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“Enanan~”
It all started, like most of the times, with a playful whine from Mizuki. Another eye roll.
“What is it now?”
“What if one day you wake up and realize that I'm a lot of trouble for you?”
That made Ena pause.
“What?”
The question had thrown the artist off guard. While they were walking hand-in-hand by the quiet neighborhood, after deciding to take the long route back to the train station. It had been completely unnecessary; while there was a much shorter and quicker route back to the station, Mizuki had insisted to take the long route.
Ena had complained, of course, but something about her girlfriend's request had felt heavy. For most, the request might’ve sounded like another one of Mizuki's playful jokes— but for Ena, through the eyes of an artist, through the eyes of someone who has been there during the worst and best days of her partner, through the eyes of someone who can see past Mizuki's facades, something felt off.
So she played along. Waited until Mizuki slipped an accidental quiet opening to the thoughts that were going and bothering in her mind.
“Yeah, I mean…” she continued, twirling a strand of hair with her finger, avoiding the artist's gaze. “What if you decide one day that I'm not worth all the trouble you go through just for me?”
“What are you—?”
“What if you get tired of me, Enanan?”
The deceiving playful tone in her voice was nothing more than that: deceiving. A way to mask her insecurities behind a joke or a smile that doesn’t quite reach Ena's eyes.
She has known Mizuki long enough to notice little details that the fashion designer isn’t aware she lets out.
A silence fell between them.
Suddenly the questions that were meant to come out as nothing more than playful teasing to get a reaction out of Ena came out raw and carrying real, painful insecurities no amount of makeup and pretty clothes can hide. The silence from Ena was charged with surprise, almost indignation for the implications that came along with the questions, and with quiet realization of what the questions were supposed to actually mean.
Sensing the change in tension, Mizuki tried to laugh it off, swatting a hand in the air as if that would make the tension go away. “Ah, ha, ha! I’m just joking!”
That’s exactly the problem, she wanted to say, but she knew that approaching a confrontation like that would make the fashion designer to drift away and pretend like nothing had happened.
Instead, she let out a quiet sigh, feigning annoyance, subtly holding Mizuki’s hand tighter. “You’re impossible,” she muttered in response, deciding to approach the topic in a different way later.
Ena continued to drag Mizuki toward the station, pretending to be annoyed, while listening the almost relieved laughter from her girlfriend, almost as if saying, I’m glad she didn’t look much into it.
You think I’m blind, don’t you?
So they continued walking.
Later that day, now the moon high in the sky, windows open to let the fresh night summer breeze, the question returned again.
“Enanan~”
The playful whine came out again. This time, they were back at Ena's apartment, while the artist worked for another project, Mizuki sat on her mostly forgotten couch in her studio, dry paint streaks in the cushions from late-night painting sessions. The artist was buried in her work, carefully tracing lines with her stylus on the screen of the tablet sitting in between an organized mess— sketches that indicated a rush of ideas had arrived unceremoniously, little notes here and there, an empty mug of coffee sitting nearby, and seemingly random pieces of fabric laying there, courtesy of Mizuki from many hours spent sewing and designing clothes in Ena's studio, piled together in a corner, never quite forgotten but still unable to find them a good use.
“Hm?” She looked up from her tablet, stylus in hand pausing completely.
“I've been thinking…” Mizuki started, tone trying to sound lighthearted when underneath laid something close to fear. “Maybe you're better off with someone else.”
“… What?”
Ena was genuinely, thrown off by her words. This wasn’t merely a series of questions seeking reassurance. This was…
“You’re breaking off with me?” Ena blurted out loud, scowling, dropping her stylus back to her desk.
Mizuki fidgeted with her sleeve. “N-No! Well, I mean—” she stuttered, suddenly feeling somewhat trapped. “I’m— just saying, you could— um, you could do so much better,” she continued, looking at anywhere except at Ena.
“You’re breaking off with me,” Ena repeated flatly, standing up from her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.
Mizuki didn’t say anything for a moment. She followed Ena’s movements, standing up from her seat, facing her.
“I…” she let out a sigh, looking down at the ground. “Yeah.”
Silence fell between them once again, just like earlier that day, but now heavier. This wasn’t just a simple talk. This was serious, seemingly out of nowhere. But the artist knew this wasn’t out of nowhere— it probably came from something that has been bothering Mizuki for a while now.
“Ena, look—” Mizuki started again, taking a few, hesitant steps toward her, as if expecting sudden yelling. “T-This is so difficult for me too, and—”
“Have you stopped loving me, Mizuki?” Ena asked, voice steady despite feeling too many things at once. She needed to be sure before choosing her next few actions.
