Work Text:
1.
Airi collapses onto the concrete, panting, peeling her t-shirt away from her sticky skin. As she takes big, desperate gulps of her water, she hears Shizuku delicately place herself next to Airi.
All of a sudden, Airi can feel every meter of nerves bundled underneath her skin, can feel the way her lips rest on the edge of the bottle and the way her tongue sits, slow and heavy inside her mouth. It’s Shizuku, but Airi’s sweaty and her hair is probably a mess. She fidgets with a loop of pink hair, chews the corner of her mouth.
“That was a good practice, wasn’t it?” Shizuku asks, incredibly unaware of the effect she has on Airi. “I hope we’ll be ready for the interview scheduled for next Sunday.”
Airi turns to respond, meaning to be cool, calm, collected, but she falters.
Shizuku’s in the middle of tying her hair up, chin tilted up, the barest gleam of sunlight hitting her sweat-damp cheek so that she glows, strands of blue hair falling delicately into those stunning eyes. Not for the first time, Airi remembers why Shizuku was so famous.
Airi looks down, meaning to avoid blushing in this smothering summer heat, but that’s a bad idea too, because there’s a tiny bead of sweat rolling down the pale curve of Shizuku’s throat, leaving a thin trail of moisture that makes Airi’s mouth go dry, mouth parted, cotton on her tongue. God—god, Airi can’t—this isn’t—
Airi twists away. She can blame her red face on the heat, but she can’t hide her inability to tear her eyes away from Shizuku.
She buries her head in her knees. “This is so unfair,” she mutters into the quiet space between her knees.
“What’s unfair?” Shizuku asks, leaning closer to hear better, and oh God, she’s even closer now, Airi can feel a piece of her hair brushing against her arm, can smell the faint jasmine perfume Shizuku uses, and it’s just—a lot to take in. “Airi, are you alright?”
“Yeah—yes.” Airi says. “Yeah, I’m okay. I was just…” she fumbles around for an explanation, brain frizzing at their close proximity. “Thinking about this move that I couldn’t get right during practice today, and I got frustrated.”
Shizuku makes a sound of understanding, leaning away from Airi, and Airi breathes out a sigh of relief. If Shizuku had stayed that close to her, she might have done something she…shouldn’t have. Definitely shouldn’t have.
“I could help you perfect it,” Shizuku says, voice turning up at the end into a question. Airi looks over and sees Shizuku fumbling with her slender fingers, hands in her lap.
“That sounds good,” Airi says, lifting her head back up. She smiles over at Shizuku. Shizuku’s tongue darts out, quick, pokes the corner of her lips, pink and plush. Airi can’t stop herself from watching the movement.
They make eye contact for a burning, shining second.
“That sounds good,” Airi repeats, breaking away. She stands up and offers her hand to Shizuku, decidedly ignoring the way their fingers clasp together just right.
“It’s the one turn in our second song, right?” Shizuku asks, standing up alongside Airi.
“Y-yeah, actually.” Even though Airi had lied about the cause of her frustration, she really had been struggling with that move. “Wait, how’d you know?”
Shizuku flushes redder and looks towards the sky.
“I noticed while we were practicing,” she says, tucking her hands behind her back, which Airi knows is a sign of nerves. “Here, I’ll show you how I do it.”
Airi smilies to herself and lets herself be led into the steps leading up to it, humming the music along with Shizuku.
“To the left, arm up, and then here’s where you struggled, right?” Shizuku steps closer, a soft look on her face. She’s smiling, lips curled up prettily into a smile. “Can I—?”
Airi nods, finding herself without words to describe the way her heart presses against the cage of her ribs, begging to be let out.
She swallows. Hard. Shizuku’s arm comes up, resting on her waist, pretty fingers splayed out across her shirt. One supple fingertip brushes the hem of her clothes, slips out to press under, on her skin. Oh God, oh god, oh god—
“I’m just going to—” Shizuku says, voice lower and quieter, and jasmine floats around Airi, her other hand comes to brush her shoulder, touch so light Airi thinks she might have dreamed this all up. She would lift an arm to pinch herself, but she can’t move. Her lungs are running out of breath.
