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“I’ve always known it; deceiving each other is a pointless thing.”
Their first kiss happens, of course, just as the sun is setting on the rooftop of Kamiyama High.
It’s awkward. Teeth meet and clatter. Her hands are still shaking as she squeezes their shoulders. Sparks and fireworks don’t fly off into the sky and burst with an explosion of color. Instead, her heart thumps in her throat, butterflies rumble around her stomach, and her anxiety spikes so sharply that she’s pretty sure it’ll be about two seconds till she vomits. Tongues find each other, hesitantly, wait that’s way too much saliva, oh fuck, that doesn’t seem right, and also it’s kinda hot?
But Ena can still feel all of Mizuki as she grips their uniform and pulls them closer, not wanting an inch of space to be left between them.
It’s an altogether cringey affair, what with Mizuki’s hormone-addled brain letting them touch wherever they want and Ena chastising herself for liking it. They’re just dumb high schoolers, infatuated with each other and the idea of love. Right now, everything makes sense.
Between kisses, the dummy she loves so much giggles in that mischievous tone she loves so much, and Ena breaks away to smack them on the shoulder with the back of her hand.
“Shut up, idiot.”
“Okay~”
She pushes them backward, pressing them against the cool metal fence. Mizuki says something, probably teasing her again, and Ena covers the noisy sounds with her lips. The banter is the same, but the kisses are new, needy, and fulfilling. She can’t get enough of them and, judging by the desperate gasps and nails digging into her hips, they can’t get enough of her either.
Why did this take so long?
Ena wonders this as her lips press over and over against theirs. How did they take so long to confess their feelings for each other? So much time wasted thinking, pining, wishing when they could’ve been doing this the entire time. God, this isn’t enough — she wants more of them, to smother them in her embrace, to hold them close until they become one.
She still doesn’t know enough about them — she wants to know everything about them — but she promised didn’t she? Whatever the hell that stupid secret is, she’ll accept them with open arms.
They know that, don’t they? Otherwise, why the fuck would she kiss them like this?
Ena’s pulled from her thoughts when Mizuki breaks the kiss and pants for air, a string of saliva running down their chin.
“Mm, you really like me, don’t you?”
“Shut up, idiot!”
Mizuki giggles, then gently rests their forehead against hers.
“You liiiiike me~”
“Mizuki! Shut up!”
She smacks them on the shoulder again but quickly pulls them in for another kiss. Fuck, Mizuki’s getting good at this. Her lips find theirs just to shut them up because clearly they won’t listen to her out of their own volition. That’s all. Obviously. Nothing else.
She pauses.
Well, maybe she does sort of possibly like them a lot and possibly does want to kiss them a lot but she’d jump in a cold lake first before ever admitting it. Her nails dig into their shoulders as she parts their lips a mere inch with a soft gasp.
“Ena~ Don’t stop.”
That little whine makes Ena’s heart skip a beat and melts a little bit of her cold armor away.
“Shush, dummy.”
Giggling, Mizuki closes the distance, and Ena breathes in their sweet vanilla scent, enjoying their presence like she’s a moment away from waking up from a pleasant dream. They return her hungry, needy, stubborn kisses with lighthearted giggles and fluttering love, their hands finding their way into hers.
Ena squeezes hard, reveling in the soft fingers she’s tangled up with. She should’ve known it’s pointless to try to hide anything from them.
...They do know she likes — loves — them a lot, right?
(A first.)
“Now is just the time for saying goodbye. What do I do with this sweetness lingering in my mouth?”
But these kinds of things didn’t last long. Not for them, at least.
There was always something — usually Mizuki themself — getting in the way of these kinds of relationships.
“Mizuki?”
“Mm-hm?”
“What are we?”
Ena shifted to curl up against Mizuki’s side, and their hand automatically dropped down to her waist. The TV wasn’t on, and the pair simply stared at a black screen as they cuddled on the couch. The Shinonomes weren’t home. It was... peaceful. Other than that incessant ringing in their ears, but there was nothing to be done about a little tinnitus.
“Umm... What do you mean?”
“You know.” Ena cleared her throat and squirmed against them. “Us. I want to know what we are. I want to know what you think. I guess.”
