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An Shiraishi had been telling herself that today was the day for approximately two months.
‘Today’, of course, referred to one of the - if not the - most important day of her life. She had repeated the phrase both mentally and verbally to anybody who would spare her a moment to listen, and it had quickly become a sentiment that Akito, Touya and Mizuki in particular had come to despise.
The first time she had loudly declared it, it had been over lunch break. She had slammed a fist onto the desk before her, startling some nearby students, a question of “Do you think today’s a good day to confess to Kohane?” on her lips that she already knew the answer to.
Sunshine had been beaming through the classroom window, leaving a warm impression on her skin and reminding her of the equally sunny smile that Kohane would surely send her way once she learned of the depth of An’s feelings.
Even the flowers that morning had looked particularly cheerful, as if by unfurling their petals to the sky - the first sign that spring had arrived - they would strengthen her resolve. (It was a shame that their encouragement had fallen on deaf ears, but An digressed.)
So, yes, it had been a day as perfect as Kohane herself.
She had noted as such when the only response from Mizuki had been an unimpressed stare, the words forming over a mouthful of melon pan that she didn’t find nearly as sweet as the girl her admission was intended for.
Akito and Touya had joined them shortly thereafter, the former of which had only sighed exasperatedly as she repeated the sentiment.
Now, just over two months later, Akito did the same as she proudly announced that today was the day. “If you’re going to confess, please just do it already,” Akito groaned, his resignation clear, and Touya had been quick to nod his agreement as Akito’s head hit the desk with a soft thump.
She pointedly ignored his exasperation.
Because today, An actually meant it.
She was going to do it. She’d confess to Kohane today.
(Or, so she told herself, for what must have been nearing the hundredth time.)
She was so certain of it that she had spent the majority of her classes picturing how it would go down, eyes fluttering to a close as she leant further into the palm of her hand.
During their break later that afternoon, when Kohane’s heart was still pounding with the effects of her singing, she would make eye contact with her from across Meiko’s cafe. Kohane would find herself so entranced by their locked gaze that she would stumble and drop her coffee, slight panic tinging her expression as she hurtled towards the ground.
Fortunately, An would be there to catch her beverage and, more importantly, Kohane herself. She would sweep her up into her arms, mug balanced in one hand and the other wrapped around Kohane’s waist, and she would look up at her with wide, lovestruck eyes, her mouth forming an ‘o’ as a surprised gasp tumbled from her lips.
Then, before Kohane had the chance to say so much as a thank you, An would say it. She’d finally say it in front of everybody, but most especially the girl of her affections, making sure to punctuate her confession by sending Akito a smug grin.
(If only to emphasize that she could so confess whenever she wanted, against his beliefs.)
And then, after telling Kohane that she loved her more than words could say, they would live happily ever after, just as the couples in fairy tales did.
As An recounted the details of her plans, it became increasingly apparent with each word said that Touya did not share the same sentiment that An’s method was flawless. “Maybe there’s a reason that there’s the word ‘tale’ in fairy tale,” he pointed out, scratching the side of his neck in confusion.
An merely scoffed in response. “Please,” she said, pushing herself from her chair to pat reassuringly at his shoulder, “my plan is practically perfect.”
Akito mimicked her scoff with one of his own. “Perfectly disastrous, maybe,” he mumbled. The words were slightly muffled by the sleeve that he had yet to unbury his face from, and yet they still found themselves not quite quiet enough for it to have slipped past An’s ears - who promptly kicked his shin.
The rate at which Akito arose from his sleep-like position to clutch his leg was near impressive, and An briefly wondered if his teachers would consider employing the same technique if they caught him napping in class again.
(She indulged in the idea for only a moment, before switching back to the (much more important) matter at hand.)
“What the hell is your problem?” he hissed.
An simply waved him off. “You complain too much,” she said, turning on her heel. His protests continued to remain unheard as she drummed her fingers against her cheek in thought, a furrow to her brow as she considered the blackboard before her.
It had since been cleared of any words that adorned it in the English lesson prior to their lunch, the only remainder a slight smear of dust across the surface of the board.
The drumming on her cheek came to a standstill. The phrases on the board had been cleared away, and yet the fragments of dust that remained sparked a new set of words alight in her mind.
Maybe, just maybe, Kohane would be impressed if she could tell her how she felt in more than one language.
(An quickly, and proudly, added ‘multilingual confession’ to her rapidly growing list of go-to daydreams.)
The bustle of Meiko’s cafe served to mute the heart palpitations An found herself experiencing, something that she was forever grateful for.
Her eyes trailed Kohane’s form lazily as she shifted from one side of the counter to the other, repeating the motion several times as she collected various ingredients that Meiko pointed to.
The distance between them was great enough that An couldn’t quite hear the words that they spoke, but from the gesturing of Kohane’s hands (the kind that was made only when she was excited) and the smile on her face, she understood enough to know that Kohane was enjoying herself.
Her own smile drifted across her face as she watched them, and she sighed contentedly. Her nails dug into her cheek as she leant into her palms, yet she paid the meagre uncomfortableness no mind, swinging her legs a little with unspoken joy.
It was almost a shame, she thought, that Kohane’s drink would suffer a slight spillage in the moments to come when she had put such effort into it. The thought of it was almost enough to bring forth a frown, and she began to shift before any further urges to amend her plans arose.
She had only made it so far as to place her palms on the table before her when a warm hand on her shoulder held her steady.
