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Margarete's eyes blinked open, vision blurring into a cascade of too-bright winter sun shining through the window. A pulse of pain went through her temple, a small grunt escaping her as she clutched the sterile sheets beneath her. Physical sensation grounded her. The pillow was stiff, the mattress's springs digging into her back. Her emerald eyes, glassy, focused on the figure hovering next to her.
Tomari.
She didn't look surprised that she'd woken up. Her posture was perfect compared to the limp sprawl of Margarete's limbs on the school infirmary mattress. She corrected her own posture quickly, her muscles stiffening under the thin sheet.
"You collapsed." Tomari said flatly, her pink eyes never wavering from Margarete's suddenly shocked expression. She'd changed out of the tracksuit she was in for practice, back into the school uniform that showed too much skin for the winter. She forced her expression neutral, her jaw stiffening.
"You're lying." Margarete replied, her usually tempered voice slightly breathless.
"I'm not." Tomari responded calmly, leaning over to the side table. She grabbed a plastic water bottle, deftly undoing the cap and holding the sweating bottle out to Margarete.
Margarete glanced at the bottle, noticing that it was chilled, not the lukewarm bottles the school usually gave out. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out, grabbing the bottle and sitting up slowly, her head immediately protesting the movement. She took a slow sip, her eyes darting away from Tomari's unshakable stare. The beige walls seemed to press in.
Tomari watched her swallow down the water, her face unreadable as the color seemed to come back to Margarete's pale cheeks. "You had a fever while practicing and didn't tell us." The words sounded like a confrontation, and it made Margarete's hand clench the bottle a little tighter, the crinkle of the plastic too loud in the quiet infirmary.
A defense came quickly. "We were learning the new song today. I didn't want to fall behind." Margarete spoke, her chin lifting in defiance. She glanced at Tomari after a pause, seeing an impenetrable fortress of nerve.
"Did practice continue?" The question was smaller than before.
"No. Chisato-senpai postponed it to tomorrow." Tomari answered quickly, her pink eyes shifting past the window to the rooftop across the peninsula. "Keke-senpai attempted to convince Shiki-senpai to catch a butterfly to make you feel better. Kanon-senpai went back to the cafe to make you 'comfort food'." Margarete should've laughed at the image, but she shoved it down with another long sip of the chilled water. It was a cold quench on her burning throat.
"They're not mad." Tomari spoke, her voice fractionally softer than before.
"I know that." The lilac haired girl answered back, her usually perfect voice slightly hoarse.
Margarete pulled off the sheet, sitting up until her legs dangled off the edge of the bed, a half meter of space between them. She placed the chilled bottle against her neck, the cool condensation a temporary ice pack for her heated skin. Her emerald eyes drifted upward, locking onto the analog clock above the window. It was almost evening.
"Why'd you stay?" Margarete's voice cut through the silence, her eyes narrowing to Tomari's face.
Tomari's posture shifted, her hands that were clasped in her lap absentmindedly moving to straighten her already perfect braids. "It would be inefficient to have a senpai accompany you to the infirmary." Her hand dropped, straightening a jar of cotton on the side table. "They'd coddle you. It would be overwhelming in your vulnerable state." She said the words like she'd rehearsed it a dozen times in her head. As if she didn't go out of her way to buy Margarete fresh water from the vending machine or stay late to watch over her.
An exhale of amusement left Margarete, her hands wrapping around the water bottle that was turning warmer from her body heat. "I didn't need you to stay." She hated needing help. She hated being the one to stall practice. She hated making Tomari think she had to put up barriers between them.
Tomari didn't answer her statement, standing up and moving to the far end of the bed, grabbing their bags. "We're leaving. The trains will be busy if we stay longer."
Margarete forced herself to stand up, hefting herself off the bed and toeing into her shoes. She walked towards Tomari, stopping in front of her and grabbing her own bag. "I'll walk home." She told the girl, walking past her out of the infirmary room. Tomari's footsteps followed, matching her pace at her left shoulder, slightly behind. It felt like she was her personal bodyguard.
As they reached the entrance of the school, Margarete ready to set off in the opposite direction as usual, was caught off guard. Tomari followed her pace, her steps never faltering until Margarete's did.
"What are you doing?" Margarete asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing as she clutched her bag a little tighter.
