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Aya can’t stop pacing. Her toenails are freshly painted and she's probably coating her carpet in nail polish with every erratic step she takes, but she can’t stop - nervous energy vibrates through her and threatens to burst if she doesn’t stop moving.
She checks her phone for the nth time; thirteen minutes ago Mitsuki told Aya she was on her way over. Within those thirteen minutes, Aya has brushed her hair four times, changed jumpers, and almost burned a hole in her carpet from her rapid pacing.
She nervously chews on her thumbnail and winces at the sore skin she disturbs.
Nail biting isn’t a new habit of hers; since she was eight, Aya would tear at the skin covering her fingers with her teeth and nails until it bled in an attempt to distract and regulate her nerves. For the past few days, her sore hands have been a result of a buildup of anxiety threatening to tear Aya down.
All of her stress, anxiety and nerves are the result of one evil thing. Something Aya appreciates and has a desire to learn. Something Aya also wishes would burn in the depths of hell.
The English language.
With entrance exams creeping closer and closer, Aya has been spending the majority of her free time studying and trying to master the damned language.
Not only does she need to learn it to pass her exams but also because of her deep love for Western rock — the reason she wanted to learn it in the first place. She already loves Western music and enjoys listening to it without being fluent in the language, but she wants to be able to appreciate it more and understand it on another level. Learning the language will allow her to expand her world, and allow her to enjoy music to the fullest.
But… she also has this deep ache to understand Mitsuki better, too.
After prom, Aya became even more determined to understand Mitsuki, wanting to find new ways to become even closer to her crush. Her… girlfriend.
It still doesn’t feel real — dating Mitsuki, being her girlfriend (!!!) . Aya kind of wants to pinch herself, to see if she’s dreaming. Although she's too scared she might actually wake up. She wonders what would be worse: waking herself up on purpose, knowing she could have let herself live in this fantasy for a little longer, or waking up randomly, by chance, in the middle of a sweet moment and being torn from it, finding out none of it was real.
One of these ways, Aya realised, was to learn English. As much as it hurts for her to even think about the possibility, Aya knows that the chance of Mitsuki leaving Japan (leaving Aya) isn’t zero. So, Aya wants to learn English, because maybe then she won’t have to be left behind and forgotten.
Not that Aya would blame Mitsuki — not at all. The career prospects and opportunities Mitsuki would gain access to? Aya could never blame her for thinking about moving away. Even if it would feel as if her heart was being ripped out of her chest and shipped across seas.
Another reason, maybe the most compelling reason for Aya right now — as selfish as it may be — is that Aya desperately wants to understand Mitsuki’s lyrics. She’s curious, and has been ever since that day, to know what Mitsuki felt was important enough to dedicate an album to. Of course, Aya also wants to use it as a chance to communicate with Mitsuki on another level; there must be a reason why Mitsuki wrote the song in English. Was she purposefully trying to hide it, and why wouldn’t she tell Aya about it?
Aya shakes her head; it doesn’t matter, she tells herself. Mitsuki must have her reasons, and Aya will try her best to respect them.
It was during an unofficial date at a small, quiet cafe ( if they’re together, is it automatically an official date, or does someone have to acknowledge it as one?) that Mitsuki first noticed Aya’s plaster-clad fingers.
Aya didn’t want to draw attention to them, not wanting Mitsuki to waste time worrying about her, and so she had tried to decorate her nails in pretty, distracting colours. But the nail polish stung and burned her sensitive skin, and so she had to resort to plasters on almost all her fingers to ease the ache and prevent her from causing more damage. Her brothers tried to suggest painting her nail polish on top of the plasters; Aya considered it for a second. Honestly, it wasn’t one of their worst ideas ever.
It was raining outside, Aya could hear as it collided with the window and bounced off onto the pavement. Inside, the cafe’s speakers were humming quiet jazz and in front of Aya, Mitsuki’s voice brought a gentle lull to Aya’s mind as she explained the plot of the film she and her uncle had watched the night before. Aya had been in the middle of taking a sip of her hot chocolate, her fingers wrapped carefully around the warm mug, enjoying the heat radiating from it, when Mitsuki had paused mid-sentence.
