Work Text:
Amia <3 - 14:23
hi
are you in class?
enanan - 14:27
No, I’m skipping today lol
What’s up?
Amia <3 - 14:28
…the ceiling?
enanan - 14:28
Make that joke one more time and I swear I’m blocking you
Amia <3 - 14:28
you wouldnttt
you love me too much
enanan - 14:29
Whatever
So, anything fun happening? Something I should know about?
Amia <3 - 14:34
not really
i just wanted to say hi
Amia <3 - 14:38
i kind of don’t want to be alone right now
enanan - 14:38
Where are you at?
Amia <3 - 14:40
im omw out
just grabbed my shoes
enanan - 14:40
You were in school today?
Amia <3 - 14:40
yeah
enanan - 14:41
Wow once in a blue moon type moment
..You okay?
Amia <3 - 14:43
no not really
enanan - 14:43
Oh
Do you want to come over?
enanan - 14:45
My mom’s out of town and dad’s working late. I think Akito’s out with his friends at least for the afternoon as well
Amia <3 - 14:48
id like that
enanan - 14:49
Okay
I’ll be waiting for you
———
Ena’s hands hovered above her screen, seeing as the status of her message switched from delivered to read. The little icon indicating that Mizuki was typing flashed a few times, before disappearing completely.
Briefly, she considered sending something more. A heart, maybe, or a love you, but she thought better of it.
She was worried. Of course she was—it wasn’t often that Mizuki hinted at any kind of distress, at least unless while in the midst of a full-fledged crisis. For them to text Ena and so readily tell her they weren’t alright was strange, and a little concerning.
Mizuki had been in class, or at least at Kamiyama. Ena knew well enough by now to say that school was rough on them, only ever something to endure and to suffer through for very little reward. Had something happened? Ena’s thoughts went immediately to that last festival and Mizuki’s awful, awful classmates.
She really couldn’t understand how they could be so callous, so heedless of anyone else’s emotions. It made her sick, just thinking of what Mizuki must be forced to deal with whenever she attended her classes. That being said, Ena worried about how helpful she could truly be. She didn’t know what Mizuki wanted or needed, only that they needed something. Something they preferred to get from her.
Still, she was kind of getting ahead of herself. She didn’t even know what, if anything, had happened to Mizuki, or why they were feeling down.
Her palms itched. They’d been dating for just about four months now, but this was the first time Mizuki had been this forward with her. Usually, they’d text or call her, and Ena would have to suss out on her own if and why they where feeling down. As far as Ena saw it, this was a step in the right direction, but it didn’t stop her from feeling nervous about it.
She checked the time again. Ten to three. If Mizuki had just left school, it’d be some time before she got here. Ena glanced at the work she’d been doing. It was some assets for an upcoming music video, but she was actually quite well prepared for the workload piled on her from both Nightcord at 25:00 and Mr. Yukihira’s course, and so didn’t feel a lot of pressure to get back to work while waiting.
In fact, she suspected she would have quite a hard time doing so. She was anxious, just a little queasy. So, what could she do?
Ena thought a walk might help clear her head. An idea came to her quickly; just down the street, there was a convenience store she knew sold some of Mizuki’s favorite drinks. Perhaps she could hurry there and get them something to cheer them up a little?
She really jumped at the chance to get up and move a bit, wincing at the pins and needles shooting through her left foot. She really should stop sitting crisscrossed at her desk. Without fail, her feet kept falling asleep.
She shut the door, relieved at having worn a sweater even inside. There was still a chill in the air, even if it was looking like it would be warming up during the coming weeks. The lock to the front door clicked as she turned her key, and she was off.
———
Somewhere along the line, Mizuki had begun to believe that the amount of people sharing the public transit system with you was directly proportional to the shittiness of your day. It was akin to a universal law—one up there with those of Murphy and Newton’s—that said something like “The worse you are feeling, the more people will actively be crowding your subway cart.” It made sense.
At present, it was also enough to make Mizuki nauseous.
