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*
“Tomoe’s busy at Galaxy Ramen, Tsugumi is at student council, Himari’s also busy…” Ran mutters, her eyes on her phone. The train rumbles in the background, light filtering in and out of the half empty wagon.
“Mm, just us two today then,” Moca smiles in response, her lazy drawl of a voice muffled as her head weighs on Ran’s shoulder. It takes all her willpower not to lean her full weight into Ran and doze off like that, but she knows how mad that would make her. “Like we're on a date,” Moca adds, opening an eye to glance at Ran's reaction.
Ran only grumbles something under her breath, turning her eyes away to stare out the window, where a soft sunset lights the buildings ablaze.
As she puts her phone back into her bag, the wagon falls into a comfortable silence, houses flickering one after another as they move.
The glow from the sunset outside gently falls in through the smudged windows. It sneaks from behind buildings and trees as they ride on, occasionally casting the train back in the shadow when they pass anything too tall or wide, as if stepping in and out with hesitation. Moca lets her thoughts drift to her friends as she watches the light, wondering, hoping they are watching along, too. Sharing a sunset even when they're miles apart.
She looks to Ran with sleepy eyes and wonders if she's hoping for that too.
When Moca dozes off, the shoulder under her cheek is sharp and uncomfortable and very very warm.
She dreams of a hand gripping hers.
*
The sky blurs from soft orange to blue while they walk home, and the shadows bring a cool breeze. Cicadas buzz all around, melding into background noise. Moca talks about the new buns at Yamabuki Bakery, like she usually does, though she's not sure what exactly she's saying. The words all float past her, settling somewhere out of place in the quiet, and Ran doesn't respond in any way other than hums of acknowledgement, so Moca lets whatever drawl there is flow out of her mouth until they're at the door of the Mitake household. While Ran fishes out the keys from a pocket of her bag, Moca stands by, her eyes tracing the outlines of her face over and over.
“Aren't you going home?” Ran asks, eyes pointedly on the keys as they turn once, twice, thrice, a quiet click on the other end. There's a begrudging tone to her voice; she already knows the answer.
“M-mm,” Moca shakes her head, then yawns, bones cracking as she stretches her body out. “I wanna stay.” Her shoulder bumps into Ran's, leaning into her again.
“And what if I say no?” Ran asks.
‘You wouldn't,” Moca does a gasp of faux shock at that, but it comes out sleepy and unbothered. Ran breathes a huff, somewhere between amusement and annoyance, but doesn't protest, providing no reaction to Moca's insistent attempts at pushing her over onto the asphalt. She opens the door and they sink into the familiar space with ease.
Moca takes her shoes off and places them in her designated spot, repeating without thought familiar movements she has done year after year. It's a nice comfort, settling back into a routine this house keeps safe, an unchanging same as always. They make their way to Ran's room, careful not to make too much noise despite not having much reason to be afraid of doing so; Ran's house is quiet, that notion's just what stuck through the years. As they get into her room, Ran takes a deep breath, letting the tension slip out of her body little by little, closing the door with a low thud.
Moca flops down onto Ran's bed almost immediately. Her knees buckle, half-laying on the floor while she buries her face into the comforter, feeling the weight of a headache slowly fading. She turns her head to the side, letting out a big sigh of relief.
“Did you come just to lay in my bed?” Ran asks, walking by to put her bag down. Moca hears her shuffle around the room as she usually does; opening the window, unbuttoning the suit of her uniform, putting it away. “Isn’t there a test we have to get ready for tomorrow?”
“‘s fine,” Moca mumbles, enjoying her place on the bed just fine. Wind gently caresses the top of her head, reaching out through the window. There is a test tomorrow, but she wasn't gonna just up and leave now that she's here, and the bed was just so, so soft. How could anyone blame her for staying? “I'll prepare later, I want to rest for a bit.”
Ran sighs at that, and Moca half expects her to force her to get up, but a few moments pass without a response, and then the bed groans painfully under the weight of another body. Moca opens her eyes and finds Ran sat down next to her, a tired expression creasing her face. She stares blankly at the wall, then looks at Moca. It feels wrong, intrusive almost to see Ran like this, no suit to cover her, only a wrinkled shirt and skirt and a loosened tie; on her face an expression that seems unguarded, somehow; it's not like they haven't seen each other in more vulnerable states, they've been friends since they were kids, but she can't get the strange feeling out of her throat as she swallows. She wants to believe it's a good kind of strange.
Wind blows gently through the open window, the evening air soft as it fills the silence. There's a pleasant cool tinge to the air as if it rained some time earlier.
Ran looks over at her, something tense and unsure in her eyes, before she reaches out and puts a hand in Moca's hair.
Moca almost freezes up, forces herself not to, though her eyes widen slightly, a barely visible twitch in her face.
Ran then takes her spindly fingers through the light locks of hair. The movement is sort of disjointed and awkward; it's obvious that she's not used to being gentle, but Moca leans in anyway. Her head turns, eyes finding Ran's face. She marvels just a little at the expression she sees on her face, a gentle fondness that's usually reserved for sneaky side glances, somehow out in the open. Moca wishes she could stash the sight away into a safe, a locket, all for herself.
