examples of Kohane’s apparent cuteness so simply as if she had stored them at the forefront of her memory for an occasion such as this.
(Kohane swallowed, then, wondering just why it was that she couldn’t contain the information that she needed to study just as easily.)
“Though, you are incredibly cute so… I guess you’re not entirely wrong,” she amended, when she had decided that the evidence against Kohane was stacked high enough, and Kohane wondered how it was possible for her cheeks to heat up even further.
“W-wait, An-chan…”
“It really is unfair, you know, Kohane!” An continued, another of her tangents dawning on the horizon as she ignored her quiet murmurs of protest. “Even if I can’t see you, I’m still thinking about you and I totally forget all the things we studied together!”
She shifted her arms then, satisfied with her conclusion, so that her elbows were resting upon the table and her chin was similarly in the palms of her hands, smiling in a way that was too teasing and too radiant and too An for Kohane’s heart to handle.
Kohane let out a quiet groan and hid her face in her sleeve.
“Maybe you shouldn’t study with me then, An-chan… if you don’t focus, you’ll get a bad score again,” she reminded her, averting her gaze as the weight of her empty threat settled between them.
Suddenly, the rhythmic ticking of the clock seemed far more interesting than any of the expressions she might have seen upon An’s face.
(Or, so she tried to fool herself.)
And even as An sighed, muttering protests under her breath of ‘ It just wouldn’t be the same if I studied without you, Kohane’ , Kohane kept her head firmly in place, eyes fixated on the wall.
It wouldn’t have done her any good if she had turned to face her, after all, because when she was around An, Kohane seemed to falter all the more easily.
Whether it was because of her smile, or those eyes that seemed to stare at her endlessly, pleading - or a myriad of the other tiny details Kohane could list about her, she was never entirely sure.
But regardless of the reason, the fact that she was weak to everything that was An Shiraishi remained.
Her eyes flickered across the expanse of An’s bedroom wall in the vain hope that it would strengthen her resolve, keeping her from turning back towards those eyes that, even now, she could feel burning into her skull.
They travelled across an array of awards to the various music posters that seemed to adorn almost every empty space, only pausing when she reached the small bedside table.
It wasn’t the first time it had caught her eye, and yet it brought a smile to her face all the same. At first glance, perhaps it wouldn’t have seemed all that spectacular to anyone else. The picture frame itself, after all, was rather plain, a simple faded blue in colour - but more eye capturing was the photo it outlined.
A picture of An and her dad, the former of which was smiling wider than Kohane had ever seen. (A lie. Kohane was privy to that same smile, each and every day.) An had mentioned the story behind it to her before - though only in passing, but it was still enough to convey how special the picture was to An.
And in turn, it had become special to her too, not dissimilar to how An had given her a dream that they both strove towards in unison.
Images of RAD WEEKEND fleetingly came to mind, and Kohane clenched her fist, pressing her lips together in a silent vow that she would help An achieve her dreams, whatever they might evolve into.
“Say, Kohane,” An interrupted, snapping her from her thoughts. “Will you check this over for me?”
Kohane blinked at the realization that she hadn’t even noticed when it was, that An’s pencil had begun to move again. She didn’t dwell on it, though, straightening in her seat and extending her palm towards An in a silent gesture for her to pass the book filled with her working her way.
And when An made no move to hand it over, she tilted her head in quiet questioning.
“No,” An grumbled, patting the space on the floor beside her. “Come closer. Check it this way.”
A shaky laugh escaped Kohane at the exaggerated manner in which An jutted out her bottom lip, and though she shuffled closer, it proved not enough for An, who tugged her arm so that she was closer still, before leaning into her shoulder.
Kohane’s breath hitched as she wrapped her arm around her elbow, rubbing lightly at the fabric of her jacket with her thumb, and she idly wished that she had had the foresight to shed herself of it in the moments prior.
Her eyes flickering to the girl beside her only caused her breath to stutter further, when what greeted her was a look of hesitant yet undeniable pride as An nudged the paper closer towards her, as if tentatively displaying some kind of prize she had won.