They had managed to snag a seat when they’d gotten on the train, and was now vaguely regretting it. Or perhaps just regretting being on the public transport at all. The seat was at the very edge of a row, next to the glass barrier that separated their compartment from the next. Everywhere, people were moving, swaying slightly with the train’s movements. The throng of bodies was sickening, the warmth of their bodies contrasting the cool breeze of the air conditioning.
Mizuki had been on edge for hours, and this was nearly enough to drive them across some boundary. Her eyes stung. In the absence of any unmoving object to fix her vision on, she squeezed them shut, attempting to breathe. It was not easy.
Two more stops, then they could get off. If there was one thing to be grateful for, it was that Ena lived closer to Kamiyama than they did. She needed to hold out for another fifteen minutes—perhaps twenty—and then they would be okay. Safe, or at least safer, to let her emotions run their course.
The train slowed to a stop. Someone bumped against the glass barrier, a heavy, ugly thump that had her stomach heaving. Everything was too close, too much to handle.
The doors opening, the all-encompassing movement of the crowd, groups of passengers exiting like great sighs. The immediate return of people, like waves to a shore. The doors closing. Another breath. Mizuki pressed the pads of her fingers hard into the skin of her forearm, not scratching or digging, but feeling for the grounding pressure of it.
She had been doing well this week. Well enough, in fact, for this to be the third day they were in class. It hadn’t been entirely by choice, since their attendance was patchy at best, but it hadn’t actually been an issue. Her schedule had been a kindness, late starts and early dismissals. This morning, they hadn’t even been that anxious about the prospect of another day of classes.
Then things had all just gone south. And the worst part was that there hadn’t even been any specific thing to set it all off. It had just happened. She had gotten to school and suddenly, everyone’s gazes had seemed so very heavy, sticking to her, marking her as if a thick coating of tar, or molasses. Every word just seemed to ring discordantly against her ears, driving her up the walls of her own skull.
The train stopped again, and Mizuki chanced to open their eyes. The next stop was theirs. Soon, they’d get some fresh air and make the walk to Ena’s home. The doors opened, then closed, and Mizuki shut their eyes once again. Soon.
In truth, she was kind of surprised at how readily she had decided to text Ena. Call it habit or call it hyper-independence, but Mizuki had never been one to share what bothered them, especially if it was something as mundane as this. It was a regular enough occurence that, were it only a few months back, she would never have deigned to tell Ena about it.
But then again, aired-out secrets, confessions and promises to try, had changed at least a few things.
She didn’t know what she would say to Ena, or even what she could say to her, but still Mizuki marvelled at the comfort she felt, knowing that her destination for this awful, crowded trip was her home.
When the doors next slid open, Mizuki left on a wave of people all hurrying toward their own private affairs. She had lived to see the end of yet another ride on the subway. Lucky her.
Exiting up and into the humid air, the world still clashed against their senses. It all seemed to bright, too alive, to be real, as if everything was moving and jerking and glinting with the light to spite Mizuki’s tired mind. Still, they fought down the stress roiling in their gut, digging through their bag for their headphones.
Briefly, the clamor of the street was drowned out, dampened as the opening notes of their shuffled playlist sounded. Faint piano, strings opening with the singer. She breathed out, and started walking.
———
Ena had only just resettled in her room when the doorbell rang. She sprang up, only sort of slipping on some scrap paper, which had ended up strewn on the floor.
Down the stairs and into the hall, she could see the purple-clad shape of Mizuki through the frosted windows which faced the porch. They were clutching their own arms, seemingly glancing around. Ena opened the door, and could have sworn Mizuki jumped at the motion.
For a few moments, neither of them said anything. They only looked at one another, equally wide-eyed and dumbfounded.
Mizuki looked beat. She was as prettily made up as always, skin bright and makeup done with a simple precision Ena had to admit she envied. Her hair fell like it always did, curling about her face and looking ever as silky as it felt. Still, there was something in their face that betrayed their mood. Something intangible and shifting. Part of it sat in the glossiness of their eyes, in the way looked entirely too brittle, Ena thought.