Shizuku guides her through the steps, fingertips pressing light shapes into Airi’s skin, and there’s a moment, stretched like sticky-sweet taffy, where Airi’s pressed against Shizuku as they turn in unison. And it’s in this moment that Airi’s nervous system shuts off and she loses control of her feet, slipping and falling and oh, oh, oh.
“Be careful, Airi,” Shizuku says, one hand wrapped around her neck to stop her from falling, and the other hand firm on her waist. “You really could have hurt yourself. It’s a good thing I caught you in time, right?”
“Y-yeah,” Airi says, breaking away. She wobbles, putting her weight back on her own feet, trying to hide the way her knees weaken at the thought of Shizuku pressed against her, warm and jasmine and Shizuku. “Sorry about that. I did say I was bad at that move, didn’t I?”
Shizuku giggles. The light sound makes Airi’s stomach flip and twist and burst into brightness.
“It’s okay, that’s why I offered to help.”
Shizuku hums the melody of the song, and together they step back into place.
2.
“Your hair’s getting pretty long, Airi,” Shizuku says on one of their walks. This one’s an afternoon walk, trees orange and gold and flaming red, lining the concrete. The sun dips between the buildings, stretching its golden fingers over the stretched buildings. Airi pretends very hard that she hasn’t been staring at the way Shizuku glimmers quietly in the afternoon.
Airi reaches up and runs her fingers through pink.
They’ve been going out on walks together more often, just the two of them. It started out as a running bit for their livestreams, Walk On and Talk On with Airi and Shizuku!, but the excuse of a camera had slowly slipped out, leaving Shizuku and Airi alone. Alone, wandering through the city, stopped by eager fans and chatting about whatever crossed their minds.
“I should get it cut soon, shouldn’t I?” Airi muses, absentminded. She hasn’t been fully here ever since they stepped outside and Shizuku turned to look at her with that impossible, soft look, highlighted with warm yellow. Her mind keeps slipping back to that moment, mouth dry, eyes wide.
“Are you going to switch your hairstyle?” Shizuku glances over at Airi, assessing her hair. She flushes. Embarrassing. “A lot of our fans think you would look good with short, light-blue hair.”
“I don’t know…Where would I even get it cut? We have to be careful about what places we get seen at.”
“I could…I could cut it for you.”
“You—you can? You know how to cut hair?”
“Only out of necessity—I learned when I was in Cheerful*Days. One of the members decided that Cheerful*Days would transition to a short-haired look, but they forgot to tell me. I read a book and then figured it out, it wasn’t anything super professional.”
“Shizuku…”
“I mean, if you really care about getting it to look good, I can help you pick out a good salon to go to. We can even make it a livestream. Cheer Up! Haircut with Airi!”
“No—no, it’s—I trust you to cut my hair. You can cut my hair,”
“Really? I promise I won’t mess up, Airi!” Shizuku clasps her hands together and smiles at Airi, eyes bright and wide.
“Yeah, you’d better not.” Airi huffs, blowing some hair out of her face. “Just a trim is fine, no need to go blue.”
“Are you sure? You know, I think our fans were really onto something, you would look good with light-blue hair.” Shizuku presses a fingertip against her chin. The gesture’s so startlingly cute that Airi wants to cry. “Although… you look very pretty with pink hair, too.”
Airi pretends that her best friend calling her pretty isn’t doing a thousand things to her. She twists her hair between her fingers and looks to the side. Even if Shizuku thinks her pink hair is pretty, she won’t think her pink flush is.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go to my house. My mom has salon-quality scissors.”
Airi was regretting saying yes. How was she supposed to survive Shizuku’s hands in her hair, nails gently raking across her scalp, warm and gentle?
“All the salons I go to wash your hair beforehand. Where’s your shampoo, Airi? The strawberry one?”
Airi tries to take several deep breaths without getting a mouthful of warm sink water.
“Hey, how do you know I use strawberry shampoo?”
Airi can only see Shizuku’s face upside down, but it looks like she’s… blushing? Why…?
“It—ah, it smells good… You smell like strawberries, all the time.” Shizuku says, tripping and skipping over words. What’s going on?