Viewing An’s expression proved to be short-lived, however, when An tucked her head into the crook of Kohane’s neck, a half-hearted protest on her lips. “Go on, Kohaneee…” she whined, and the drawl she added to Kohane’s name was enough to make her giggle. “I wanna know if I did well already…”
Kohane merely laughed at An’s impatience, an expression which An mimicked before the quiet enveloped them once more. With an unsteady hand, she then traced An’s words line by line, trying her best to remain ignorant of the way that An’s breath tickled her neck - not blind to the fact that the moment she looked into the gleaming eyes, she would fall, losing all sense of what it was she was supposed to be doing.
“Ah, it looks like you got most of these right, An-chan- Oh, except here, look-” she murmured distractedly, pointing vaguely at a spot on the page where she had noticed an error.
An only hummed in response, and by the way that she continued to nuzzle at Kohane, she wondered if she was really focusing on the page at all. And yet, Kohane took her affirmation that she had heard as a sign to continue, simply nudging her in the side as she continued.
“You do it like this, see…?” she explained, hastily making corrections with the pencil An had held between her lips only minutes before. (She pretended, of course, that the thought didn’t flit through her mind of pressing the pencil to her own lips in an indirect kiss.)
And from her position tucked into Kohane’s neck, An huffed a small sigh, quiet murmurings of how she knew how to do what Kohane had explained under her breath.
Her words were so quiet, in fact, that the only evidence that they had been said at all was the heat of her breath against Kohane’s skin - her defences weighed so heavily with her slight disappointment that Kohane could never be sure if An had intended for her to hear her at all.
Regardless though, it was something she had come to expect from An, and her lips curved into a smile. Without fail, whether An realized it or not, whenever she got an answer wrong she would crinkle her nose, pouting as if Kohane had stated a direct insult to her pride.
And every time, when she continued further down the page just as she did now, pointing out the correct answers too as if to soothe her wounded pride, An would cheer in a way that made Kohane’s chest similarly swell with pride.
“This time for sure, Kohane!” An vowed, as she lazily lifted an arm to drape around her shoulders in a side hug. “I’ll get a full score and make you proud.”
Somehow, Kohane found herself believing in her.
(Because just as there was an An Shiraishi who believed in her with all of her heart, there was a Kohane Azusawa, too, that felt the exact same way.)
Kohane hadn’t expected that An would take her warning so seriously.
She hadn’t meant it, after all - her words intended only as an offhand comment, a slight jab that she had been certain An would wave off with ease, just as she would dismiss the rising blush on her cheeks as An teased her for how easily embarrassed she would get.
Their study dates (if she was allowed to call them that) were the silver lining to what was otherwise an unfortunate result of An’s rather lacking attention span to anything that wasn’t music or Kohane.
Which was why moments after An had draped herself across Kohane’s back, whining her name pitifully, she hadn’t expected her to follow up with, “Maybe I really should try studying with somebody else.”
The tone of her voice was melancholy, as was the feeling that sunk throughout Kohane’s body. She barely heard the way An mumbled “Comfort me, Kohane,” nor did she feel the heat of her breath against her nape, far too preoccupied with the pounding drum that seemed to have replaced the space where her heart should have been.
It echoed over the sound of the children playing in the nearby park, who waved their hands around as they jumped into piles of leaves, disappearing underneath the muddied foliage.
(Thump, thump, thump, like the sound of their footsteps as they ran towards the leaf piles.)
“If that’s what you want,” Kohane choked out. The sound of her voice seemed foreign to her ears, and her throat only seemed to close further in on itself when An nodded slightly into her neck.
“Mm…” An hummed noncommittally. Kohane shivered at the way her breath tickled her skin, and in any other situation, she supposed she would have laughed. “If you’re okay with it then… maybe it’s for the best, Kohane.”
Her eyes flickered down, just for a moment, to the sheet of paper that was clutched loosely in An’s fist.
She didn’t dare to read the score.
Didn’t dare to voice her opinion that she wasn’t really okay with it.
Didn’t tell her that the idea of somebody else leaning over An’s shoulder, their hand brushing lightly with hers as they pointed out where she went wrong, made her stomach churn and feel uncomfortably warm.
It wasn’t warm in the same way that it was whenever An did something particularly charming - but rather in a way that a forest fire would rage on. Bitterly and without end, seeping with the weight of her regret.
But… maybe An was right.
(She would never say something that she didn’t believe in, after all.)
