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“And you can’t tell anyone.”
“Okay.”
Momo’s staring at Defoko with so much mirth in her eyes; it feels like she’s making fun of them.
“Do you find this funny, at all?”
“Nope.” And when Momo lifts her mug to her lips - the way she always does when she’s trying to hide an illicit smile - Defoko knows.
“Liar.”
“Who, me?” A hand hovers gently over her chest as Momo feigns dramatic disapproval. “No, I would never. This isn’t funny at all.”
“Liar!” Defoko spits the accusation out with a bit more bite this time, but they aren’t really angry. They could never be. Not when Momo’s smiling up at them like this.
“Why don’t you just tell Teto?” asks Momo, far too innocently for someone making Defoko into the subject of merry ridicule. “She’d love to know.”
“That’s exactly why I can’t,” they groan, dropping their head back onto the sofa. “She’d never let it go. If she knew I think that she’s… If she ever found out… I’d be ruined.”
“So let me get this straight.” After placing her mug onto the table, Momo smoothes out the stresses in her skirt. Those stresses apparently find a home in the creases on her forehead. “You’d be ruined… if your girlfriend finds out that you think she’s cute.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I’m cute?”
Defoko takes a moment to look at Momo - really look at her. She has so much hope on her face, mixed with the frustration she always has when she sees something they don’t. Her hands are fiddling anxiously in her lap and something about her always seems so soft, so homely. Defoko thinks that they could see Momo in a bakery, or a school, but they know that she really deserves to be on the front page of a magazine or drowning in stage lights. Not like they’d ever be honest enough to admit that.
“Yes,” they answer earnestly. The truth leaves a bitter taste in their mouth, somehow.
“So why can one of your girlfriends know you find her cute but not the other?” Momo inquires desperately. “What’s the difference?” Then, looking down at her tangled hands, she says quietly, “And thank you for thinking I’m cute.”
“I don’t know. I only answered your question,” they explained. “It’s just embarrassing to say so openly.”
“... But it’s more than just embarrassment.” Momo’s peering more closely at them now, her eyes observing, examining, searching for something. After a brief (and nervous) few seconds, she reaches out for Defoko’s hand and says with a voice imbued with tenderness, “You’re still ashamed to love us, aren’t you? To love women.”
“... I’m not ashamed of you.” They know she’s hit the target.
“No, you wouldn’t ever be. You’re just ashamed of yourself.”
The pair sit in silence for a moment. Defoko feels guilty for even bringing the matter up. For telling Momo they find Teto cute in the first place, for having those feelings to begin with, for talking about shame for the thousandth time. It must seem so out of proportion to Momo, but even sitting here with their girlfriend’s hand in theirs, they feel like the epitome of filth. There’s a niggling feeling in the deepest folds of their brain that never fails to encroach on their happiness and voice its disgust at their love.
They hate it. They hate never being able to let that feeling go, even when they’re the happiest they’ve ever been.
“There’s nothing I can say to make it better, can I?” Momo speaks with a voice so sombre, Defoko can just hear the sorrow it’s entrenched in. Sorrow for them and their shame at finding their own girlfriend cute.
“No,” they reply honestly. “But I wish you could.”
Momo shuffles closer to them, squeezing their hands tightly and pressing a kiss to their cheek. “I still think you should tell Teto.”
“I’ll try.” They reflect Momo’s smile back at her. “She deserves it.”
“Yes. And you do too. Deserve to say it, I mean.”
Defoko leans their head on Momo’s shoulder. The feeling of shame still echoes in the forefront of their mind for now, but they’re determined to push it away.
“And if it means anything,” Momo begins to confess, leaning her head on top of Defoko’s, “I feel the same way sometimes. About shame, and about… cuteness.”
“Mm,” they hum in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry you feel ashamed sometimes.”
“And I’m sorry you feel ashamed most of the time.”
“Thanks.” Then, picking up on the second part of Momo’s confession, they say, “Teto is cute, isn’t she?”
“Definitely,” Momo agrees, the mirth restored to her voice. “But I wasn’t just talking about her. I was talking about you too.” Kissing the top of their head, she repeats, “You’re really cute.”
The warmth that fills Defoko’s chest drowns out any traces of shame they once felt, if only for the time being.