“Hm, you have a better sense of smell than I thought.” Airi pauses. She supposes it isn’t that surprising. After all, she knows the scent of Shizuku’s jasmine perfume by heart. “It’s underneath the cabinet on your right.”
Shizuku finishes washing Airi’s hair, and Airishe suffers through it, fighting the urge to close her eyes at the sensation of Shizuku’s hands in her hair, massaging her scalp. At one point, Shizuku’s finger slides over the curve of her ear, and Airi actually trembles.
She’s seated in front of the mirror now, Shizuku standing behind her, pale pink scissors held in her pretty hand.
“Just a trim, right?”
Airi nods, mute. She can’t even breathe, because Shizuku steps closer, impossibly closer, until Airi can see just how close they are in the mirror. Her mouth parts. She can’t concentrate on a single thought. They’ve all eddied out of her mind, slipping away like strawberry-scented soap suds down the drain.
Shizuku sections her hair, picks up a piece, and gets to work. The quiet snip of the scissors echoes around the marble bathroom, the sound trembling in the taut silence. Airi tries, she really tries, to look anywhere other than Shizuku, but fails. She’s so weak when it comes to Shizuku.
The object of her unfailing affection has her soft pink lip tucked under pretty teeth, forehead creased in concentration. Shizuku’s fingers rake through her hair again, again, picking up another piece and another. Airi’s so— she’s so—
Airi squeezes her eyes shut.
“All done,” Shizuku announces softly. She hears the clank of the scissors as they’re set on the countertop. “You can open your eyes, Airi.” A giggle.
Airi cautiously opens one eye.
She picks up a piece of her hair. Rubs it between her fingers. Finger-combs her bangs.
Shizuku’s behind her, twisting her fingers together behind her back, biting the inside of her cheek. Shizuku never bites her lip when she’s nervous, Airi remembers, only her cheek. Something about looking good in interviews and variety shows.
“Wow, it looks…it looks… You did a really good job, Shizuku.”
And the girl beams with pride, hands coming up to press against her cheeks, eyes sparkling at the praise. Airi feels her mouth go slack, hands stuttering, feels her pulse thunder through her entire body. Her eyes focus on Shizuku’s face. Lips.
Oh, how she wants.
3.
Airi blinks. Another snowflake lands on the tip of her tongue, fizzling cold before disappearing.
To her side, Shizuku lets out a giggle and raises the phone higher to get a better angle.
It’s flurrying, ground covered in a soft, muted white, broken by the shapes of footsteps going in all different directions. Airi likes to pretend that she can guess where each person was going when they left the imprint.
“See that footprint? The one with just the toe, and then a dot in the back?” Airi points, and Shizuku swerves the camera in that direction. “That’s an office lady wearing heels, rushing to work. She probably works at a tech company, because there’s a lot in that direction.”
“You’re so smart, Airi. Like Holmes-san,” Shizuku says, voice tipping into a teasing tone.
Airi laughs out loud, feels her lips crack from the cold, feels her lungs burn white-hot with cold air. Shizuku laughs with her, voice ringing in the street, causing people’s heads to turn at the bright, beautiful sound.
“Oh God, I’m so cold,” Airi says after she’s calmed down enough to stop laughing. She shivers violently. “I really wish you had your big thermos of miso soup right now.”
“Miso soup is good for when we’re practicing! During winter, what you really want to eat is ice cream.” Shizuku says, nodding her head sagely.
“What!?” Airi shakes her head, feeling some snowflakes shake themselves loose. “Miso soup in the summer, ice cream in the winter? I’ll never understand you.”
“I’ll explain— ice cream has a lot of calories, and when the body needs to digest a lot of calories, it produces more heat. So your body is warmer, see?”
Airi shakes her head, still laughing.
“Come on, Airi, I’ll take you to an ice cream store and you’ll see for yourself.” Shizuku grasps Airi’s arm and pulls her down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of a popular ice cream shop.
“Hey, I’m not spending a single yen on ice cream when it’s this cold outside!” Airi protests, attempting to distract herself from how right Shizuku’s hand feels around her arm. And if Airi thought it couldn’t be better, Shizuku’s pale hand slides down her arm to grasp her hand, weaving their fingers together.