Unsteadily, Kohane lifted her hand so that it overlapped with An’s. She rubbed gently at the skin where it came to rest, just above An’s knuckles, resulting in the barely noticeable feeling of An’s lips tilting up at the corners into a smile.
Kohane wished she could memorize the feeling of An pressed into her skin, instead of whatever cruel emotion was running rampant throughout her body. She shook it aside for the moment, throat unclogged just a little - just enough by that smile ( that smile, that could conquer a country if it wanted, in Kohane’s opinion) for her to echo “Right.”
An shuffled slightly behind her, shifting so that her chin was resting upon one of Kohane’s shoulders. One of her hands detached from the tangle of her and Kohane’s fingers, coming up to poke gently at her cheek.
“Hey, you’ll see,” An soothed. “It’ll be fine. I’ll totally blow you away when I get a perfect score on the next exam.”
“Mhm,” Kohane murmured. “It’s for the best.”
They stayed like that for a few moments more, swaying slightly as An’s hand fell back to rest on Kohane’s shoulder. An’s declaration had done little to ease her growing anxiety, and yet there seemed to be no further words to be said between them.
(A lie - Kohane could think of several declarations that might have convinced An to stay.)
And as Kohane walked home, An’s absence from her side more prominent than ever, it didn’t take long for that sinking feeling to envelop her entirely, mimicking the feeling of a ball and chain as it weighed her down.
She sniffed lightly as she walked, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes as if it might have kept the tears at bay. The fabric of her jacket only seemed to irritate her skin further, and yet the discomforting feeling it brought forth was nothing compared to the image of An and somebody else curled into each other’s side that settled in the front of her mind.
One after the other, then, the tears began to fall, each one trailing down her cheek more rapidly than the last. They fell as autumn leaves fell from the trees they had once clung to, so many that Kohane thought they might have formed a puddle at her feet.
And with every tear that fell, her stomach seemed to sink a little lower as a dread-filled feeling washed over her.
She couldn’t quite understand why.
Slouching further into her seat, Kohane willed her eyes to remain open for just a little longer. They burned, though only slightly, at the edges with the effects of little sleep, and with each passing second, she fought the urge to collapse onto her desk for even a few brief moments.
An’s voice rang in her head as she did - drowning out the classroom chatter and somehow clearer than the words her teacher spoke - scolding her for slacking off and serving as her primary motivator to remain awake.
Even the ringing of the bell that followed did little to snap her from her sleepless haze, and the bustle of students around her almost served as a lullaby as her head came to rest on the desk before her with a soft thud .
“Kohane-chan?”
Opening her eyes greeted her with the sight of Minori, crouched in front of the desk and peering concernedly at her. Strands of her hair fell into her face as she leaned further towards her, resting her chin upon the wood as she balanced on the soles of her feet. “Are um… you okay, Kohane-chan? You seem a little tired.”
Kohane straightened in her seat and sighed. She stretched her arms above her head as if it might have eased the tiredness from her muscles, before setting her elbows upon the wood and leaning into her palm.
“Do you think that maybe An-chan got tired of me nagging about her scoring well on her exams?”
“W-what?”
Minori spluttered at her questioning, seemingly so taken aback that she nearly lost her balance. Kohane apologized, as she stumbled, and yet if Minori had heard it, she did not acknowledge it. “N-no way! An-chan…?”
Minori shook her head with such intensity that Kohane thought that her own head might begin to spin.
“I don’t think An-chan would ever tire of you…” she murmured, and the sincerity in her eyes was almost enough for Kohane to wipe her doubts away entirely.
(But not quite.)
“She trusts you a lot, I think, so anything that you said, I’m sure she knows you’re only looking out for her. That’s the impression your An-chan gave me when we hung out together.”
Minori’s slip of the tongue caused the tips of Kohane’s ears to burn, and she wrinkled her nose at the unpleasantness of it. She slapped her cheeks lightly to rid herself of the feeling, half-heartedly frowning at Minori.
“Maybe you’re right,” she murmured in contemplation when Minori only raised her eyebrow, pairing the action with a knowing stare. “I’m probably just overthinking things, right, Minori-chan? Although…”
Minori’s rapid nodding was just as quickly replaced by a look of confusion.
“Although?” the other questioned, when the silence lasted a few beats too long.
