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If it were up to Harua, she’d live by herself. She prefers to have her own space, where she can unwind alone and not have to worry about expending social energy. She likes things to be a certain way, too, and is particular about aesthetics. It’s not that she’s anti-social or anything; it’s just easier to live alone.
She loves her roommates—really, she does. They’re her best friends. But sometimes Taki leaves her socks lying around, and Maki always uses up all the hot water in the morning. And it’s nearly impossible to have any semblance of privacy in their apartment, because neither of them seem to know what boundaries are. They’re both exceptionally open and affectionate, which is super lovely! Harua would just appreciate a warning if they’re going to walk around in their underwear, that’s all.
Anyway, Taki and Maki have never been particularly conscientious when it comes to sharing a living space. Which brings Harua to this.
It’s not the first time she’s come home to one of her roommates making out with someone in the living room. It is, however, the first time she’s come home to both of her roommates making out with someone—or rather, with each other.
To say she’s stunned would be an understatement. For too long Harua simply stands there, desperately trying to process what she’s looking at. Her brain doesn’t seem to want to believe it, even though it is clearly laid out before her: Taki and Maki, kissing. Taki and Maki, with their hands in each other’s hair and tongues in each other’s mouths. Taki and Maki, her roommates—her best friends—tangled together, breathing heavily, pawing at each other like dogs.
They haven’t noticed her presence. They’re too absorbed in each other, and the longer Harua watches them, the weirder she feels. A part of her wants to call out to them, to tease or complain—but any possible words are lodged in her throat. Harua is completely frozen in place, transfixed by the sight of their bodies pressed together. Then Taki lets out a particularly loud giggle that trails off into a moan, and she startles back to reality.
Harua quickly escapes to her room before she’s caught. Her whole body is burning with embarrassment and confusion, and her heart threatens to beat out of her chest as she robotically goes through the motions of getting ready for bed. Whatever plans she’d had for the rest of the evening have been completely thrown out the window. Instead, all she can do is lie down, stare at the ceiling and hope that she’ll have forgotten about this by morning.
***
Forgetting about it proves much more difficult than Harua anticipated. She’s never dwelled on her friends’ dating lives, really. They’re both grown adults and will come to her for advice if they need it, which is a rare occurrence, anyway. Taki has only been in a few relationships and Maki has a tendency to date around, but they both know what they’re doing. They’re not stupid. Harua trusts them to make good decisions—mostly.
And the thing is, she knows both Taki and Maki like girls. It shouldn’t be shocking that they’d eventually end up together in some capacity. It makes sense: two sweet, cute, earnest puppies taking comfort in one another. But for some reason, Harua has never considered this possibility before. Seeing them together in a romantic capacity has shaken her entire world view, and she’s having a hard time figuring out why.
To put it simply: Harua hasn’t slept properly all week. Too many questions keep running through her head, keeping her awake late into the night. Most of them are logistical—how long have they been doing this? Are they actually together, or just casually hooking up? Is this something she should be worried about for the future? And most importantly, why didn’t they tell her?
These are all fair questions, Harua thinks, though the thought of asking any of them outright makes her stomach churn with discomfort. Still, she thinks that if she did work up the courage to ask, she would get an honest answer.
Then there are the more dangerous questions. The kind of questions Harua has desperately been trying to push aside out of shame; ones concerning things she has no right to even be thinking about in the first place. Embarrassing things. Things like—
Like who made the first move? Who likes to take control, and who likes to relinquish it? Which one of them is the better kisser? How far have they gone; have they slept together? How does sleeping with another woman work, anyway? Is it good? Is it weird?
What’s it like to kiss your best friend?
All of these thoughts and more have been ruining Harua’s life. It’s been difficult to concentrate on anything other than the way Maki wets her lips as she talks, or on the little noises of happiness that Taki is constantly making. Harua feels like a huge pervert for immediately flashing back to the scene on the couch when she hears them, but what else is she supposed to do?! The image is seared into her eyelids. Taki and Maki have been haunting her every waking moment.
They even haunt some of her non-waking ones. That Friday she wakes up and immediately recalls her dream, in which she kept switching between Taki and Maki’s perspectives as they were heavily making out. Harua herself wasn’t present in the scene, but they mentioned her more than once. Harua had never rushed to class so quickly as she had that morning; looking either of them in the eye after that felt like social suicide.
It’s the following weekend when she’s finally forced to confront it face-to-face. Harua is attempting to study at her desk when there’s a knock on her bedroom door.
“Rua?” It’s Maki’s voice.
Harua removes her headphones and pauses the (totally educational) YouTube video she’d been watching. Her gut flutters uncomfortably at the prospect of facing one of her roommates, but she swivels her desk chair around anyway, determined to be Super Normal about it.
“Come in,” she says.
Maki skips through the doorway and Harua’s heart nearly stops. Because not only is she wearing the tiniest tank top known to man, her collarbones and midriff on full display, but there’s also a blotchy bruise forming on her chest. Deep purples and sickly yellows are peeking out from the low-cut collar of her shirt, drawing attention to her cleavage. Mocking Harua.
Harua can’t help but stare at it as Maki takes a seat on the edge of her bed. What the hell is that? A hickey? Why is it so big? Were Maki’s boobs always this…prominent? Who the hell walks around with a hickey on their tits? And why is it making Harua’s entire body flush with heat?
