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Mizuki and Ena didn’t argue.
Sure, they bickered a lot. The pair could be seen teasing each other more often than not, dealing out harmless jabs that resulted in nothing more than a roll of the eyes or a middle finger thrown across the room. Their constant quarrels were nothing more than that, quarrels. Annoying, yes, but harmless.
Which only made Mizuki’s current situation worse.
Because this time, they had argued. And Mizuki was starting to regret absolutely everything she’d said.
The day had started off innocently enough. Mizuki had woken up around the usual time, and had resorted to cuddling with her wife instead of crawling out into the cold, open air. Ena had reciprocated, reaching out and wrapping both arms around Mizuki, before burying her face into her wife’s neck. Mizuki had kissed Ena’s forehead, tangled her fingers in between her brunette locks, and settled down for another few minutes of sleep.
It had been normal. Safe. Harmless.
The real issues started just after breakfast.
Ena didn’t seem to be in the best of spirits. Her brow had a persistent crease above it which only appeared when she was battling a particularly bad migraine, and she kept flexing and unflexing her fingers in a way that suggested the pain in her wrist had flared up again. Mizuki had been quiet, shuffling about the apartment with unusual caution so as to not elevate the pain pulsing within Ena’s skull. It had worked, for the most part, and she could tell Ena had genuinely appreciated her efforts, even offering her a grateful smile despite the agony she appeared to be in.
The peace didn’t last long.
After washing up the dishes from breakfast, Mizuki had ransacked the cupboards for some painkillers, before tiptoeing into the bedroom in search of her wife. Ena was exactly where Mizuki expected her to be; hunched over their shared desk, tablet glowing in front of her and a pen resting in her hand despite how much it was shaking. Her pain was practically visible, radiating off her in dull, lifeless waves, and Mizuki felt her heart twist at the sight. Immediately, she crouched down by Ena’s chair, before tapping at her shoulder to attract her attention. Ena’s gaze moved from the screen to Mizuki, before flicking down to the pills resting in Mizuki’s outstretched hand. She grimaced, before shaking her head and turning towards her tablet once more. Mizuki frowned, opening her mouth to argue, but Ena beat her to it.
“I’m fine.” She muttered, already returning to the drawing alight on her screen. “I don’t need them.”
Mizuki’s brows furrowed, and she leant forward to place the painkillers next to Ena’s tablet on the desk.
“You’ll feel better if you take them. I don’t want you in pain all day.” Mizuki pleaded, nudging Ena’s shoulder.
The brunette huffed, immediately retorting without looking up from her screen.
“I’m not in pain. I’m fine.”
“Yes you are, Ena. Your hand is shaking and you’re gripping your head like it’ll fall off if you let go.”
Ena’s hand clenched around her pen at that, but she still refused to look up. Instead, she closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself before she spoke.
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I can still draw. I don’t need the painkillers.”
Mizuki sighed, trying not to let her frustration get the better of her. She knew Ena struggled with accepting help, but she sometimes wished it was at least a little bit easier to get the artist to take care of herself.
Mizuki stepped closer, nudging the pills towards Ena in one last attempt.
“Just because you can still draw, it doesn’t mean you aren’t in pain. Please just take them, Ena.”
Suddenly, the pen the artist had been gripping clattered to the desk, and Ena’s head whipped around to meet Mizuki’s gaze, annoyance evident in her expression.
“I said I’m fine! What part of that do you not understand?” She snapped, eyes locked onto Mizuki’s, who bristled in return.
“I’m just asking you to take care of yourself! What’s so wrong about that?”
“You’re coddling me like I’m a child, Mizuki. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you on my back all the time!”
“Well, I wish you’d demonstrate those abilities more often. You’d work yourself to exhaustion more often than not if I didn’t remind you to take breaks. Why can’t you just accept help when you need it?” Mizuki exclaimed, voice rising in anger despite her desperate attempts to remain calm. She watched as Ena’s face twisted into an expression of hurt, and a wave of guilt crashed over her at the sight.
Ena rose from her chair, anger swirling in her eyes as she replied.
“Don’t be ridiculous Mizuki. I can function perfectly fine on my own. I don't solely rely on you to maintain a healthy work-life balance. I don’t need you constantly nagging at me to take care of myself!”
Mizuki froze then, betrayal pooling in her stomach as she processed Ena’s argument. Before her, Ena’s expression crumpled a little under the weight of her own words, but she didn’t apologise. Mizuki scoffed, turning towards the door.
“Fine. Have it your way then. I don’t care whether you take them or not.” She muttered, before twisting the handle and stepping out of the room.
Mizuki didn’t turn to look back as she left; she didn’t want to see the hurt on Ena’s face as she stormed out. The sickening guilt pooling in her stomach was bad enough.
~
Now, a couple hours later, Mizuki was sprawled across the couch, eyes blankly focused on the ceiling. The nausea from both remorse and worry still lingered, and she’d repeated the argument over and over again in her head more times than she could count.
Ena still hadn’t emerged from the bedroom.
Mizuki had heard her mutter a string of curses after she'd left the room, although the animator was yet to figure out who they’d been directed at. After the curses, she’d heard shuffling, a few badly hidden sniffles, and then nothing. Just silence.