“Hi,” Ena said, giving her a small smile. Mizuki’s face dropped, and she seemed to relax somewhat.
“Hey.” Her voice lacked its usual inflection, now significantly flatter.
Hesitantly, Ena opened her arms. She wasn’t really sure how to proceed, but Mizuki’s eyes widened ever so slightly before she stepped inside. They dropped their bag to the floor, keychains and accessories clattering on the tile and, to Ena’s surprise, leaned forward, pressing their forehead into her shoulder. Ena lifted her hands, placing them gingerly on her back, to which Mizuki pressed closer, wrapping her arms around her.
They came up around her waist, the pressure more ghosting than absolute. Something in Ena’s chest fluttered at the touch, the light grazing of fingers on her back.
They stayed like that for some time, with only each other’s breath to keep the time by. Mizuki’s bangs tickled at Ena’s neck as she rubbed circles into the space between their shoulder blades, the pair leaning ever more heavily into one another.
———
Eventually, Mizuki straightened. They sniffed, trying to muster up some of their usual enthusiasm; anything to make the mood feel less suffocating. What an entrance they’d made.
“I should’ve taken a page out of your book and skipped today,” they tried. To their relief, Ena snorted. She looked good, dressed down and bare-faced. It really was a load-off, seeing her.
“Please, keep telling me how I’m the smarter one of us,” she retorted. She stepped aside from the entrance. “Come inside.”
“You were the one blocking the door,” Mizuki muttered, anticipating the swat that came from Ena’s direction. “Missed!” they exclaimed. It was odd how much better they felt, even just stepping inside. Ena huffed.
“I was just being nice.”
“Yeah-huh.” Having removed their shoes, setting them aside in the hallway, they both started up the stairs. Ena snuck her hand into Mizuki’s as they went, and Mizuki was proud to report that she didn’t quite stiffen as she did so. It was something else, getting used to how touchy Ena could be.
Ena hesitated before opening her bedroom door, looking a little sheepish.
“My room is kind of a mess,” she admitted. “Ignore that.” Mizuki, for once, had nothing to say as they entered.
Somehow, it seemed all the fight left her as they stepped together into Ena’s room. She was right: it was a mess. Over the back of her chair and on the loveseat at the opposite end of the room, clothes were strewn and hung up with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Her bed was unmade, and scraps of paper and trash littered her desk. That last bit wasn’t too unusual, as far as Mizuki had ever seen, but still.
They paused as Ena started moving about, picking items up and tossing them onto the little couch. She gestured toward her bed, sitting down at its edge. Mizuki’s body came unfrozen, and they moved to sit down next to her. It was as if blood poured from her brain to pool at her feet as she did so, suddenly feeling clammy and shaky.
“Rough day?” Ena asked, and Mizuki swore they must have been breaking out in a cold sweat. It was ridiculous, how the prospect of a conversation terrified them so.
“You could say that,” they managed. She tried to relax, slumping from their uncomfortably stiff posture.
“Do you—“ she trailed off, sounding so stilted, so out of place, that Mizuki cringed involuntarily— “want to talk about it?”
Mizuki heaved a sigh.
“I’m not sure there’s anything to talk about,” she said, and it was the simplest truth. There had been nothing particularly difficult about today, nothing out of the ordinary or exceptional. It was simply that sometimes, her days just turned out like that, owing to no identifiable reason.
It scared them, they realized, to even try to put that into words. Carefully, Ena nudged their shoulder with her own.
“Be that as it may, I’d still like to listen to you.”
Mizuki was quiet. She tried to order her thoughts into something neat, coherent, but could not.
“It’s more that nothing actually happened. I don’t know why I feel awful. But I do.” They felt stupid, saying it out loud.
“Bad days happen.”
“I know. But this always feels… I don’t know. Different. It feels—“ they really didn’t want to say malignant— “malignant. Or something.”
Ena was quiet for a few moments. Then:
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know!” Mizuki groaned. Ena laughed slightly at their theatricality, and they frowned. Mizuki rubbed at their eyes, laying down on their back. Their legs still hung off the side of the bed, so they crawled back, folding them up beside Ena.