“My eyes are up here,” Maki teases.
Harua’s eyes snap back up to Maki’s face. Her head is tilted slightly to the side, reminiscent of a curious puppy. Her tied-up hair, too, is not unlike a tail where it swishes behind her. She’d recently bleached it a nice golden blonde color. Harua thinks it suits her.
“You look like you got mauled by a bear,” Harua blurts.
Maki laughs. She rests a hand over the hickey as if to cover it. Harua can’t help but notice the pads of Maki’s fingertips pressing gently into the bruised skin. Doesn’t that hurt? Harua wants to ask. But she doesn’t get the chance.
“More like a wolf,” Maki jokes. “Or just a really enthusiastic dog. I guess the puppy likes to bite.” Maki says this like it’s the most casual thing in the world; like she hasn’t just turned Harua’s entire life upside down and thrown her into the gutter.
Because it has to be Taki, right? The culprit, that is. The bruise looks relatively fresh, and Harua doesn’t remember hearing about any dates in the past few days. Nobody has been over to the apartment, either. And Taki…
I guess the puppy likes to bite.
Does Maki bite, too? They’ve both always been puppies to Harua—though she didn’t ever think about whether it extended to the bedroom or not. She had no reason to. Now, though, her imagination veers quickly and violently. What might it feel like to have their teeth in her skin? She pictures Maki biting her shoulder, Taki biting her neck. It’s the briefest of fantasies and yet it’s enough to have Harua overheating in her cardigan sweater. She feels like she may pass out.
“Right…” Harua says, her throat suddenly dry. She pulls at the collar of her shirt absent-mindedly. “Did you need something?”
Maki gives her a curious look. Harua knows she’s acting like a freak, but Maki seems to deem the strange behavior not worth asking about, because she lets it go easily. All it takes is one challenging eyebrow raise from Harua and she’s back to normal. Perfectly oblivious, happy to ignore the turmoil brewing in Harua’s head. If only Harua could do the same.
“Ah, yeah!” Maki chirps, clapping her hands together. “Do you have any extra-strength concealer? My usual shit isn’t doing the trick and I have a job interview tomorrow.”
Harua wants to make some quip about how she shouldn’t have let Taki mark her up, then—but all capacity for speech seems to have left her. Instead, she gives a wordless nod and rummages through the room until she finds her best concealer. She tosses it to Maki and hopes that her eyes convey the message not to use it all. That shit isn’t cheap.
Maki gives her a bright grin and a “thanks, babe!” as she walks out the door.
Once again, any plans Harua may have had for the night are completely derailed. She spends the rest of the night lying face down in her bed, trying desperately to ignore the strange new feeling bubbling up in her chest.
***
Harua figures she needs to collect more data if she wants to figure out what exactly this feeling is. But she’s still too chicken to ask Taki or Maki about it, so she goes to her next closest friend: Yuma.
Yuma is, to put it bluntly, a slut.
Not that that’s a bad thing! Harua has never been one to slut-shame. On the contrary, it’s actually rather aspirational at times. But the point is—if any of her girl friends are willing to kiss her without letting things get messy, it’s Yuma.
Harua has kissed boys before. She’s done plenty of other things with boys, too, though she’s never really been the one to initiate things. She’s never needed to be. Harua knows she’s cute, and it’s always been easy for her to find a willing participant whenever she’s touch starved or horny. Boys are easy like that. But girls? She doesn’t even know where to begin with girls.
And so she goes to Yuma.
“I knew it. I knew you weren’t straight. My gaydar never lies,” Yuma declares with a smile much too smug for Harua’s liking.
“Shut up,” Harua snaps back. “I told you that’s not it. I just wanna check something.”
Yuma snorts. “Yeah, you wanna check if you’re into kissing girls. Which means you probably are, because why else would you be thinking about it?”
She makes a good point. But Harua refuses to let Yuma have the satisfaction of being right, so she says nothing more about it.
“Are you going to kiss me or what?” she complains instead.
Yuma rolls her eyes, then unceremoniously leans in. The kiss is unremarkable—not bad, but nothing particularly special, either. It lasts only a few seconds. Harua wonders if it can even be considered a kiss at all. Yuma is surprisingly gentle with her, which is sweet, but…her heart doesn’t flutter. Her life doesn’t change. When they pull apart, Harua is frowning.
“Damn. That bad?” Yuma laughs.
Harua shrugs. “It was…fine,” she says, sheepish. “It didn’t really feel any different from other kisses I’ve had. It didn’t really feel like much of anything, to be honest.”
Yuma raises a brow at this. “Okay, back up. Is it this lackluster every time you kiss someone? Do you even like men?”
She thinks about it. It’s not that she doesn’t like men, she’s just…picky. Hard to please, or whatever. Or at least, that’s what she’s always assumed. It’s kind of a rare thing for Harua to feel any kind of physical desire, and when she does, it’s usually not about one specific person in particular. She thinks of sex as more of a basic need sort of thing; she’s never really craved it outside of the (extremely inconvenient) times when her hormones decide she needs to procreate.
“Not every time,” Harua protests. She’s enjoyed hook-ups before, right? Or was she just telling herself she did? When she really thinks about it, she can’t name a single guy she’s wanted to fool around with more than once. But maybe she’s only been with guys who are mediocre at best. Or maybe there’s something wrong with her?