“Koga-san?” Aya had asked, placing her mug down, confused by Mitsuki’s quick shift in demeanour.
With furrowed eyebrows and her lip worried beneath her teeth, Mitsuki slowly reached out to take Aya’s hands in her own. Aya’s heart rate had picked up, her face instantly warming as she watched Mitsuki’s hands swallow her own. Ever since prom, Mitsuki’s become a lot more confident in displaying physical affection, and Aya would like to think she has too. That doesn’t mean she’s stopped having small heart attacks at every touch. Mitsuki ran her thumbs over the plasters and Aya felt their warmth, even through the thin fabric.
“What happened?” Aya could feel Mitsuki’s worried eyes on her — probably with her signature kicked puppy look on her face — and so she stared down at the table, pretending to be suddenly fascinated with the coffee stains that had seeped into the old wood.
Aya had noticed small scratches in the wood: letters most likely carved with a knife, leaving a small message to whoever was to notice. They looked like initials: L + A inside a ragged, wonky heart. The sight of the marking had left a small ache in Aya’s chest. It was only small, lightly indented in the table, but it was still there. It was still immortalised; whoever L and A were wanted people to know they loved each other.
Aya thought about picking up her own knife when Mitsuki next looked away and carving A + M into the wood. She wondered if Mitsuki would want others to know she and Aya love each other.
Suddenly, the thought struck her: the couple, L and A , could have broken up. They could have fallen out of love and the only reminder of their love being the harsh lines in this dirty table. Maybe they grew apart — realised they were better off as friends, or, worse, as strangers.
Aya really hoped they were still together.
“Ah, it’s nothing I promise. Just an annoying habit I have when I’m stressed.” She tried to laugh, to hide the wobble in her voice, but it fell flat.
In her field of vision, Aya could see Mitsuki’s desperate attempts to find her eyes and Aya gave in after a moment, feeling guilty for making her worry.
“Stressed? Why are you stressed? Do you— do you need help with anything? I’m always here if you want to talk, you know. I’m never too busy for you.” One of Mitsuki’s thumbs had begun to gently rub back and forth across Aya’s wrist, and she prayed to whoever was out there that Mitsuki couldn’t feel the way her pulse jumped with every swipe.
God. Does Mitsuki even know what she does to Aya’s poor, fragile heart?
“It’s nothing, I just—” She felt so silly. So, so silly. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
Mitsuki nodded sharply, “I promise.” Her eyes were fixated on Aya, patiently waiting for her next words.
Under the weight of Mitsuki’s heavy gaze, Aya’s thumb began to twitch, aching to pick at her skin to distract her from how her nerves had begun to claw their way up her throat. Mitsuki must have mistaken it for Aya trying to reach out to her — and maybe she was, subconsciously — since she squeezed Aya’s hands and offered her a small, encouraging smile.
“I’ve…I’ve been struggling. With entrance exams coming up, I’ve been trying to practice my English. But, it’s been a lot harder than I expected.”
Mitsuki’s eyes were wide, concern evident in them. “Oosawa—”
“And,” Aya interrupted; she had to be honest, she had to get it all out now, or she knew she never would be.
“I want to understand you better. I want to be able to connect with you on another level since it seems like your projects are in English. I want to be closer to you and what you love doing. Also, I thought…” Aya had squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed at the words coming out of her mouth. “I thought if I knew English, maybe when you’d leave… I’d be able to visit you more often. If, you know, you’d want me to.” She rushed the last few words out, desperate not to scare Mitsuki away.
Silence.
She was met with a deafening silence. Mitsuki didn’t say anything and Aya was too afraid to open her eyes. Too afraid to see the downward curve of Mitsuki’s mouth — the disgust replacing the concern in her eyes.
Panic surged through Aya and swallowed her whole. She had messed it up, hadn’t she? The new thing, between her and Mitsuki, was so fragile — a newly blossomed flower that Aya was supposed to water, take care of, and admire from afar. But never get too close to it, in case she breaks it.