Her eyes failed to meet theirs, and Mizuki’s throat clammed up like a collar squeezing tight around their neck.
Ah. Vulnerability. Ena wanted to open her heart up to them.
She was so warm. So soft, warm, delicate against them. God, they didn’t deserve her.
Mizuki hummed as if they were actually considering the question. But they already knew that they would never provide a suitable answer.
Labels, identity, self. Those were all words Mizuki knew well but they never understood what any of that meant. Or why people cared so much about them.
In mere months, the wall they had carefully erected throughout their lonely years of middle school was slowly being smashed down to rubble with nothing more than gentle words they had always longed to hear and fluttering kisses they had always longed to feel.
Vulnerability was scary. Being perceived — judged, known — was scary.
Being alone... fuck. That was the worst of all. But at least that meant they didn’t take anyone down there with them, right?
If their walls wouldn’t protect them, then distance would. The knight didn’t have to stay, and instead, abandoning the castle was the safest option. This time, it didn’t matter what their princess wanted.
“I don’t really know,” they finally answered as they planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. One last kiss before they parted ways. Hopefully, Ena felt the painful emotions, heartfelt apologies, and declarations of love wrapped into that one itty bitty kiss.
Ena looked up, and for once, Mizuki couldn’t read her expression.
“That’s okay.”
She leaned in, gently stroked their cheek, and kissed them back. Her teeth ran lightly along their bottom lip, and Mizuki closed their eyes as they reveled in her touch — touch that they didn’t deserve. Without hesitation, she pushed them flat against the couch and ground her hips against theirs. Mizuki let out a strangled moan they’d never made before, and Ena smothered the sound.
One last kiss. They promised they’ll stop fooling themself after just one last kiss, as Ena dug her nails into their arms, planting kiss after kiss after kiss against their swollen lips.
Her touch left them dizzy. She wouldn’t let them go.
It made their heart squeeze with overflowing happiness, but they felt the chains of guilt tighten around their chest too. They had secrets that they could never share, and Ena would leave them if she ever found out. Yes, they told Ena the one that weighed on their mind the most, but there were more. Plenty more. When she found out about all their fuck-ups and awfulness and mistakes, she would hate them. They might as well leave first.
This was the optimal choice for a terrified coward.
If they cut this relationship short — if they run away, like they always do — then they wouldn’t be hurt by her. They’d only hurt from the pain of loneliness and the misery of their guilt, but at least they wouldn’t get hurt by her rejection or her pity or her anger.
No.
That was a lie. Silence spoke volumes and always hurt more than anything she could possibly say. But at least they wouldn’t have to see her face as they broke her heart into a million pieces.
She pulled away, and her face came into focus, her brown eyes piercing deep into theirs. Those cute little eyebrows scrunched up as she cupped their cheek, and their heart ached even more as they finally met her worried, trembling gaze.
“Mizuki?”
“Mm?”
“I really like you.”
“Yeah...”
They squeezed Ena closer as she kept them locked tight against her, wishing they didn’t have to be apart.
One last kiss had to be enough to keep them going.
It was selfish of them to leave without a word, but at least they wouldn’t have to tell her the truth.
(A disappearance.)
“Please rob me of these feelings before they become muddied and muddled.”
Ena doesn’t understand what she did wrong.
It’s been a while, and they’ve moved on from their childish high school ways. At least, she’s tried to. Maybe they have too.
Damn that Mizuki for deciding to leave her when she only had a few months left of high school. No matter how many times she actually went to class, no one knew where they were. Not even Akito or An or the teachers would tell her a damn thing. They just... vanished from her life.
But Ena never stopped thinking about them. She should be angry, shouldn’t she? Furious. Vengeful. Anything but sitting in a sad, depressed, heartbroken rut. Did she push too hard? Impose on them too much? Or... did they just not like her back?
Sometimes, she’ll check their Nightcord conversations as a reminder of the pain.
enanan: hey
enanan: mizuki? where are you?
enanan: I miss you
enanan: I’m sorry
enanan: can we talk?
enanan: please?
Mizuki never responded, and Ena never followed up. The date’s from three years ago. It’s not like Ena could bug them about it now.