That was the worst part.
Their flat was never silent. Whether it be the scratch of Ena’s pencil, the hum of Mizuki’s sewing machine, or the melody of their shared playlist as it flowed out from the kitchen speaker, there was always some essence of sound radiating throughout their shared home. Even on the quietest of days, the two filled the absence of sound with their never ending chatter, and Mizuki thrived in the small haven of chaos they’d created together.
But now all she could hear was the traffic outside, horns echoing throughout the house like sirens, engines buzzing through the air like a swarm of angry wasps. She so desperately wanted to talk to Ena again. To fill the silence with the familiar lighthearted conversation she was so used to.
But that didn’t change the fact that she was mad. And it didn’t take much to come to the conclusion that Ena probably felt the same.
It seemed like music was her only hope at breaking the silence.
However, just as she was about to reach for her phone, she heard a shuffle from inside the bedroom, before slow, reluctant footsteps approached the door.
The twist of a handle. The creak of a hinge. Hesitant, traipsing footsteps across the room.
Ena sank down on the other side of the couch.
They didn’t speak for a while, the tension in the room thick and daunting. Ena’s foot tapped against the wooden flooring, and Mizuki could see her twisting her hands in her lap. Minutes passed, and Mizuki could sense Ena’s restlessness building, before the tapping against the floor came to a halt and a voice cut through the tension like a knife.
“I took the painkillers.” Ena mumbled, eyes remaining focused on her twitching hands. Mizuki hummed, frustration still lingering, but not overpowering enough to completely ignore her wife. Sensing she wasn’t going to get much more out of the animator, Ena sighed before continuing.
“You were right. They helped. I was in pain.”
Mizuki’s heart twisted at that, and she finally swallowed any remaining anger before turning her head to look at her wife.
Ena’s red rimmed eyes were trained on her fidgeting hands, but Mizuki could still see the unusual wetness pooled within them. As well as that, Ena’s cheeks had been painted with smudged tear stains, which she’d evidently tried to rub away before coming out into the living room. The crease above her brow was still there, however Mizuki could tell that it had appeared thanks to a different kind of pain. Ena’s head and wrists may have stopped hurting, but it was clear that the sting of the argument still remained. Mizuki felt her heart pinch in remorse.
Mizuki sighed, inching closer to her wife on the couch. Ena looked up then, eyes still pooling with guilt, before shuffling closer herself.
“I know you were just trying to help.” She whispered.
“I was. But I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard when you’d already told me to leave it.” Mizuki countered.
After that, the silence dragged on for another few minutes, although all earlier tension had dissipated from the room. Mizuki found herself inching closer to her wife, closing the distance between them on the couch. When they were barely an inch apart, Mizuki turned to look Ena in the eye, before opening her arms for the artist to crumple into.
Immediately, Ena collapsed into her lover’s embrace, clutching Mizuki’s shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to earth. A few stray tears trickled down her cheeks, and she buried her face into Mizuki’s neck just like she had that morning. Without hesitation, Mizuki lifted her thumb to wipe away the tears spilling down Ena’s face, completely dissolving any remaining frustration leftover from the argument.
“I’m sorry.” Ena mumbled into her wife’s shirt, her apology flowing out with the rest of her regret. “You were right, I don’t know why I argued with you. I was just-“
“Shhh, Ena. It’s okay.” Mizuki interrupted, leaning back slightly to cup Ena’s face in her hands. “I’m sorry too. You were obviously already wound up and I just kept pushing you. And I shouldn’t have stormed out like that either.”
Ena averted her eyes at that, every mark of vulnerability evident in her expression.
“I thought you left.” She whispered.
Mizuki’s heart shattered.
It was no secret that Mizuki often found herself running away when things got tough. More often than not, she’d resort to hiding instead of solving the issue. But she’d been trying to improve on that.
And evidently today she’d fallen back into the habit.
Immediately, Mizuki brought Ena in fully again, pulling her into a tight embrace as tears of her own sprung to her eyes.
“Never.”
~
They’d abandoned any plans for the day after that, instead content to climb back into bed and cuddle for the rest of the afternoon. Mizuki had turned on a cheesy rom-com, the kind of movie Ena claimed she hated but secretly couldn’t get enough of, and the pair had been relaxing ever since.
Eventually, Mizuki looked over to see Ena’s eyes already drooping, evidently exhausted from the emotional weight of the day. Carefully, she reached over and grabbed the remote, flicking off the television before settling down further into the bed by her wife.
This time, there was no silence, instead Mizuki listened as soft breaths filled the room, engulfing her in a comforting haze. Lazily, she flung an arm around Ena’s waist, before leaning in to whisper in her ear.
“I can’t believe the stubborn Enanan apologised first.”
She received a light smack in return, and Ena secured her with a glare that held no real weight.
“Shut up and let me sleep.” She mumbled, eyes already closing again.
Mizuki giggled, kissing her wife on the forehead, before closing her own eyes and leaning back into the pillows.
It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, nestled in her wife’s arms, safety and comfort engulfing her once more.