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There was something endearingly, undeniably cute , Mizuki thought, about the way Shiho played her bass; the way she would soak in the afterglow and the praise after a concert like it was sunlight.
In fact, there was almost nothing she loved more.
Mizuki loved the feeling of blatant affection bursting beneath her ribs when she observed the dizzying effect of the crowd on her girlfriend, just as she loved listening to the drum of Shiho’s heartbeat as she stumbled into Mizuki’s arms. She lived for that feeling. She reveled in it - the moments that would have her own heart rabbiting gently in her chest and begging to break through.
It was like it was the very reason she breathed, and with every second spent, there was a newfound appreciation for what it was like to run after something instead of away from it.
One of her thumbs rubbed small, mindless shapes over the strap of Shiho’s base as her mind lingered on the thought, the other wrapped tightly around its neck. First lines, then circles, then hearts, and a contented sigh escaped her lips, her body sinking into the steady weight placed upon her shoulders.
How did Shiho do this every time she went out on stage?
“You get used to it,” Shiho murmured, and it was only then, as Mizuki jolted at the snaking sensation of hands around her waist from behind, that she realised she’d spoken out loud. Shiho’s thumbs quickly tucked themselves into her belt loops like they belonged, and she tugged , pulling Mizuki close enough that she could rest her chin onto her shoulders.
(Close enough that she could probably feel Mizuki’s pulse skip and stumble over itself as she nuzzled her cheek into her neck.)
She was endlessly grateful that Shiho didn’t seem to mind the startled squeak that escaped her lips and that she didn’t pay any attention to the way she began to squirm.
At first, it was something that had worried her endlessly. She’d spent hours - entire nights - pacing her room as she imagined what Shiho must have thought of her. Surely, Mizuki spiraled, Shiho would’ve found it odd that she never seemed to be able to acclimate herself to the feeling of having someone this close and having them want to stay, and yet一
The moment where she addressed what should’ve been blindingly obvious never came. Shiho simply continued to hold her in place as she did now, content to have her near with her breath tickling the wispy strands of hair at the side of Mizuki’s face.
“Is一” Mizuki struggled to even think , let alone speak, as Shiho pressed a kiss - brief and soft and affectionate - to her neck, just shy of that sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Is that so?” she laughed, and the sound was as unsteady as her heartbeat as she began to fidget with the ends of her sleeves.
She didn’t do it because she was nervous , exactly, but because it gave her mind something to focus on other than the familiar warmth curling beneath the button on her collar. She did it because something told her that she’d never be able to get used to being held flush against Shiho’s chest like this.
At least, not in a way that would have the accompanying intensity of her adoration wavering.
Still, Shiho didn’t acknowledge anything beyond a quiet hum of affirmation. Rather than replying, she instead preferred to let her thumbs roam over Mizuki’s sides - gentle, curious rubs of her fingers against her hips intended to coax Mizuki from her standstill.
And when that didn’t work; when Mizuki had sworn her knees were just about to buckle, Shiho turned her gaze towards her.
It didn’t feel heavy or even expectant in the way Mizuki thought it would. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, either - not even as Shiho adjusted her angle to look at her better. It simply felt like her gaze belonged; like there was a space carved out on her cheeks, where the tell-tale signs of a blush had risen, for Shiho’s eyes to rest and call home.
Like it was a part of her life that would always be there, and一 Well, Mizuki supposed that wasn’t entirely far from the truth.
They remained like that for several moments longer, each as quiet and as cozy as those that had preceded it. At one point or another - Mizuki didn’t know when - they had begun to sway to an unspoken beat, and it took Shiho finally speaking to pull them out of it.
“Well?” Shiho prompted.
Mizuki forced herself to swallow around the peach-sized lump in her throat. “Well, what?” she murmured, scuffing her sock-clad foot against the carpeted floor. She knew her attempts to evade her were in vain, but in the seconds it took Shiho to elaborate further, she let her eyes roam anyway.
Across the countless records and posters that made her love of music obvious; across the soft plush of her duvet where they’d previously been cuddling; anywhere but her girlfriend’s expression.
Eventually, her gaze landed on Shiho’s small collection of Phenny plushies across the room, and a smile - small, but undoubtedly there - broke across her lips. There, right in the center, was a small cat they’d won at an arcade that Shiho had claimed reminded her of her. Pink and adorable, it was everything that encapsulated Mizuki .