Kohane shifted again, and drummed her fingers against the pleats of her skirt. “I don’t know, really,” she sighed, slightly frustrated and a little agitated. “It just… makes me feel a little uneasy that An is getting tutored by someone else. Imagining it makes me uncomfortable, somehow.”
“Oh,” Minori frowned.
When she didn’t elaborate, Kohane mimicked her expression. Her fingers stilled from the rhythm they had tapped on her skirt, instead clenching at the fabric with her dissatisfaction.
“Sorry, Minori-chan. That’s kind of strange, isn’t it?”
Minori lurched to her feet so suddenly that Kohane’s own heart jolted with the movement. “No!” she blurted, and the frantic waving of her hands only served to strengthen her rising anxieties.
Protests rose on her tongue, and yet none of them seemed to be heard as Minori rambled, her words barely registering in Kohane’s mind as she spoke.
“I just… Haruka-chan, this morning, she was talking about finding a tutor and I thought- but, you know! It’s probably just a strange coincidence! Ah but, you know, Kohane-chan,” she continued, and Kohane wondered if she needed to pause to catch her breath at all.
The slight flush on Minori’s face as she leant forward gave her little time to dwell on her words, and what she whispered next with a hand cupped around her ear only caused a dozen more unanswered questions to come to mind.
“Don’t think what you’re feeling is jealousy?”
Kohane almost fell out of her chair.
(Though thankfully, she didn’t.)
Imagery of a person tucked into An’s side, as she once was, sprung to mind, and Kohane idly wondered if they too would whisper words of encouragement that made An beam so brilliantly that they could do little but look away.
And when Minori straightened again, her grin was blindingly proud. It was a look that would have looked far more at home on An’s face, or even Mizuki, whom she had only met a brief handful of times.
Just as quickly as Minori had stepped away, Kohane found herself tugging at her sleeve, pulling her back so that she could whisper into her ear. Her action had caused Minori to stumble, and yet she only giggled as Kohane hissed, “No way! I can’t be jealous!”
“Don’t you think so, though?” Minori whispered back, lightly hitting her arm as if to convey her point.
Kohane’s frantic shakes of her head did little to deter her as she continued in hushed tones, and she smiled. “You’re worried about someone else getting close to An-chan, right?”
“I’m not jealous,” Kohane murmured. “Or worried. They’d only be studying after all.”
Minori only sighed frustratedly in response. She pressed her palms against the desk, forming little indents on her hands where the corners dug into her skin.
“I felt the same with Haruka-chan, you know,” she stated, and the certainty in her tone was enough to make Kohane fumble. “So if you want my advice, then you should hurry up and confess already.”
Kohane was thankful, then, that the bell rang to silence her.
“Hey, Miku, what should someone do, if they were to start feeling jealous?”
Miku very nearly dropped her cup of coffee over the freshly polished tiles of Meiko’s cafe. “What?” she choked, eyes widening slightly when Kohane only peered at her curiously in response.
“I was just wondering,” Kohane offered meekly, a sheepish smile on her lips that told Miku all that she needed to know.
Miku hummed as she set her coffee aside on the counter. She was thankful that at least, the cafe seemed to be largely empty - save for Luka, who was leaning into the palm of her hand, watching their exchange with great amusement.
She tried her best to ignore the self-satisfied grin that Luka sent her direction, instead turning towards Kohane to face her. “This is about An, then?” she questioned, and the knowing look she sent towards Kohane was enough to freeze her in her tracks.
(From her position in the corner of the cafe, she thought she might have heard Luka snickering.)
Kohane only sighed in resignation, and when she set her own cup on the counter beside Miku’s, she leant the weight of her head into her hands. “Miku-chan… was it really that obvious?”
“The pair of you are always obvious,” Luka chimed in, and Miku fought the urge to ban her temporarily from the cafe.
(Meiko would - probably, at least - be upset with her if she did, she reasoned.)
Striding towards her, she instead settled with flicking at Luka’s forehead lightly, a gesture that went largely unappreciated as Luka wrinkled her nose in displeasure, lifting a hand to rub at the afflicted area.
“If you’re not going to be helpful, then zip it,” she hissed, and Luka quickly pinched her fingers together, imitating zipping her mouth shut. “If you want my advice, Kohane, then I think that you should just be honest,” she continued, propping herself up on one of the stools surrounding the bar.
