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As usual, their Friday evenings are spent lingering close to one another. Occasionally, they'll remain indoors, also getting the chance to let loose when in private.
An invites Kohane over today. By pure coincidence, they end up nestled in a convenient embrace under what Kohane officially declared their 'Sleepover Blanket'. An's bed, already wrinkled by their shuffling, will always be the coziest when Kohane is trying to explain how a NatGeo documentary about deadly snakes' fangs was somehow a fundamental and core part of her childhood.
It's late, but they don't want to let go yet. At the same time, Kohane's warmth is so inviting that she needs to resist shutting her eyes at the feeling. At this point in their sleepover, they're done with their scheduled batch of activities— They already baked a cute pastry and washed each other's hair; they even caught up with the tv show they've been putting off for months now, so at the time, they're pretty well-off doing nothing.
'Nothing' is also fine with An— she doesn't mind. Kohane could suggest staring at drywall for hours and god, she'd be on board. Kohane likes to spend her time in other ways, though. An looks at her when she tests her voice, aware of the slight hesitancy to interrupt something so heavenly.
“I listened to this artist the other day,” She began, absentmindedly playing with her fingers. “I thought I would show it to you.”
An grinned. Her own arm traveled to wrap around Kohane's waist, and she pulled her closer, unapologetically nuzzling into her shoulder. Kohane looked away for a moment, cheeks flushed. “Great! It's been a while since we've listened to something together, right?”
“Mhm,” Kohane began, smiling meekly. An appreciated the lack of resistance. “We haven't really had the time to relax until now. I postponed most things… I guess that included exploring new music.”
“Well, show it to me! I love your taste in music,” She giggled, a peaked interest blooming. “You're too cool for me now! I don't even know half the guys you talk about sometimes.”
Kohane stared at her, eyes wide, almost offended by the mere insinuation. There was a sudden burst of passion in her words, a stuttered rebuttal that An treasured the most. “That's not true! Y- you're the one who introduced me to different genres anyway, An-chan. I couldn't possibly-”
“Alright, alright!” An gently interfered, defusing the bashfulness with a squeeze of her hand. “We can both be the coolest. “I believe we are, actually!”
Kohane laughs too. An will venerate the noise for an eternity to come— It's such a genuine sound. “You're right,” She gets out, humming as she opens up the app and types an artist name foreign to An.
The girl breaks their awesome cocoon of comfort in order to reach inside her bag like a hamster digging into paper bedding. After looking for a while, she ends up retreating her hands in a defeated and slow manner when she doesn't find what she's looking for. An tilts her head.
“I- I think I left my earbuds at home, or maybe in my school bag. I'm so sorry.”
She gives her a sympathetic smile, still thinking it's funny that she's this rejected because of missing earbuds. “Don't be so sad. I'm sure I have earbuds we can use, uh, somewhere around here.” An eyed the room. It was kind of messy, within reason. They've been here for hours, she guesses.
A sigh leaves her. She gets up as well, silently grieving the now empty spot where both of them used to reside. Whatever makes Kohane happy, though. “I'll take this chance to go downstairs and get us some drinks. In the meantime, feel free to look around! Snoop all you want.”
Kohane squints at her.
“I won't do that, An-chan.” Kohane says, her tone flat. An turns around, raising an eyebrow.
“What? Why not?”
If Kohane asked, An is pretty sure she'd give her a set of keys to her home, or all of her passwords and bank accounts. She just trusts her that much. Kohane wouldn't take advantage of it— hell, she's afraid of doing so right now.
If she had to clarify, she'd say she doesn't want to hide from Kohane anymore. So she won't.
“I don't- I shouldn't pry on your personal space,”
An shakes her head, waving her hand dismissively. “No such thing. My home is your home, I'm serious about that.”
“But what if I see something embarrassing?” Kohane retaliated, furrowing her brows. She makes a gesture with her hands, like she wanted to emphasize her next point. “That'd be so awkward for you— you know it's fine to keep secrets sometimes.”
“Do you have a secret you can't tell me?” An punctuates the ‘you’, smugly smiling. Her answer was already told in the stars centuries ago.
“... No.” Kohane exhales through her nose, understanding that she's been defeated this time. For one, she's sure that if she did have a secret of such a big caliber, she'd probably think of telling An before anyone else. She'd seek solace in her because she's simply meant to do that.
“Okay, but if… if you change your mind, let me know.”
“I won't. Kay’ bye!”
The door shut on her, leaving Kohane enclosed and with a mission. Kohane huffed, but fixed on searching for those damned earbuds no matter what. The lengths she'd need to go to show her girlfriend a song were previously unbeknownst to her.