“I think maybe I just haven’t found the right person yet,” she continues. She feels less certain by the second. Something in her gut churns uncomfortably.
“Hm.” Yuma taps her chin, seemingly deep in thought. “Okay, so. Maybe you’re on the ace spectrum or something. But you came to me for a reason, right? Whatever has got you thinking, you know you can always talk to me about it. No judgment here.”
Harua blushes and avoids eye contact. She knows Yuma won’t push for an explanation if she really doesn’t want to talk about it, but it might help. No—it will almost definitely help. Sighing, she braces herself for more embarrassment and launches into her retelling.
“I uh, saw something I wasn’t supposed to see. And I…haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” Harua admits, stalling as much as she can with purposefully vague language. But Yuma simply nods at her with an encouraging smile, so earnest and supportive, so she quickly relents. “Taki and Maki were making out on our couch,” she says. “And I think I liked it? Well, okay—I know I did. I really liked it.”
Yuma doesn’t laugh. She does, however, grin so wide that Harua wonders if she’s missing something.
“Okay, I understand,” Yuma says, scarily pleased with this information. She grabs onto Harua’s wrist and begins dragging her down the hallway of the apartment. “Come with me. I know what our next test will be.”
“Eh?” Harua makes a startled noise of protest but allows herself to be dragged into Yuma’s living room. There, they are greeted by Yuma’s roommate Nico and her girlfriend Euijoo, who are watching some sort of k-drama on the television. The couple on screen are in the midst of a dramatic confession. The man seems absolutely certain that the woman is the only one for him: We were meant to be together, he insists. I know it. Harua wishes she were half that certain.
Both Nico and Euijoo turn towards Yuma and Harua as they enter.
“Oh, Rua, hey! I love that skirt, oh my god,” Nico gushes. Beside her, Euijoo gives a quiet wave and pauses the show. Whether it’s to be polite or because she doesn’t want to miss anything, Harua doesn’t know, but she appreciates it either way.
“Thanks,” Harua says, fidgeting with the hem of said skirt subconsciously. “I found it at that thrift store next to that Chinese restaurant you guys like.”
“Really? Man, I’ve been there so many times, but I never find anything good,” Nico complains. “You must be lucky.”
Harua shrugs. “Maybe,” she says. “Let’s go together next time! One of the cashiers there has a crush on me, so I can usually get an extra discount if I bat my eyelashes enough.”
“Bet,” Nico says with a grin. “Juju, you’ll come too, right?”
Euijoo stirs in her seat, surprised to be brought into the conversation. “I guess?”
“Great, so we’ll all go shopping this weekend or something,” Yuma jumps in, “But that’s not what I brought Harua here for.” She pauses dramatically, then claps her hands together as if making a grand announcement. “Girls, we have a mystery on our hands.”
Harua blushes. Both Nico and Euijoo look much too interested in the idea of a mystery, and she still doesn’t know what Yuma is getting at here. How are these two supposed to help her? They are—and Harua says this with all the love in the world—the two most useless lesbians she knows. It took them literal years to get together, when it should have taken them two to three weeks at the most. She gives Yuma a questioning look. What’s her plan here?
“Our dear Rua is going through a bit of an identity crisis,” Yuma explains. She looks to Harua for permission to continue before revealing any more specific details. Harua sighs and nods. Might as well get everyone in on it, at this point.
“A sexuality crisis,” she clarifies. “I’ve come to realize a few…things, lately.”
“I suspect she may be a lesbian,” Yuma chimes in. “Maybe some demisexuality there, too? Anyway, I thought you two might have some wisdom for her. Since you’re the gayest bitches I know.”
Nico scoffs in mock offense, even though Harua knows she probably secretly loves the title. Euijoo lets out a startled laugh. Harua makes a mental note to look up demisexuality later, but for now, she’s interested in what her other friends might think.
“Aw, Rua! Things must be really difficult and confusing for you right now,” Euijoo says, offering her a comforting smile. “Can I ask what brought this on? Like, was there something in particular that made you think you might not be straight?”
Harua feels her whole face heat up at the mere mention of it. “Thanks, Juju. Um…” Obviously the answer is yes, there was—but the words are stuck in her throat. She struggles for a moment, trying to find the perfect words to express what she’s been feeling. They don’t seem to exist.
Yuma gives her all of five seconds to figure it out before expressing it for her.
“Harua saw Taki and Maki kissing and got all hot and bothered by it,” she says.
Harua instantly bursts into flames.
“Hey! That’s—that’s an exaggeration!”
Yuma laughs, though it’s not unkind. “Is that not what you just told me?”
“Well…it is, but you don’t have to say it like that.”
“Taki and Maki?” Euijoo perks up. “Are they a thing?”
“Apparently? I don’t know,” Harua huffs. She crosses her arms and hugs them to her chest defensively. “They didn’t tell me anything. But I saw them making out the other day, and it didn’t seem like it was the first time.”
Now it’s Nico’s turn to perk up. “Whoa, really? But I thought they were both into—”
“Nico,” Euijoo whispers sharply, interrupting her with an elbow to her side.
“Ow! Unnecessary violence!”