Mizuki didn’t block her though. But it’s not like that matters much — they haven’t posted anything on social media in years. Well, maybe they just wanted a perfectly normal three-years-six-months-and-twenty-five-days-long break from the internet. Otherwise, the next explanation that always comes to mind... freaks her out.
Okay, so maybe they’ve made new socials to get away from her. Not that Ena would know. It’s not like she’s been scouring the last corners of every website she could think of to find them. Absolutely not.
She glances at her search history, then slams her phone onto the desk.
Yeah, no. Betrayed by her own tabs.
But even if that were the case, they never deleted any photos of them together. If they wanted to cut her out of their life — both on and offline — wouldn’t they have taken those posts down? Pretended like they were never together in the first place? That’s how people act when there’s a... you know... a breakup. Right?
God, she’d do anything to see their face again.
Which is why she brings her paintbrush to the fifth or tenth or perhaps hundredth canvas depicting that beautiful idiot. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Touching those painted lips isn’t the same as kissing the real person. Her paintings can’t — and will never — capture those soft pink lips, free-flowing pink hair, their playful pink eyes, that curious pink lash, that little dimple whenever they smile that big dumbass smile, everything, everything, everything that Ena loves about Mizuki.
Certainly her therapist would have some choice words to say about this, if she had a therapist. Maybe her professors are concerned whenever she submits work depicting the same pinkette over and over again, if she bothered to submit her assignments on time. And she’d like to believe that Kanade or Mafuyu would have some watered-down or brutally honest advice for her, if she had managed to will herself to stay in touch with them.
Her chest tightens, and her fingers turn white as she clutches the lowball sitting on her desk.
She washes the pain away with glass after glass of murky burning liquids and paints over that disgusting brown with her favorite color. That’s the only way she knows how to feel okay.
So she paints and paints and paints until her knuckles bleed and she runs out of a pink she hates that she loves so much.
She drops the palette, the colorful paint splattering all over the floor, and throws the paintbrush across the room. The wood cracks and shatters upon impact, staining her lovely white wall with a mess of pink. Tears drip onto the floor, mixing with the splotches of spilled paint.
This isn’t healthy, and she knows it.
But her heart aches, and she doesn’t know how to heal it.
What could possibly fill the void?
(An obsession.)
“If we could stay connected just like this, would it hurt? Or would I want to stay?”
The kisses they shared on a night like this were hot, hungry, wanton, and craving, not unlike their first. God, were they starved for her. It had been years since their lips last touched, and Mizuki knew they fucked up.
There was so much they needed to say but this wasn’t the right place or time to vomit their feelings.
Seriously — they fucked up.
They both had too much to drink (damn An for inviting them both, damn that dark dingy bar and its cheap alcohol, and damn the way Ena’s eyes lit up when hers met theirs from across the room), and Mizuki knew this, knows this, and will absolutely regret it tomorrow.
And yet they didn’t stop kissing her — from that disgusting bar’s equally nasty wall to the backseat of a hastily called taxi to Mizuki’s messy depression-nest-covered bed, they refused to stop kissing her. Her scent was intoxicating, and the taste of searing whiskey, sour lime, and sweet soda on her soft lips made their coherent thoughts disappear for the night. How long, exactly, had it been since they touched her?
It didn’t matter.
They missed her. So. Damn. Much.
In this moment, with her bare legs wound tight around their waist, with that hot breath teasing their cheeks as she begs for more, with their heart threatening to burst right out of their chest as they hammered away at her hips, Mizuki pretended that everything would be all right.
Tomorrow will come. Tomorrow will shatter this grandiose illusion. Tomorrow will remind them of the sad truth: they were nothing but a moment — an insignificant speck in her life.
But just for tonight, everything would be okay. Tonight would be a memory beautiful enough to last a lifetime. Tonight, they were whole.
All this would be the perfect fantasy to yearn for days long gone.
So, as she unraveled under their searing touch, Mizuki pleaded to any god out there who was willing to listen.
Please. Don’t wake them up from this dream.
(A mistake.)
“I pretend more and more to be strong and end up face-down in pieces.”