Warily, she did a full scan of the room. To no one's shock, she came out feeling equally lost. How did An expect this to go? Read her mind, get a divine revelation enlightening her on the earbuds’ whereabouts?
Kohane searched in An's nightstand, where she found jewelry, notebooks, and other trinkets, none of which were particularly relevant, but she considered them nice discoveries nonetheless.
Followed by a grimace, Kohane locks eyes with a shelf very high up, close to the ceiling. The altitude it stands at is almost comical to a degree, the last part also contributing to it going unnoticed at first. She doesn't stop to ponder whether or not it's a design error or she's just short.
Good news is she sees a small basket, therefore, it probably is a place for nestling random objects. Kohane walks across the room to retrieve An's desk chair and returns with newfound hope.
She grasps it, holds the basket by the handles and gets back down to the safety of the floor. The second she looks down to actually inspect the contents, she beams with joy. A case of Bluetooth buds should not ever be the cause of such euphoria, but she digresses.
When she takes them, she's anticipating her actions to follow the predetermined pattern of sitting on bed and patiently waiting for An to come back. As she's about to put it back on its place, however, Kohane sees something. irregardless of its feetingness, she swears her heart stops. On this dusted, forgotten conglomeration of items, an envelope stands out. It's wrinkled, with the borders curling on itself and carrying a slight yellow tint, but a word stands out, a recipient that could never mean anyone else when coming out of An’s mouth.
‘For my partner'.
Kohane stops. Does this count as snooping? Should she be reading this, after all the fuss she made, calling for An to protect her privacy mere minutes ago?
But it's for her. Maybe An wouldn't want her to see it. Maybe it's a surprise, but she already found out. Should she pretend to be ignorant if that's the case? Isn't that unfair too?
Against her better judgment, Kohane bites her lip and grabs the envelope. She flips it, looking for a clue, or maybe a sign that what she's doing isn't a crime.
‘Shiraishi An, 2019.’
What? Kohane stops, her brain wiring an explanation only to come up with none. If this date is correct, An shouldn't have known her. The instances for them to cross paths in middle school should've been near 0, unless it's crossing paths on the street at random, so it doesn't make sense to read a word that had no meaning beforehand.
Paranoid, she reads again, and again, and does it until the words are ingrained behind her eyelids. She had noticed the messy, sort of clumsy handwriting, but she did not expect this. 2019? Five years ago. Where was she, five years ago? Her memories blur together. Maybe she was reading a book, or trying to study for a test. Maybe she was looking for An too.
She opens it, as guilty as she was. The paper was sealed with a dry sticker of a smiley face. Kohane feels a strange sense of protectiveness for a seemingly veridic letter . She's hunched over, curled up on the bed and reading with wide eyes. It is for her, right?
She inhales harshly and begins, nervously peeling the worn down sticker and taking out the paper tucked inside. She goes through the folds, opening it to its full capacity, and then she reads from the top.
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‘For my partner'.
‘I can't wait for the time I get to hand you this letter! If you're reading this, it means I found you. Believe it or not, I've been searching for you.’
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Kohane stops breathing. Only after she feels dizzy does she exhale. Indeed, she was right. She was meant to be the reader even before An knew who she would be. Even before she was herself at all.
The concept of her being anticipated for this long truly ached in her chest. Kohane thinks about it sometimes, how her life could've been if she had met An earlier— not like she disliked her life before high school, no, but it felt mean regardless— being kept from someone she felt was the fold for everything, a consequence and a cause all at once.
Fate had its plans, didn't it? Kohane had her meeting, therefore, she's not resentful. Perhaps, cruelty would be a clear line and a predictable ending; there must be many timelines where she didn't get what she wanted. Is that possible? Meeting An appears to be less of a variable and more of a catalyst for the outcomes of her future. Not like she could never be her own person, but she'd miss something, surely. An unexplainable feeling of loss, a yearn for something she never had.
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‘I'm writing this as a… um, time capsule! By the time you get this, we'll probably be best friends, so I hope this is not too weird for my future self. Anyhow, I'll say that right now, my present, fourteen year old self is dying to meet you!
‘It's lonely here, you know? I don't want to sound uncool, but I miss you. Despite haven't met you yet, is that possible? Nagi-san has been trying to introduce me to people my age, but I get the impression no one is quite fit to be you. The thing is, it looks like kids only turn to me because I'm my father's daughter. I can sing nicely, I know that. I just wish I heard another argument as to why they want to team up— that's a recipe for a cop-out.’