Airi almost dies. Her hand is somehow warm, and their fingers fit into each others’ spaces perfectly, palms pressed together. It feels so good, so right, like this is where their hands belong. Together.
Airi knows she’s being sappy, something straight out of the dramas Minori likes to binge, but still, she can’t help it. Shizuku has a way of bringing out sides of her she didn’t even know existed.
They skid to a stop in front of the ice cream shop. It is, as expected, rather empty.
“See? We’re even doing the shop a favor, by bringing them business during winter, which is a slow season.” Shizuku argues, pulling open the door. The bell tinkles merrily, and Airi can’t help but be reminded of Shizuku’s delicate laugh.
“I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable about ice cream economics,” Airi teases. She wonders if Shizuku will drop her hand— but she doesn’t.
Their hands remain firmly clasped together as Shizuku strides to the counter, full of determination. It’s rather adorable to watch.
“I’ll have one strawberry sundae, please and thank you.” Shizuku says, ignoring the awestruck look on the cashier’s face, a teenage boy who looks like he’s about to explode.
Airi sighs. Sometimes it’s hard remembering that Airi’s not special, that Shizuku has this effect on everyone she meets.
“Shizuku, I already said I’m not spending one yen on ice cream,” Airi insists, trying to pull Shizuku away from the counter.
“I know. That’s why I’m going to pay for your ice cream,” Shizuku replies, digging through her purse.
Airi feels her cheeks burst into red. Paying—paying for her ice cream? Isn’t that… something only couples do?
Airi pulls her hand away from Shizuku’s, ignoring the stunned look on her face in favor of pressing her hands against her rapidly heating cheeks. This is so embarrassing.
They sit down at a booth, retro-style lamp flickering idly above their heads. Outside the window, people rush back and forth, wrapped in puffy jackets. The snow continues to fall, determined to quiet the world with its blankness.
Shizuku says something about an upcoming interview. Airi murmurs some vague words of assent. Their ice cream arrives. The boy takes a not-so-discreet picture of them sitting by the window, picturesque and quaint.
In a flash of jealousy, Airi hopes that he posts the photo, and everybody sees that Shizuku is hers. She shakes her head, rubs at her temples. No, no, she can’t act like that.
“Airi, open wide…” Shizuku says, voice much softer now.
“W-what?” Airi backs up against the booth, surprised, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
What are you doing indeed, because Shizuku has a spoonful of ice cream and is bringing it dangerously close to Airi’s face, an encouraging look on her face.
Being spoonfed by Shizuku?
Airi feels her face heat up even further. She doesn’t even need the ice cream at this point, she can rely on the full-body flushes that Shizuku seems to relentlessly inspire in her.
Hesitantly, face burning, Airi leans over and takes a bite of the ice cream. It’s good, sweet. The cold burns against the roof of her mouth.
“Nope, I still feel cold,” Airi declares, frowning. She licks a little ice cream off the corner of her mouth. Shizuku’s eyes dip down, tracking the movement. Airi’s face flushes with the extra attention.
“That’s because you haven’t eaten enough yet,” Shizuku insists, taking another scoop and bringing it closer.
“If ice cream is really so good for you in the winter, why don’t you try some?” Airi teases, pushing the spoon back towards Shizuku without really thinking about the consequences.
“Okay,” Shizuku shrugs, too casual, and puts the same spoon in her mouth, the same spoon that Airi just touched with her mouth. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god, Airi feels the familiar flash of heat steal over her face, fresh and red.
“It’s really good!” Shizuku exclaims, eyes scrunched in joy.
Airi laughs brightly, trying to hide the pulse of affection that surges, unmistakeable, within her.
4.
“Welcome to to MORE MORE JUMP!’s first Sakura Spring Picnic! We’re on the outskirts of Shibuya, getting ready to view the sakura blossoms together!” Minori pans the camera around for their viewers to get a good look at the trees, laced with pale pink blossoms. Petals fall softly around them, dusting the air with pink.