Yuma snickers again, and Harua narrows her eyes. What the hell is that all about? She’s a little bit afraid to ask, but she doesn’t get a chance anyway, because soon enough Nico and Euijoo are squabbling like they always do. Nico tries to bite Euijoo’s hand, and Euijoo retaliates with a kiss, which earns a surprised squeak from Nico. Harua watches Euijoo wrestle her girlfriend into submission and thinks about Taki in Maki’s lap. She watches Nico pull Euijoo closer by the nape of the neck and remembers Maki’s hands sliding up and under Taki’s shirt.
Yuma casts Harua a sideways glance. Inexplicably, it feels like she knew something like this would happen.
“Anything?” she asks, eyebrow raised.
Harua blinks and pulls her eyes away from the couple, who have somehow managed to roll off the couch and onto the floor. It should be hot—and Harua supposes it is, objectively—but it isn’t affecting her in the same way as Taki and Maki had.
“Not really,” Harua admits, deflated. “They kind of just make me want to throw up.”
“Right. So,” Yuma says, “I think this is a Taki and Maki thing, not a girl thing.” She takes Harua by the hand again and starts leading her back to her room, stepping over where Nico and Euijoo are glued together on the floor as if this is an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it is. Harua wouldn’t really be surprised.
“So…what does that mean?” Harua asks. She feels uneasy. If anything, she’s even more confused now than she was before she got here. Not a girl thing, but a Taki and Maki thing? Is there a difference?
“It means you’re into them,” Yuma says. “Jury’s still out on whether you like men or not, but you definitely like Taki and Maki. Which like, I can’t blame you. They’re both hot as fuck.”
Harua takes a moment to process what Yuma has just claimed. You definitely like Taki and Maki. Does she? She likes them as friends, sure, but that’s a given. Could there be something more there? Harua tries her best to integrate this possible truth into her existing schema of truths. Surprisingly, it slots in rather easily.
“...I see.”
The world has shifted underneath her feet. Next to her, Yuma is completely undeterred. She doesn’t seem to have lost her balance at all—meanwhile, Harua feels so dizzy that she may collapse.
“Okay, but like, Taki’s a good kisser,” Yuma says with a grin. “That tongue of hers is crazy.”
Harua groans. Her vision flashes with an image of Taki licking a stripe up Maki’s neck. “You can’t just say that to me and expect me to be normal about it,” she whines. She reaches up to press her palms to her flushed cheeks. It does nothing to cool her down.
“Uh huh,” Yuma teases. “Still think you’re straight?”
Harua really doesn’t know what to think anymore.
“I think you’re annoying,” she says. “...but no, I suppose I’m probably not.”
Yuma gives a celebratory whoop and throws her arms around Harua in a tight hug. Harua hopes she can’t feel how quickly her heart is racing in her chest. She’s suffered enough embarrassment today as it is.
***
As the days go by, that probably begins to morph into something more certain. Not quite a definitely, but something close to it.
Harua spends a lot of time thinking about Taki and Maki. She’s now more aware of how she feels about them together, but what about separately? Whether she’s a lesbian, or bisexual, or a secret third thing—she’s never really considered that she could like two people at once. Choosing between them feels not only unnecessarily cruel, but also impossible. They may both be puppies, but they’re puppies of different breeds. Harua’s affection for each of them is distinct and different, and to compare them would be a disservice. It’d be like asking her to choose between cake or ice cream. Like, it depends! One is not universally “better” than the other. They each have their own strengths and charms.
The same can be said for Taki and Maki.
Harua thinks back to her conversation with Yuma. She had mentioned something about the ace spectrum—which is just as new to Harua as the rest of this. She decides to do some research and resolutely types asexuality into her search bar.
A lot of results come up. Too many. Harua spends days sifting through it all, reading academic journals and personal blogs and whatever questionably-sourced articles she can find.
It’s all very confusing. There’s apparently a difference between aesthetic attraction and sexual attraction, and the distinction gives her a whole new perspective. She thinks about past boyfriends, past celebrity crushes, past friends she was a little too envious of. It’s always been difficult for Harua to discern between platonic and romantic affection, so it makes sense that she’d struggle with this, too. But now that she has more of an understanding around all of it, things have become a little clearer.
She’s still not sure about any sort of label, but what she’s managed to confirm is this: she does not feel sexual attraction in the ‘typical’ way that others do. She can’t even say for sure if she’s felt it at all, really; though the way her whole body starts to tingle whenever she thinks about Taki and Maki lately seems to prove otherwise.
Reddit tells her that it’s common for people on the asexual spectrum to only experience sexual attraction after forging a close emotional bond. Demisexuality, as Yuma had called it. It seems to be more about the way the attraction forms, rather than the literal act of having sex. It makes sense to Harua—she never really understood why people have sexual fantasies about strangers, even if she can agree that the stranger is “hot.”
Here’s the thing: lots of people are hot. Harua can recognize eye candy when she sees it. Her friends are hot; celebrities are hot; plenty of guys she’s been with were hot. But being hot has never been enough for Harua to truly desire intimacy with someone, whether that intimacy be physical, sexual or emotional.
It feels almost inevitable, then, that Harua would develop a unique attraction to Taki and Maki of all people. After all, Harua trusts them both more than anything or anyone else in the world. They’ve certainly earned it.