‘I know you're out there, waiting to meet. I wonder what you'll be like? A cool boy, or a cute girl? Did I get any of those right? Dad says a calm personality would compliment me the most. I think he's just jealous of my vital energy, but if he's right, I'll be really mad!’
‘...Sorry, this is all over the place, but I guess I'm doing this to let you know that I'm glad I found you. I want you to know that you've always been in my dreams; when I picture my future, you're there— more like— I want you to be there. Is that dumb? I sound dumb, but I'm writing this with permanent ink.’
‘In that case, if there's no take backs, I'll get this on paper. Let's be together forever, shall we?’
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A tear falls into the paper. Kohane yelps at the sound and puts the letter away to prevent it from staining further. She's not sure why she's crying. How can she begin? There's so many things she missed, so many occasions in which the two of them should've been here, just like this.
She hadn't entertained the idea of being expected. An latched onto an idea, trusted with unwavering credence in the Kohane that she pulled from out of the crowd the day she saw her. A choice that bore union for both of them.
It's sweet. She's already aware of how bad of a crybaby she is, but can it ever be justified? It didn't strike her like destiny, then. Fate was An's will to reach out. The predisposed entanglements of their souls were not set in stone, but born from a desire to find one another. Maybe it is in fact, all them.
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An stands in the doorway with a tray in her hands and a pale expression. Her clammy hands grip the edges, her mind already posing on doom. “Kohane, why are you crying?!”
Kohane flinched, sniffling and making a feeble whimper. Her hand rises from the bed to point at the paper that she's holding in her hand, a thing that leaves An all the more anxious. “What? W-wait, what?”
The taller girl takes shaky steps towards the inside of the room. Firstly, she puts down the cute drinks that she made. Kohane feels another wave of sentimentality running to overthrow her as she dwells on the proof in front of her; that An has remembered her tedious favorite order to a T, and that she took the time to surprise her with it. It stands out next to the simplistic strawberry milkshake she presumes belongs to An.
“A milkshake would've been fine…” She assures her. An stared back, her face morphing into something more calm when Kohane rubbed her eyes and willed herself to stop her tears.
“Almond milk doesn't taste well for smoothies, and we didn't have lactose-free milk at hand.” She explains, apologetic. Kohane parts her mouth.
“You don't like almond milk?”
“It's… in the middle for me? Definitely not something I'd get for fun, but you like it, so Mom got a box.”
“I do like it, I mean, I've never tried it outside of coffee blends, so maybe it's not that good by itself— also, that's very considerate of her…” Kohane raises her brows a bit, temporarily forgetting her crying necessity.
“It's not that good. Basically tastes like watered down milk and nuts- wait, are you going to explain what happened? You scared the hell out of me with that!”
Timely, An sits down next to Kohane, attempting to catch sight of whatever the girl had read. Kohane puts her hands to An's face in a desperate attempt to cover her mistake. “Okay- wait! I messed up, An! I read something that said- well- it's not an excuse, but it really did say that it was for me, and-”
An circles her finger around Kohane's wrists and pouts when she manages to pull them away from her eyes. A silence follows in which Kohane shrinks into herself, cowering with her hands on her face. “I’m sorry… I understand if you're mad at me.”
“I couldn't- I mean, what even is this?” An inquired, brows lifting in concern. This time again, she outstretches her hand in its direction. Kohane doesn't stop her.
Her confusion quickly turns into a much expected reaction, a widening of her pupils, a spark of recognition in an otherwise forgotten memory. Kohane grimaces.
“I know it must've been a personal possession. I- I can't explain how sorry-”
“Holy shit, I totally forgot about this.”
Her irises glide along the page, reading, rereading, even letting her jaw fall open. Kohane is as guilty as she is curious. She couldn't come to decipher what An was thinking.
But she smiled after. A wobbly, kind of weak and sheepish curve to her lips. A faint blush that sprinkled her skin, a reminder of what she hadn't pictured back then.
A silence stretches, but it's not a heavy one. An's gaze softens as she looks at the date.
“Well, I guess it was indeed for you,” She coos. “Is this what made you emotional?”
“You were so lonely,” Kohane's voice breaks when she manages to speak, her voice sorrowful and miserable, as if repenting from these (inevitable) actions would make An's younger self heal in an alternate timeline. “I… I wish we could've met sooner… then, I would've always been there for you.”