She watched as Kohane bit into the bottom of her lip and took a sip of her coffee, frowning slightly when she realized the liquid had begun to cool.
“But…”
“Look,” Miku intercepted, crossing one leg over the other. “I know it’s hard sometimes, but you should tell her what you really think.”
Kohane quickly shut her mouth, a tapering sigh escaping from her lips.
Miku could only stare pityingly at her, allowing her eyes to roam the expanse of the cafe as she drummed her fingers against her leg in thought. And when she locked eyes with Luka, she quickly averted her gaze to the clock that rested just behind her.
“Oh?” Luka challenged, “Could it be that you’re talking from experience, Miku?”
Miku only sent her a withering glare in response.
Pushing herself off the stool, she made her way to Kohane, putting a hand almost soothingly on her shoulder, finding that it was tensed beneath her touch. “Take it easy, okay Kohane?”
Kohane mumbled something that vaguely sounded like agreement.
“I don’t know the specifics of your situation but… at the end of the day,” she added decidedly. “An’s partner is you and you alone, right?”
(As Kohane left, she could only hope that her words had reached her.)
“Say, Miku. Do you think that’s enough?” Luka murmured, tapping her fingers against the rip of her cup. “Maybe we should have helped her more.”
Miku sniffed lightly in response, turning her head as if it may have prevented Luka from witnessing the smile that had graced her features. “No. It’ll be fine without our meddling.”
“Oh?”
Luka’s questioning was met with silence, only interrupted by the soft sound of Miku’s leg hitting the stool as she swung it. She lifted the cup to her lips, then, smiling knowingly against it as the taste of coffee hit her tongue.
And when Miku turned to her, scowling, she merely shrugged.
“You shouldn’t drink too much of that, you know.”
“Maybe I’m drinking it to make sure I stay awake. I wouldn’t want this silence to bore me, you know,” she quipped, laughing as the cup was snatched from her grasp.
Her laughter trailed off as Miku took a sip of the drink herself, no protests to be said, and she leaned into the palm of her hand. She drummed her fingers rhythmically against her cheek to fill the silence, eyes trailing the expanse of Miku’s throat as she swallowed.
“Do you think Meiko will be back soon? I might need a new coffee, now that somebody stole mine.”
Miku wrinkled her nose, humming a soft affirmative. “As if you aren’t fine with sharing.”
“You know me so well,” Luka laughed, to which the other nodded.
“And to your question,” Miku added decidedly. “It’s those two, after all. They’ll be fine, don’t you think?”
Luka only nodded, her fingers grazing with Miku’s as she grasped the coffee cup once more and took another sip.
Kohane clutched a stuffed animal close to her chest, stroking over one of the soft ears as she hummed a melody that she and An had once sung under her breath. The plush was shaped like a wolf and grey in colour, something that An had won for her after challenging Toya at the arcade.
She remembered the way that An had presented it to her, far too pleased with herself and a blinding smile on her lips that suggested Kohane had to be the one to keep it.
Continuing to rub her thumb over the soft material, Kohane smiled, recalling Miku’s words to her.
It was true, she thought, that An had shown her nothing but unending kindness in the days that followed their meeting.
She had been the one to show her the thrill of the stage, and the joy that performing could bring, spreading from person to person until the entire room had one shared feeling.
So of course, it would only be natural for her to return that kindness to her, even if only by being honest with her words.
It was then that Kohane realized that a lot of her experiences were thanks to An.
She recalled how An had coaxed her to take the first step forward towards a more confident ‘her’, among other, minor memories that swam through her mind.
And then, she thought of An displaying test scores to her with that same, heart-stopping smile, and how jealousy too, was something that An had brought to her.
She pressed a light kiss to the stuffed animal's forehead, and let it go.
( “An’s partner is you and you alone, right?” )
“That’s right,” Kohane mumbled, her words sealed between the confines of the room and the plushy in her arms. She stroked along its head decidedly, nuzzling into it as if it were the girl herself. “An-chan is my precious partner, so… there’s no need for that, is there?”
(That night, Kohane dreamt of roses dyed in hues of blue, given to a girl whose eyes matched the flowers of the acacia tree they stood beneath, and of radiant smiles and equally bright words uttered to her with the taste of coffee on her lips.)