Tomorrow comes, and with it, the wonderful, guilt-ridden ache of a long, indulgent, regrettable, sleepless, beautiful night — and the pounding head-throb of a hangover. Sitting up slowly, she squints as the sunlight comes pouring in and groans when blood rushes to her head like a dam bursting and flooding the insides of her skull.
Ena hates hangovers.
Why? Alcohol is poison. She’s relied on it far too much for far too long. That sweet, sour, bitter venom temporarily fills the empty space in her heart. It makes her calm, safe, anxious, and angry all at once. It makes her do wild things — things she probably never would’ve dreamed of doing if she hadn’t given into sweet temptation.
But there, the person beside her, her lover — or, well, ex-lover, she supposes, but the labels don’t really matter — sleeps soundly, their arms wound around a pillow, with deep red scratches marking their shoulders and back. For a moment, she wishes that Mizuki was cuddling her so tight. She wishes she could just kiss every last mark on their skin — definitely caused by her nails — and whisper the pain away and—
Ugh. Fuck that.
Her knuckles trace their cheek and jaw without thinking about it. Their skin is still so soft as ever, and she can’t stop herself from running her thumb across their lips. She misses the rest of their soft, lithe, naked body too, and it takes all her willpower not to continue her exploration. These are all little habits made years ago yet they’ve still stuck.
She quickly pulls away, heart squeezing as ropes wrap around her chest. She’s not allowed to do that anymore. She isn’t theirs. They aren’t hers. She needs to be strong and remind herself that these are the repercussions of choices they made all those years ago. They can’t just pick up all the broken parts, tape them back together, and avoid cutting her with all these sharp-edged fragments.
This is all just one big mistake.
Besides, their relationship could never be the same as before. It’s impossible to find those little pieces that have fallen through the cracks.
Pink eyes meet hers, and a smile spreads across their lips. How can they smile at a time like this?
“Good morning, Enanan~”
That nickname sounds foreign to her. God, does it hurt to hear their voice that soft, that gentle, that warm, fuck. Just... fuck.
“How long were you...?”
“For a while. I just didn’t wanna interrupt. You seemed... lost in thought.”
“Oh.”
Guilt squeezes her lungs again, and she clutches the sheets, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
Last night. All that alcohol. All that mindless flirting like they’ve slotted back into old roles, the pining and wanting of their body against hers, and the terrible, horrible, unfair wish that maybe, just maybe, they could love her again.
But she shouldn’t have done this, especially with such a wicked desire upon her lips. She loves them too much to let them go. And she knows something like this would push Mizuki away forever. It’s only a matter of time. She should’ve been content to just be friends.
Why did she ever ask for more?
“Mizuki, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She’s not sure which part she’s apologizing for.
All of it, maybe. All of her.
“Shh.”
The bed squeaks, and Ena finds herself wrapped in warmth, love, and a cuddly pinkette. Their lips press against her temple, then drift lower as they plant kisses across the side of her face and along her jaw. Her heart swells as the ropes loosen from her chest, and her nails press into their arm.
“I know, Ena. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“You have nothing to—”
“Shh... I missed you too.”
Another kiss, this time a slow, soft one against her lips. Ena returns it with renewed passion, hoping to say everything she needs to through a simple touch. As salty droplets streak down her cheeks, she breathes a wish to never leave their side and never let them leave ever again. Mizuki giggles, and finally, she can revel in a familiar sound that makes her heart soar through the clouds without the fear of being struck down by the sun.
She knows it’s not enough — she will never be enough — but she’s damn sure she won’t quit without a fight this time.
Mizuki cups her face with their cold slender fingers and kisses her tears away.
“It’s not your fault. You’re okay. We’re okay. I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t forgive them just yet, but dammit, did it feel good to hold them close like this again.
(An apology.)
“If we are to be separated or lose our way, I’ll make sure we stay together now, no matter what it takes.”
Their hand squeezes hers.
It’s perfect.
Not their relationship — not even close — but the apartment they’ve picked out together.
Mizuki stares up at the quaint building, sitting in the residential district of a bustling little university town. Ena wants to finish her design degree (and aims for another degree in communications, even though Mizuki told her not to compromise on her dream, but Ena promised that she just wanted to words better). Mizuki doesn’t even bother applying to universities and instead opts to work at a cute little nail salon with the goal of opening their own beauty parlor — or something like that, anyway — one day.