Here she had gone, breaking it and probably ruining her friendship with Mitsuki too. She came off too strong, too clingy. Who was to even say Mitsuki would want Aya around after she left for America? Maybe — Aya felt thorns from the flower tighten around her heart — maybe Mitsuki wouldn’t want Aya to follow her.
Mitsuki would probably want a fresh start, without anyone from her past holding her back from achieving fame; Aya knows, without a doubt, that if Mitsuki tried, she could become famous. She could make a name for herself, and meet new, more interesting people and Aya would just become another face in the crowd.
As much as it would hurt, Aya thought maybe, just maybe, she could live that life. Drowning in an audience of thousands, just for the chance to catch a glimpse of Mitsuki doing what she loves.
Aya’s eyes were squeezed shut so tight, she thought she could see the petals falling to the ground and the thorns burrowing under her skin.
“—san? Oosaw-san?” Mitsuki’s worried voice snapped Aya out of her thoughts.
“Sorry, I think I’m just a little tired from staying up so late.” She hoped Mitsuki didn’t notice the shake in her voice.
“You don’t need to apologise, it’s okay.” Before she continued speaking, Mitsuki made sure Aya was looking right at her. As nerve-wracking as looking Mitsuki in the eyes had felt in the moment, Aya’s glad she did. Something about those dark eyes always left Aya feeling grounded.
“You know, I’m not moving away anytime soon, right? I mean,” Mitsuki had lifted one of her hands to tuck her hair behind her ear and Aya missed the weight of it against her hands. “I’m still at school. And, I don’t even know if I will move away.”
Mitsuki brought her hand back down to its rightful place against Aya’s. “But as of right now, I promise you, Oosawa-san, I am not going anywhere.”
Aya desperately wanted to trust her, and so she did. Aya was terrified of the future, of all the uncertainties it held. She often found it hard to trust herself, but Mitsuki? If Mitsuki said she wasn’t going anywhere, then Aya would trust her, because Aya knew Mitsuki would never hurt her. Not really, not on purpose.
“And the… me reasons.” Mitsuki’s voice was hushed. She had whispered the word me under her breath, as if it held the weight of the world in it. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Ah , here it is , Aya had thought, her heart skyrocketing, this is it: she had ruined everything, she knew she should’ve kept it to herself—
Mitsuki ducked her head down, and when Aya had spared her a nervous glance, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Mitsuki’s red ears. At the blush that had crept across the bridge of her nose and down her neck.
Huh?
Aya watched as Mitsuki swallowed and nervously smiled at her. “You’re so thoughtful, Oosawa-san. I think you’re the kindest person I know.”
“I— You— What ?”
Mitsuki continued, “You know, you could have asked me, right?”
“Asked you what?” Aya struggled to think properly, she couldn't even hear her own thoughts. Her brain had short-circuited. Kindest person I know. Kindest person I know. The words looped in her head like a song on a broken record.
Sure, Aya always went out of her way to make sure everyone felt welcomed and she never understood being pointlessly rude, but… kindest ?
Mitsuki smiled softly at her, her eyes full of so much warmth.
“Ask me to help you practice English. I mean, I would say I’m pretty good at it…” Mitsuki smiled proudly to herself at her joke.
That is how Aya found herself, a few days later, obsessively watching the time. Sixteen minutes now. Mitsuki will be here any second.
Would it be too much to redo her hair again?
Aya’s phone buzzes where it’s placed on her desk and Aya scrambles to pick it up and read the notification.
Koga-san!!!!!
I’m outside!! :D
Oosawa-san <3
Coming!!
“So, you’re saying they all sound the same, start with the same two letters but they’re all… different words?”
Mitsuki bites back an amused smile. “Yes, exactly.”
Aya flops backwards onto her soft carpet, “This is so stupid. How does anyone learn this language?”