The crunch of autumn leaves underfoot accompanied them as they walked, a slight breeze passing through and causing a few strands of Kohane’s hair to fall into her face.
She reached to tuck them back behind her ear, only to find that An had beaten her to it, stepping forward and fussing over her as if Kohane had fallen flat on her face, rather than encountered a minor inconvenience.
(Kohane pretended that the slight graze of An’s hand against her cheek didn’t cause her heart rate to skyrocket.)
“A-An-chan,” she murmured, and somehow, she knew that both of them were aware that she was secretly pleased to have received An’s attention once again.
An’s blindingly proud smile, at least, seemed to suggest as much.
And as she turned on her heel, a slight skip in her step, Kohane found herself wishing that she had been able to stare at that smile a little longer.
She watched as An walked, just a few steps ahead of her, her eyes trailing down the expanse of her back as she admired the way that the sun reflected off of the star clips in her hair, making it seem as if An herself was gleaming.
(Although, Kohane thought, it wouldn’t have been all that surprising to her if An had begun to sparkle, even without the assistance of the sun.)
“Hey, Kohane,” An hummed, and Kohane made a noncommittal noise in response. “I think that I might do well on my test this time, for real.”
Kohane paused slightly in her step, and swallowed. She leant her weight onto one of her legs, and when the breeze passed them by again, she lifted a hand to tuck her hair behind her ears, only to find that no strands had come loose.
(It was then she realized that An had secured it with one of her hair clips.)
“You say that every time, An-chan.”
“Well,” An huffed, “I really really mean it this time- oh.”
An turned to look over her shoulder, then, as if the leaves beneath them had indicated Kohane’s pause. She swivelled on her foot so rapidly that Kohane almost urged her to be more careful, stepping towards her with the confidence that had made her fall in the first place.
(She remembered again of how An had extended a hand towards her, words of “Let’s team up!” on her lips that Kohane could hardly believe, and her heart picked up its pace even further.)
She leant into the touch as An cupped her cheek, nuzzling at it slightly as if it may have brought them that much closer, and fanning against her face, she felt the huff of An’s laughter.
“Hey, Kohane,” An murmured, rubbing her cheek with the pad of her thumb. She tilted her head then, smiling so plainly that Kohane wondered just how it could be, that she was the cause of that smile.
“Hey, An-chan,” Kohane replied back, and An’s beam seemed to widen a little further.
Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Kohane, and she continued her ministrations on her cheek as she spoke. “Now who’s the one who’s getting distracted?” she teased, and Kohane lifted her own hand to overlap An’s. “Say, what are you thinking about so diligently?”
Kohane only hummed, nuzzling into An’s touch further, and when she threatened to pull away, she held her palm there, against her cheek. “About how I’m lucky to have met you, An-chan,” she answered.
An’s thumb came to a standstill on her cheek.
(Kohane very nearly, very embarrassingly, asked her to continue.)
“Ah,” An said, a little too quietly for her usual tone and a little surprised. And when Kohane glanced up, she noticed that a blush had extended across An’s face, from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.
(Kohane wondered, then, if the back of her neck was similarly dusted pink.)
Flustered was a new look on An, and yet Kohane found that she wore it just as well as any of the other expressions she wore on her face. She stepped back, almost too suddenly, rubbing at her cheek with the back of her hand as she laughed uneasily.
“Um! I’m sure you’ll do well on your test, An-chan… since you believe in yourself too…”
An nodded her agreement so rapidly that Kohane’s eyes struggled to keep up with the movement of it. She giggled, then, perhaps still a little unsteadily, and yet it seemed to stop An in her tracks all the same, who used her now free hand to rub at her neck with her embarrassment.
“Right,” she stuttered out. “I’ll uh. Do my best for you, Kohane.”
(The whistling of the wind, then, seemed to indicate that the season was cheering her on too.)
“Hey, An-chan. Is studying with somebody else difficult at all?” Kohane mumbled when the silence seemed a little difficult to bear.
“ No, ” An huffed, a little indignantly. She leaned down then, reaching among the path decorated with hues of orange and gold and brown that seemed to reflect off of her eyes, gently holding one of the leaves between her forefinger and thumb.
She twirled it tenderly as if holding onto something precious. “I can handle anything! I’ll get a perfect score, just you wait.”
Kohane hummed, interlocking her hands behind her back and stretching. “Of course, An-chan.”