"You shouldn't walk home this late." Tomari answered, her eyes lifting to the sunset. "The sun sets faster in the winter. High schoolers shouldn't walk in the dark alone."
Margarete scoffed, beginning to walk again, her head held high even as a light flush dusted her cheeks. "I'm not fragile."
"You are today," Tomari responded, Margarete hearing the rustle of clothes behind her. "And you will wear this."
Margarete's steps faltered as she turned her head, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Tomari's practice jacket. "I'm not cold." Margarete spoke quickly, but as a chilly breeze brushed through the sidewalk, an involuntary shiver shook her body she immediately regretted letting slip. Tomari didn't deny it, just insistently held the jacket out, the fabric swaying slightly in the wind.
Margarete clenched her teeth, before snatching the jacket. "Fine." She murmured lowly, shrugging the jacket on with jerky movements. It was warm, like a thick blanket against the cold air. And as Margarete took in a breath, she could smell the lingering scent of sweet potatoes and Tomari's strawberry shampoo. She didn't comment on it, continuing to walk.
A comfortable silence settled over the two as they walked side by side. Throughout, Margarete could feel the few times Tomari wanted to comment on something. The child with a cartoon Jellyfish shirt waiting with their mother. The baked sweet potato stall they passed. The gentle sight of an old woman feeding a flock of pigeons across the street. Tomari stayed quiet, but Margarete saw it all next to her. It was novel. And also frustrating.
The familiar street that Kanon's family cafe occupied was quiet as the evening fell. They turned the corner, maybe too sharply for Margarete's foggy brain. Her feet caught against each other, her vision blurring at the edges.
Tomari's hand shot out on instinct, clasping around Margarete's arm and holding her upright. "Margarete," Tomari spoke to her, guiding her arm around her neck. Her hand clasped around the back of Margarete's hand, the instinct to pull away forgotten in the wake of the sudden dizziness. "You're still sick."
Margarete grunted softly, trying not to lean her weight on the only pillar of support she could feel. "I-I'm not," She strained to say, her voice shaky as sweat beaded on her forehead.
Tomari's cool hand pressed against the hot skin with no hesitation, feeling the scalding temperature.
"Your fever spiked," She observed verbally, lowering her hand and pulling Margarete's arm tighter around her. "A few more paces, and we're there." Her words were a lifeline as Margarete finally surrendered, leaning her weight on her.
The cafe's bell chime rang loudly in Margarete's ears as Tomari pushed the door open. Her pink eyes found Kanon, her phone suddenly forgotten as she witnessed the sight. "Oh my god, Margarete-chan!" She gasped, standing up and making her way over. Margarete flinched visibly, her head tucking inward. A strange, foreign feeling surged in Tomari.
"Stop." Tomari held out her free hand directly in Kanon's worried face, making the orange haired girl's steps come to a screeching halt.
She didn't put the hand down, leveling a look to Kanon she'd only give when her older sister was teased. "Get water. And an ice pack." The words were clipped, a stern command that made Kanon's eyes widen. Her violet eyes flicked between Margarete's weakened state, then the unspoken support Tomari was giving. A small smile appeared on her lips, washing away the tight worry. She nodded, already walking past them to behind the cafe counter.
"Almost there." Tomari murmured to Margarete, feeling her panting breaths against her neck. She ignored it, kicking the door to Margarete's borrowed bedroom open with her foot. Their bags were dropped on the hardwood floor, forgotten.
Tomari guided her to sit on the mattress, pulling the sheet down before Margarete laid down. She settled the linen just below her chin, the back of her hand finding Margarete's scalding forehead once more. The action felt too natural, but she didn't feel the need to stop herself.
Tomari pulled her hand back, placing them back on her lap. She sat on the edge of the bed with perfect posture, stray hairs escaping her usually perfect braids.
"I told you. We should've taken the train." Tomari spoke, her eyes fixed on the misaligned lamp of the nightstand.
Margarete's closed eyes shot open, tightening at the edges. She lifted her head from the pillow, staring at the back of Tomari's head.
"It would not have made a difference." She replied, her voice tight but raspy with dehydration.
Tomari didn't look back, her hand coming up to tug at her braid. "There was a lower chance of the fever spiking. It is cold in the winter, the train cars are climate controlled." Tomari responded flatly to the comment, her eyes never wavering from the lamp.