Beside her, Aya thinks she can see Mitsuki watching her with a fond smile. It makes her feel warm and gooey inside. It’s dark outside, though Aya isn’t sure how late it is, and the soft glow of her lamp illuminates Mitsuki’s eyes. Aya feels breathless. She sits back up and tries to distract herself with the quiz in front of her, which quickly turns out to be a futile attempt.
Aya can still feel Mitsuki’s eyes on her; the attention is dizzying — she can’t focus, so aware that every move she makes is being observed. She draws circles in the margin of her page and hopes her voice doesn’t waver. She doesn’t look up from the paper as she speaks.
“What?”
In the corner of her eye, Aya watches as Mitsuki tilts her head to the side. “What, what?” She sounds amused at her own words and Aya can’t help but find her antics endearing.
“I can feel you staring at me.” Aya turns to look at Mitsuki, who is already, of course, looking directly at her, and she feigns a teasing smile; she hopes she appears more confident than she feels.
Mitsuki’s eyes widen and a deep flush coats her face, but she doesn’t look away from Aya. “Sorry, I just… like looking at you. I hope that’s not weird.”
Aya wants to melt into her carpet. She considers what her life may be like as a liquid form slowly seeping into the ground; it doesn’t sound too bad. Peaceful, even, she decides. She feels hot enough to achieve it; she isn’t sure what the boiling point for people is, but with the way every cell in Aya’s body is buzzing, she’s confident she’s about to find out.
She knows she’s staring unblinkingly at Mitsuki, but in her defence, her body is in the middle of a complete shutdown. Aya.exe not responding. System report: complete, utter failure.
At the lack of response, Mitsuki nervously swallows and looks away. “Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, I can stop if you want?”
“No—! ” Mitsuki’s eyes snap back to Aya’s at her volume, and Aya feels like a pot about to boil over. “I— uh, I mean, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. You don’t have to stop.”
“Okay.”
The pair stare at each other, Aya thinks Mitsuki might’ve begun to lean in, but the moment is broken by Aya yawning softly. She’s so tired, they’ve been studying for hours now, but Aya can’t stop just yet — she still has so much to do. With a quiet sigh, one she hopes Mitsuki doesn’t notice, Aya picks her pencil back up.
As Mitsuki reads over her writing and responses, Aya’s mind is overrun by nerves. What if she got everything wrong and Mitsuki thinks she wasn’t paying attention? Mitsuki will probably be annoyed and upset with her — Aya wouldn’t blame her; she’s gone out of her way to help, and Aya couldn’t even listen properly.
She’s so caught up in her thoughts that Aya didn’t even notice she was picking at her nails until she winces when her thumb digs into her pinky, breaking skin. Blood slowly seeps out and Aya watches, disappointed in herself.
Mitsuki must notice, as she reaches one hand out and gently interlocks her fingers with Aya’s, pausing her movement and catching her off guard.
“Do you have any plasters?” Her voice is quiet, and her eyebrows are furrowed, worriedly watching Aya’s injured finger.
Aya doesn’t trust her voice — a lump lodged in her throat, preventing her from speaking — and so instead she simply nods and reaches for her school bag. She put two boxes in there after she realised her fingers bleeding were going to become a common occurrence, and hands Mitsuki the opened one.
Mitsuki has to let go of Aya’s hands to open the box and Aya mourns her comforting hold as she watches as Mitsuki pulls out a plaster. Aya doesn’t have to mourn for long though, as Mitsuki quickly takes hold of her hand again and carefully wraps the plaster around Aya’s pinky.
Aya closes her eyes for a brief moment, allowing herself to bask in the steady weight of Mitsuki’s hold before she inevitably returns to reading over Aya’s work.
“Your nails aren’t painted.”
“Huh?” Aya’s eyes flutter open.
Mitsuki gently turns Aya’s hand around, displaying her unpainted nails. The sight causes Aya to wince, embarrassed that Mitsuki has to see her like this — like a mess , her brain supplies. She wonders if it’s ruining Mitsuki’s perfect perception of Aya, and panic courses through her body. What, Aya nervously swallows, what if Mitsuki won’t want to talk to Aya anymore, now that she knows Aya can’t even handle her emotions properly?