“An-chan! Here,” Kohane said, stumbling only slightly over her words as she extended her hand outwards. Heat exuded from the mug as Kohane held it towards her, her hand trembling with the effort to keep it in place.
An blinked as she blindly took it into her hands, staring aimlessly at a pocket of space between Kohane’s hands and the beverage she had grabbed. She found that the warmth of it was pleasant, rather than scalding against her skin. It smelt vaguely of chocolate, too, as she brought it towards her mouth, and she indulged in the scent of it as she took a sip.
Then she blinked again. It was as if she had spent the last minute and a half on auto-pilot, her soul somehow disconnected from her body as her brain attempted to process what had just occurred. She wondered when it was that Kohane had travelled the short distance between the counter and the table, and how it was that she hadn’t noticed.
“Um, An-chan?” Kohane questioned from beside her, inappreciably tentative. An’s gaze flickered to her as she began to fidget - her nervousness seemingly going unnoticed to everybody except An, who found it so plainly written into her features that she could little except set her mug aside, lifting a hand to wipe away the creases of Kohane’s brow with her thumb.
She allowed her touch to linger on Kohane’s forehead a beat longer than she needed to, a notion that caused Kohane to giggle, squirming slightly under her guide.
“Hold still, Kohane,” An chastised lightly, her mirth plain as her shoulders began to shake with the effects of quiet laughter. Kohane was quick to imitate the sound, giggling as she murmured vague variants of ‘ that tickles, An-chan, ’ under her breath.
Her thumb travelled, then, from Kohane’s forehead to her cheek to the corner of her lips, where it pressed one corner up into a smile. “See?” she murmured, gesturing with her free hand, “You’re so much cuter when you’re smiling, Kohane.”
“You’re too much, An-chan,” Kohane mumbled, lifting her own hand to pull An’s away. She intertwined their fingers as she held An’s hand in place, giving it a reassuring squeeze before pulling away.
An’s grin as Kohane lifted a finger to scratch at her cheek was blindingly proud.
“Do you like the drink, An-chan?” Kohane questioned, and the last of her laughter had yet to subside as she indicated to where it rested on the table. “Meiko-san has been teaching me new combinations, so…”
An chanced another look at Kohane’s face, then - still slightly embarrassed with a blush dusting her cheeks to the tips of her ears, but overall hopeful - and immediately threw her carefully put together plans out the window.
She clutched a hand to her chest with what wasn’t entirely mock offence. (Because how was it that her partner didn’t agree with her that she was the absolute best?)
“Of course!” she gasped, already slipping her arm through Kohane’s, linking them together at the elbow as she pulled her into the seat beside her. “Your drinks are the best Kohane! How could you not know that?”
“You’re exaggerating again, An-chan,” Kohane helpfully reminded her as she allowed herself to be pulled along all the same.
An reached for the mug then, as if to prove her point, only to change course midway to hold the cup against Kohane’s lips. And when Kohane only blinked confusedly back at her, she sent her a pointed look in response. “Try it, so you can believe me when I say that you’re the best ,” she whispered, bringing a single finger to her lips to indicate a secret shared between the two.
Kohane shook her head fondly in the way that let An know that she wasn’t truly exasperated with her. And as Kohane took a hold of the handle, An didn’t bother to relinquish her grip - relishing in the feeling of Kohane’s hand overlapping her own.
(To Kohane’s credit, she only looked slightly surprised at An’s choice of action, the look being just as quickly wiped away as she took in the unwavering smile before her.)
“See?” An urged as Kohane pulled the drink from her lips, continuing to speak lowly in a tone that was meant only for Kohane’s ears. “It’s good, right?”
Kohane nodded sheepishly, as if not quite ready to accept the full extent of An’s compliments just yet. She hummed some form of faint agreement that An barely caught before she pulled her hand away (all too soon, in An’s opinion) to cup around one side of her mouth.
“But why are we whispering, An-chan?” she murmured, not completely able to disguise the amusement in her tone.
“ Because ,” An emphasized, the answer far too obvious in her mind. “The others might get jealous of your superior mixing skills if they found out, and then ,” she heaved a breath to steady herself, “you’d be too busy taking orders from them to pay any attention to me.”
Kohane appeared stunned into silence.
An’s cheeks flushed slightly at her declaration, and she traced a finger around the rim of the cup, her gaze lowering to the table. Every now and then, she glanced up at Kohane, not wanting to miss a second of the dozens of interesting expressions that flitted across her face - only to find that Kohane’s gaze, as gentle as it was, was too intense.
There was something about Kohane’s eyes, An thought, when she looked at her - a slight change from whenever she looked at anybody else.
A quick glance at Akito and Touya who sat a few tables across showed that whatever it was - if anything at all - lay undetected, the pair equally as enamoured with their conversation as she was with Kohane.
She brushed the thought aside as wishful thinking as she considered it further, just as she had dismissed the way that she thought Kohane’s grip on her elbow had tightened a little as a figment of her imagination.
(Though, was it really surprising that she would have imagined such a thing when she had spent a significant portion of her day imagining that Kohane returned her feelings?)
Her nose wrinkled only slightly with the disappointment, wrestling the look down for something far more carefully neutral. She sighed as she lifted the beverage to her lips once again, the liquid having lost its warmth slightly in the time spent talking.
