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It’s a sunny Wednesday, just before noon, and Yachi’s already fallen in love twice today.
The first time is when they're at the farmer’s market that morning, because Kiyoko's out of sage and lavender and needs them for work that day. Yachi goes ahead to buy vegetables for dinner, and when she comes back Kiyoko is enclosed by a semicircle of eager-looking men. Her shoulders are tight and her hands are fisted in her skirt.
“Come on, I’m just asking for your number,” says one. “I’m a nice guy, I promise.”
“I already said I don’t like giving my number out to strangers,” says Kiyoko, her voice clear and ringing despite the fact that Yachi can see the tiny shake in her hands. It’s the fourth time it’s happened while Yachi’s been around, and they’ve only been working together for a couple months.
The men are tall and they look menacing, despite the smiles on their faces. She grits her teeth and approaches them. “Kiyoko-san, we have to go,” she calls, “or we’re not going to make it to the train in time.”
Kiyoko turns towards her with a look of such relief and gratitude that Yachi almost smiles, despite the situation. She feels overwhelmingly warm, and helpful, and depended on.
But the feeling fades and it Yachi doesn’t give it any more thought.
The second time is when Kiyoko is kneeling over a conjuring circle, tracing lines and pushing back the strands of hair falling into her face.
“Hitoka,” she says in between murmurs of spells, “can you tie my hair back for me? I can’t take my hand off of this circle.”
“Of course!” says Yachi. She dries the rosewater from her hands and pulls a hair tie from her wrist. She’s not sure if she imagines the goosebumps that form along the back of Kiyoko’s neck as she sweeps her hair up, but she definitely doesn’t imagine the half-tender, half-giddy happiness that she feels as she cards her hands through Kiyoko’s hair.
It’s then that she starts to think that she might have a problem. She’s gotten crushes before—she’s had a crush on Kiyoko from the moment she met her—but this is the first time that she’s felt like this.
“Gwah or pah ?” Hinata asks her at their weekly lunch together. She’d already rambled the entire time they were waiting to order their food, and Hinata had gone straight from their customary small talk to helping in whatever way he could with admirable dedication.
“I don’t know,” says Yachi, thinking of the warm, buoyant feeling that rises up when she sees Kiyoko. The memory of her laugh feels like champagne bubbles in her lungs. “Neither? Like, uh- like a fuwah . Several times an hour.”
“But you can’t fall in love more than once,” says Hinata, chewing his bagel contemplatively. “I mean- not with the same person, can you?”
Yachi didn’t think so until today. She knows crushes are supposed to be overwhelming, but apparently her feelings, repressed over weeks of working together, have all decided to manifest themselves at once. As hard as she’s trying, she can’t fight them.
Yachi sighs and leans to one side so that Hinata’s fluffy hair blocks the sun from shining in her eyes. At least the weather is nice. “I don’t know,” she says, “I guess you’re either in love or out of it, but- I couldn’t describe it as anything else.” The food on her plate is going cold, and she’ll have to start now if she wants to finish before her lunch break is over—but Yachi’s stomach is tied in knots and she can’t bring herself to eat.
“Then maybe it’s just a renewal of your crush,” Hinata suggests. “You liked Shimizu-san right when you started working with her too, didn’t you?”
“I liked her as a friend. Well—I think I liked her a little differently than a friend, but who doesn’t like Kiyoko-san? I just don’t know why it’s this bad now.” She pushes her plate over to Hinata’s side of the table and buries her face in her arms, blocking out the brightly-lit outdoor cafe. “Oooh, Shouyou, I have to go back to work and talk to her.”
The thought of facing Kiyoko again—when she had fumbled ingredients and preparations for a purification spell all morning because she was staring at the way Kiyoko’s hair fell across her face, her delicate fluting collarbones—makes her surprised that she hasn’t already shriveled into a raisin of shame. She remembers how much Kiyoko dislikes people drooling over her appearance, and now she’s doing the exact same thing.
Hinata shrugs between bites of Yachi’s quiche. “‘S not so bad.”
“It is,” Yachi groans, and buries her head deeper. “I bet she noticed everything this morning. She’s probably uncomfortable and she’s gonna fire me and get a new assistant and then I’ll be on the streets with no way to pay rent—you’ll have to take me in-“
“Hitoka,” Hinata chastises, “if you think like that you’ll never be able to get anything done at work again.”
“Maybe it’s best if I don’t,” says Yachi petulantly, squeezing her eyes shut. “Shouyou, I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never had it this bad.”
“Well,” says Hinata. “Maybe it’s not a bad thing. Crushes are just like this, right? You feel so happy when you’re around her—it’s exciting!”
Yachi glances up from the table and tries not to blush. “Thanks, Shouyou.”