“N-No! It’s not that!” The fashion designer quickly replied, looking back at Ena almost as if she was scared of Ena thinking her feelings for her had stopped. She tried to reach out to hold Ena's hands, but something, probably herself, made her stop and hesitate midway through. “I love you, Ena! B-But—”
“Then what’s the problem, Mizuki?” Her question came out sharper than intended, making Ena wince internally.
The question made Mizuki pause. Seems like she had hit a nerve. Or rather, a wound that's still open despite the endless care given to it. The silence felt unbearably heavy, and under the raw pressure of it, Mizuki's insecurities broke down.
“I'm not worth it, Ena!” Mizuki replied, voice raising just a little, taking the artist off guard. She clenched her fists at her sides, eyes filling with unshed, well preserved tears from years of uncertainty and fears. “I-I'm not worth your time! Or your love either! I'm— I'm way too much trouble for you, and I don’t want to cause you more stress than you already have every day,” she continued, tears slowly running down her cheeks as each word slipped out before she could stop them. “A-And— you deserve to be with someone normal, n-not with someone weird like me and—”
“Oh my god, shut up!” Ena snapped, interrupting Mizuki's monologue, voice shaky.
“H-Huh?” Mizuki blinked, looking up at the artist immediately, confused and taken aback, not by the seemingly harsh words, but by how shaky and unsteady Ena's voice sounded.
Was… Ena crying?
“Why are you talking like you've already decided the rest of my life?!” Tears of frustration were flowing out, her voice completely overpowering Mizuki's, filling the suddenly small studio that more often than not feels empty. “Why are you talking like you know what's best for me?!”
“B-Because—”
“No! You have no idea how much time I spend picturing the rest of my life with you!” Ena snapped again, not aware that her words were turning uncharacteristically raw for what Mizuki was used to see with Ena. “You have no idea how many times a day I spend thinking about us!”
“E-Ena?”
“No! You've had your time to talk! Now listen to me, Akiyama Mizuki!”
A soft thud in Mizuki's arm.
“I didn’t spend a big part of our teenage years dealing with your— self deprecating jokes and secret-keeping and self-sabotage crap!”
Another, slightly stronger thud hit Mizuki's arm.
“If I didn’t make it clear enough for you that day, I want to keep staying with you no matter how much time passes!”
Mizuki's breath hitched for a moment.
Another hit in Mizuki's arm. She looked down, watching Ena's fists clenched tight out of sheer frustration and real love that she doesn’t know how to properly express.
“I was so scared that day you ran away from me! I was so scared when you stopped going to school all together! I was so scared that you wouldn’t let me in and talk to you again! You didn’t even let me say something, anything, you immediately jumped to conclusions that weren’t true at all!”
Mizuki kept receiving surprisingly solid punches in her arms, that had no real strength to really hurt or to make her stumble backwards, but it had just enough to convey all that she struggles to say.
“You talk as if you're expecting me to suddenly leave one day and decide that everything that we went through together stopped mattering to me!”
Now tears were freely running down Ena's cheeks, unfiltered and unable to stop them, keeping her head down, fists clenched and pausing right against Mizuki's arms, as if holding back something.
“E-Ena…”
“So stop running away from me, you idiot!” Ena snapped again, daring to raise her head and meet Mizuki's wide, teary, confused and surprised all at once. “If I hadn’t realized how much I love you that day we made our promise that I'm absolutely not letting you break, I wouldn’t have kept up every joke meant to hide your pain for so many years! I'm not letting you get away from me now, or any time soon for that matter, because I want to live with you forever!”
Mizuki completely paused. Suddenly the studio fell into a silence, deep, and undeniably filled with love.
But that wasn’t what made Mizuki pause.
What made Mizuki pause was what Ena had said.
Did Ena just…?
“E-Ena… are you… um, are you proposing to me?” Mizuki asked, almost as if afraid that she might’ve misunderstood what Ena was trying to say.
The question hung in the air for a second that felt way too long and that gave Mizuki enough time to overthink.
Good job, Mizuki, you just made this ten times worse than it already is.
It would be really awkward if I just misinterpreted her words—
Ena hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It had been a silly thought that had been brewing in the back of her mind for months now, and all this time she had brushed it off and blamed it on her horrendous sleep schedule, thinking it would never go past her tight filter.