It was by no means unpleasant, and yet Kohane took the opportunity to scold her regardless. “An-chan, you dummy,” she fretted, pressing a finger to wipe away some of the foam that had settled at the corner of her lip. “If you spend so much time fussing over me your drink will get cold…”
(‘ You’re fussing over me too ,’ An nearly retorted, but didn’t need to - not one to interrupt a moment that had given her Kohane’s undivided attention.)
“Sorry Kohane,” she amended instead, sending her a brief smile before taking an especially large sip of the drink for emphasis. “I’ll finish it no problem, see?”
Kohane only laughed in response. She contented herself by resting her head upon An’s shoulder, nuzzling into the fabric of her jacket. “That’s good then, An-chan,” she mumbled, trailing off slightly as she yawned.
An frowned. “You tired, Kohane?”
She took notice of the slight darkness beneath Kohane’s eyes, then, and internally cursed herself for not paying closer attention sooner. The mug in her hand hovered uncertainly, torn between taking another sip to soothe Kohane’s worry and setting it aside to erase her own concerns - fingers itching to wipe clear the evidence of Kohane’s lack of sleep.
“Mm, I’m okay,” Kohane murmured, her head never once lifting from its position on An’s shoulder as she attempted to shake her head. “It took me a while to sleep is all,” she wrestled another yawn to prevent it from interrupting, “I was thinking about the photography exhibit my dad’s taking me to this weekend, you remember, right?”
“Oh!”
An nodded vigorously. She did remember, even if it had momentarily slipped her mind to make way for more pressing matters that required her attention. (Such as, but not limited to, how to make Kohane fall head over heels for her.)
Kohane’s mood brightened as she continued to speak, delving into the details of her plans for the weekend. An listened carefully as she did so, making sure to punctuate her nods of affirmation with tiny sips of the beverage in her hand to appease her.
Her eyes flickered over the details of Kohane’s face as she rambled, her smile hidden behind the cup but wide all the same. Her gestures grew wilder with her excitement that only seemed to rise higher with every detail she discussed, and it was then that An wondered if Kohane knew how radiant she appeared in An’s eyes.
Listening to Kohane felt like floating, she thought, the weight of the words kept in the confines of her mind lighter than ever, drifting closer to the surface with every moment that passed and—
Oh.
This was her chance, wasn’t it?
An took a breath to steady herself, sipping the last of her drink before setting it aside. ‘ Everything will be fine, ’ she chanted to herself, over and over again.
You have to tell her now.
Everything will be fine.
‘Tell her now,’ she urged herself, when the words only seemed to choke her as they stuck themselves within her throat, ‘before the chance slips through your fingers yet again.’
Everything would be fine, because Kohane would never, never be unkind, even if the outcome was not as she had hoped. She repeated the phrases to herself a few times more for good measure and wondered if every echo was only playing further into her delusion, rather than strengthening her resolve as she had hoped.
Her mouth formed around the words that replayed in her mind, a smile on her lips as she realised that she was finally, finally , about to say it and—
“Y’know, you look especially cute today, Kohane,” she said instead, cutting Kohane off from her spiel. “You did your hair differently today, didn’t you?”
The declaration she had uttered didn’t sound even remotely similar to, ‘ I am deeply and utterly in love with you ,’ but in An’s defence, it was her closest attempt to saying it by far .
Kohane promptly closed her mouth, blushing from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. (And well, even if An hadn’t said exactly the words that she had planned, the look of shyness on Kohane’s face was more than worth it.) She beamed then, all things warm and sunshine embodied in her smile.
“Um! Yes,” she fumbled, lifting a hand to run her finger through the end of the braid that accompanied the usual bunches of hair at her shoulders. “Minori-chan braided it for me during lunch,” she elaborated, leaning a little further into An’s side and squeezing where her arm was looped around An’s elbow.
“Thanks, An-chan,” she mumbled after a few moments more, and from the corner of her eye, An noticed the way that she lifted a finger to scratch just above her upper lip.
An sighed in resignation. “You’re welcome,” she murmured back, nuzzling the top of Kohane’s head. Her arm felt slightly cramped from how it was pressed between Kohane and herself, and yet she paid it no mind, only hoping that from their closeness, Kohane hadn’t noticed the way that her shoulders sagged.
It was only when An arrived home that night, memories flitting in and out of her mind of the afternoon, that she realized she had pressed her lips to the cup that Kohane’s had found themselves on only moments before in an indirect kiss.
An thought that the way Kohane appeared while she was studying was really, really cute. That wasn’t to say that Kohane didn’t appear equally as charming at any other moment of the day, but that was beside the point. Even the motion of her pencil as she scribbled on the page seemed to convey her adorableness, and–
(Wow, An really had it bad, didn’t she?)
Each time that Kohane found an answer particularly difficult, her pencil would pause, and An’s eyes would trail it momentarily as it tapped out an unsteady rhythm. Her eyes would flicker up then, back to Kohane’s face where her nose scrunched frustratedly, her likeness to that of a baby animal almost astonishing.
She only knew this, among other things, of course, because of her own lack of focus. An hoped that Kohane wouldn’t hold it against her, at the very least, when during the test she would undoubtedly lose her focus as memories of their study date flooded her mind.
A smile took residence on her face unbounded as she continued to stare, absentmindedly twirling her own pencil between her forefinger and thumb. She repeated the action tirelessly, if only to prevent the near-disaster that had occurred roughly ten minutes prior, when she had brought the end of her pencil to her lips.