Realistically, Aya knows Mitsuki wouldn’t abandon her — she’s too sweet, too patient. But… Aya’s mind is racing. Thoughts are climbing over one another, each one trying to take place at the forefront of Aya’s mind with a new reason for why Mitsuki would eventually leave her. She’s probably waiting for you to get better so she can leave you without feeling guilty. One unhelpfully suggests.
She blinks rapidly, trying to shake the thoughts and fight the tears prickling behind her eyes. She jumps when she notices Mitsuki’s face, now only inches from her own.
“Oosawa-san?”
“Sorry, uhm, I’m a little tired, I must’ve zoned out.” It’s not a complete lie, and Aya desperately hopes Mitsuki doesn’t call her out on it.
Mitsuki frowns deeply at her words and rises to her feet. No, no no, please don’t go . Panic overwhelms Aya’s senses, and she drowns in it — she wants to grab onto Mitsuki’s hand and beg her not to go, to promise her that Aya will get better, she’ll get better at hiding her problems and go back to being perfect and easy to be around.
Instead of walking away, much to Aya’s relief, Mitsuki offers out one of her hands; a lifejacket in a sea of doubt. “Come on.” Her voice is gentle, steadying and Aya listens to it without hesitation. Desperate to be closer to her, Aya allows herself to be pulled up.
With interlocked hands, Aya allows herself to be led to her bed. Exhaustion seeps into her bones at the sight of it. Mitsuki pulls back the covers and encourages Aya under them. The familiar wave of panic crashes over Aya once more when Mitsuki takes a step back, but it’s quickly washed away as Aya watches Mitsuki turn off the light and remove her glasses, folding them onto Aya’s bedside table.
The bed dips with Mitsuki’s weight and readjusts itself as Mitsuki lays down facing Aya, resting one of her arms over Aya’s waist. Her voice is quiet in the dark and her breath fans over Aya’s cheeks, causing her to shiver. “Is this okay?”
“Mhmm.” She reaches for Mitsuki’s other hand and holds it between them.
Aya sleepily opens her eyes at the feeling of something soft against her fingers and her heart hiccups in her chest at the sight she’s greeted with. Mitsuki pulls Aya’s hand closer and presses gentle kisses to her fingertips.
Aya’s face is flushed, she can feel the heat rising to her cheeks and displaying her feelings so clearly.
All Aya wants is to be as close to Mitsuki as she can. If she could, Aya would burrow under Mitsuki’s skin and fall asleep in the warmth of her, cradled below her heart. Instead, she rests her ankles against Mitsuki’s so there’s not a single part of them not touching. Aya hears Mitsuki hiss when Aya’s cold feet brush against Mitsuki’s bare ankles; instead of pulling away, though, Mitsuki only pulls her arm tighter around her. Aya wonders if Mitsuki can feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.
“Goodnight, Oosawa-san.”
Aya’s too tired for words, and her eyes are heavy. For once, she doesn’t fight their attempt to close. She’s more asleep than awake at this point, her mind clinging to a crumb of alertness. Before her breaths even out and she succumbs to sleep, Aya feels Mitsuki place a gentle kiss on her temple. She falls asleep with a small smile on her face.
Slowly, adjusting to the dark room they’re greeted with, Aya’s eyes crack open. It takes a few moments for her sleep-addled brain to catch up, and so she jumps when warm puffs of air fan across her skin. She squints, bringing a sluggish hand up to rub at her eyes, and with the help of their proximity, Aya is able to make out the outlines of Mitsuki’s face in the dark.
In their sleep, the pair had managed to intertwine themselves even more; their legs overlapping and tangled together so Aya doesn’t know where one begins and the other ends. Mitsuki is resting half on top of Aya, her arm still thrown over Aya’s waist and keeping her close. Her hair is tickling Aya’s cheek where it’s been messed up in her sleep, but Aya can’t find it in herself to mind. Instead, she appreciates the closeness — it allows her to admire Mitsuki without being caught.