But when Mizuki opened her mouth to tease her for it, Shiho beat her to it. “Are you going to actually play it, or what?” she asked, and a small huff of amusement that told Mizuki she wasn’t really upset passed her lips. “You can’t just stand here forever, you know.”
The gasp Mizuki let out was more teasing than defiant. “I am, I am!” she insisted, though she could tell Shiho was taking note of her inflection; her insistence on stalling this moment just a little bit longer. “It’s just! You know,” she waved her hand about to indicate as she searched for the right word, and the weight on her shoulders felt just a touch heavier.
“Intimidating.”
Shiho hummed. “...Right,” she replied, and the dryness of her tone suggested she didn’t quite believe her. She waited a few seconds more as they continued to sway softly, and then, just as gently, Shiho was tugging at her belt loops for the second time that afternoon.
Mizuki stumbled backward clumsily and utterly endeared. She was perfectly content with allowing herself to be guided wherever Shiho pleased, and it was only a few moments later that she found herself pulled onto her girlfriend’s lap; held close enough that she could still feel the heat of her breath against her nape.
“If all you’re gonna do is stand there, then let me help,” she murmured, and Mizuki fought the urge to whine as Shiho unwound her hands from around her waist.
She almost wanted to release Shiho’s bass from where she had been holding it at its neck, just so that she could guide them back to where she felt they belonged. Maybe she would have, if not for her hands being quickly enveloped with a warmth that her cheeks mimicked as she choked on her own inhale.
Maybe she would have, if the heat creeping beneath her skin was something that was willing to subside, instead of growing in intensity when Shiho began to speak.
“You angle it like this, and一 move your fingers a little, hold it like that,” Shiho explained, adjusting Mizuki’s fingers before she tilted her head to address her. “It’s more comfortable that way, right?”
Mizuki could only nod numbly.
She didn’t think there was a single part of her that remembered how to think, much less speak, when Shiho was crooning explanations that sounded like sweet melodies into her ears.
Thankfully (Mizuki was really so, so thankful), Shiho seemed to accept that as enough of an answer. She didn’t prod or press her about the uncharacteristic quietness of her response, instead copying Mizuki by dipping her head in response.
And when she shifted gears and turned the topic to something new; something about the different notes, Mizuki found herself scrambling to keep up. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to see beyond the fog surrounding her brain, but she was certainly going to try, as her fingers were shifted across the strings in what would become their new routine.
Shiho would explain how to play her bass, just like Mizuki had asked her to. She’d ramble about the score and everything she had learned over the years of being in a band, each word spoken with a fervor that wasn’t often seen in anything else. Mizuki would nod like she understood. Repeat.
It was surprisingly comfortable, Mizuki found, being perched at the edge of Shiho’s bed. The small space carved between her thighs and the steadiness of her hands was, somehow, enough reassurance that Shiho wouldn’t allow her to slip to the floor.
Not that Mizuki would’ve noticed, even if she had.
Every word Shiho spoke; every syllable as she guided Mizuki’s fingers over the strings - giving a brief explanation of each one - was like a lullaby that calmed the cacophony of her thoughts. Shiho’s voice dulled everything else to mere background noise, because how could anything else have mattered when compared to this?
To Shiho being near; to Shiho holding her; to Shiho loving her in all the ways that had never needed any words spoken aloud to make them apparent.
Mizuki resisted the gentle pull of Shiho’s hands as she dwelled on the thought. Though she felt the slight hitch of Shiho’s breath - the intention to comfort her as clear as day - she was the first to speak.
“I love you,” she said, and she spoke it no louder than a whisper. She had never needed to before, anyway.
Now was no different. “Love you, too,” Shiho mumbled back, adorably shy as ever. If Mizuki had looked behind her, she was sure she would’ve seen a matching blush adorning Shiho’s cheeks, and yet, before she could blink; before she could turn around to confirm it一
“Is something on your mind?”
Mizuki shook her head faster than her mind could truly catch up to the question she’d been asked. “I was just remembering something Mafuyu once told me,” she said, and she tapped her finger lightly against Shiho’s bass. It was a small lie - something much easier to spit out than the truth - but one she knew Shiho would forgive her for. “She said that my arms would be littered with bruises if I ever tried out archery, and I just一”
Shiho captured the tailing end of her thought with a knowing look. “You wanted to know if there was an equivalent to that when learning the bass?”