Memories of the cafe incident, as she had lovingly dubbed it, had overwhelmed her as her gaze flitted to where Kohane’s pencil was similarly held between her teeth, and she had quickly jerked the pencil away as if it had burnt her.
The affection that had surged through her at the time was entirely misplaced - thoughts of what it might have been like to actually press her lips against Kohane’s almost consuming her - and yet, it seemed that she hadn’t quite learned her lesson.
Adoration warmed her heart as she took in the sight of the girl before her, lighting up even the darkest corners where doubt still lingered, and she only prayed that she would be so lucky one day as to call Kohane her own.
“How are you feeling, An-chan?”
An very nearly snapped her pencil in half with the force of her surprise. She spluttered unflatteringly for a few moments, pencil falling to the floor as she abandoned it in favour of thumping at her chest.
From beside her, Kohane muttered variations of “Are you alright, An-chan?”, concern clearly flickering in those golden eyes as she shifted closer to rub at An’s back.
It took her a minute - or maybe three - to recollect herself. “I’m okay,” she eventually heaved, keeping her hand clutched to her chest as if someone had stolen the breath from her lungs, “What did you say?”
Kohane giggled unsteadily, and An’s heart hiccuped beneath her ribs. “I was asking how you felt about the test An-chan,” she smiled, and it was only then that An noticed that the ministrations on her back had yet to cease. “You were staring off into space, so I thought that maybe you needed some help? Or– oh!”
Kohane paused, her expression morphing into something hopeful. “Did you finish already? Are you feeling confident about it now that we studied?”
An’s heart threatened to jump free from her chest, and she thumped at her ribcage one final time as if to contain it. “Yeah,” she wheezed. “Totally confident, that’s me.”
(It had been an omission of the truth, and yet the sunny smile that Kohane sent her way only led her to believe that it had been worth it.)
After yet another consecutive set of failed attempts, An realised that something was very, very wrong.
That first instance that had led her to this realization followed one of their afternoon performances at WEEKEND GARAGE. More surprising than the way that Kohane had flung herself into An’s embrace, her joy written plainly for all to see, was the way that her hands had hurt from how hard she had been gripping at the microphone.
While the action was familiar and may have once been an indicator of her nerves (always slightly afraid that Kohane would need her guidance, even if she didn’t need to be), more than anything, now, it was merely a display of pride.
With every note that trailed from Kohane, An was left awe-struck, her own lyrics struggling to form past the lump in her throat. (She only hoped that the audience wouldn’t notice the way that her words were coated thickly with emotion.)
She had seen the type of musician that Kohane would be, at that moment, (though really, she had always known, from the moment they met, the fact only more prominent with each passing day) and nothing had brought her more joy than to think that she was the partner at Kohane’s side.
And so, with her hands stinging slightly and reddened and glistening with a sheen of sweat, she had confessed. Or, she had tried to.
Telling Kohane that her singing was the most incredible sound she had ever heard, and that she would never, ever tire of hearing her angelic voice was basically a declaration of love, wasn’t it?
(Kohane hadn’t been able to say anything in response beyond a moment of bashful laughter, after that, so An hadn’t held it against herself for her lack of a confession.)
The following day, they had been in Kohane’s room, just the two of them. An’s head had been nestled snuggly into Kohane’s lap, and she had been skimming the contents of a book that didn’t find itself nearly as interesting as the feeling of Kohane’s hands entangled in her hair.
An had sighed, contented and a little dazed, as Kohane fidgeted with the strands between her fingers in a manner she didn’t dare voice to be distracting, forming loose braids that she failed to hold in place with any sort of clip, despite the myriad that decorated An’s hair.
Kohane had peered curiously at her, then, the flecks of gold in her eyes speckled with concern and shining with the effects of the lazy afternoon sun, and An had done nothing but point at a random space on the page in response, if only to prevent the blush on her cheeks from travelling any further.
Kohane’s uneasiness then morphed into something that was close to affectionate and tinged with pride and she beamed as she leant forward into An’s space, murmuring an “Of course, An-chan” that only made her heart hammer all the more frantically.
She had been close enough that An could make out the pinkness of her cheeks and the way that her eyelashes fluttered to a close as her eyes flickered over the words in her book, and An had been so, so close to saying it.
What had come out instead, was, “Hey, Kohane?”
“Hm? What is it, An-chan?”
“You have an eyelash on your cheek.”
An had helped Kohane make a wish and only wondered if they had wished for the same thing (however doubtful it may have been) half a dozen times before she decided that enough was enough.
Her next endeavour, and the last, had involved a curiously large bouquet of flowers that her local florist had recommended. She had hiked it underneath her arm as she entered the Sekai, a tentative smile on her lips that only seemed to slip away much like her confidence when Kohane beamed back at her.
“An-chan,” Kohane questioned, and An hugged the flowers a little closer to her chest protectively, “you brought flowers to brighten up the cafe?”
An’s resolve, which she had believed to be unwavering, quickly faltered. She grappled uselessly at the words that remained fastened in her throat as Kohane tilted her head, variances of “uh” and “um” that might have usually found themselves on Kohane’s lips rather than her own tumbling forth.
She had eventually settled with a tentative, “Yes?” her statement sounding more like a question than any sort of affirmation as she quickly (and sorrowfully) set the flowers aside on Meiko’s counter.
She had hoped that her small offering could have served as an olive branch, extending past her lips to form the words of love and admiration that were seemingly lost in her attempts to express such thoughts to Kohane.