Mizuki was trying to be more open, she reminded herself. To trust is to invite trust, and to be open is to invite openness—something her sister had told her over the phone one night, just after Ena had found her leaving school that bright afternoon. They were trying to be more open, and yet they were still joking, still hiding behind big, falsified frustrations, as if it would serve to belittle what they truly felt.
She drew in a breath, feeling how it shook, even in the safety of Ena’s bedroom.
“It just all feels humiliating, you know? Like, I spend every day just hoping people’ll award me just a little bit of respect, or for people to even care. And the best I ever get is always just weird looks. It gets to me sometimes.”
She felt Ena shift on the bed, the mattress dipping with her weight, and so she turned her head toward the wall. The silence was terrible, filling the space between them, even if it only lasted for a second or two. A big part of her didn’t want to see if Ena was looking at her, for fear of what might hide behind her eyes. Another, far quieter part told them Ena’s gaze was always softest when looking at them.
“That’s not fair to you,” Mizuki added. “I know you care.”
Hesitantly, and so carefully they felt the warmth of her hand hovering above the thin fabric of their tights far before she ever touched them, Ena laid her hand on their knee.
“I do,” she said. She began rubbing small circles into Mizuki’s knee, into the little dimple beside the kneecap. “But I want to hear what you want said. I won’t take offense, honest.”
She uncovered her face, turning it to see Ena again. She looked so painfully earnest, her big, amber eyes sympathetic. Mizuki should make a joke, something about how Ena always took offense, something that would hopefully rile her up, get her huffing and puffing and distracted from this line of conversation.
It would steer their talk away from these topics, the things Mizuki clutched tight to their chest, gripping hard enough for them to start to come apart in their sweaty palms. And then, eventually, the corners of their mouth would stop twitching uncontrollably downwards, and their eyes stop stinging. They could put it off for another day, another week, until things magically resolved themselves.
But she had already tried that. And it hadn’t lasted.
“It makes me very tired, is all.” She paused, unsure where she was even going. “Sometimes. I mean, I try so hard to be someone people won’t look twice at and I still can’t help but notice how people are always looking.”
It sounded ridiculous out loud, Mizuki knew. Ena’s hand was hot against her thigh, and it burned a bit like shame, matching the burning of Mizuki’s cheeks. She should clarify, say that she knew what she looked like, knew that just the way she dresses is an attention-grabber, but she didn’t know how to. She feared her voice might break midway through that thought, and so, she doesn’t voice it.
“It’s like… I know people are forming judgements about me. Just from a single glance. And maybe it isn’t a lasting impression, and they’ll probably forget about me within a few minutes, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that I seem so obviously out of place to people.
“I’m only living my life, and my identity is already a given to me, so I guess I just forget that it is so glaring to others. Like, to myself, I am a realized person, but to them I’m just… I don’t know. A crossdresser? Freak of nature? Sick? I don’t even know what people think of me. It’s enough to know that they care in such a way.”
Ena was silent. Her hand still worked it’s way around in small circles. Mizuki saw her open her mouth, then close it, only to repeat the motion. They squeezed their eyes shut, letting their head fall back down to the sheets again. Shame washed over them in great, unstoppable waves. If she had stayed quiet, she wouldn’t have had to feel this way, she desperately thought.
“It really doesn’t help that everyone at school knows, either,” Mizuki added, trying to salvage some sort of dignity from the shards of the conversation she had stupidly agreed to have. She tried to laugh at the fact, but it rang strangely even to her own ears. Ena stiffened beside her, straightening.
“It’s not funny, Mizuki. The way they treat you is awful.” She was so very sincere. Mizuki felt as if their heart swelled with the words, simple as they were. Their emotions clashed, tearing them apart with shame and pathetic gratitude.
“Yeah,” they agreed. Their tongue felt thick, useless in their mouth. Again, she opened her eyes, keeping her gaze trained on the puckered ceiling above. “In hindsight, though, I’m almost glad I was forced to come out to you. Like ripping off the bandaid.”