“We’ve assembled a lovely picnic spread to enjoy while we watch the cherry blossoms. I brought over cherry ice cream, which I thought was fitting. Here we have cucumber and strawberry sandwiches—ooh, Airi made these into these flower shapes! Minori brought some cherry blossom lemonade, and Shizuku brought— Shizuku, what is this?”
“It’s a cherry pie with sakura flowers! I made it myself.”
“Why is it… black?”
“Is it not supposed to look like that?”
“Um— anyway, we’ll also be taking this opportunity to answer any questions our fans have for us. Like a Just Chatting stream, with the addition of some beautiful sakuras in the background!” Airi says, attempting to steer the stream back on track.
Minori nods, sets the camera down in the grass at a good angle, and moves to sit back on the checkered blanket. They launch into streaming, reading and responding to questions with vigor. Something inside Airi’s chest burns with warmth, even in the crisp cold air, at the sight of the happiness she can bring her fans.
“Well, we’ve cleared all the food while we were talking, and there’s a lull in questions in the chat,” Haruka comments. “Should we walk around and find an activity to do?”
“I saw some rowboats for rent over by the lake,” Minori says eagerly. “We could take our viewers on the boat with us and row around so they can see the view?”
“Sounds like fun! Airi, Shizuku, are you coming?” Haruka stands up, brushing off a layer of silky petals that had fallen on her while they were streaming.
“I’m still a little tired from yesterday’s practice, I think I’ll stay here,” Shizuku smiles softly, and if Airi thought she was beautiful before, Shizuku hurts to look at now, surrounded by pale pink, lips cherry-red from the ice cream, eyes crinkled in joy. “What about you, Airi?”
“I-I’ll just stay here. The boats are two-per-person, so it wouldn’t be fun if I just went on a boat alone.” Airi says hastily, turning away from Shizuku. “Minori, Haruka, you can take the camera. Shizuku and I will amuse ourselves until you come back.”
“Together,” Shizuku smiles again at Airi, and she really needs to stop doing that if Airi has any chance of making it out with her heart intact.
Oh God. Shizuku and her, alone, under the sakura trees. Alone. Her mind repeats the word in time with her heart, which has started rapidly accelerating. God. They haven’t even done anything yet, Haruka and Minori aren’t even out of sight, for god’s sake.
Airi mentally scolds herself. She can’t act like this. It’s firmly against the rules.
There’s a moment of silence after Haruka and Minori leave, disappearing down the slope of the grassy green hill, heading for the clear blue lake. Light glimmers off the surface, painting with shaking fingers.
Airi’s sure that they’ll have lots of fun, and the fans as well.
“I remember doing something like this before,” Shizuku says absentmindedly. Airi looks over. Something in Shizuku’s voice pinches at her.
Shizuku’s lying on her stomach, twirling a pretty piece of blue hair between her fingers. Shizuku’s good at acting, she’s famous for a reason, but Airi knows when she’s trying too hard to remain casual. She knows these things, just like she knows the sweet curve of Shizuku’s cheek, knows the pale-blue determination that radiates from her, knows what Shizuku’s talking about.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t mention it to Minori or Haruka,” Airi moves to lay down as well, smile locking into place like the gears in a well-oiled machine. Shizuku frowns. It’s the same face she makes whenever she knows Airi’s not being genuine. “They really thought it was an original idea.”
“It wasn’t that novel of a concept anyway,” Shizuku shrugs. “The organizers at our company were pretty uncreative.”
Shizuku is, of course, referring to the company that they both worked under, back in the days of QT and Cheerful*Days. The memory of that day, that joint event between their idol groups, is buried under layers of shame, scraping at the corners of her brain, stained the sepia of discomfort. She digs for it.
“Yeah…” Airi presses her fingertips to the corner of her mouth. “I think you probably know this but… Shizuku…”
Airi looks up and is met with Shizuku’s face, open and waiting. The sight helps Airi push through that hard knot in her chest, taut and rough with all the hateful things she suppresses within herself. Because she knows that whatever she says, no matter how hideous the words that come out of her mouth, Shizuku will understand.