It wouldn’t have been anywhere enough to convey the depth of her affection, but it would have been something. Though, really, nothing could ever have been enough for her partner. Not for her Kohane, who deserved the world and everything beyond it, even the stars farthest from her reach.
(She had told Kohane as much on one occasion, murmuring “I’d rob the sky of all its stars for you,” into the shell of her ear, finding herself delighted at the joyful laugh that left Kohane in response. “You’re the best partner in the whole world.”
Kohane had simply plucked one of the clips that adorned her hair in response, and while there had never been any need for anything more, the action speaking far, far louder than words (or so An had thought), the next phrase that she spoke had stolen the very breath from her chest. “There’s no need for that, An-chan,” she had murmured, holding the tiny, gleaming star clip up to An’s eyes as if to compare them. “You’ve already given me all the stars I could ask for, see?”)
And yet, there the flowers remained on the countertop, the confession as unplucked from her lips as the petals that remained in bunches around the collection of flower stems.
She had debated pulling those petals from their stems, too, as if that have might have helped her to come to a decision - a game of she loves me, she loves me not quickly interrupted by Meiko’s thanking her for her thoughtfulness.
(With every attempt to express her gratitude, An had curled into herself a little further with embarrassment, each smile that she forced onto her lips wrier than the last.)
The point was, An really wasn’t used to thinking one thing in her head, only for something entirely different to leave her mouth instead.
In her experience, the opposite had been more of a problem - never one to shy away from the truth of the matter if it was something that needed to be said.
Recently, though, the only truth on her mind had been the nature of her feelings for Kohane, though the words never seemed to travel any further than the tip of her tongue, where they seemed to consistently fall flat.
Fear had been a common companion for her, once upon a time (fear that she would never find a partner in a world that demanded one, and now, the fear that said partner - once she had found her - would leave her behind).
To this day, it continued to creep upon her - sinking its claws into the expanse of her back and freezing her in place. Time and time again, it had continued the same pattern of seizing her heart - enough times that she was able to recognize what exactly it was that blocked her throat and scrambled her thoughts whenever she found herself on the verge of a confession.
She was only ever one step away from freefalling down the proverbial cliff, and yet, the fear remained to keep her thoughts under lock and key. An was scared; of losing what she shared with Kohane and the dream that would halt in its tracks if Kohane was no longer at her side.
If Kohane didn’t return her feelings, then she would stop nuzzling into the crook of her neck as if that was where she belonged; stop inviting An into her bedroom to study, stop squeezing her hand or throwing herself into An’s arms after a particularly exhilarating performance.
She would stop being An’s partner and would transform into something far more distant and uncertain, and more than anything, An didn’t want to go back to a time when Kohane wasn’t at her side.
There had been plenty of perfectly good opportunities to tell her the depth of her feelings, but the fear kept her firmly rooted in place. She was afraid to take that final step forward, afraid to toe the line any further than she already have of what they were and what they could one day be.
(Maybe she had already blurred the line with every uncertain step back and forth. She couldn’t tell anymore.)
An sighed, and prayed that the restlessness that had taken a (seemingly) permanent residency beneath her skin would subside sooner, rather than later.
“Say, Kohane,” An murmured, poking Kohane’s cheek in a bid to capture her attention.
Kohane hummed an affirmation that she had heard, though her gaze remained firmly locked on her camera as she flitted through a series of photos. An leant a little further into her shoulder as she did so and made it precisely two images into the camera roll before her gaze refocused on the slope of Kohane’s jaw.
The first had been a candid shot of Meiko bartending, mixing some form of drink that remained nameless for the time being.
Miku and Luka were the focus of the next, tucked into each other’s sides in a corner of the cafe. The latter was whispering into the former’s ear, an action that had sent An into a fit of laughter as she reminisced on the boundless times she had done the same with the girl at her side. It had caused Miku to look at them strangely, before she had turned her attention back to Luka beside her, listening as if she had told a particularly compelling secret.
As if noticing An’s distraction, Kohane finally, finally turned to face her. (Or, she turned as well as she could, given the compromising position of An nestled into her neck.) “Something wrong, An-chan?”
“Mm, no,” An murmured, the shake of her head doubling as an effort to nuzzle the side of Kohane’s neck reassuringly. “I was just wondering,” she paused, lifting her eyes to carefully consider the expression on Kohane’s face, “what would you do if somebody confessed to you?”
Kohane frowned. Then she flushed a shade that rivalled the pinkness of Luka’s hair. “Um,” she started, dragging the syllable out as if to display her caution, “is there a reason you’re asking, An-chan…?”
An shrugged listlessly in an attempt to disguise her growing interest in Kohane’s answer. “No?” she said, and as always around Kohane, it seemed that her words had failed to exhibit the confidence they usually held. “Well, not really,” she amended when Kohane only sent her a pointed look in response. “I was just curious, is all,” she murmured, a half-truth that felt more parts truth than a lie.
(And whether or not her curiosity had arisen because of selfish reasons, well, that was for her knowledge only.)
Kohane scrunched her nose in the manner that suggested she was considering something particularly difficult. “Well,” she started, her tone quiet and still oh so careful, “I think it would depend on the person. For me,” she trailed off, pressing a finger against An’s nose to indicate, laughing airily as it crumpled beneath her touch. “An-chan is the most important person to me… you understand, right?”