Her heartbeat was still racing, but the line of conversation felt safer, at the very least.
“Ripping it off clearly hurt enough for you to disappear on everyone. For days.” Again, Mizuki felt the need to turn away, to burrow away and to never re-emerge. Ena had a way of speaking when she was agitated, like every word pained her, as if they were jagged things that hurt as they passed all the way out of her mouth. It was terrible knowing Mizuki was the cause of it. “It was scary. I wouldn’t have minded waiting if it had spared you that pain.”
Instead of turning, or covering her face like she wanted, Mizuki tried to find Ena’s unoccupied hand with her own. They had known this. They had known that Ena would prefer them safe and happy even if it meant prolonging her time spent in the dark. She had been very clear about it, ever since they first broached that very topic. But it was always so very startling to hear it spoken aloud again.
“I don’t know if I could ever have told you all by myself,” Mizuki admitted quietly, before she could stop herself. Ena squeezed her fingers, shaking her head.
“I do. You’re easily the bravest person I know.”
Mizuki squeezed back.
“Be careful, you’re falling into a lot of clichés here,” Mizuki said, to which Ena scoffed. “It’s terrifying to think about opening up about this sort of thing, though. I mean, even though you were pretty obvious about being into girls, I had no idea how you would feel about, well… me.”
“I’m going to ignore that first bit. And anyway, you know I don’t care about any of that,” she retorted, and Mizuki’s throat was at once thick with doubt. Because this was an issue.
I don’t care about any of that.
“…I know that.”
It was the wording of it, Mizuki was sure. To hear the words uttered, that Ena didn’t care about her identity was a blow, though an unintentional one. The best Mizuki could ever hope for was that people didn’t care, but somewhere along the line, they had come to anticipate acceptance from Ena.
“But?” Ena prompted, seeming to sense Mizuki’s hesitation.
To have that well-meaning phrase thrown at them now was jarring, stunning; but able to be remedied, if only she brought it up. She swallowed the lump in her throat, deciding to brave it. She had voiced enough stupid things today—things better left hidden away and buried—that voicing another couldn’t possibly result in an even deeper grave dug.
“I think I want you to care.” It was difficult, speaking the demand, but they did it anyway. “I want you to accept me.”
The room was quiet, Ena’s hand stilling, slackening. She could hear her swallow. It felt stifling, but Mizuki suspected by now that they should give her time to work her words out.
Still, just as Ena drew breath to speak, Mizuki added, “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean it that way.”
Very quickly, Ena retaliated. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was how I sounded. Or how you felt.”
Mizuki breathed out shakily. She wasn’t angry. Mizuki wasn’t entirely certain as to why she would be, but they felt it should be fitting, somehow. But she wasn’t.
“Can I join you?” Ena asked. Her tone was something that should have worked to ease the tension Mizuki felt, but it was a bit like trying to use a needle to break a mountainside. A very small means to a very big end. Mizuki nodded slowly, and scooted to make room for Ena next to her.
Ena ran warm. It surprised Mizuki whenever they were close enough to touch, how it seemed to radiate off her like a heat-haze. They decided it would be better to face her, and so turned, tucking their one hand beneath their cheek. It left the other free as Ena shifted close, both her hands resting beneath her face. Her dark eyes were big, serious. After a few seconds of seeming to search Mizuki’s face, she spoke.
“It feels like you keep building yourself up against me,” she told them. Her gaze still flitted across her face, looking for something Mizuki couldn’t begin to imagine the shape of. She didn’t know if she wanted her to find it. “You keep apologizing for voicing your thoughts, even when I tell you I won’t get upset.”
Mizuki could only frown. She resisted the urge to reach out, to touch Ena’s face or hair, keeping her hands to herself.
“I really would prefer it if you shared your thoughts with me,” Ena continued. “Even if it’s about me doing something wrong. No—especially if it’s about me doing something wrong.
“I know it’s scary, but it’s what I want. I think you want that too.”