***
Taki has been Harua’s best friend for as long as she can remember. It was a classic case of two new moms meeting in a parenting class, becoming friends and discovering that their daughters are the same age. When they were little, Taki and Harua did everything together. They even used to have joint birthday parties, and because Harua was by far the more stubborn of the two, Taki would always let her decide the theme. It didn’t matter if Taki had no personal stake in whatever TV show or niche animal Harua had chosen that year; she was happy so long as Harua was happy. Taki never once complained or tried to push her own interests. Looking back, Harua feels a little bad about it—but Taki has always been like that: kind and easygoing, patient and adaptable. Just…glad to be there.
They were in middle school when Taki came out as a lesbian. Harua remembers feeling uneasy about it at first, if only because she didn’t understand. She didn’t even know girls could like other girls like that. Harua was still struggling to catch up to her peers when it came to boys; adding girls in the mix only made her more confused.
But she quickly learned that it didn’t matter if Taki liked girls, or boys, or whatever. She was still the same steady, thoughtful friend that Harua had grown to love. And she always will be.
Over the years, Harua has watched her grow into a more confident version of herself. Someone more authentically Taki: with a messy wolf-cut instead of neat pigtails; an infectious, unabashed laugh; and piercings that seem to multiply and spread by the day. Taki has blossomed into someone truly beautiful, and every day Harua feels lucky to know her.
And then there’s Maki.
Maki, who is so bright that Harua finds it difficult to look at her sometimes. Maki who is always encouraging Harua to try new things; who holds her hand as she ventures out of her comfort zone. She completed the trio when she transferred to Taki and Harua’s high school in second year, and the three of them have been inseparable ever since.
Sixteen year old Harua had been jealous of Maki, at first. She had long legs and thick, silky hair and she got along well with everyone. She was athletic, too, and seemed to be good at anything she tried.
She was everything Harua thought she was supposed to be. If it weren’t for Taki’s gregarious nature, that envy may have eventually bloomed into full blown resentment. But as it was, Taki pulled Maki into her orbit immediately, and Harua had no choice but to accept her into her own as well.
Turns out, Maki was exactly the type of friend high school Harua needed. She doesn’t know how she would have gotten through her teenage years without Maki’s unyielding support. My personal cheerleader, she’d often joked.
For years, Harua would attribute that initial jealousy to her own insecurities. There was a part of her that wanted to be like Maki, if only so people would like her more. So Taki would like her more.
It’s silly to think about, now. Harua has always been well-liked, and there was never any real threat to her friendship with Taki. Logically, she knew that. But Maki was so captivating from the start, someone Harua wanted to be around always, and she didn’t know how to categorize that feeling. She realizes now that it was probably a crush.
Ah, well. Hindsight 20/20 and all that. She does wish this revelation had come sooner, though. It’s almost certainly too late for her; after all, Taki and Maki are supposedly together now. What would it mean for the two of them—the three of them—if Harua were to confess? She doesn’t want to get in the way of their relationship or make things uncomfortable. They are her very best friends; it’s simply not worth potentially losing that.
She doesn’t even know what she’d say, anyway. ‘Hey guys, I accidentally saw you making out and it awakened something within me’? Yeah, no. She is absolutely not saying that.
There doesn’t seem to be a good alternative, either, and so Harua decides to say nothing. She will just have to reckon with these newfound feelings on her own, because she has no other option.
She’ll get over it. She has to.
She will not mess this up.
***
So…she messes it up.
The funny thing is: she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Not until Taki looks at her with those big puppy dog eyes of hers and asks her what’s wrong, that is. After that, she’s almost painfully aware.
“What do you mean?” Harua feigns innocence with a nervous laugh. Her brow refuses to smooth over, though, which makes it all rather unconvincing.
Taki frowns. “You’ve been glaring at Maki and Jo all night,” she points out. She’s looking at Harua with a mixture of curiosity and concern, her head tilted and lips pursed in a pout. There’s a flyaway strand of hair stuck in the sheen of her lip gloss, and Harua swallows down the sudden wave of desire to kiss it away. She clears her throat.
“I’m not glaring,” she protests, even though it’s an obvious lie. “I just—who does that Joseph guy think he is, anyway?”
Taki lets out a surprised laugh. “You mean Jo?” she looks over at where Jo and Maki are sitting on the couch, the space between them almost nonexistent. It doesn’t seem to bother Taki like it is bothering Harua. This, too, is a bother in itself.
“He’s like, the sweetest guy on the planet,” Taki continues. “I don’t think he’ll hurt Maki, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It’s not, though it does make Harua feel marginally better. Still…she’s confused. Had Taki not seen them kiss earlier in the night? Maki has been practically glued to this guy’s side since the three of them arrived at this party. Taki has to have noticed. Does she just not care, or is she in denial?
A horrifying thought rushes through Harua like an ice cold wave. Oh god, is she going to have to be the one to break it to Taki? She doesn’t know how to tell her best friend that their other best friend is cheating on her. She doesn’t even know if she can—it hurts too much to even think about.
“It’s great that he’s sweet and handsome and everyone loves him and all,” Harua grumbles, testing the waters some more, “But that doesn’t give him a free pass to flirt with a taken woman.”
“Taken?” Taki’s eyes widen. Finally, some kind of response! Harua thinks that maybe she’s getting somewhere, but then Taki continues. “Oh, did you two finally…?” She gestures vaguely in the air. “Ah, that’s—that’s great! I’m so happy for you!”
Taki doesn’t look particularly happy, which is what Harua has been bracing for this whole time, but now she’s even more confused. Something isn’t adding up here.