A frustrated huff left Margarete as she let her head fall back to the pillow. "You could at least look at me when you lie." The words slipped out in a murmur, and Tomari's breath caught in her throat, her idling hand freezing.
An awkward clearing of the throat interrupted the tableau. Margarete's head shot up from the pillow, a fresh wave of dizziness shooting through her temple. Tomari's wide pink eyes went to the doorway, and she forced them to narrow to something neutral.
Kanon stood in the doorway with a tray, a knowing eyebrow arched. "Is the married couple arguing again?" She asked, a teasing tone added to her warm voice.
"Do not call us that." The response came in a startling unison. Margarete turned her head towards the wall. Tomari stared back at the lamp. The silence that followed felt arranged.
The senpai giggled softly, hiding her humored eyes behind the tray as she stepped inside the room. She set the tray down on the nightstand, Margarete's nose immediately picking up the scent of the familiar hometown delicacy. Salzburger Nockerl. Kanon stepped back, straightening her nighttime glasses sheepishly as her eyes darted between them.
Tomari, sensing Kanon's curiosity, went rigid, her hand that was reaching for the glass of water pivoting to the lamp. She adjusted its position before pulling her hand away, looking up at her senpai from where she sat on the bed.
"I can handle this." Tomari didn't thank her, but the slight softening of her narrow eyes satisfied Kanon enough.
Kanon walked over to the bed, bending her knees to lean down, her face hovering in front of Margarete's flushed face. "Don't sweat about the others. They're just worried about you." Kanon murmured calmly, her hand gave a tight squeeze around Margarete's hand under the sheet. Tomari went very still. "Get well soon, okay?" She finished softly, completely unaware of the moment Tomari's hand clenched into a fist in her lap.
Kanon pulled away, glancing at the teal haired girl's rigid posture, her eyes missing nothing. "I'll leave you to it." She told Tomari, a faint knowing grin on her face as she padded back to the doorway, flipping the light switch off. The room plunged into darkness.
The moment the door clicked shut, Tomari moved. Her hand found the lamp's switch, the warm light filling the space into something calming and intimate. She found the cup of water next, turning to Margarete and holding the glass out.
"Drink." She ordered flatly, and Margarete immediately noticed the slight ripple of the water surface.
Margarete's hand reached out, closing around the glass, both girls ignoring the way their fingers brushed against each other. She took a long sip until it was half empty, her emerald eyes never leaving Tomari's carefully neutral expression. Her trembling hand reached out, placing the glass back down on the tray before she settled back into the pillow. A long sigh left her, her eyes fluttering shut against the feverish chills going through her body.
The silence was broken by the small clank of silverware against ceramic, Margarete's eyes opening. She glanced to her side, watching as Tomari cut off a measured bite of Kanon's homemade Salzburger Nockerl. She sat up after a moment of hesitation, leaning her shoulder against the headboard behind her.
"You're cutting it like it's steak." Margarete commented dryly, crossing her arms.
"It's sustenance today, not a fancy dessert." Though, Tomari's movements became gentler with the silver spoon. She turned back to Margarete, a perfect bite of the soufflé sitting atop the metal. She extended the spoon towards Margarete's lips, her eyes giving an unspoken command to the lilac haired girl that made her heart beat faster.
"I can feed myself, Tomari." Margarete responded, her lips barely moving.
"Let me," Tomari cut her off, a strength to her voice that made Margarete's eyes widen. The spoon trembled slightly. "It'll cool before you finish." She finished calmly, as if she hadn't said the truth she feared to say.
Margarete forced her face neutral, noting the unnatural tremor of the spoon. Without warning, she leaned in and parted her lips. She gently took the soufflé into her mouth, chewing slowly as she leaned back onto the headboard. It tasted amazing, much better than Kanon's first go at the delicacy, or the time she nailed it perfectly. She wouldn't dare think about why that was.
Her emerald eyes lifted to Tomari, who was already moving back to the oval dish and carefully cutting off another piece.
"You're good at this." Margarete felt herself saying. She didn't say what, but the events of the evening seemed to settle upon them.
The clink of silverware ceased. Tomari looked at her, the stoic expression she wore visibly relieved. The softening of her jaw, the slow exhale that escaped her nose.
"Efficient." Tomari murmured, her voice softer than ever.
The word didn't feel like a barrier anymore.