Everything’s still a little fucked and not everything goes their way, but this apartment, with its little window and view of the big city in the distance, the space big enough for the pair to share?
It’s perfect.
Ena returns the squeeze with a hard grasp of her own, and they glance over at her with a huge smile straining their cheeks. Heck, it’s just so nice to be sharing a life with her in present tense again.
Still, Mizuki feels that new key burning a hole through their light crossbody bag, and they can’t help but notice that despite the perfect summer weather, they’re trembling like a leaf in winter.
“Ena.”
“Yes, Mizuki?” Her big brown eyes shift to meet theirs.
“I know I’m not perfect. I know this... all of this isn’t perfect.” Their eyes briefly glance at the building, then moved right back to Ena’s gaze. “But I’m going to do my damnedest to make you happy.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“Huh?”
She shifts to stand in front of them and takes both of their hands into hers, grip tightening. “I want to feel everything when I’m with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad.” Ena exhales, then offers a little smile. “I just want to be with you through all of it. Okay?”
Mizuki stares down at their shaking hands, and their muscles refuse to cooperate with their feeble attempts to still those jerky movements. “Are you sure?”
“Do you know how lost I was? How empty I felt without you by my side?”
“Well... I know you’re still mad at me. And totally valid to—”
“No, no. I want to be mad at you. I’ve thought about this conversation for a long time, how I’d shake you by the shoulders and scream in your face about how livid I was when I accepted that you were well and truly gone from my life.”
Her beautiful brown eyes become glassy with tears, and Mizuki shivers as they desperately try to hold back their own tears.
“But I can’t. I’m not angry at you.” Ena laughs softly, shaking her head. “But I do have something important to say, so listen carefully, okay?”
Mizuki chokes back a sob and nods fiercely as Ena stares hard into their eyes.
“I wish you’d talk to me before making all these decisions on your own. Big or small, I want you to talk to me about it. Because it hurts to be left in the dark. Before, you broke up with me in your head, then you disappeared without a word. Am I right?”
“I... yeah. I guess that’s an accurate way of putting it,” they reply quietly. They lean in, resting their forehead against hers. “Plenty of people left me once they saw the bad stuff. I... guess I didn’t want to let you hurt me.”
“I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t want all the bad.” Her knuckles stroke their cheek, and they tilt their head against her gentle touch.
“I’m sorry too,” they whisper. “I just assumed you were going to be the same way. But you’re still here with me.”
“Mm-hm. I’m here.”
Their eyes close — not in preparation for a kiss. All they want is to cherish this moment with her.
When their eyes open, they find softened brown eyes matching their gaze. That tension from earlier has dissipated into the warm summer air, and the expression on Ena’s face holds nothing but love for them.
“So... where’d you go?”
“Uh... I didn’t really go anywhere. I just made An and otouto-kun promise me they wouldn’t tell you anything. Well, I guess I spent a little bit of time with my sister in France. But when I came back here... you already graduated.”
“Oh. So, um... did you pick up any French?”
“Absolutely not!” Mizuki puts on a huge grin, wiping stray tears away. “But there’s this half-French girl in one of my favorite anime, and she’s a sword lesbian who always yells ‘méchante va’ at this other sword lesbian, and it’s really gay because—”
“Stop, stop,” Ena cuts in with a playful roll of her eyes. “You’ll never quit talking about sword lesbians at this rate.”
“But I didn’t even get to gush over the bow lesbian,” they say with a pout.
“Dummy.”
Their snort-giggle is interrupted by another choked-back sob, and Mizuki gasps for breath.
“Oh, c’mere.” She hugs them tight, face slotting into the crook of their neck, and their heart fills with all the warmth they’ve needed for the past years. “Want to go upstairs and help me make dinner? Maybe rewatch some episodes of your favorite sword lesbians?”
Mizuki breathes in deeply as their arms wind around her waist, wishing they could smother themself in Ena’s beautiful strawberry scent instead of the self-hatred that fills their lungs.
“Yes. Please,” they whisper, still not letting go.