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You and Maki?” Taki blinks. Harua blinks back. “Aren’t you dating?”
“Huh?” Okay, so that was not what Harua expected her to say. She can feel herself blushing with how quickly and easily Taki had come to that conclusion. Is she really that obvious? “No, you’re dating!” she fires back.
Once again, Taki only stares at her blankly. “Me? Dating who?”
“Maki, obviously!”
“Huh?” Taki echoes. “No I’m not.”
Harua groans in frustration. None of this makes any sense. If Taki and Maki aren’t dating, then what are they? Why would they keep it a secret from her? And if they aren’t dating…what’s stopping them from kissing Harua the same way they kiss each other? Is she just not desirable enough?
“You don’t have to lie to protect my feelings,” Harua huffs. “I literally saw you guys making out.”
“Oh. You…you saw that?”
For a moment, Taki looks caught off guard. Like she never expected Harua to know about the two of them; like she doesn’t have a good response loaded and ready. Like she didn’t think she’d ever need one.
Fuck.
Harua’s heart drops in her chest at the realization that her two best friends have been keeping this from her on purpose. Of course she knew they were hiding the kiss, but she hadn’t realized just how much it would hurt to have it confirmed. It’s clear that there’s more going on here than Harua can even comprehend; it makes her feel confused and left out and stupid all at once.
It just doesn’t make sense. Why are they sneaking around? Would Maki really cheat on Taki with Jo like that? That’s got to be a cover, right? And why does Taki keep looking at Harua like a scolded puppy?
Suddenly, Harua finds herself overwhelmed by everything going on around her. She can’t look Taki in the eye. The air in this stranger’s house is so stuffy that it’s almost suffocating, her chest burns uncomfortably from too much alcohol and she can feel a wetness beginning to prick at her tear ducts. She has to get out of here.
“Yes, I saw it,” Harua spits, her words coming out more venomous than she intended. “So you can stop pretending now. Just—call me if you need a ride home. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
With that, she turns on her heel and heads for the exit.
***
Taki follows her, because of course she does.
“Rua, wait!”
Harua is standing in the front doorway of the party house, wiping her eyes furiously when she feels a tug on the sleeve of her dress. She doesn’t resist it.
“Harua, please talk to me,” Taki says, her voice soft but desperate. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding somewhere. I’m sorry I upset you. Can you tell me what’s wrong…?”
Now Harua is the one who feels like a scolded dog, or perhaps more accurately, a child throwing a tantrum. Yet when she looks up at Taki she is not met with annoyance but rather genuine, gentle care. Taki looks at her with the same patient smile that she has always given her, even in the face of a sudden and unexplained outburst. Harua’s heart skips a beat.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she relents. The anger in her tone has dissipated into a gloomy sort of dejection that Harua isn’t used to feeling. “And I don’t understand why you guys won’t tell me.”
“Rua…”
“If you’re dating, that’s fine,” she continues. “If you’re just hooking up, that’s also fine! But when you leave me in the dark like this, it makes me feel…just, really bad. Left out. Jealous. Confused.” Harua wipes at her eyes again, shamefully trying to hold back more tears. She really wishes she had worn waterproof mascara tonight. Because now on top of being a pathetic-idiot-pervert-creep, she probably also looks like a clown. “I thought the three of us were a package deal.”
“We are,” Taki assures her.
“Then why are you doing this? And why is Maki doing…that?” Harua’s eyes dart back the way they came, towards where Maki still sits half on the couch, half on Jo’s lap. “My heart nearly broke when I saw them kissing earlier. I can’t believe she would do that to you. I thought maybe you just didn’t know, but you…you don’t even care! Why don’t you care?”
Taki lets out a little shocked noise, as if Harua’s stake in this is the wildcard here. “That’s really sweet, Harua, but Maki and I really aren’t dating,” she says.
She’s still holding onto Harua’s wrist, and she gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Harua maneuvers their hands so that their fingers twine loosely together. It calms her down only a little bit, but a little bit is better than nothing.
“Me and Maki, we, ah, we don’t have feelings for each other like that,” Taki explains. Her cheekbones are now dusted with a lovely red flush that matches the colorful streaks in her hair. Harua notes that the flyaway from earlier is no longer there. She wonders bitterly if someone beat her to kissing it away, even though they’ve been together this whole time. “We just hook up occasionally,” Taki continues. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. I wasn’t really sure how to.”
Harua takes a moment to digest this information. Some of the weight falls from her shoulders when she realizes that her best friend isn’t a traitor and a heartbreaker—just a secret keeper. But she’s still not entirely sure how to feel about all of this. She’s still confused. She’s still worried.
“Okay,” she answers slowly. “That’s…okay. I still don’t really get it, though. Are you sure you don’t have feelings for her? I know Maki gets around or whatever, but I thought you weren’t the hook-up type?”
Once again, Taki seems touched and surprised by Harua’s genuine concern for her heart. Harua would be more offended if she wasn’t so caught up in the weeds of all of this.
“I’m not,” Taki says, biting at her bottom lip nervously. “It’s hard to explain. Things are different with Maki. I trust her, and we both—”
Taki cuts herself off abruptly and obviously. Harua, of course, latches onto it immediately.
“You both what?”
“I…I don’t know if I should say this without Maki here,” Taki hesitates. “I don’t want to speak for her.” She looks nervous, and not to be dramatic or anything, but Harua gets the sudden feeling that whatever happens next is going to change the trajectory of her life forever.