“Get through the rest of today,” he says, “and tomorrow will be a cinch! You’re so hardworking and focused that I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
Yachi props one hand on her chin in one hand and takes back her plate. Her stomach is suddenly twisting with hunger, but she’s not entirely sure she won’t vomit it back up when she gets back to work. “I hope so.”
…
“Ah, Yacchan, could you help me with the anise?”
Yachi looks up from slipping her shoes off and squeaks. Kiyoko is stirring a steaming mixture on the counter, and she’s swept her hair back into a loose, elegant bun. Yachi presses her lips together and forces herself not to look at her bare neck, and several seconds go by before she realizes she forgot to answer.
“Of course!” she yelps, droppings her bag by the door and hurrying into the kitchen. Her face burns as she starts to grind the anise seeds into a powder.
I’m sorry, Shouyou, she thinks, thirty seconds in and I’ve already messed up.
She focuses on the rhythm of the mortar and pestle in her hand, but Kiyoko’s standing close and Yachi can’t escape the light scent of her jasmine perfume. She lets herself sneak a glance once, when Kiyoko is sketching out runes on kitchen table with such effortless grace and precision that a feeling blooms in her chest—a different one this time, almost like the wind has been knocked out of her.
Yachi swallows hard and goes back to the anise. They both move on to different things, and she does her best to concentrate on the task at hand.
Yachi is about to cut the ginger when Kiyoko glances over and stops her. “Oh- Hitoka, try doing that with magic. I think the iron in the knife tainted them last time, which was why we got the discoloration in the potion.”
Yachi nods and separates a root from the pile, drawing slices with her finger and watching the root separate into neat coins. The sharp scent of it drowns out Kiyoko’s perfume, and Yachi is grateful. If she tries hard enough she can pretend that she’s at home making dinner, and that she doesn’t have a graceful, composed, incredibly beautiful witch standing right beside her.
Until Kiyoko breaks the silence, that is.
“How’s Hinata?” she asks as they work. “He got hired with Karasu Publishing, didn’t he?”
“Oh, yes!” says Yachi, simultaneously ecstatic and anxious that they’re talking. She’s trying not to overthink things—they’ve been working together for more than two months, and she can’t figure out why speaking to her is suddenly so intense and awkward . “He’s writing an article about a flower shop right now. It’s in the city, actually, I was thinking I might go sometime. He was so excited about it!”
“Oh, a flower shop?” Kiyoko tilts her head and watches the steam curl from the pot before she speaks again. “I used to live above one before I moved here. I get a little homesick.” She glances at Yachi and smiles. “Would you mind if I went with you, sometime?”
“N-not at all!” says Yachi. She looks back down at the ginger quickly. Would she buy flowers for Kiyoko when they went? Should she? Was it just a proper act of respect for your coworker or something more?
She can see the scene playing out in her head—she would get roses for Kiyoko, or maybe lilies, since they would look nicer in the apartment, but Kiyoko probably has a favorite flower and Yachi can’t ask now or it’ll be too obvious that she remembers and cares when they go later, but-
“What’s your favorite flower?” The words are out of her mouth before she clamp her jaw shut.
A small part of her is screaming and falling to the floor in agony.
Kiyoko hums, blissfully unaware of the chaos in Yachi’s mind. “Irises, maybe. The person I lived with grew beautiful flowers all around, but I always thought the irises were the prettiest.” She laughs, soft and silvery.
Yachi’s heart does a little flip and she raises the ‘falling in love count’ to three. Compliment her! her brain screams through the wreckage. Make a move! “I- I think irises suit you,” she says.
Kiyoko’s face opens and she smiles in genuine curiosity. “Oh, Hitoka, really? Why is that?”
Yachi can feel herself turning red again, her mind shorting out on anything but an endless stream of adoring words. “They’re— they’re so striking, and unique, and beautiful,” she says. “Like… you are.”
Kiyoko blinks a few times, looking surprised. The faintest hint of pink colors her cheeks. “Thank you,” she says. “That’s- no one’s ever said that like you do.” She bites her lip and glances down at the potion, and then her face brightens. “Oh! Hitoka-chan, I think you’re like a daisy. You’re both so pretty, and cute.”
Pretty and cute.
Pretty.
Cute.
The words are like a bullet through Yachi’s head—she’s so shocked and flustered that it almost hurts , especially in her finger-
“Hitoka!” Kiyoko gasps, “you’re bleeding!”
Yachi glances down and sees the red spilling down her fingers, staining the cutting board. “Oh-- oh!”
Kiyoko makes a noise of distress and turns off the burner. “Don’t let the juice from the ginger get in it,” she says, “I’ll get the first aid kit.”