“We can’t exactly make our way up there if you keep hugging me like this, you know,” she chastises without a hint of bite.
“Mm, you’re smart~ I’m sure we can figure something out,” they reply weakly.
Their feet take tentative steps to the side, and with Ena’s reluctant cooperation (and her help rummaging through their bag to fish out a shiny new key), the pair shuffles along the sidewalk, up the stairs, and through the door of their new apartment.
Ena finally peeks up from her comfortable spot against their neck. “Guess you’re right. I am pretty smart, aren’t I?”
Tears prick at their eyes again, and they lean down to plant a soft kiss on her nose. Her face scrunches up in response, and Mizuki can’t help but plant even more kisses whenever they can.
“Ick! Mizuki! Too much!” Her hands shoot up to cover Mizuki’s mouth, but all that does is renew their effort as their lips repeatedly press against Ena’s soft skin.
“But Enaaa~” they whine, voice muffled as their lips press into her palm. “I wanna make up for all the times I couldn’t kiss you...”
“You’re so unfair!”
“I want to kiss you every day!”
“Agh! Fine, fine. You idiot...”
“Then I’ll kiss you every day, okay?”
“Blagh, you’re so mushy.”
“I want to remind you how much I love you.”
“Bleeegh, you’re so cheesy!”
“But—”
“Gah! Yes, Mizuki, you can kiss me every day! Now quit it,” she grumbles, pushing them away. “I can only take so much of this goopy gooey crap!”
Mizuki’s tears keep dripping down their cheeks, no matter how hard they laugh or how much their cheeks hurt as they smile from ear to ear.
With a quiet sigh, Ena leans in, brushes their hair behind their ears, and plants a small kiss on their lips. When she pulls back, Mizuki takes note of her bright red cheeks.
“Welcome back.”
Mizuki giggles then returns the kiss with a peck on her nose.
“I’m home.”
(A promise.)
“So as to not unlink our joined hands, right now I just wish to live my days as they come.”
Their first kiss happens, of course, on the day they’re both clad in wedding dresses.
(Yes, yes, the marriage ceremony is nothing more than one big “unofficial” celebration but it’s not like they could tie the knot legally — at least, not the way they want to.)
This first is unlike all their other firsts. This is the first time they’re kissing in public. The first time they’re kissing as more than girlfriends. The first time they’re kissing in matching dresses. The first time they’re surrounded by literally every last one of their friends and the first time they’re not embarrassed by all the whooping and hollering from the rowdy crowd. The first time they’re holding hands as they walk back down the aisle together and the first time Mizuki kicks a door open with three-inch heels and the first time they scoop her up into a princess carry and...
The doors crash open and smash against the walls of the quaint wedding hall they picked out, just as the sun crawls across the horizon. The ocean’s a beautiful mix of red, orange, blue, and pink.
And Ena thinks it’s a pretty damn beautiful sight. That Mizuki is a pretty damn beautiful sight.
She looks at the dummy holding her tight, taking in every last inch of their pretty pink hair tied into braids with white ribbons, their pretty pink lash accented with pink eyeshadow, and their pretty pink lips layered with a light touch of Ena’s red lipstick.
Their pink eyes find hers, and the sunset reflects in their passionate gaze.
“What? Is there something on my face?”
Her fingers find their cheek, then their chin. She tugs them closer to pull them into a deep kiss, and Mizuki moans into her mouth, tongue slipping out to meet hers. The sparks, fireworks, and confetti explode in her head as she wraps her arms around their neck, wishing to never let them go. She gasps for air in between kisses, but Mizuki simply leans back in and steals her pretty lips away over and over again.
“Mm. Now there is,” she says with a giggle, wiping her lipstick off their cheek and showing them the residue on her finger. “It looks nice on you though. Kinda like I’m marking my territory.”
“Ena! I can’t believe you!”
The prettiest pink blush brushes sweep across their face, then Mizuki shakes their head and bolts off toward the beach. Ena lets out a surprised yelp and clings to Mizuki tightly as she’s bounced in their arms toward a terrible idea when wearing fancy dresses.
God, they’re both so pathetic.
These moments, good or bad, big or small, are more than enough.
(A first but the second time around.)