“Then don’t,” she says. Her heart rate picks up again in her chest as she makes the suggestion: “Let’s go get her?”
***
All it takes is Harua batting her eyelashes a few times for Taki to acquiesce. They bicker on their way back into the house (‘Josuke will be fine without her for a few minutes!’ ‘It’s Jo, not Josuke, and I still think it’s rude!’) but eventually, the three of them are filing into the nearest restroom to “talk.” Harua locks the door behind them and takes a seat on the closed toilet lid. Well. Now what?
Maki breaks the silence first.
“...This is so not how I pictured this conversation going,” she says. Nervous energy bubbles up and out of her chest in the form of sharp laughter. “I thought we’d be at home, at least; not in Koga Yudai’s basement bathroom.”
Harua doesn’t know who Koga Yudai is, nor does she particularly care at the moment. “What conversation?” she asks. Her heart feels stuck in her throat.
Taki and Maki are seated on the edge of the tub and on the floor against the wall, respectively. They glance at each other, quietly communicating something that Harua doesn’t understand. Another pang of hurt stabs her in the chest.
“Can you guys just—” she starts, but is quickly interrupted by the grounding touch of Taki’s hand on her shoulder. Right. Okay. They’re here to talk, not fight.
“Rua,” Taki says, voice soft and slow. “To be honest, the reason we didn’t tell you about us is because we didn’t want to have to explain how it happened. We aren’t just hooking up because it’s convenient or because we like each other…the real reason is much more embarrassing.”
Harua frowns. “What do you mean?”
Maki tips her head back against the wall and closes her eyes. It’s the most serious Harua has seen her in a long time. Even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the restroom, she’s beautiful.
“We started this whole thing because we both want someone we can’t have. Someone unattainable,” Maki says. “We could understand each other’s feelings, so we sort of bonded over it, I guess.”
Harua’s heart starts beating in triple time. Someone they can’t have? That seems impossible. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want Taki and Maki back?
“Who?” Harua can’t help but ask, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. Her thoughts flash back to Maki and Jo on the couch. “Is it Josaiah?”
“...Who?”
“For the last time, his name is just Jo,” Taki sighs, frustrated, “and you know I’m a lesbian; come on.”
Harua knows. But sometimes things change! Hell, three weeks ago, she thought she was straight. For all she knows, Taki could have discovered that she likes men in the last month or however long they’ve been doing this. It’s possible. She said it herself; everyone likes Jo! Harua was just checking, gosh.
“Then who is it?” she presses.
Taki and Maki let out twin sighs, and Harua once again burns with the urge to be petulant. She wishes they would stop beating around the bush and just spit it out, already. This all feels very them versus her, and she doesn’t like it.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Maki huffs.
“No,” Harua snaps back.
“Harua,” Taki laughs and gives her that look again—that same fond, exasperated smile—and suddenly everything shifts into perspective. “It’s you. Who else could it possibly be?”
For a moment, Harua is too stunned to speak.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Maki sighs. “I’ve literally had a crush on you since high school.”
“Oh.” It’s all she can say for a good five seconds. Harua knows she must look rather dumb right now; at least, she certainly feels it. “Me too.”
“What?”
“I mean, that’s a long time,” she backpedals.
“I don’t even want to say how long it’s been for me,” Taki chimes in, sheepish. “Just know that it’s been even longer.”
“It’s not a competition,” Maki scoffs. “But can we back up? What do you mean, me too?”
“Um,” Harua squeaks, shrinking into herself. “I think I’ve liked you for a long time, too. Both of you.”
The confession is spoken to the floor, but Harua knows they’ve heard her. It’s unbearably silent for a long stretch of time—she has no idea how long exactly, but it feels like forever—before she feels Taki’s hand on her shoulder again.
“Are you sure?”
The words are timid but hopeful. Taki moves from the edge of the tub to kneel directly next to Harua, and looks up at her with the most loving gaze in the world.
Harua feels like the most idiotic asshole on the planet.
“Yeah,” she says, voice shaking slightly as she braves eye contact with Taki. “Well, I don’t know how long exactly. I only figured it out recently, when I saw…”
“When you saw us making out,” Taki finishes for her.
Harua nods.
“Is this a dream?” Maki’s voice pulls Harua’s gaze away from Taki, but their bodies remain close. Taki is holding both of her hands now—Harua isn’t sure when that happened, but she isn’t complaining. “I really thought you were straight,” Maki continues, “That’s why I said you were unattainable.”
“Okay, honestly? I sort of always thought you two would end up together. I just never expected for me to be a part of this, too,” Taki admits.
Harua is once again stunned, and maybe even a little offended. “How did you know I wasn’t straight? You didn’t even seem surprised earlier.”
“Well, Ruru, you’re not exactly subtle with how hard you try not to look at Maki’s boobs sometimes,” Taki laughs. “Besides, I’ve known you since we were literal babies. You can’t hide from me.”
Harua blushes a fierce red. Okay, so she really was that obvious. “I didn’t even know until like three weeks ago!” she protests.
“Sometimes it’s easier to see that sort of thing from the outside,” Taki says with a shrug. “Especially if you’ve already gone through it yourself.”
