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The first time Ena noticed a change was not so long ago—just a month prior during Nightcord at 25's first diner hangout since Mizuki's return. The girl in question had been laughing at her own joke about Ena, par for the course as far as dialogue with her goes because she was always just so full of herself. But dying giggles made way for a deep, shaking sigh as Mizuki stopped to look around her.
“Thank you guys, really. For going through all that trouble and finding me. I didn't… I had no idea I meant anything like that to you.”
Ena had reached for her hand, tangled their fingers until they blended into one, and told her what's been true from the start.
“We would've found you no matter what it took. You mean everything to…”
Me, she wanted to say, me and me alone, but that would've been far too intimate, far too selfish, when Mafuyu and Kanade had been worried to no end just as she was.
“...us.”
And nothing about what she said was wrong, but her stomach still toiled at the thought of the bigger truth hidden behind this one.
Even presently, Ena knows it like an old friend, the harrowing feeling that it is to yearn.
It certainly doesn't help that Mizuki is in her room, sprawled out on her mattress in borrowed pajamas, just a little too short for her lankier figure. Nor does it help that she's half-asleep, head far too close to Ena's lap, staring up at her. Those eyes never stop following her, even as Ena shifts against the headboard, letting her back lean into it more.
Mizuki is… so cute like this. Calm and soft and maybe not all there, a faint smile gracing the edges of her lips. Is it weird for Ena to stare back? Because—oh no—now they're just making prolonged eye contact, which isn't particularly awkward for them as much as it is incriminating for her. Her friend seems unbothered, painfully oblivious, looking on like nothing else matters.
How Ena envies it; personally, she's sure that the mere implication of it all is heavy enough, as it weighs on her chest, to crush straight through her ribs and squash her softened heart to bits.
Maybe that's just her shame talking—the shame of being so deeply and irrevocably in love with her unknowing best friend. The shame of keeping secrets from the girl who, after years, is now finally learning how to share her own.
“Enanan looks so troubled,” Mizuki teases and she hates how the sound of that voice snaps her out of it and entrances her all at once. A pink mess of hair whips around as the girl flips onto her stomach, propping her head up against her palms. “What's on your mind?
And there is no way of knowing whether she should give a lie or a confession. In her mind, they are equal parts dangerous to whatever it is that they have.
So, with artistic precision, she worms her way between the two options, toes just beneath the line of earnestness.
“I've never seen you so carefree before,” Ena says, petting Mizuki's head and watching the girl relax under the motion.. “I mean, things are back to normal and all but something—something in your eyes seems… different. Lighter.”
She cringes at the way Mizuki tenses when Ena implies change between them, but after a moment the actual meaning settles in her mind. Her shoulders drop. The poor girl opens and closes her mouth just about a dozen times before any real words roll off her tongue and into empty air.
“I can't get anything past you anymore, huh,” Mizuki muses with a sigh and an awkward chuckle.
“Well, no, duh, but I hoped that maybe… you wouldn't need to anymore.”
It was meant to be snappy, snarky, as she often is with Mizuki. Why did the words come out so timid, so shaky and hesitant?
She lets her eyes stay firm on her own thigh, not daring to inch her gaze back up. And Mizuki, bless her, can read Ena just as well.
“You're right,” she returns, noisily shuffling about. The sheets cease their ruffling and a hand reaches into her vision, holds her by the chin and tilts it back up. Mizuki is sitting up now, too close to mean anything friendly, as she's too delirious to let inhibition anchor her.
“You're right,” the girl repeats, irises flickering, landing on Ena's lips and flitting back up just as quick. “Guess I'll just have to get used to it, then.”
Mizuki moves to cup her jaw, stroking a cheek with her thumb.
“I—but… What if I scare you off? I just don't want you to leave again. I don't want you to go.”
It doesn't occur to her that she may be crying until Mizuki drags her into her lap, holding her, dabbing at the tears with the edge of her sleeve.
“I won't,” assures Mizuki, voice faltering for only a split second as she tucks brunette bangs behind Ena's ears. “I won't go anywhere, okay? Not without you.”
Ena shifts to wrap her arms over Mizuki's shoulders, hiding her face against the girl's neck. “Good,” she muffles, hot against her skin. “Stay. Forever.”
A giggle—lovestruck and saccharine, but loud and nasally nevertheless—slips out of Mizuki, betraying the tranquility of the moment. “You saved me, Ena. In one of the worst times of my life, you reached down and pulled me out. I don't even know how to begin repaying you, but the least I can do is be by your side.”
“Mhm,” comes the reply that buzzes against the column of Mizuki's neck. “Yeah. So, forever.”
Perhaps not even Mizuki knows what she herself means when she leans down and leaves a firm kiss against Ena's temple, lets her lips rest there as she breathes deep against the skin of Ena's freckled cheek. All Ena does know is that it leaves her own face warm and her stomach a fluttering mess.
“O’ course,” Mizuki says easily. “Forever.”
She wanted to watch some cheesy romance anime she insisted Ena would enjoy. Ena recalls this as her eyelids fall shut. What a shame. She hopes Mizuki doesn't mind a change in plans.
As the girl goes limp in her arms, breaths steadying into something constant, Mizuki carefully positions the other's head on her pillow.
Maybe she should leave Ena be, so as to not impose on her power nap. Shifting carefully, Mizuki crawls to the edge of the bed, disturbing the sleeping girl as little as possible. Just as she's considering what computer game she might play while she waits, she hears stirring behind her.
“Mizuki… don't,” Ena slurs, eyes still shut and brows knit into something that looks an awful lot like fear. “You said you… you wouldn't go.”
“Sorry!” Mizuki stage whispers back. Twisting backward, she crawls into bed next to Ena, close but not touching.
Fortunately, the still-sleeping girl meets her halfway, throwing her arms around Mizuki's shoulders and resting her head against her collarbone. If not for the proximity, Mizuki might’ve missed the way Ena sighs into her chest as she squirms back into calm comfortability.
“Ena's silly,” Mizuki whispers to herself and the still midnight air, “for thinking there's anywhere else I'd rather be than with her.”
Ena, Mizuki realizes, really had been right. She feels lighter. Her promises no longer feel empty, her affections no longer half-hearted. Mizuki had kissed Ena, just along the curve of her hairline, and a couple of months ago, the idea alone would've sent her spiraling. Tonight, though, she isn't nearly as afraid to watch as the distance between them vanishes.
As her arm drapes gently, protectively over Ena's waist, she feels the ache of exhaustion settle back into her bones. For the first time, she relaxes next to the warmth of another soul. For the first time, she lets herself pull Ena closer.