The sound of her laughter that followed, intertwined with the slight disbelief at An’s words, was quickly silenced. An lifted the leaf up to her face, inspecting it perhaps a little too intently, murmuring not quite softly enough to go unnoticed that the golden flecks of the foliage matched Kohane’s eyes.
“Autumn’s colours suit you, Kohane,” she stated, slightly louder this time and a little oblivious that Kohane had heard, despite the obvious movement of her lips.
(She didn’t have the heart to tell her that between the pair of them, she didn’t think it was she who matched the colour of the surrounding scenery.
An Shiraishi was the sun, golden and bright and somebody that Kohane would follow as long as the leaves continued to decorate the ground.)
The score, while not perfect (much to An’s disappointment), was resoundingly better than any she had achieved on her previous attempts.
Kohane knew this, of course, because An had burst into their practice so suddenly, flinging herself into Kohane’s arms with such vigour that the two of them had toppled over. They had formed a pile on the floor, not unlike the leaves that laid, perhaps a little messily, across every surface they could reach - tangled limbs and laughter intertwining until they couldn’t tell who was who.
Half-hearted apologies on An’s lips were soon replaced with cheers of, “Kohane, Kohane look!”, and just as quickly she found that a piece of paper had ceremoniously been shoved in her face.
(From the corner of her eye, she thought she might have seen Akito firmly tugging Toya out of the room, and thanked them silently for their efforts.)
Kohane only giggled at An’s enthusiastic greeting, pushing back the hair that had fallen into her eyes as she fell. “I’m looking, An-chan.”
The grin An sent her in return seemed to glow with her warmth, slightly smug and completely An . “I told you I thought I could do well, didn’t I?” she questioned, and when Kohane nodded she thought she might have noticed the way her smile seemed to widen, showing her teeth. “The best partner in the whole world only deserves the best herself, after all! I had to make you proud!”
“W-wait, you’re flattering me too much, An-chan…”
Kohane flushed under her gaze, only faltering when An pressed herself up, shifting her position from a tangled mess on the floor to being seated cross-legged just in front of her.
“Well, did I?” An murmured, after a moment, resting her test score on the floor beside her. Pushing herself to a similar position, Kohane merely tilted her head in questioning, far too preoccupied with thoughts of why it might have been that she missed the feeling of An so close to her.
(Though really, she had known the answer to that question long ago.)
“Make you proud, I mean.”
“Ah,” Kohane murmured. “Of course, An-chan.”
An smiled then, so softly and without restraint that Kohane thought she might melt under its radiance. “You know, Kohane, the tutor Haruka recommended to me, she was smart and all, but…”
(Her shoulders tensed, almost habitually, and Kohane took a breath as if to relax them.)
“I think I’d still prefer it if you’d be the one to tutor me, Kohane.”
Kohane nearly fell over for the second time that day with the shock. She lifted a hand to her chest to steady herself, her breath hitching as she stammered, “W-what? But An-chan, you-”
“Please, Kohane?” An pleaded, the look in her eyes so sincere that really, Kohane had no choice but to believe her. She leaned forward, too, as if to emphasize her words, clasping Kohane’s hands tightly within her own (a silent suggestion, that she wouldn’t let go, nor stop looking at her with those eyes, until she agreed.) “I know I’m the one who suggested it, but I…”
Laughter bubbled from her then, so unexpectedly and free, as she cut An off. “Say, An-chan,” she murmured. “Would you believe me if I said I was relieved to hear you say that?”
An met her words with a look of confusion, tinged slightly with miraculousness at Kohane’s bout of laughter. “Huh? What’re you talking about, Kohane?”
Kohane only sighed, leaning back onto the palms of her hands. “Truthfully, An-chan, I was a little jealous,” she muttered, flushing a little with her admittance - something that only grew stronger when An let out a noise of surprise. “I- I just… didn’t want anyone to, um, get too close to you, you know? Our study dates were special to me…”
(For the second time that day, Kohane found herself sprawled on the floor underneath An.)
An squealed at her admission, nuzzling her cheek almost forcefully against Kohane’s. “Kohane! You’re so cute, did you know that? Ah… I could just kiss you right now!”
Kohane blinked.
So did An, and her movements against Kohane’s cheek stopped.