“True,” Maki adds. “I’m just the world’s least observant person, apparently. Or maybe I was just in denial. If you didn’t like girls, then that meant I didn’t stand a chance, and I couldn’t get my hopes up.”
“Maki…”
“Hey, it’s okay! It all worked out! Right? I mean, I don’t know what this means for us, but…”
Harua takes a deep breath. “There’s a lot of things I still don’t know. About myself, mostly. But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that you guys are special to me. And I, um, want to try things. With you, Taki—” she gives Taki’s hands a squeeze, “and with you, Maki.”
There’s another prolonged period of silence while they all process Harua’s words, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time. The air between them is no longer stifling and heavy but instead sits fluttering in Harua’s chest. She knows she’s blushing up a storm, and she’s still nervous, but this feels good. Sitting here in a random stranger’s bathroom with her two favorite people, while the thrumming bass of club music pulses in the distance—it feels right.
“...I know you said things aren’t romantic between you two,” Harua starts, once their new reality has comfortably settled around them. “And it doesn’t really concern me whether it is or not. But I like you both, and there’s absolutely no way I’m choosing between you, so um. Can you like, share? Is that a thing?”
Taki bursts into giggles from where she now rests her head against Harua’s legs. “Not everything has to be a ‘thing,’” she says, beaming up at Harua. “Sometimes you can just be. But yes, I’m okay with that, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Maki pushes herself up and away from the wall, crawling closer to join Harua and Taki. “Me, too,” she says, uncharacteristically quiet. “I’ve never done anything like this before, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Me either. Obviously,” Harua laughs.
“Can I kiss you?” Taki blurts.
The question is sudden, but Harua finds herself nodding without a second thought. She pulls her hands away from Taki’s and places them on her cheeks, instead. She’s surprised (though she really shouldn’t be, at this point) to find that her heart is squeezing in her chest. Already, this kiss feels nothing like the one with Yuma, and it hasn’t even really happened yet. Harua does her best to steady her breathing as she cups Taki’s pretty face in her hands and leans down.
Taki surges up to meet her, and Harua hears the sharp inhale of a gasp. She isn’t sure if it’s Taki or Maki or even herself who made the sound—maybe all three—but it doesn’t matter. Taki kisses her sweetly, lapping at her lips like an eager puppy, and Harua feels her whole body fill with warmth. Not the hungry, desperate kind that sometimes accompanies general horniness, but something warm; something that feels like sitting in front of the fireplace in your coziest pajamas. It’s so nice that it almost makes her want to cry. Is this what kissing is supposed to feel like? She doesn’t want to pull away.
So she doesn’t. She sits and kisses her best friend over and over until she can’t breathe. Then, once she’s filled her lungs with air, she leans in and kisses her some more.
Eventually, Maki clears her throat, and it startles all three of them. Based on the flush now crawling up Maki’s neck and to the tips of her ears, it was unintentional, but it’s enough to break the spell. Taki pulls back from the kiss with a laugh.
“Sorry, your turn,” she says. The grin on her face is blinding as she detangles herself from Harua, then gestures comically towards Maki as if introducing two old colleagues.
“I wasn’t—” Maki begins to protest. Harua rolls her eyes.
“Come here,” she says. She tugs Maki to her by the wrist, closer and closer until there’s no distance between them at all, and then she’s kissing her other best friend.
Kissing Maki is immediately different from kissing Taki. Not in a fundamentally good or bad way, just…different. Maki is a little bit rough with it, more frantic; but not in a way that feels any less soft. She kisses exactly like Harua imagined she would, and she can’t help but smile into each press of lips like she’s harboring a silly secret.
Harua is quickly reminded that she’s currently sitting on a toilet of all things—so romantic—when Maki suddenly scoops her up in her toned arms. She squeaks and loops her own arms around Maki’s neck for support. Before Harua can even process what’s happening, Maki lifts her up and deftly places her on the sink counter. They can kiss more comfortably from here, and things quickly heat up as Maki runs a tentative hand up the side of Harua’s thigh and under the hem of her dress.
The moment is broken by the abrupt bang of someone knocking on the bathroom door.
“Let me in! I’m gon’– gonna barf!” Someone shouts. There are several more uncoordinated knocks, accompanied by some loud and suspiciously familiar drunken whining. Harua belatedly places that it’s Nico on the other side of the door. She pulls away from Maki with a giggle.
“Just a moment!” she calls out.
Euijoo’s muffled voice comes through the wall, next: “Rua? Is that you in there?” she asks. She sounds considerably more sober than Nico, but that’s not a surprise. Nico has always been terrible at holding her liquor. “Can you open up, please? I think Nico’s going to be sick.”
“Juju, I’m dying,” Nico wails. “I’m dying ‘n nobody even cares!”
Harua can’t help but snort at this. Drama queen.
She leans in to nuzzle the tip of her nose against Maki’s. “What do you think,” she whispers into the small space between them, throwing Taki a quick mischievous glance as well, “Should we let her suffer a little?”
“You’re diabolical,” Maki groans and leans back in for another deep kiss. Harua thinks she sees Taki lick her lips in her peripheral vision, and it causes her heart to do another weird skip-jump in her chest. She never thought she would enjoy someone watching her like this, but with Taki and Maki, everything is different. None of her usual rules seem to apply. She’ll have to create entirely new ones.
It’s all a little bit strange and new, but Harua will think about that later. For now, she’s done enough thinking to last a lifetime.