An wondered if the feeling that flickered within her was an ember of hope or something else entirely. “You’re my most precious partner, too, Kohane,” she mumbled into the collar of her jacket, inhaling the scent of strawberries and stardust that often seemed to accompany Kohane’s prescence.
From the light laughter that left Kohane in response, An thought that maybe she had managed to take another step towards the end of the cliff.
She hoped that Kohane would be there to catch her when she fell.
Later, she thought that maybe she already had.
The Sekai felt strangely barren when Kohane wasn’t there to liven the space at her side. Meiko’s absence only served to further the sense of loneliness the quiet brought, the clinking of glass and footsteps or even the usual bickering no longer present as she slumped against the table and sighed.
Her thoughts drifted to Miku, then, and how she had once told her the words that she had needed to hear when doubt threatened to swallow her whole. She wondered if there was a chance - however slim - that Miku would simply appear out of thin air to ease the burden on her shoulders just a fraction.
An laughed a little to herself at the thought.
(Somehow, the thought of spilling her confession to anybody but the one for whom it was intended felt a little wrong - however much she appreciated the honesty that Miku had displayed, the realization settling under her skin of how difficult it could be, to tell the truth.)
And then, An realized, how often it was that her thoughts looped directly back to Kohane.
Stuffing her face into the sleeve of her jacket, she muffled a particularly frustrated groan, swinging her legs to rid herself of the excessive disappointment that had seemingly burst forth from somewhere within her.
She stopped her motions only a few minutes later, suddenly finding that the lack of people in the cafe was far more of a blessing than it was a curse. And when she turned her head slightly, resigned to the emptiness of the Sekai, she jolted at the sight of a mouse plush resting on the table.
A mouse plush which looked remarkably like Kohane, save for the darkness of its tiny, plastic eyes that replaced pools of honey that An could drown in and—
(An’s thoughts, as they often did when they involved Kohane, quickly got out of hand.)
Touya had given it to her earlier that afternoon, a simple phrase of “I won it at the arcade. I thought you might like it,” uttered before he disappeared somewhere into the Sekai, alerting her that he wouldn’t be back any time soon as he searched for Len’s whereabouts.
She hadn’t fully understood the implication that no doubt accompanied his words, but appreciated the gesture regardless.
Now that she looked at it though - really looked at it - she found that he had been right. It was tan, with a white underbelly, its fur exceptionally soft as she ran her fingers through it. When she tucked its tail out of sight, too, she could almost envision it as a hampster, instead - a thought that brought her far more delight than it probably should have,
The only distinguishing feature, of course, excluding the fact that it was not (unfortunately) Kohane herself, was its astonishing lack of pale golden eyes, and An frowned, briefly considering pestering Mizuki for a few altercations the next time that they made an appearance in class.
Then, another thought came to mind under the guidance of the extremely lovesick part of An’s mind. Rather than this simply being another of her delusions that led to nowhere, perhaps she could turn it into something more.
Checking covertly over her shoulder, she rose to her feet to peer behind Meiko’s counter ( just in case), confirming that there wasn’t anybody in the surrounding area - not even the faint sound of chattering to be heard in the distance, the silence just as it had been in the minutes prior.
She took her seat once again, gripping the side of the mouse plush with slightly more force than necessary as she focused her gaze on it. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to mind and it maintained eye contact with dull, artificial eyes that did not shine nearly as much as Kohane’s own, even under the cafe lighting.
An took a deep breath. “Kohane,” she said, her name flowing as easily off her tongue as honey and sounding just as sweet, “I lov—”
Her throat closed up and she choked a little.
She removed one of her hands to thump at her chest, coughing lightly to dispel whatever had blocked her airways and prevented her from saying the words that mattered most.
“You can do this,” An muttered, more to herself than the fluffy creature before her. She took another break to steel herself, exhaling in one large sigh as she entangled her fingers in its fur. She gripped it a little harder and hoped that it would accept her unspoken apology.
“I really, really ,” she emphasized, if only to stall the words a little longer, “lo– I love you.”
Gritting the words out seemed much easier than it had in the minutes beforehand and either An was delusional, or the plush in front of her almost looked proud.
“Kohane, I really love you,” An said again, for more practice and because the words sounded far better spoken aloud than they ever had when they were echoing in her mind, “like, love you so, so much.”
“I love you,” she tried in English and mentally ticked off the little box that rested right next to ‘multi-lingual confession’, even if it couldn’t really be counted yet.
“I love you a whole lot, please date me.”
The mouse, perhaps unsurprisingly, didn’t respond. An acknowledged that she had to work on her delivery. (Kohane deserved only the best of confessions, after all.)
A prickling feeling climbing the base of her neck caused her to whip around just in time to see Touya standing in the middle of the entrance to the cafe.
An blinked at him, her mouth falling slightly open with the shock.
Touya blinked back.
“Please don’t speak of this to anyone,” she said, visions of Akito’s mockery already springing to mind. She tucked a few of his more embarrassing moments regarding Touya into the forefront of her memories, just in case.
“Don’t worry,” Touya reassured her seriously. “I understand.”
And An must have been really out of it after each and every one of her spectacular failures to confess, because she made a desperate sound at the back of her throat and asked, “You do?”
“Yes,” he replied. “The toy is cute, which is why I thought you would like it. I was right.”
An groaned and allowed her head to fall to the table with a thump - only shifting her head to the side to soothe the slight pain the impact had brought.