Mizuki’s eyes prickled. She was right. There weren’t any sides of her mind where she didn’t want, desperately, to be able to trust the people she loved. It was petrifying. Not because she had done it before and been betrayed, no; the people she had trusted with the soft belly of her troubles had all been kinder than she could possibly have deserved. What she feared was the prospect of that rug being ripped out from underneath them, and finally trusting the wrong person.
She wanted to trust Ena, though. And that wasn’t all. She wanted to make the effort, to offer up more than she strictly had to. Because Ena was worth that leap of faith, and far more.
To Ena’s words, they finally nodded.
“I’ll keep trying.”
Ena smiled. One of those smiles that were so rare from her. Not reluctant or half-hidden behind a forced frown. Not self-satisfied or laced with just a little schadenfreude, even if Mizuki loved those grins just as much. But a true, deeply contented smile.
She leaned forward, planting a careful kiss at the tip of Mizuki’s nose. Mizuki lifted their head, and Ena coaxed their hands from beneath it, enveloping them in her own. They couldn’t help but feel Ena’s smile spreading across their own face. The hours of high tension and worry were finally catching up to Mizuki, and all at once, she felt the fight leave her.
She tucked her face down, pushing into the sheets.
“I think I’d like to rest a bit,” they said. Somehow, they felt that might have been the most embarrassing of admissions they’d made that day. Dimly, they noted that it might be a good thing.
Ena breathed a laugh, drawing close and squeezing Mizuki into a brief embrace. Then, she sat up, pulling at Mizuki to do the same.
“Let’s at least lie down the right way, then,” she said, turning on the bed. Mizuki grinned, following her movement. She was sure her face must be bright red, flushed from some mixture of relief and affection.
The pair tucked in again, this time both able to stretch their legs, rid of the fear of them hanging off the edge of the bed. Ena was close again, closer than she had been all day. It seemed so very easy for Mizuki to crawl in close, slipping her hands around her soft waist. With her face pressed against Ena’s shoulder, she could only smell the faint traces of her perfume, and the scent of detergent still clinging onto her sweater.
Perhaps it was Mizuki’s imagination, but they could swear that as they were drifting off, they felt her hands at their scalp, scratching lightly. It wasn’t long before they were gone, finding only a warm and dreamless sleep.
———
Ena shut the microwave, letting the click of its door sound out. Once they’d decided to get out of bed, both bleary and mussed from sleep, Ena had warned Mizuki they really didn’t have much they could cook at home. Mizuki, somehow sharp-tongued even just minutes after waking up, had said something to the effect of being grateful for the fact.
And so, they had scavenged the fridge for leftovers. Mizuki had been exceptionally smug about the amount of caffeinated drinks they kept, and Ena hadn’t been a liar proficient enough to convince them they weren’t all Ena’s. She’d tried to defend herself, but to no avail, being met only with Mizuki’s teasing.
“There’s got to be more caffeine in your blood than water, at this point,” she now said, leaning back against the kitchen counter. She’d taken off her cardigan at some half-waking moment of their shared nap, arms now bared.
“I’m only stocking up, alright!” Ena tried. Mizuki looked unimpressed. Their countless bracelets chirruped against the plastic surface, and Ena was grateful to see that they looked closer to their usual, bright self. “That dragonfruit flavor sells out really quickly sometimes and it’s my favorite.”
Mizuki laughed. “So you’re buying up their entire stock?”
“So what if I am?” Ena couldn’t help getting riled up, even after all this time. At this point, she was usually past actually getting annoyed at Mizuki’s digs, but stuck to the knee-jerk reaction of arguing back. “You know, I got you that iced tea you like, but now I’m not so sure I want to treat you to it.”
Mizuki perks up. “The minty one?”
It’s Ena’s turn to laugh. They looked so taken aback, excited for just a moment. Then:
“Hey, that’s mean.” They pouted, crossing their arms.
“Says you!” Ena retorted, still grinning. “You should be careful with how you treat me, or I might just start retaliating.”
Mizuki pouted.
