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Kaoruko feels like the most pathetic woman alive.
But, god, where the hell is Futaba?! She's half an hour late! That should be illegal — coming home to your wife late.
She just misses her so much.
What if Futaba doesn't miss her back?
Ah.
She really couldn't blame her. Kaoruko is awful, after all. She's haughty and annoying and entitled; she thinks it makes her charming. Futaba thought that too, at one point. But what if she's changed her mind?
She sighs, trying to suppress the tears she knows are about to fall.
I miss you, Futaba-han… Even though it's only been eight hours. She's so needy. And she's not even mad at Futaba for disliking that, she's just mad that she lied. She’s stayed with her all this time, and she’s still been lying.
Her eyes hurt because she’s scrubbing them so hard. She lays her head on the couch and has to control her breathing so she doesn’t break down.
Another half an hour passes.
The doorknob turns. Kaoruko’s heart jumps; yet at the same time, it swells with rage.
“Futaba-han!”
Futaba sighs and hangs her coat on the wall. “No ‘welcome back?’” she asks wryly.
“Of course not! You’re late!”
“I’m sorry. But it wasn’t my fault.” Futaba crosses her arms. “Someone came in last minute.”
“Oh, of course they did. Why wouldn’t they?!” Kaoruko throws her hands in the hair. “Repairing someone’s dumb bike is so much more important than getting home on time to your wife!”
“Yeah, it kinda is, Kaoruko.” Futaba is looking at her as if she’s the one saying something hurtful. As if Kaoruko’s heart isn’t breaking. “That’s my job.”
“It’s your job as my wife to be with me! Isn’t that why you married me?!”
“Obviously!” Futaba snaps. “But I also like doing my actual job! And I don’t like coming home to you yelling at me!”
“I wouldn’t be yelling if you weren’t late!”
“Oh, yeah, as if you never come home late after a performance.”
“I try my hardest!” Kaoruko yells. “I hate coming home to you late! Don’t you hate coming home to me late?!”
“If you’re gonna yell at me like this, then yeah. I do.” Futaba storms into the house and into the guest room, slamming the door behind her.
Kaoruko finally starts crying. She does this every time. All she wants is an apology, to have her feelings recognized, but her own nastiness poisons everything. Futaba gets annoyed easily, sure, but she doesn’t get truly angry easily. But Kaoruko can get her that angry. Because Kaoruko’s anger is so venomous that it seeps into Futaba.
Really, if Futaba ends up divorcing her, Kaoruko couldn’t blame her. She’d be angry, and hurt, and heartbroken, but it would make sense.
She probably deserves it, anyway.
Kaoruko walks back to the kitchen and puts the finishing touches on dinner. She makes her own plate and sits at the dining table. Alone.
She eats alone, crying the whole time. Her homemade curry — the recipe taught to her by Futaba herself — tastes bland. Once she’s done, she makes Futaba a plate, setting it on the counter. A tear falls next to the plate, and she quickly wipes it up.
She doesn’t bother knocking on the door to the guest room. She just walks into their room and closes the door; she even locks it. She just wants to be alone, even though that’s what she was so desperately trying to avoid. Kaoruko curls up into a ball and starts to sob. Silently, of course. She can’t bother Futaba any further.
The door next to her opens. Ah, she hopes Futaba enjoys the meal. Or maybe she doesn’t. It would be a different kind of poetic to have the recipe she taught her wife be so awful.
Kaoruko hugs herself tightly, her tears falling onto her arms. Her heart is crying out in pain. She needs to have Futaba hugging her. She needs to never see Futaba again. She needs a divorce. She needs to take a blood oath so they can never separate again.
Oh, god, she really needs her brain dissected and her amygdala removed. She looks in the mirror every day and wishes that tiny bulb in the middle of her head was gone. She doesn’t need this fear response — Futaba would protect her. She doesn’t need this knee-jerk anger and fear. Why was she cursed in such a way that it developed wrong? Why is the source of all her pain such a tangible thing that she can’t get rid of? And why can’t she just get over that fact despite having known it for a decade?
She scratches at her scalp, a whine spawning from the back of her throat.
Awful. She’s awful. Futaba is awful. Everything is awful. Maybe… Maybe Kaoruko should just disappear.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Kaoruko?” Futaba asks, her voice clearly strained. “Can I come in?”
Kaoruko lifts her head. She should let her in. She doesn’t really want to, but if it’s what Futaba wants… And, really, Futaba has only ever been looking out for Kaoruko. So she should let her in.
She peels herself away from the sheets and opens the door.
Upon seeing Futaba’s eyes red as her hair and her face stained with tears, Kaoruko breaks.
“I’m sorry, Futaba-han…!” She crumples to the floor and lets her voice come through in her sobs. “I’m horrible!”
“Oh, Kaoruko,” Futaba breathes, kneeling beside her wife and pulling her into her arms. Kaoruko breathes in Futaba’s scent like she’s a dying woman. “No, no, this isn’t your fault.”
“Of course it is.” Kaoruko’s nails dig into Futaba’s shirt.
“No. It isn’t.” Futaba meets her venom with tenderness, rubbing Kaoruko’s back. “I figured you would have this kind of reaction; I know coming home late upsets you. And I know the kind of hurt you feel is worse than anything I’ve ever felt. And I still got mad at you when you yelled at me. And I’m sorry. It was just such a long day that all I wanted was for you to be happy to see me.”
“You don’t have to be sorry!” Kaoruko cries. “I’m the one who needs to— to apologize.” She sniffles loudly. “I’m sorry for blaming you for coming home late, and I’m sorry for accusing you of not caring…! I know you love me, Futaba-han.”
“I know, Kaoruko, I know.” Futaba laughs wetly and pulls away from the hug so she can wipe Kaoruko’s tears. “We can both be sorry, how about that?”
“Hahaha, of course.” Kaoruko smiles and wipes Futaba’s face in return. “Was dinner nice?”
“Yeah. You make it just like I used to, Kaoruko. Thank you.”
Kaoruko heaves another sob, grinning. “Hey, Futaba-han?”
“What?”
“I was happy to see you,” she says. “I was also pissed as hell, but I was happy. I’m always happy to see you.”
Futaba grins. “I’m always happy to be with you, too Kaoruko. Actually… I was planning on taking tomorrow off. And you’re also free.”
“Ah, really?” Kaoruko’s heart jumps in excitement.
“Yeah. I even planned us a little date, just like when we were teens.”
“Aww, Futaba-han…” Kaoruko puts a hand on her chest and sighs. “I love you so much.”
“Love you, too, honey.”
A few hours later, they fall into bed, grinning and tired, exchanging more sweet words.
Kaoruko’s mind might be an uphill battle, but Futaba is always there to carry her when she can’t go on any further.
There’s nobody else she’d rather be married to. There has never been anyone else she’s even considered.