Touya winced at her pitiful expression. “Sorry,” he apologized, stepping forward to awkwardly pat her shoulder in his condolences. “I was attempting to make a joke.” He paused, nodding sagely as if confirming an unspoken thought. “Are you practising your confession to Azusawa-san?”
An’s head snapped up. “No,” she denied, though the look on Touya’s face told her that he had seen enough to know otherwise. She emitted a high-pitched whine at the thought, reburying her face into the elbow of her sleeve and squeezing the mouse near-violently.
“Why do you like her?” Touya asked.
An considered the question.
How could anyone not like Kohane?
She was brave - you had to be, to perform in front of crowds as they did, but even among their group her growing courage was notable. Her transformation from her previous, timid appearance was almost unbelievable (An wouldn’t have believed it herself, had she not been at Kohane’s side every step of the way) and An couldn’t have been more proud of the path she had begun to forge for herself.
She was adorable, too, in every sense of the word - from the way that she blushed whenever An got stepped into her space, nuzzling at her neck as she wrapped her into a hug, down to the scrunch of her nose and the way that her fingers only just peeked out from her jacket as if they were inviting An to reach forward and interlock them with her own.
When An was feeling down, it was remembering something Kohane said or did that raised her spirits, if she wasn’t there to do it in person. Kohane was nothing if not perfect, both as a partner and everything beyond that, too.
She deserved the world and more, and An would have done anything so she could give back to Kohane even a fraction of the unending joy that her presence in her life brung.
(An had it so, so bad.)
Touya watched as An attempted to restrain the smile that drifted across her lips unbidden. “Whatever you’re thinking of,” he said, careful so as not to disrupt her train of thought too deeply, “You should just tell her that if confessing proves too difficult.”
An blinked, considering his words and pride blossoming in her chest. “Huh,” she murmured. She dipped her head earnestly to convey her gratitude. “You’re kind of smart when it comes to this stuff. Thanks, Touya.”
“Thanks,” he replied. “I think.”
“Now,” An clapped her hands together. “What do you want from the cafe? You can choose, it’s on the house. Just don’t you dare tell Akito.”
A perfect opportunity presented itself yet again when Kohane and An settled themselves on a park bench.
They had stopped for the sole purpose of finishing their crepes - something that An had insisted they buy after catching Kohane’s eyes lingering on the vendor for a moment too long for any sort of passing interest.
As she wiped a stray remnant of food from the corner of Kohane’s lip, she giggled, causing a warm smile to bloom across An’s face, extending outwards as openly as the petals of the flowerbed did beside them as they reached for the sun.
With every moment of Kohane’s adorableness that was given to her, An became more convinced that the universe was actively working against her, threatening to spill the affection told in the volume of her rapidly pounding heart.
A quick scan of the park proved that it was largely empty, abandoned save for the birds who made their presence known by adding a variety of chirps to their pleasant conversation.
That was to say, they were alone.
Just her, Kohane, and the words that remained trapped in her throat.
Even if their solitude wasn’t something that was particularly foreign to her, it caused An to gulp. Her eyes never left Kohane as she lifted a hand to run her fingers through her hair, the slight breeze carrying the strands free from her grip as gently as could be.
It took only a few moments for Kohane to notice her stare, and she regarded An with a smile that matched the sunshine bearing down on them, her half-eaten crepe near-forgotten as she used her free hand to grasp her shoulder. An found herself equal parts torn between pulling away and leaning into the touch. “Are you okay, An-chan?”
Kohane was so, so kind, and An loved her for it.
I love you , she tried to say.
She choked on the words and tried again, and again , and Kohane gave her the most blatantly beautiful smile in the world. It made her heart ache . Despite her efforts, though, the words in her head continued to remain unsaid, refusing to mold the shape of her lips as her mouth remained firmly locked shut.
I love you , she pleaded desperately, so deathly afraid that the words would remain trapped for even a moment longer against her will. I love you , she tried again and remembered Touya’s advice. I love everything about you.
As if sensing her inner struggle, Kohane frowned, and from where her hand remained on her shoulder, An felt the way that her thumb began to rub in soothing motions, despite the fabric that kept An from her touch. “Something wrong? Did the crepe make you feel sick, An-chan?”
Somehow, she knew that Kohane did not fully believe in the excuse she had provided.
If only her problem was as simple as a poorly tasting crepe.
You don’t know that I love you , An wished to say. And I don’t know how to tell you without the words catching in my throat and strangling out the very last of my breath.
“Nope,” she choked out. “You have a crumb on your cheek still, is all.”
The intensity from Kohane’s eyes faded and the weight of her hand lightened as she moved to swipe over her cheek with her thumb. When it came back bare of any food, she frowned, and An quickly lifted her own hand to wipe the crumb away with the back of her finger.
“Your other cheek,” she supplied helpfully, the words only a little easier to speak than the ones that remained in her mind.
“Thanks, An-chan,” Kohane beamed, and at the sight, An panicked, her pulse thrumming wildly with its attempts to burst free.
As always, her heart felt drawn to Kohane’s centre of gravity ( ‘Were stars allowed to revolve around the sun then, too? ’ she wondered), threatening to escape from beneath her rips to settle instead in Kohane’s hands in the hope that she would cherish it.
And as always, she held it back, unable to take the final leap.
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
Kohane merely hummed, kicking her legs mildly against the air once or twice in a bid to fill their newfound silence. “Um,” she started after a time, words forming around the final mouthful of crepe, “should we start walking home together then, An-chan?”
