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kumo's head felt fuzzy, as it often did these days. her body lacked the energy reserves needed to make things clear; to allow her to focus; to let her be fully present in the world. she was always halfway-there.
she climbed the stairs to rima's bedroom, not thinking about anything except that rima was wearing a different perfume than usual (not that she could really diferentiate them meaningfully—rima's beauty products were in a different tax bracket from kumo's entire life).
"wh-what did you say you wanted to do today…?" kumo found herself asking, even though rima had explained it no more than five minutes ago.
"well, you just don't eat enough, kumo-chan…" rima lamented, a signature whine underlacing her words.
kumo winced as though she'd been struck. this was a familiar conversation—one she didn't just have with rima. where each of kumo's friends thought they brought it up just often enough, kumo was on the receiving end of four people's "just enough"s.
"gh… i try…" she mumbled, a flimsy excuse, just as they all were.
"i know you do, kuu-chan. you just need some help."
they reached the top of the stairs, and as rima shut the door to her room, kumo felt something creep up her spine.
"sh-shouldn't we go to the kitchen?" kumo's eyes darted around, looking anywhere but rima. usually, when rima decided to help, it meant they would make something sweet and high in calories, like cookies or cake, and then rima would feed kumo as much as she could stomach.
"well, that doesn't seem to be very effective, does it?" rima asked, crossing her arms, glancing pointedly at the visible bones in kumo's exposed arm.
"you know it's hard…"
"i know it is. that's why i'm helping."
"again, what does that-"
"sit on the bed, kumo." she ordered, and kumo followed, staring at the floor all the while. her mismatched socks looked so stupid against the expensive imported hardwood in rima's house.
she shifted uncomfortably, but when rima turned around, everything flipped on its head.
clutched in rima's hands, perfectly manicured nails glinting in the late afternoon sunlight, was none other than a baby bottle. filled with what kumo hoped was milk.
"r-rima, what-"
"it's okay, kuu-chan."
she stepped closer, and kumo backed up on instinct.
"what's wrong?"
"rima, you—" kumo bit her tongue, deciding not to provoke the volatile girl. "n-nothing. forget it."
"okay," she hummed, sitting on the bed, "i figured this would be the best way to get nutrients in you. nothing to worry about, right? it's just warm milk."
please say it's cow's milk. please say it's cow's milk
"what kind-"
"cow's, silly. don't worry." rima giggled, kissing kumo's forehead.
kumo didn't say anything, looking repeatedly between the bottle and the loving look in rima's eyes. it was almost… maternal.
once the thought permeated kumo's head, it sank its claws in and she was lost.
"okay…" she whispered, eyelids fluttering. rima patted her lap, and kumo crawled in, resting her cheek against rima's chest. she looked up at rima, and for a moment, it took the dark-haired girl's every last drop of willpower not to squeal. kumo looked at her like a puppy, or… a baby.
the two were quiet for a beat.
"you're my baby, okay? i'm your mommy." rima cooed.
i'm your mommy…
kumo nodded absent-mindedly, parting her lips as the rubber nib of the bottle pushed past them, the neutral taste of milk hardly noticeable with all the other stimuli.
rima brushed a stay lash from kumo's cheek as she continued to bottlefeed the blonde girl.
"there you go, sweet girl…" she murmured saccharinely, carding her fingers through kumo's hair.
"mgh…" confused as she was, kumo didn't try to change anything. in some bizarre way, she was right where she wanted to be.