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Terrible.
Kumiko laid in bed and closed her eyes.
Reina said her personality was terrible. She knew the girl didn’t mean it that way, that it was a metaphor of sorts, but to put such a particular label on it was… strange. Kumiko couldn’t help but let her mind drift back to the snowy maiden in the dead of night.
The girl she hauled her goddamn euph up a mountain for. The girl she called cute, the girl she called hot – and all within a span of a few minutes. The girl she caught herself looking at one too many times, and the girl that looked back. The girl that entranced her, stole her heart. Reina.
She didn’t quite know it a few hours ago, but their dreamy journey together had changed her. Matured her. Rocked her world. It was something she would treasure forever, the words they exchanged still hot on her lips, her ears, her heart.
Reina. Reina. Reina.
She had read somewhere that “Reina” meant “queen” in Spanish. She wouldn’t have minded if Reina was her queen.
She touched her forehead, her nose, her lip; she blushed, and reveled in the memory. Of her. Her. Of Reina. She knew what this was, what this feeling was – she knew from TV and books and from the way Shuuichi looks at her. She knew what this was from movies and games and Hazuki, who had just begun to dabble in the world. As was she. Unexpected. Unwillingly.
But she wouldn’t mind losing her life for her. Reina was an ocean, and Kumiko was desperate to drown in her. She had always been distant, but with Reina, with the raven-black hair, it was different. Something was there, something she couldn’t explain. She was drawn to her. She opened up to her, and Reina did the same. They had a connection, a special one, one that Kumiko hadn’t been able to establish with… anyone, really. They had a connection, and maybe a little more.
Reina. Reina. Reina.
Kumiko wanted to kiss her.
The thought just popped into her head. But she really did. Up on that hill, after their song was over (“The Place We Found Love,” if she remembers right; what a fitting title,) she had, more than anything, wanted to run her hands up and down that girl, her arms. Pull her in for a kiss and maybe a little more.
Her mind flashed to her smile. Her laugh. She called her terrible with that laugh, using it as a shield. Kumiko knew that Reina knew. She couldn’t lift a finger to that laugh, to that smile, that gaze.
Kumiko hid her face in her pillow, feeling her cheeks flare up. She knew what this was. She knew. Just like she knew why Shuuichi waited for her on the train, on the way home, at the lake, after club, between classes. She knew.
But every time she even tried to think about him like that, with her, all she could think about was Reina. And how much she missed her, already, laughably. And how much she had so desperately wanted to taste those lips, and maybe a little more.
She wanted to kiss those blisters on her feet. She had wanted to pull her close and hold her hand. And a little more. She had wanted so much more than what she got with her, even if it was all breathtaking, even if it all left her breathless. Even if it had been an absolutely beautiful, flawless… night. She didn’t dare call it a date.
Pinning that name on it would make it real. She didn’t know if it was real, but she knew what she wished.
Reina. Reina. Reina.
She wanted to feel that gorgeous sea of black hair. She wanted to let it fall through her fingers and seep onto her skin. She wanted to drown in it.
Reina: the name echoes in her mind. She likes it, how it feels on the tip of her tongue. She likes it bouncing around inside her mind. She likes it, etched into her eyelids, into the air, the ground, the water, into the music in the air. It all sang her name.
Reina. Reina. Reina.
It was like a chant.
Reina had called her terrible. A terrible personality, she said, laughing. Smiling. Taunting. Taunting? Was it taunting? It was more of… an invitation. To argue, to shut her up. It was enticing.
Kumiko rose. She knew what she had to do – no, what she was going to do. She didn’t have to do anything. She definitely didn’t need to. She wouldn’t kid herself; she wanted to. She had wanted to since the moment their song had ended. Their song.
Reina. Reina. Reina.
Her room echoed the name back at her, every plank in the floor singing her name, every shirt, every fiber, every lick of paint whispered the name to her, into her ear, so sweet and soft.
She changed into more flattering clothes and set off. Just like that. She hadn’t thought it through.
She’d show her what terrible really meant. It was the dead of night, and this was crazy. She didn’t even know where Reina lived. This was crazy. Kumiko snuck out of her home with barely a breath, quiet as a mouse (her sister taught her well, unfortunately.)
She didn’t have Reina’s number, or her email, her address, nothing. She just knew she liked the trumpet, and maybe a little more. Kumiko didn’t run; why would she run? She didn’t know where she was going; she was planning this out, in her head, systematically.
She looked to the left as she crossed a street, then the right. The sky was crystal-clear, and she quite appreciated the stars all out and bright and shining, the gorgeous night sky she didn’t always get to see. Reina’s eyes reminded her of this sky. Not the polluted and gray, dark, dreary fog that covered it most of the time.
This sky was a sky of wonder, of brilliance and beauty. It drew her in, despite everything; it was enticing. It was like a dream. No – Reina. Reina was like a dream.
Kumiko walked, aimless. She stretched out her arms to the sky, as if she could reach up high enough to grab a fistful of stars. Her mind jumped, focused on the raven-black hair and the pale blue dress. Ethereal, enchanting.
She had been enchanted, she thought. She would never do anything like this otherwise.
Reina. Reina. Reina.
Her name was entrancing, the letters spilling off her tongue. It was a pretty name. Had she thought it pretty in junior high? She couldn’t quite recall. Maybe she had. Maybe she just never quite noticed.
After a lot of questions to a lot of sleepy strangers, she found herself right where she wanted to be.
Kumiko stared at the door, standing right in front of it. She wanted to ring. That was why she was here. She wanted to ring. Was Reina home? Did she even want to see her? Maybe she was tired. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she was wrong, about everything. Maybe this was a mistake.
The girl closed her eyes and took a breath and rang the bell, all in one rush, one moment, so she couldn’t deliberate. She couldn’t delay it. She didn’t even think that she really wanted to: she was just going through the motions that you’re supposed to go through, or whatever. Being nervous, anxious, stomach in your throat. None of it was there for her. She was calm and confident. Kumiko took a step back and folded her hands in front of her, for a second. She brought them to her sides instead, for it was less awkward that way. Not that they really could be awkward, ever, after today.
She knew what this was. She knew.
Reina. Reina. Reina.
And just like that, she came to the door. Raven-black hair free, eyes wide open. She looked like the opposite of tired. She looked alive, almost waiting for her.
“Reina.” She whispered the name, so soft and gentle from her tongue. Kumiko stared, shameless, because it was a little too late for shame.
“Kumiko,” the girl mumbled back, eyes blazing. There was a wildfire brewing in her starry gaze, questions burning.
Kumiko pulled herself forward, and took a deep breath.
“It’s a confession of love,” she murmurs, quiet, for Reina and Reina alone to hear. To digest, understand. To realize what she meant.
And then she decided to do something she thought over quite a bit, and yet not at all. It was impulse, and a little more. Or maybe she was kidding herself: it was a lot more than impulse, and it was a lot more than a little bit. And Reina deserved that much dignity.
Kumiko took her face into her hands, gentle, and she tilted her head, leaned in and kissed her, soft.
She knew Reina wouldn’t move away. She wasn’t ignorant. But she didn’t know that she’d lean back, her hands slowly encroaching on her back, like a question, like it was rude. Like she was intruding.
Kumiko didn’t dare open her eyes. She moved her hands to the back of Reina’s neck, to drown in her raven-black hair. She felt Reina’s hands roam up her back, and her fingers dug into her shirt.
And then they parted, slow, and within a moment.
“Kumiko,” Reina breathed; she was at her mercy. “Stay a while.”