“I really hated you after that event, you know?” Airi sighs. “It wasn’t— it wasn’t even your fault, it was just me, getting worked up over my insecurities and I— I let it overcome me and I found a way to blame it on you.”
“I had an inkling,” Shizuku says, laughing softly. She reaches out and traces the edge of a blade of grass. “You refused to speak to me afterwards, even when I visited your dorm to see you. And I— I was hurt too, you know? I thought I had lost my only friend for the same reason that I lost my friendship with Cheerful*Days.”
“You— Shizuku, you considered us friends by then?” Shizuku nods solemnly, eyes shining. Clouds have criss-crossed their way across the sun, layering their picnic blanket in fluffy gray shadows. “That was… oh God, that was almost two years ago!”
“I know,” Shizuku says. She smiles again, tilts her head. She waits patiently, but Airi doesn’t say anything. She’s still processing this new information, mind spinning and turning over the idea that Shizuku had considered them friends, two years ago. “What else was I supposed to consider you?”
“I— I considered us rivals! I didn’t even— it was one-sided!?” Airi splutters, embarrassed. She peeks at Shizuku, whose expression twists down at the word ‘rivals’. “I— Shizuku, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have—”
Airi feels needles prick her eyes, heat welling up at the edges of her eyes. She blots it away, blinks against the pain in her eyes, in her chest. Shizuku doesn’t say anything, looking down and picking at the grass. She waits for Airi to take a few deep breaths.
“I was jealous of you, and it was wrong of me. I had been working so hard to become better at being an idol, because I was so eager to— to spread hope, I was working so hard, Shizuku,” Airi pleads, begging Shizuku to understand. “And here you were, you didn’t even want to be an idol in the first place, but you were so talented, so flawless. Here was this person that was everything I wanted to be, and she didn’t even have to work at it.”
“I did work hard. I do work hard,” Shizuku says, frowning. “I work hard because of you, Airi.”
“I know now that you work hard, but I was stupid, and immature back then. And the image you marketed was so effortlessly flawless, even I bought into it— wait, what did you say?” Airi sucks in another breath.
“I work hard because of you, Airi.” Shizuku repeats, earnest and fervent, eyes searching for something on Airi’s face.
“What?”
Is all Airi can seem to say. Shizuku has a way of stealing her breath, funneling it from between her lips, so Airi is left only left with the longing that seems to be wired into her bones.
“You’re the one who inspired me to work hard at becoming an idol, Airi. You’re right— before, I was only doing it half-heartedly. But you were the one who inspired me. You believe that you never touched anyone’s heart, but you touched mine.” Shizuku pressed a hand against her chest, voice filled with the burn of raw, wet emotion. “Not only were you my only friend, you were the closest friend I’ve ever had. Airi, I look up to you in ways you can’t even imagine.”
Look up to her? Touched her heart?
Airi wipes frantically at her eyes. She can’t let Shizuku see her like this, overcome with emotion at a few words, but a soft hand, lingering with jasmine fragrance, comes to rest on her back.
And then Airi breaks.
Wetness stains her cheeks, lining her jawline and chin with drops of silver tears as she buries her face into Shizuku’s neck, holding on for her life. She shakes and trembles in Shizuku’s arms, whispering words that don’t register, oh God oh God oh God and please I’m sorry without you but finally Shizuku Shizuku Shizuku Shizuku, over and over, whispering her name into the quiet curve of Shizuku’s neck.
Because it is Shizuku, isn’t it? It’s Shizuku who understands her at a level nobody else does, who buys her ice cream in winter and cuts her hair in the fall, Shizuku who comforts her in the dark of nighttime. It’s Shizuku who smiles in special ways at her, who notices her, who is astounding and stunning and impossible. Who is everything Airi’s ever wanted to be, everything she’s ever wanted.
Airi feels the gossamer-thin strand inside her heart snap. And then she holds on to Shizuku tighter, cries harder, because she wants and wants and wants. She wants the space firmly labeled ‘friendship’ in-between them to disappear, wants this to be real, so, so badly. Airi knows, though, that this is the only way she’ll ever get to have Shizuku, and so she holds on tighter, crying for something that Shizuku doesn’t know, will never know.