Yachi stares at the steady trickle of blood welling up on her finger. She’s never cut herself with her own magic before—she didn’t even know it was possible.
It just goes to show how screwed she is.
Yachi knows Kiyoko isn’t interested. She’s never shown interest in any of the boys that approach her—if anything, Yachi thinks she’d rather they hate her than immediately size her up because of her appearance. She’s even listened to Kiyoko rant on several occasions, her normally gentle voice raising with frustration and anger.
She’s made it very, very clear that she isn’t looking for a relationship, and Yachi understands that. But at the same time, she hasn’t been able to focus properly all day. I might really have to quit , Yachi thinks, I’m sure I’m more of a burden to her this way.
The thought is disheartening. Yachi shakes her head and tries again, manhandling her brain into positivity: It’s just a crush. I’m sure I can work through it, and it won’t last forever. It’s enough to be friends with Kiyoko, and to work with her every day.
“ Oh , Hitoka,” says Kiyoko as she walks back into the kitchen, a roll of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol balanced on top of the first-aid kit, “you’re really bleeding a lot.”
“Ah,” says Yachi faintly, “I guess.” She tilts her hand so the blood won’t drip onto the counter.
Kiyoko takes her hand and blots it dry with a paper towel, and as methodical and detached as it is, Yachi blushes. Kiyoko’s hands are cool and dry and deft against her skin, and Yachi wants to pull her closer so their shoulders brush, twine her fingers through Kiyoko’s and hold on for a long, long time.
“You should be more careful, Hitoka-chan,” says Kiyoko as she pours rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad. “I didn’t even know it was possible to cut yourself with your own magic—I thought your body wouldn’t let you.” She gives Yachi a considerate look. “You’ve been pretty out of it, today, though. Is something going on?” She hesitates, and glances away quickly. “It’s- it’s not something to do with me, is it?”
“Uh,” Yachi squeaks, a flash of panic rooting her to the floor. She can practically feel the sweat popping up on the back of her neck as she shakes her head quickly. “N- no, everything’s fine.”
It could be her imagination, but for a moment it almost looks like Kiyoko is disappointed. She ducks her head over Yachi’s hand, and all Yachi can see then is a curtain of shining black hair.
“Ow!” she hisses, as Kiyoko dabs the alcohol over her cut.
“Sorry, Hitoka,” Kiyoko murmurs, her face still obscured as she reaches for the gauze. Her hands are delicate as a butterfly as she cuts a strip from the roll and wraps it around Yachi’s finger. “I guess that was stupid to assume that I- I mean, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just noticed…” she lapses into silence.
“It’s alright, Kiyoko-san,” says Yachi tentatively, “I’m just a little distracted today. I- I promise I’ll be more helpful tomorrow.”
Kiyoko lifts her head and Yachi suppresses a squeak. They’re closer together than she thought—noses just centimeters apart. Kiyoko’s eyes are beautiful dark blue, and her eyelashes are so long , how had she never noticed? She smells jasmine and rubbing alcohol, and citrus, which is new. Yachi realizes distantly that it’s probably her shampoo.
She doesn’t think she could move an inch if she tried. Kiyoko is just as frozen as she is, blinking for a few moments before she jumps and jerks her head back. Yachi’s heart does a flip-flop as she sees the heavy blush on her face.
“I- I’m sorry, Hitoka,” Kiyoko murmurs, “I didn’t know I was that close.” Her hands twist nervously in her skirt. Yachi thinks her brain is still fried from their closeness—her eyes travel in slow motion from the wrinkles in the fabric, to Kiyoko’s eyes blinking nervously at the floor, to the flush of pink that still hasn’t left her cheeks.
It’s as her gaze flicks nervously back down to her own hands that she realizes, oh.
Kiyoko always talked about not being interested in boys.
She’s never said anything about girls.
The hope that springs up in her chest is so sudden and eager that Yachi can practically feel the whiplash.
“I’m sorry,” Kiyoko is saying, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I know you’re distracted enough today…I don’t want to give you something else to worry about-“
“Kiyoko-san,” says Yachi, hearing her voice waver. She takes a breath and tries again--she hears the uncertainty. She almost wants to quit right then and there, to ask her about the weather or where she got her necklace and go back to blushing and staring at the floor and sneaking glances.
But the nerves are never going to go away. She’s been scared and anxious her entire life, and she’s gotten through it. That’s just who she is--any one of her friends could tell her, she’s a worrier, but she works hard.
Crushes are just like this, right?
“Kiyoko-san,” she says again, ‘I- I have something to tell you.”
Kiyoko’s eyes widen and as Yachi smiles, she realizes—she’s scared.
And that’s okay.