An chuckles when she sees the sadness glistening in her girlfriend's eyes. She scoots over to wrap her arms around her. Kohane squeezes back. “Kohane, I wasn't lonely. Everyone in Vivid street always looked out for me. I was just being dramatic and clearly idealizing you here,”
A pause. An rests her chin on Kohane's shoulder, shutting her eyes. “But It would've been nice to meet you sooner, too.”
Kohane exhales heavily out her nose and moves a hand to stroke through An's hair.
What does it mean to grow up? Accumulate experiences, present a certain way that reflects your acquired maturity? Kohane wants to believe she's still in time to meet An's whole self.
“You could tell me about it,” An appealing offer, accompanied by her nail's soothing massage on An's scalp. It's more of a plea, but Kohane has a hunch that An's already aware of that which she wants to hear. “What would she think about me if she saw me now?”
An mumbled, cheeks puffing in spite of Kohane's inability to fully take in her face “... She would think you're pretty,” But that should go without saying. “And that you're talented, and that you're nice. She would be delighted with you. I know I am.”
“And If she met me before?” Kohane asks, not with hidden meaning, and certainly not for reassurance. She feels like drowning on it, the feeling of belonging. She's positive it'd produce a sensation close to accomplishment— How lucky would her old self be to be nurtured in this way? She's only come to mind loneliness after she met An.
An laughs. The question prompts her to lift her head, something Kohane takes as a sign to cease her threading.
“If we met before,” An begins, raising a finger and poking Kohane's nose with the pad of her finger. “Maybe it would've been in kindergarten, in a sandbox while you were digging for a toy. Maybe it wasn't there at all, and I met you when I was in elementary and Nagi-san used to play with me at the park.”
Kohane remains speechless. How else would her sentiment compare? An continues.
“Or would you have liked to meet later in life? How about in middle school, at a summer festival? ”
“...An-chan.” Kohane succumbs. Her tone has begging accents that could be missed. It's overwhelming, always is. She's the one who's red this time. An would tease her about it if her first idea wasn't about comparing her to tomatoes. Kohane makes sure to conceal her face completely, so as to not collapse on the spot., and the place she picks to do so is An's shirt.
Getting used to a display this strong has proved more challenging than expected. Akin to climbing a mountain, Kohane feels like the reward is only a taste of greater heights. Her strain is rendered useless when push comes to shove; what goes up must come down, but An is different. She'll stay on the top, looking down at Kohane and helping her up each time.
How exhausting that is.
“... But, I think I like how we met, and when we met,”
“...Why?”
“Because you showed up when I needed you most.”
Kohane looks up. They're practically clinging to one another. Kohane embraces that this love might be too much for her at times, but oh, if she won't try to deliver her part. She's been waiting, too. Her exterior tends to betray her. She's uncertain, but still afraid that An might not feel anything but her arms wrapped around her. She's not amazing with words, and usually too shy to outwardly deliver her love through touch like An does. In contrast to her, she pales, or so she believes. Her feelings are not shallow, but present underwhelming.
Effort is a struggle she'd be glad to show her.
“Me too, I-” A swallow. It's not vulnerability she's afraid of, but her own carnal limitations. “I needed you too. You're the only one.”
And An, reasonably, is confounded. Not that she ever doubted it, but to hear it directly hadn't matched her expectations at all. She grins, but nods, leaving space for more.
Kohane bit her lip, pinched the skin of her hands, all things she did when timid. Alas, who was Kohane if not determined to follow through?
“Your letter. I- it means a lot to me. I- I know I'm not great at this, and sometimes don't act like a proper girlfriend, but I really feel the same way. You found me when there was a hole in my chest,” Kohane says, so quiet it might as well be a whisper. “You helped me fill it with a passion of my own, so selfless, and I'll owe you forever. I love you. I love you, I- I really…”
An leans forward and kisses her lips, softly and tentatively. It's unsure, to the point of being apprehensive. When Kohane doesn't immediately respond to her advances, An opens her eyes in dread. Her fears are negated when Kohane's arms wrap around her neck and give in. An, despite the disbelief that made her heart's rate skyrocket, remain locked with her.
It's dicey. Kohane, too, has little clue about how this works. An is dazzling, and oftentimes, there's no way to repay that. She's foolish, floored by her own stupidity when it comes to love— nonetheless, the matter is intangible, and the truth is that right now, she's not thinking about it. Kohane's acceptance lets An hold her waist, and soon, They fall back onto the bed.
With slow, firm kisses to her lips, An goes further. She faces no resistance, but compliance instead. When they're forced to stop and catch their breath, Kohane pants, the hot air mingling between them. Delighted, bright tenderness stares from above. Kohane is convinced that she must not be so discreet either.