“S-So what if I am?!” Ena blushed furiously, shoving Mizuki back ever so slightly, not strong enough to actually move her but enough to shake Mizuki out of her thoughts. Just enough to pull out a laugh, genuine despite the tears still falling. “What's so funny?! I'm being serious! Marry me, take it or leave it!”
“Enanan…”
Despite everything, Ena didn’t dare to look away, forcing herself to keep the eye contact hoping that would help her convey the feelings she still struggles to say out loud. Despite everything, Mizuki still found a way to smile, but a small hint of insecurity and fear still lingered even after hearing the most honest words from the artist.
“I'm… A-Are you being serious? Y-You know this, um, might be difficult and—”
“I'm being dead serious, Mizuki.” The fashion designer fidgeted with her sleeves for a moment, looking away in hesitation, which irritated Ena just a little. instead of letting it slide, instead of waiting for a “let me think about it”, she huffed in frustration. “Fine! You want me to prove I'm being serious? Take—” Ena looked around the mostly forgotten studio, searching for something, anything, that could resemble an engagement ring.
Her gaze quickly landed on the desk, scanning the messy scene. And she quickly found something: a loose string from one of Mizuki's many forgotten fabrics left on Ena's studio, from the many late nights they have shared working together— an artist finding the right colors to convey her feelings without words, and a fashion designer finding the right fabric that would fit her muse. Despite Ena’s usual complains about Mizuki always leaving loose fabric pieces in her studio, claiming that she doesn’t need them, sometimes when the fashion designer leaves the apartment, paint stained fingers trace lines on the fabric because it soothes Ena's mind.
“— Take this!” Wiping her tears with the back of her hand furiously, Ena reached out for it, taking the designer's left hand, and carefully wrapping the string around Mizuki's left ring finger, trying to simulate an engagement ring with a seemingly meaningless string of fabric. Completely improvised.
But just enough to make it ten times more meaningful than any real metal ring.
It, naturally, made Mizuki cry again, but this time, her tears didn’t come from deep-rooted pain from years of insecurities and fear.
It came from an overwhelming sense of being loved unconditionally, without lies, without facades, without secrets.
“W-Why are you crying for this time?!”
“Ah, Enanan…” Mizuki chuckled between her tears, hiding her smile behind her free hand, keeping her left hand still, extended, letting the makeshift ring sit there. “You're not gonna let me give it some thought, at least?”
“If I do that, you'll keep overthinking it, idiot,” the artist quickly replied, shaking her head as if that would make the heat in her cheeks go away or go unnoticeable. “Don’t make me say it twice. Will you marry me or not?”
“Ah…”
For once, Mizuki felt as if she had finally getting rid of the shackles of pain and insecurities that had been following her since very early on in her life. In front of her was standing, stubbornly, the very same woman that had shown Mizuki what feels like being loved unconditionally without caring what the others might say. Ena had stayed with Mizuki during the worst period of time of her life, refusing to let go, refusing to give up on her when the world felt too heavy to carry alone. Ena had helped her pick up the pieces of her life when it was shattered, and even so, Mizuki kept wondering if suddenly the love that Ena was offering would be taken away from her. For the first time in years, Ena's slightly rough-on-the-edges words of reaffirmation finally hit on the place of her mind that kept haunting her, holding her back from fully allowing herself to love and be loved.
“… Yes.”
“H-Huh?”
“Yes, Ena. Let's get married.”
For the first time in a while, Ena didn’t have a quick comeback. Instead, she stared, almost as if she couldn’t believe that her seemingly silly idea that was meant to be kept to herself had actually… been accepted.
“I love you, Ena.” Mizuki softly said, like a sigh that had been waiting to be released for far too many years.
Without a warning, Ena hid her face in Mizuki's shoulder, pulling her into a tight hug, hoping that everything that she can’t bring herself to say easily could be felt through the hug.
“I… I love you too, idiot.” Ena replied back, her tone uncharacteristically soft, but undeniably tender. “Don’t try to run away from me anymore, okay?”
“Okay…”
“Promise that to me.”
“I promise I'll never try to run away from you ever again.”
“Hm.”
Mizuki didn’t even hesitate, for once, and hugged Ena back, pulling her as close as possible, simply embracing each other. They didn’t kiss. They didn’t need to. Sometimes, simple gestures like this could say and mean more than anything.
The world didn’t feel so heavy now. Mizuki didn’t feel afraid of facing the world tomorrow, because she knew she could enjoy and embellish these days dedicated to finding answers, with her future wife holding her hand tight and never planning on letting her go.