“Are you going soft on me, Ran?” She can't help but tease, her eyes narrowing in a lazy smile.
Ran's hand stutters to a halt, and her mouth opens to say something, before she swallows whatever words were meant to be there, an unmistakable tenseness to her shoulders appearing.
“I'm not,” she ends up grumbling, and the uncharacteristic softness in her eyes fades as she turns her eyes away. There's a dash of pink slightly visible where her ears hide beneath her hair.
Her eyes then go down to where her feet rest on the floor, an expression of frustration melting into something more worn down. “I'm… kind of tired too, I guess.”
Moca's eyebrows raise at the confession. Her eyes study Ran's face, and for a moment, she does look tired, Moca thinks with a pang of sympathy. She's sure Ran's talking just about today, but she can't help but think there might be something more to her words. She thinks of the way Ran's been pushing herself, burning herself out for their concerts to be better and better, just so she can end it with no weight on her shoulders. All that burning would obviously tire her out eventually.
There's a familiar dryness in Moca's mouth then, the one that suffocates her every time things come to this. She'd do anything to be able to pull this burden off her shoulders with gentle hands, but right now that is not possible. She'd do anything to be able to take Ran's hands in hers and tell her outright, that nothing is going to end, and that they won’t get separated no matter what, but right now she can’t.
Right now Ran sits tired in front of her, the future she's resigned herself to burning her out.
Ran is tired and Moca is next to her.
Ah. The solution is obvious.
So then, with unshakeable resolve, Moca gets up on the bed. She gives Ran only a moment to think before she tackles her down onto the mattress, landing with her head on Ran's shoulder, her gasping at the sudden force. Moca's arms snake their way around her torso, and she clings on like a koala, refusing to let go and refusing to let her get up.
“M-Moca!” Ran yelps. Her arms raise to push her off, do something at all, but she ends up just freezing in place, unsure as to what to do. It's not like Moca doesn't hug often, but she's not usually this adamant about it.
Moca haphazardly shoves her nose into Ran's shoulder, her arms flush around her as they shift to get a firmer grip. She's never really this forward or this desperate about it, but the thought of Ran tiring herself out for them all is plain unbearable. There's no other way to convey this other than to squeeze the life out of Ran's lungs, to hold on until her shirt's all creased and wrinkled from the pressure.
“Rest with me, Ran,” she asks, her arms loosening their grip as she looks up at her. There's an unusual seriousness in her eyes.
Ran seems lost at that, somewhat. She attempts to shift herself, moving her body into a different shape, but it ends up making her even less comfortable and she gives up, still staring. Moca stares back.
Ran blinks. Waits a beat. Then, she sighs, breaking eye contact.
“Fine,” she mumbles. Moca watches a pleasant shade of pink stretch on from her ears to her face. “But only for a little bit; there's work to do.” She says in a serious tone. It's her terms for the agreement.
“And let me move, this is very uncomfortable,” she adds. Once Moca releases her Ran scoots both of them into a more comfortable position on the bed, placing a pillow under her back that she can sink into with a relieved huff.
Moca takes the opportunity to latch herself back onto Ran. She crawls up higher so that her head fits right under Ran's chin and she puts an ear to her neck, listening for a heartbeat.
It drums a fast melody, the sensation reverberating through Moca's body.
Her arms wrap around Ran. Her body is all rough edges and angles, a stiff silhouette hidden under an unkempt shirt. Moca thinks it's nice. It suits her. She doesn't think she could ever get tired of Ran, running her fingers along her shoulders and watching the bones move under the skin, feeling how they stick out, almost as if out of place. Pressing down and watching the peachy imprints fade in seconds. She can’t be blamed for being curious.
Moca's hands are cold. That is why Ran hates her curiosity, and why usually she would pry her hands off of herself, but for some reason that doesn't happen now. She must be really tired then, Moca thinks, and the thought makes her stop all by herself.
She lifts her chin up to look at Ran.
Ran's eyes are somewhere distant, her hands resting simply on Moca's back. Her finger taps some sort of rhythm on the cloth of her shirt, and while it's not like Moca can recognize the melody, she wouldn't be surprised if it were one of their songs.
A warmth spreads through her chest, as if it's about to burst through her ribcage. It's a light sensation she doesn't even comprehend at first, but she realizes it as affection.
Unsure what to do with it, Moca lets herself nuzzle up into Ran's neck, closing her eyes.
This seems to make Ran snap out of her trance, as she hums a short sound before resting her cheek on top of Moca's head. It's pleasant, a pillow beneath her head and the warmth of a body beside hers. They don't do this that often, though they should. It's nice to rest. It's even nicer to rest with someone you'd trust yourself with. Here, her face neatly tucked into the crook of Ran's shoulder, it's safe.
Moca's breath is hot where it hits Ran's neck, and she settles closer, shifting her arms and into a shape more comfortable.
Cicadas buzz outside. Wind rustles the curtains.
As Moca leans into Ran's embrace, her eyes slowly shut.
Somewhere distant, she thinks giving her whole life to Afterglow wouldn't be that bad.
*