Mitsuki’s closed eyes, her cheekbones, the soft curve of her nose, and her lips: slightly parted and exhaling soft breaths against Aya’s collarbone. She looks so peaceful like this, Aya thinks, with no worries or overbearing thoughts clouding her mind.
A single strand of hair falls from where her gentle breaths have disturbed it, and tickles Mitsuki’s face. In her sleep, Mitsuki scrunches her nose, wrinkling it to escape the feeling, and Aya’s heart aches, easily charmed by everything Mitsuki does. Aya gently tucks the strand behind Mitsuki’s ear and allows her hand to slowly glide down the curve of her cheek.
Aya thinks she wouldn’t mind lying here for the rest of the night, simply happy to watch Mitsuki rest and listen to the steady sound of her snoring. Aya wonders how Mitsuki would look in the morning sun: the warm sun illuminating all of her handsome features that always, without fail, cause Aya’s heart to beat a little quicker.
Preparing to get comfortable to lie still for the rest of the night, so as to not disturb Mitsuki, Aya is rudely interrupted by the reason she woke up in the first place: her traitorous bladder.
With a quiet sigh, conscious of Mitsuki’s sleeping form in front of her, Aya attempts to slowly raise herself up but she finds herself quickly tugged back down. Mitsuki tightens her grip around Aya’s waist and pulls her closer, like how a small child would cling to a stuffed bear. The action elicits a quiet, surprised gasp from Aya and her heart stutters in her chest. As much as Aya would love to stay wrapped in the safety of Mitsuki’s arms, she forces herself to get up and slowly unwraps herself from Mitsuki’s hold.
Mitsuki’s face twists as Aya steps out from under the blankets and Aya watches as one of Mitsuki’s arms reaches out, sleepily patting the bed. Aya isn’t sure what she did to deserve someone so loving, so gentle.
The bathroom floor tiles are a stark contrast to Aya’s warm bed, the cold floor shocking her awake. She’s caught like a deer in headlights, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The sink is still running, cold water flowing over her hands as she stares at the physical evidence of her stress: deep eyebags, heavy below her tired eyes. She knows she's been staying up late, desperately trying to catch up on her studying, but… not this much, surely?
She thought she was doing a better job at hiding how the exams have been affecting her — have the others been able to tell? She’s supposed to be put together, she doesn’t want her friends worrying about her when they have more important things to be concerned about. She doesn’t want Mitsuki worrying about her – God, it’s probably too late for that now though. Guilt pools in Aya’s stomach, heavy and overwhelming. Mitsuki has her own exams to worry about and study for and because Aya can’t balance her priorities, Mitsuki is going to waste her time worrying about Aya.
It’s already happening, Aya thinks. Mitsuki, here, today, helping Aya study instead of focusing on herself. Did Mitsuki feel like she had to? Did she feel a sense of obligation because she noticed what a mess Aya has become — her heavy eyes, her scratched nail beds?
Aya turns the sink off and comes to a decision: in the morning, she’ll do a better job at hiding her stress, for the sake of her friends, and the sake of Mitsuki. It might place a greater distance between them, but it’s for the best, Aya tells herself. As much as it would hurt, the distance separating Aya and Mitsuki, Aya knows Mitsuki would understand—
“Oosawa-san?” The voice is gravelly from sleep and two quiet knocks follow it. At the sound of it, Aya goes rigid and she quickly wipes at her eyes — when did she start crying? She forgot her hands were still cold, however, and flinches at the feeling of them against her cheeks.
The voice, slightly more awake this time, speaks again and Aya can hear the worry dripping off of every word. “Oosawa-san, are you okay?”
Aya checks her reflection in the mirror; her eyes are red-rimmed and she looks exhausted. She sighs and unlocks the bathroom door, coming face-to-face with one sleep-tousled Mitsuki. Aya doesn’t speak, and she watches silently as Mitsuki takes in her dishevelled appearance.
Instead of saying anything, Mitsuki steps closer and pulls Aya in, wrapping her arms around Aya’s shoulders in a tight, secure hold. Aya freezes, her hands frozen hovering above Mitsuki’s back. She wants so desperately to wrap her arms around Mitsuki, but her own fears hold her back from reaching out.