5.
Airi likes the in-between spaces.
She likes the space in-between winter and spring, when the snow melts into slushy piles of gray, staining the sidewalks, while overhead trees of delicate green are slowly waking up. She likes the space in-between summer and autumn, where the sun is uncertain and doesn’t know how bright to shine, the trees are still finding their new colored coats.
Airi likes the moments after school and before practice, where she walks home, absorbing things around her into her skin. The moments in between 2 and 3 AM, lying on her bed, music of nothing playing at one bar in her ears, tapping her fingers on her chest in patterns that she makes up. Moments in school where she looks down, looks at the blackboard, looks behind her, looks out the window at the trees swaying and dancing to the music of the birds, green grass waving temptingly at her from below.
It’s in moments like these that she thinks about Shizuku the most. Thinks about the soft pink and white teeth of her real smile, not her TV smile. The one that gets her eyes crinkling and nose scrunching, the one that makes Airi’s veins feel swollen with want.
Airi also thinks about Shizuku’s soft voice, encouraging her, teaching her, comforting her. She thinks about the words she wants Shizuku to say the most. Three of them. So simple. And yet, impossible.
Because these thoughts and wants are impossible. Airi knows, but she can’t help herself. So it’s in these in-between spaces that Airi resolves to herself to stop loving Shizuku so much.
She has to.
6.
And it’s painful. So, so painful.
Airi expected the pain, but she didn’t expect it to hurt this much.
Something hard and painful tightens in her chest every time she declines an invitation from Shizuku to go walk. It throbs when she treats Shizuku just like she treats Haruka and Minori, at arms length. She didn’t even realize how close, how deep Shizuku had burrowed her way into her heart until Airi had to dig her out.
She turns around when Shizuku gives her that look, the one she wears when she knows. Airi makes a point of not meeting her eyes. If she looks into those earnest eyes, blue and bright, she knows she’ll cave. So she doesn’t.
Haruka and Minori can tell that something’s wrong between them; both have tried talking to her, but Airi brushes them off. It’s better this way, she repeats to herself, it’s better that she keeps Shizuku at an arm’s distance.
But she can’t stop herself from wanting, from wanting soft, pale arms holding her when she sleeps, pink mouth pressing open kisses against her cheeks and ears, she wants the delicate fit of a slender hand in hers. And every night, Airi feels the tears slide down her face.
Because no matter how much Airi wants, how hard she wants or how desperately, she knows that she will never receive. Knows that she doesn’t deserve Shizuku, because Airi has said so many horrible things, thought all these hideous thoughts, colored puke green, and yet somehow, Shizuku is still her friend. Still trusts her that much, and Airi knows that she can’t waste that sort of trust, shining and golden and pure.
Airi can’t ask for more than friendship. She can’t. It would be too selfish of her. And the chance that Shizuku would reciprocate? A sliver of nothing. Shizuku is Shizuku Hinomori, and Airi is just Airi. Never enough.
She aches and cries, but in silence. Shizuku gives her sad looks, but Airi pretends she can’t see them.
But because Shizuku is mind-blowingly, heart-achingly perfect, she pulls her aside after a tense practice. Airi looks up. The sky is silver-gray. A thin crack of sunlight runs through, like a seam of gold.
She won’t cry, she won’t cry, she won’t cry.
“Please talk to me, Airi,” Shizuku’s voice breaks on her name, and it’s the rawness of her voice, the raw hoarse throats and crying, that makes the fragile walls she’s built around her heart fall down. “I— I don’t understand, did I do something wrong?”
Airi understands, immediately, the mistake she’s made.
She steps forward, brings her hand up to wipe off Shizuku’s tears, gently, not taking care to hide the nearly overpowering affection she feels for Shizuku. Airi’s chest tightens, squeezing her breath out of her in one quick exhale, directly proportional to her distance from Shizuku.
“No, you didn’t, it wasn’t your fault.” Airi closes her eyes. How does she—? “I was being… I was being stupid and I wasn’t thinking right, I made a big mistake and I just…”
“Good, good,” Shizuku rasps out, arms coming up to embrace Airi. She breathes in, hard. It’s been a long time since she felt Shizuku’s touch on her skin, and the feeling of her skin on Airi’s is just as soft as she remembers. She would remember, since she dreams about it every night.