Mizuki’s expression was less incredulous and something closer to grateful. “Yeah!” she replied, punctuating her sentence with an enthusiastic nod.
Wordlessly, Shiho ran her fingers over the length of her fingers; over her knuckles until they rested on the back of her hand. For a few moments, she simply held the pads of her fingers there, pressing ever so slightly, and一
Oh, Mizuki thought.
Instantly, she understood what Shiho was trying to say. The callouses on her hands were something she’d gotten so used to that she barely noticed it anymore, even with how often they held hands. She let out a quiet squeak at the realisation.
“That’s not so bad, then,” Mizuki blurted, unable to keep the awe from her tone as she marvelled at the roughness of Shiho’s fingertips. “I’ve always liked your hands. I’ve always一”
She paused. Suddenly, her throat felt tight. It was like the words had become trapped somewhere between her brain and the tip of her tongue, and it seemed like an endless battle to try and force them out. “I’ve always loved how you play your bass,” Mizuki finished, settling with a declaration that was much easier to admit.
(I’ve always loved you, she silently tacked on. You, you, you . It had always been - would always be - you.)
Her heart sang Shiho’s praises again and again with every clumsy beat; every startled thump that was only ever meant for her to hear.
Mizuki didn’t know why she suddenly felt so shy about admitting it. She’d told Shiho that she loved her more times than she could count, like it was as easy as breathing. Maybe it was even easier than breathing.
Shiho certainly seemed to think so. Because for every admission of her affection, her girlfriend had matched it with one of her own. Every nuzzle against her cheek was met with a quiet squeeze of Mizuki’s hand or a gentle bump of their shoulders. Every kiss was met with a press of Shiho’s lips, just as insistent as her own.
Every “I love you,” was met with an equally affectionate “I love you, too.”
Without thinking, Mizuki raised the back of Shiho’s hand to her lips. This way - even if only for a few, sparing moments - Shiho’s declarations of love were now unmatched by hers.
“I’ll tell you one day,” she murmured, and she spoke it like a promise. Maybe it was, with the way that she sealed her words with a kiss.
“You don’t have to,” Shiho replied, and Mizuki could feel how she shook her head against her without turning over her shoulder to see it.
Somehow, it didn’t surprise her as much as it should have that she didn’t want to leap at the opportunity Shiho had provided her. It hardly crossed her mind at all that she’d been given an out.
Instead, she found herself far more enamoured with the slight twitch of her fingers as they lay atop her own. The way that her voice had shaken just a tiny bit; just enough that Mizuki could tell her small act of love had affected her. She was thrilled .
“I know,” she said, and she did. How could she not, when Shiho’s every action proved it to be true? “I want to.”
Shiho simply hummed. “I’ll hold you to that, then,” she mused, and her arms finally, finally returned to snaking around her. Their path was different this time, though. Instead of returning to her hips, they ascended, ghosting along the length of her sleeves and holding onto her shoulders for a moment that felt far, far too brief.
Certainly too short for Mizuki to question what she was thinking, and she could only let out a stuttering gasp as one of Shiho’s hands reached to tilt her face towards her by the cheek.
Her hold wasn’t particularly firm - definitely not enough to keep her there - and yet一 whether frozen in place or simply willing, Mizuki stayed.
Shiho did too.
It was as if she, too, was hesitating, and Mizuki almost wanted to tease her for it. Especially with how wide her eyes were as she moved forward to press her lips not-quite at the center of her forehead in an unspoken promise.
And though it was somewhat awkward given the angle, Mizuki found that she didn’t care in the slightest.
She loved Shiho so, so much. She loved her so much that the heaviness she felt couldn’t have possibly been entirely from the instrument still resting on her lap; so full of the love that she felt that she feared her heart would burst from the amount.
Before Mizuki had time to blink; to consider the thought further, Shiho lowered her gaze and pressed another at the tip of her nose in a display of pure, unbridled affection.
And finally一
(One of the only things Mizuki loved more, she realized, was having Shiho’s attention entirely to herself like this; having her whisper I love you, I love you, I love you like a chant between every kiss pressed into her lips.)