Mitsuki, undeterred by Aya’s lack of reciprocation, begins to card her fingers through the hair along the nape of Aya’s neck and Aya can’t hold back the sob that forces its way out of her. The touch is so gentle , and Aya feels her knees buckle. Mitsuki, of course, steadies Aya and catches her weight without hesitation.
“You’re okay, it’s okay,” Mitsuki whispers, her voice soothing and grounding, into the space between them.
Aya’s cries are muffled, and she can’t find it in herself to worry about how her tears are soaking Mitsuki’s band-tee. It’s one of Mitsuki’s favourites to sleep in, and it feels so soft against her cheek. Aya wants to climb into it too, to share the warmth. Instead, she wraps her arms tightly around Mitsuki and presses her nose into the corner between Mitsuki’s neck and shoulder, breathing in the comforting smell of Mitsuki’s laundry detergent.
They stand like that for a few moments, the soft glow from the bathroom light illuminating their tight hold on each other. Aya focuses on the rhythmic motion of Mitsuki’s nails lightly scratching her neck until her head quietens and her eyes grow heavy.
Mitsuki must notice Aya’s crying has stopped as she steps back — not too far, to Aya’s relief — and guides her back to her room with a gentle, steadying hand on her back.
Mitsuki crawls in first, and sits up against the headboard. She looks up at Aya after she fluffs the pillows around her and smiles patiently up at her. “You coming in?”
Her limbs are heavy with fatigue, and so Aya drowsily climbs in after Mitsuki, allowing herself to be adjusted by Mitsuki's gentle hands. Aya rests her head on Mitsuki's chest and lets out a peaceful sigh when she hears the rhythmic beating of Mitsuki’s heart. One of Mitsuki’s hands finds the top of Aya’s head and begins to card through her hair, while the other wraps itself around Aya’s shoulders, holding her securely.
It’s silent for a few moments, Aya listening to the quiet drum of Mitsuki’s heart when she speaks, unable to hold her thoughts in any longer.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice sounds so small.
“Sorry? What for?” Aya tries to focus on the feeling of Mitsuki’s nails against her scalp instead of the panic itching beneath her skin.
“Everything.” Aya’s words are hushed, whispered into the dark room.
Mitsuki’s hand stills for a second before it continues its repetitive motion. “You don’t have anything to apologise for—”
“But I do .” Aya worries her bottom lip between her teeth, the weight of each word heavy on her tongue. “You shouldn’t be worrying about if I’m okay. You should be having fun,” Aya thinks of the others, laughing together without her. She doesn’t blame them, she just wishes she weren't so behind so that she could have a chance to catch up with them. What if they forget about her?
“I thought I could deal with it all on my own. Studying was hard, sure, but I thought I could manage by myself. And now look at me,” Aya sniffles quietly and wipes her nose with the sleeve of her jumper. “Crying like an idiot.”
Mitsuki pauses the movement of her hand and gently cups Aya’s cheek, tilting her head so Mitsuki can look into her eyes.
“You’re not an idiot. Nobody could deal with all this on their own.“ Mitsuki wipes away a few stray tears with her thumb and the action is so tender , Aya feels another wave of tears collecting along her waterline. “You are brave, and kind, and so incredibly smart. You are everything, but you are not an idiot.”
Each word is emphasised with a kiss to Aya’s forehead and Aya feels the warmth and love travel from her head down to her toes — she feels soaked in love.
“I’m sorry I pushed you away.” She whispers.
“I’m gonna ban you from apologising.” Mitsuki teases, with another kiss to her forehead.
It takes a little longer for Aya to fall asleep this time. She doesn’t want to leave the moment; Mitsuki’s fingers back in her hair, the moonlight casting the room in a gentle glow.
The stress hasn’t completely left Aya’s body, she can still feel it bubbling, threatening to take over at any moment. Being wrapped up, though, in Mitsuki's arms, Aya thinks she might have a chance at escaping its crushing weight.