And when she leant back, stammering defences that barely made sense to Kohane’s ears, she could only giggle at the blush that had spread across her face like wildfire.
“I-” An started, releasing her grip on Kohane’s shoulders to cover her reddened cheeks. “No, I didn’t mean-”
Kohane faltered.
“I just…” she tried again, an awkward laugh transitioning into a groan. “I was only saying what I had in mind, you can uh, ignore that, Kohane. Really. You’d save us both some embarrassment if you just forget about it.”
Kohane wavered a little less, and extended her hand so that her fingers were grazing An’s cheek. “I, um, wouldn’t mind it if you did An-chan.”
“K-Kohane,” An murmured, leaning into the touch. She reached up to cover Kohane’s hand with her own, who found herself appreciative of the resulting warmth. “Do you even know what you’re saying? I can’t just…”
She huffed, and Kohane fought the urge to giggle when she scrunched her nose.
“It’d feel wrong, when we’re not even dating…”
“Then,” Kohane murmured, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Do you want to date me, too?”
The effect of her words, surprisingly blunt and something she would have expected from An, but not herself, was immediate on the pair of them. It stirred a groan from Kohane’s throat, and she collapsed, resting her head on An’s shoulder.
“Yeah!” An blurted, so enthusiastically that Kohane was sure that she could feel the resulting warmth pulsing from An’s face.
“No, wait, I-I do, but-” An stammered, in her hasty attempts to amend her phrasing, and from Kohane’s position on her shoulder she could feel the way that An was shaking her head. “Not because I want to kiss you! I mean, that’s partly the reason, but ultimately it’s because I love you! Not as a partner or a best friend though, but-”
Kohane quickly, and effectively, quietened her speech with a gentle press of her lips against An’s. Her thumb smoothed over An’s cheek as she did so, the skin still warm against her touch, and when she pulled away so that they were face to face, she giggled.
(Everything, somehow, seemed far clearer than it had in the moments prior.)
“You were rambling, An-chan,” she said gently.
An promptly closed her mouth, which had seemingly fallen open, and nodded.
Kohane paused, fiddling with the laces of her shoe, expecting An’s voice, loud and enthused and confident, in the moments to follow. In the silence, she bit at the bottom of her lip, nerves set so ablaze that she feared the resulting colour on her lips would match the colour of An’s school tie.
An broke the silence, but not quite in the way that she had expected.
Instead, she scratched at her cheek with her finger, smile as tentative as the newborn animals that she constantly compared Kohane to as she questioned, almost like it was hard to believe it was a fact, “You want to kiss me too?”
(Endlessly, Kohane wanted to say.)
Kohane responded only with a smile of her own, pressing her forehead against An’s as she questioned, “Do you mind if I…?”
An, thankfully, seemed to understand, her arms reaching to wrap around Kohane protectively.
Their second kiss was much like the first, over too soon, but perfect all the same, and warmth bloomed infinitely in her chest as An laughed as she dipped back in for a third, and then a fourth.
At some point, she felt one of An’s arms snake up from its position on her back to cradle her neck, and when she opened she opened her eyes a sliver to peer at the girl before her, she understood just why it was, that An had always insisted that her embarrassment was cute.
I love you, she tried to convey, the press of her lips all but delivering the sincerity of the words that swarmed her mind.
“I love you,” she tried again, when one of them finally pulled away. “So, so much, An-chan.”
And when An took a hold of both sides of her face, affection glazing every inch of her skin, the only words she uttered in response were, “I love you too.”
“An-chan, you never did tell me about who tutored you.”
“Oh,” An frowned, “I didn’t?”
Kohane simply shook her head, steadily gazing at her.
“Oh,” she reiterated. “Well, It was a girl named… Asahina-san, I believe?”
She shivered, then, and Kohane almost took off her own jacket in offering. “Maybe the reason I forgot is that I didn’t want to remember it.”
Tilting her head, Kohane frowned.
“She was terrifying, Kohane,” An declared, and Kohane found herself thankful that her jacket had remained to offer to muffle the sound of her laughter. “You’re the only tutor for me, for real! She was so strict, I had no clue what to do!”
(Kohane, in a display of mercy, chose not to remind her of what the girl had allowed her to achieve, and vowed that she would ask Haruka later if she could receive some tips from her.)