Pressing herself to her feet, An could just about feel the words being pulled from her throat as Kohane turned on her heel, the distance significantly greater than it had been a moment ago but still not enough to coax her into a confession, even as Kohane crumpled the paper wrapping in one hand and extended the other towards her.
I love you so, so much, Kohane, more than words could ever hope to express.
“Kohane, wait,” An pushed out, the words gravel against her throat as she forced them from her lips. Almost more intense than the utter adoration she felt for Kohane, was the anger - at her silence, at the fear and at herself for allowing herself to dwell on those things for more than a second.
An wasn’t supposed to stay quiet. There were times that the situation called for it, of course, but this was not one of them.
She had always been the outspoken one, between them - the one to press a complaint when Kohane’s drink hadn’t been made just the way that she liked it or when somebody dared to speak ill of her precious partner.
“Kohane,” she repeated, pushing herself to her feet and entering Kohane’s familiar bubble of space, just as she had done so many times before.
She vaguely remembered tales of Icarus that she had only half-payed attention to during English classes despite Kohane’s pleas for her to study and the consequences that arose for being too greedy.
An knew nothing but Kohane , and that asking for more than what she already had was disastrous, and yet she also knew this: if she was destined to crash and burn for being selfish, then she would make sure that she died having first tasted the sun.
And if she couldn’t speak, then she would find another way to be heard.
Kohane had barely opened her mouth to reply when An intercepted. “Can I try something?”
Promptly closing her mouth, Kohane nodded, and despite the slight confusion that remained in her eyes, there was a lack of hesitation.
An wondered what it was she could have possibly done to earn such undivided trust from the person that she had no hope but to fall for. She took another step forward and dared to cradle her cheeks, smile slight as Kohane leaned into the touch, closing her eyes.
She leaned in. Her breath fanned across Kohane’s lips, whose eyes fluttered open with a likeness of the princesses in movies. “Is this okay, still?” An murmured, and beneath her touch, she wondered if Kohane knew that her cheek’s (or, her entire being’s) warmth rivalled that of the sun.
Kohane was her sun.
She was the very entity that An’s world revolved around; something that felt so distant to her at times, almost unreachable, but was always at her side to shower her with love, just as the sun - the actual sun - showered flowers and life with the affection of its rays.
And when Kohane nodded, her lips parting in confusion, An inhaled flames, swallowing fire as she finally, finally allowed herself to take the final fall to pull Kohane in for a kiss.
She made a tiny, surprised squeak of a sound at the press of An’s lips against her own, and An’s heart stuttered with that same, familiar fear before she realized that Kohane was kissing her back. And suddenly, she felt like she was flying, above the clouds among the millions of tiny stars that remained unseen under the afternoon sun they were basking in.
It was perfect, as far as first kisses went; because how could anything involving Kohane not be?
An might have been squeezing Kohane’s cheeks too hard (although, that might have been on purpose, too, with how much she loved the feel of them under her hands) and Kohane might have been giggling - a warm, joyful sound - a little too much into the kiss, but even so An couldn’t have imagined it going any better.
As An finally pulled away, more than a little reluctant, she pressed another kiss to the tip of Kohane’s nose, then her forehead, her cheek - peppering the entirety of her face with her unbounded affection, the butterflies in her stomach finally flapping in the air surrounding them rather than just her stomach.
“I love you,” An murmured into the shell of her ear, nuzzling her neck before pulling away, smiling. She allowed one of the hands that remained on Kohane’s face to lower to her wrist, where she brought Kohane’s hand to her lips in one final, chaste kiss to her knuckles. “I love you so much that there aren’t any words to describe how I feel about you, Kohane.”
“I know,” Kohane replied, breathy laughter still trailing from her throat and filling the air when An found herself stunned into silence. She pressed her forehead against An’s, and even without glancing down to her lips (if only because she was more than a little afraid that she would interrupt Kohane with another kiss) she could clearly envision the smile on her face. “You’ve told me so many times.”
An only tilted her head, confused.
Kohane laughed, the sound slightly louder than those that had preceded it. “All of those times you were there to encourage me,” she elaborated, “both before and after our performances.”
She paused, bringing a finger to her chin in thought, before linking her arms around An’s neck. “And when you held my hand for no reason other than you wanted to, and when you came to my house to study to make me happy, even though it’s the last thing you wanted to do. I know you did those things because you love me,” Kohane said, stroking her hair near-to the base of her neck.
She leant a little further forward to press her nose against An’s as well. “And um,” she giggled, her words tinged with a hint of nervousness that An now recognized as familiar.
She had heard in the way that Kohane sought out praise after a performance and seen it in the way that she squirmed under An’s touch, a flush to her cheeks so plainly seen that it made An wonder how it was that she hadn’t realized it before.
“I love you too, An-chan,” she said. The words were spoken quietly enough to have been a whisper and yet they spoke volumes of the affection that Kohane held for her in return. “In case you didn’t know that,” she added for good measure.
An let out a startled laugh, and Kohane joined in as she was pulled in even closer in An’s embrace, her heart nestled somewhere in the space (or the lack thereof) between them.
“I love you,” An echoed, one more time, now that she no longer lacked the courage to say it. She wondered if it was really her that had taught Kohane how to brave, or if it was the other way around.
Maybe, they had learned a little bit about bravery from each other, but regardless, An was never going to stop saying how much she loved Kohane - not ever again.