“If I apologize, can we call it even?” they asked,
Ena hummed, making a play at considering it. “If you promise to lay off.”
“It’s a deal,” Mizuki said. She pushed off the counter, strolling to stand across from Ena. They were grinning, head cocked. Mustering up a serious tone, they said, “I’m very sorry for mocking your energy drink-related habits. I see the error of my ways, and won’t do it again.”
Ena huffed, and at once the faux solemnity was gone.
With the way Mizuki leaned, the messy state of their hair was apparent. Her ponytail was most definitely singing its final refrain, mussed and coming undone. Ena reached out, tugging their hairtie loose. They drew closer at the gesture, hands coming up to attempt to comb the disorderly locks down.
“You look a mess,” she commented. Mizuki rested their arms atop her shoulders, holding her close.
“A very pretty mess, I hope.” Ena snorted, shaking her head fondly.
“Of course,” she agreed. She was only half-surprised when Mizuki pulled her in for a kiss. It was slow, careful and tender in a way Ena had only rarely known Mizuki to be. Their hands came to rest cupping her face, fingers dancing lightly about her cheeks.
They were breathtaking. Perhaps in the most literal sense of the word, stealing Ena’s breath away with their kiss, but it was more than that.
It was as if her lungs were constricting, pushed aside and emptied for all the feelings swelling in her chest. Mizuki opened their lips slightly, just enough for Ena’s tongue to graze their teeth, and she knew she loved them. It was probably the easiest conclusion she had ever come to regarding her own emotions. All that surprised her was how she had not realized it earlier.
Just as Ena brought her hands to Mizuki’s waist, encircling her, the microwave dinged. Ena had never felt so betrayed by any kitchen appliance before. They broke apart, and Ena was a little relieved to find Mizuki just as flushed as she herself was.
“Um—“ she coughed, and Mizuki laughed, a little breathless— “I’ll get that.”
Mizuki fell back as she brought out the steaming, re-heated curry.
“Your drink should still be in the fridge,” she added. As she dug through the cupboards for plates and cutlery, she heard the door to the refrigerator opening and closing. She still felt a bit like her heart was hammering right up in her throat. It wasn’t really unpleasant, though.
“Thank you, Ena,” they said. It sounded serious enough that she turned, finding Mizuki with her gaze. They stood, holding the plastic bottle lightly and looking at Ena, a myriad of emotions passing across their face.
“Not just for the tea,” they laughed, “but, I mean, all of this. Today.”
She set down what she’d picked out of the cupboard, clasping her hands in front of her.
“Of course. I’ll always be here for you.” Mizuki smiled.
“And some days I might even know it,” they joked. They came up behind Ena, picking out two glasses from above her head. They clinked against one another, and as Mizuki pressed a kiss to the side of her head, she bit back the simple confession, that I love you.
They ended up sitting at the same side of the kitchen table, chairs pushed together and hunching over their plates and giggling over silly jokes. Ena privately thought she had never felt more grateful to have gotten to know a person than she did that evening.
Even more grateful was she when, far later that night, she could kiss Mizuki goodnight before they headed off to catch their train. The way they lit up, lights dancing behind their eyes, was such a far cry from when they’d first shown up that afternoon, that it made Ena weak at the knees.
As she watched their shape walk slowly away, she picked up her phone on impulse.
———
enanan - 21:37
Have a safe trip back home!
Amia <3 - 21:38
ofc!! ty for today
enanan - 21:38
Always!!
Amia <3 - 21:38
ur sweet
ill miss ur face
enanan - 21:39
Lol let’s meet up soon again
Amia <3 - 21:39
ill hold you to it!!
love ya
enanan - 21:39
Ilyt :-)
———
She sighed, putting her phone down for a moment. It wasn’t perfect, she thought; Mizuki deserved to know just how much she loved them from more than just a text, but it was something. Still, Ena smiled. She loved Mizuki. She loved Mizuki. She loved Mizuki.
The fact rolled around in her head, glinting like a bright little marble. The novelty of thinking those words was amazing to her. She loved Mizuki. Truthfully, she believed she always would.