When Kohane battles to regain her composure and she stirs under An, the girl cups her cheeks instead. Kohane, tongue-tied, takes in her lover’s devotion that worships her like the ground she walks on.
An pinches her cheeks, too busy to care about the squirms, or the giggles that Kohane can't seem to suppress any longer. Still laughing, she does the same and caresses An's face. Kohane commits all of her to memory. She delicately pulls her close, pecking random spots on her face.
It's An’s turn to wriggle. It's as if their smiles are stuck on their faces. She shuts her eyes as kisses are peppered along her face, and after a minute, when Kohane is finally done, they roll over to hug, plopping into the mattress and onto their side.
A lull falls upon them. Inviting, they bask on it. The two manage a ginger handhold, and Kohane is still in awe of it all. A conclusion is to be drawn, but that's clear. How would this love persist otherwise? Where would it go?
This amount of care, of affection, Kohane doesn't believe can be discarded.
“Do you think there's a world where I didn't meet you?” She mutters.
An, with a hooded gaze, seems to ponder. Her answer doesn't take long to be formed, but that's yet again, predictable.
“No,” An murmurs back, her thumb rubbing over Kohane's knuckles. “I would have met you anyways. Maybe sooner, or even as grandmas, but I would've definitely met you.”
That's all the confirmation she'd ever request from her. As kids, as elders. With no life behind them or the opposite. “...I see, thank you.”
Another silence. Kohane yawns. An copies, and sleepiness almost takes over the two, the peace of the moment filling the air with a numbing tranquility.
Almost.
An blinks in acknowledgement. “Ah, Kohane. The drinks.”
“Oh,” Kohane dragged out, her focus returning and centring in the dense, abandoned mix of beverages sitting next to them. “Right.”
Both of them got up with a lazy attitude, grabbing their respective drinks and stirring the straws so as to blend the components again. Kohane looked down at the bed, eyes not resisting the temptation of the object which had formerly caused great trepidation. Now, after all has transpired, it might be one of her favorite memories. An is romantic when there's no intention. Could she have ever imagined an outcome like this?
“Can I keep it?” Kohane speaks after sipping her coffee. “The letter,”
An gives her a thumbs up, but Kohane can see the embarrassment within. “Sure thing, but… uh, well. You know. It's… really not that good, Kohane.”
“It is amazing, please respect it.” A joke defiance, but one An found strangely kind. Oh, she's sure her middle school self would be perpetually grateful, but right now she's just cringing at her own audacity, technically admitting that she's been fantasizing about a relationship like this since she was a pubescent kid.
“Kohane, I could write something with much better redaction and also more romantic for you now.”
“That doesn't mean I won't want this.” She said right away, voice flat as she folded the paper neatly and stuffed it in her bag. An understood that it was the end of their discussion.
Kohane finishes her mocha swiftly. Both girls get ready for bed, brushing their teeth and, in Kohane's case, doing skincare with an ungodly amount of products. An watches as she deems herself done with a singular face soap and hand cream.
All is well, as long as they get to cuddle together. An persists, no matter how prepared Kohane comes, or how much she claims to be fine with her sleeping bag. It would be a crime, no? It's best for everyone this way.
An lifts a leg to completely envelop Kohane in a hug. The other girl is constricted like a pillow, but oddly enough, welcomes the pressure. Kohane sighs, smelling An's hair. No such thing as being uncomfortable here, right; especially not after today, she's not planning to complain. An is an angel, a person so extraordinary she's dumbfounded no one else is blinded by her beauty.
The ceiling is glowing with the reflection of the moon, a soft blue light that puts her to sleep. Kohane surrenders.
Not awaited, but oh, so welcome are the dreams of them. Perhaps, it wouldn't matter when they met at all. It's there, all at once, the permanence.
Love shifts, but never falters, no, no matter what their fates were. In the morning, she'll forget about it, but rooted in her subconscious is admission. If she wasn't meant to be An's, then she's no one's at all.
An parts her eyes in the morning, crushed by the weight of sunlight and the mellow bed covers. Of course, the factor that excites her most is right beside her, curled up in a ball and weakly grasping her side. An could never tell, but part of why she arranges this setting every weekend is because she dotes on this view, arguably to a fault.
“... What are you dreaming of, you…”
An laughs through her nose, languid and laced with care. With that, she shuts her eyes again, set to enjoy what little pause the weekend gives them to slow down and enjoy the company. She nuzzles back into Kohane's neck, for of course, they'll never go anywhere.