And then Shizuku says something that makes Airi’s brain shut down, body on high alert.
“Because Airi, please, I need you around. Haruka and Minori are great, but you’re— you’re just somehow… more than they are, more to me. You’re worth so much to me, Airi. I need you around, I need you.”
Airi no longer cares if she’s reading the situation horribly wrong. All she knows is that she needs to feel Shizuku’s mouth on hers, doesn’t care if Shizuku reciprocates or not, because she needs Shizuku to know how deeply, how unendingly she is loved.
So she steps forward and makes quick work of the space between their mouths.
Airi closes her eyes, pretends that this is an idyllic kiss under the fireworks, savors the sweet cherry of Shizuku’s mouth and the press of her body against Airi’s, because she knows this is the only time she will ever get it. She knows that in a second, Shizuku will pull away, will wipe her mouth. So Airi savors this second, because it’s the closest she will ever get.
And then somehow, Shizuku returns the touch.
Hands spread across her waist, mouth opens under her touch, Shizuku leans in, and Airi can hardly believe it. She can’t believe it. This can’t be real, it can’t be, she’s dreamed about it for so long that every press of Shizuku’s mouth feels as incorporeal as cotton candy, sweet and melting.
Airi pulls away. She needs to— she needs to…
Her eyes fall to Shizuku’s mouth. It’s kiss-swollen and flushed with color, just like the rest of her face. Shizuku’s eyes are still closed, and she’s taking deep lungfuls of air, trying to regain her breath. Shizuku— she’s struggling to pull herself together.
Shizuku opens her eyes and look at Airi with something shimmery liquid in her gaze, and Airi realizes with a start that it’s the same want she experiences, the same golden liquid that glows in her veins every time Shizuku does something that makes her heart go into overdrive.
The sight is so much better than her dreams. Never could she have ever conjured up someone as stunning and beautiful as Shizuku, never in her most wild dreams could she have imagined someone who fit her jagged edges as perfectly as Shizuku did.
The thought causes Airi to surge forward again, before Shizuku’s even finished regaining her breath.
Mouths slide together, open-mouthed, and Shizuku traces the seam of Airi’s lips with her tongue and then slips inside, licking at the roof of her mouth, making Airi gasp and clutch at Shizuku’s clothes. She threads her hands through Shizuku’s hair, the hair that she’s always wanted to comb her fingers through, using it as leverage to press them closer.
Oh God, Airi’s senses are overwhelmed with the feel of Shizuku on her, around her, touching her. Hands in her hair and pressing on her waist, knees touching, lips slotted against each other, kissing down the curve of an ear and under the sharpness of a jawline. Shizuku, Shizuku, Shizuku, Airi whispers, desperate.
A shout from the soccer fields down below seems to startle Shizuku out of the kiss. She pulls away, and Airi revels in the fact that Shizuku’s hair is messy, ruffled, and her mouth is cherry-red and swollen. She did that.
Shizuku clasps Airi’s hands, pressing their foreheads together. They’re so close, panting, breath warm on each other’s face. Airi’s so— she’s so happy she could cry.
She closes her eyes and feels something wet slip out of the corner of her eye.
“Why are you crying, Airi?” Shizuku asks, opening her eyes again.
“I’m just… Shizuku, I love you.” Airi smiles and licks the tear off her upper lip. “I don’t know how to say it right now, but one day I will, I promise. I’ll show you just how much I love you, how much I absolutely adore you, how much you deserve to be loved.”
Shizuku laughs wetly, mouth split into a grin that simply radiates joy. Airi basks in it, their sheer closeness, the happiness of the moment.
“What you just said is the exact reason I love you back, Airi.” Shizuku whispers, shifting to press a kiss against Airi’s bare shoulder. “I was hoping you could see how much I loved you, that I was willing to do so much for you.”
Airi laughs. “I was being pretty silly, wasn’t I?”
They both giggle over nothing in particular, sharing their smiles like a secret, private thing.