Work Text:
As the sun rose and softly poured in through the cracks of the curtain, Koga Mitsuki yawned as she stared upon the album that she had been working on for days. weeks. months, even. It was complete, finally, the deluxe version of “Me to Her” that she dedicated to her beloved darling : Oosawa Aya, to just show her how much she meant to the guitarist.
And now, she just needed to make sure that Aya listened to it, in the most special way ever. She wanted it to be perfect, even. As she plopped down the mattress of her bed, her mind rushed to find ways she could give the album to Oosawa-san.
Not publicly this time, however, she has had enough of that.
She can text her a spotify playlist that started out normal, but at the end Aya can hear her deluxe album. Maybe they can go to a private place for that. Yea. The CD shop would work.
But only having the deluxe album seems… Boring? maybe? Not special enough. They listened to music together all the time, the sudden surprise with only the album would be too…. plain.
“...Oosawa-san would love the album, but… I want it to be more special.” Mitsuki muttered to herself. As she groaned from all the tiredness and soreness of staying up so late, she pulled out her phone to try and scroll for some ideas.
“What do lovers usually do when they want to present a special gift for their significant other?” She asked herself. Lovers. The word sounded so sweet to her, could Oosawa-san and her really be… lovers? She flushed slightly, rolling around on her other side as she clumsily searched up “How to present a gift for my lover”, a bit of her fingers messing up and making a few typos along the way due to her excitement.
As the results poured in, she clicked on the first link. She read the responses, eyes scanning the screen.
“1. Take the time to write a meaningful and sincere card.
2. Create a romantic atmosphere for the presentation of the gift.
3. Maybe add on small things to the gift to help heighten their excitement.”
The responses ran through her mind like a checklist. 1st one? Since it was a written song, check. 2nd one? What is considered romantic? What does Oosawa-san like?
3rd one
Small things? What qualifies as small? As she part-frantically google-searched her way, she found a few suggestions.
Cards, DIY, letters, gifts, baked goods, flowers..
Baked goods and flowers.
It sounded nice, a few days ago she heard from Oosawa-san that there are strawberry cookies from the bakery that she really liked, so maybe she can buy some from there, and some flowers too, there was a florist nearby, she thought.
“There are a few yuri works that Hime-san sent me, it seems this trope is very popular as well… maybe Oosawa-san will like it!” Mitsuki thought to herself, a smile soft on her face.
And so, she lifted herself out of bed, got briefly dressed and went outside. As she ignored the horrendous deep eyebags in her mirror, she walked out the door of the apartment and breathed the chilly air. It was nice, she thought, the fresh breeze hitting her barely-taken-care-of face. She thought about how Oosawa-san’s skin was not the same, hers was smooth, soft, almost like glass, and her makeup? always so beautiful, so pretty, so… daring at times, or maybe it’s because of the lighting, the smile that she always wore, the… everything that made Oosawa-san… her.
As she tucked herself in her jacket, she strolled through the tree-lined street, glancing around to view the scenery of her town. Even early in the morning, shops have already started to set up and start selling for the day. The chatter of the town was not so loud, but it was there, setting up some sort of lively scene to ready itself for the rush hour of the day. She kept an eye on the street, counting in her head to get to the florist’s, all while pondering how Oosawa-san would react when she heard the album for the first time.
She longed for that moment, for the first person to hear it in its original form wasn’t someone special, it was forced out, almost like an obligatory reaction she had to do to fend for herself and her pride. And she knew Oosawa-san wanted to hear it, she was so patient, so caring, she was her first fan, and she deserved to be the first one to be hearing her emotions, her vulnerability.
And yet she wasn’t, so that partly breaks her heart.
And now? She can actually listen to “Me to Her” and truly feel special.
Because she was her Oosawa-san, her Aya , her rockstar.
Mitsuki looked at the florist’s, the shop already set up and displayed with such wonderful rays of colors, each laying out with care and love from the craftsman themself. She wondered what flowers Oosawa-san liked. Oh shit, she forgot to ask before, what flowers do Oosawa-san like?!
“What would she like? Roses? Every girl likes roses, right?” Mitsuki thought to herself, viewing the flowers one by one as she try to pick them.. somehow. She was confused, what flowers should she get? As her eyes scanned the array of flowers displayed one by one, each sorted by color and type, she was lost. Mitsuki took a deep breath, trying to align herself and keep her composure.
“Do you need some help?” An employee asked. Mitsuki turned around, it was a middle-aged lady, who she knew as the florist. Her name was Miruka-san, as she remembered.
“Um…” Mitsuki froze, she fidgeted with her jacket pom poms briefly “I’m looking for flowers to gift.. my friend? I suppose?” Friend was a safe word, right?
“Ah, and what does your friend like?” Miruka-san asked
“I’m not sure..”
“Well, that’s tough” The florists smiled, she was gentle, sweet, and she held some sort of wisdom around her, she was holding a pair of scissors, cutting the rotten leaves off a beautiful sunflower “Do you want a bouquet of flowers or just a single?”
“A… A bouquet would be great, I suppose?” Mitsuki answered politely
“Mhm, got it” Miruka nodded “So, can you describe to me what your… friend is like? And why do you want to give them the bouquet?”
“Umm… basically I… I want to give her a piece of art..? that I made, and I want to give it to her as a.. group gift, like I give her flowers and cookies along with the art”
“I see, and how would you describe your… friend?”
“She’s strong,” Mitsuki replied, almost too quickly for her liking, “and grounded, she cares for others a lot, and she is bold, confident, and doesn’t dare to step back from standing up for me. She’s..” Mitsuki stopped, looking away, a tinted blush colored her face “...someone that has helped me shine, and is very special to me.”
“I can tell, that’s why you wanted her to gift the piece of art, no?” Miruka said, smiling “Well, floristry is an art of itself, and I am glad to be the artist to guide you. Based on your description, I feel like.. marigolds would fit your friend, along with goldenrods and lilies, I’ll assemble them for you”
As the florist went on to do her work, Mitsuki glanced at the option of flowers that Miruka had picked out for her. In some way, it feels like it fits Oosawa-san in a strangely comforting way, bold, shining, and just as beautiful. She counted her breaths mentally as she thought of how she described Oosawa-san, all those words she had spilled to a seeming stranger, and.. it was all true, Oosawa-san really was a special girl in her heart. And she was more than willing to do anything to make this reveal special.
=
The trip to the bakery was boring, she commented on herself. Nothing special, just a short 200m walk from the florist’s, holding a big bouquet of beautifully decorated flowers and her wallet a bit thinner than usual. Not like when she was at the florist’s, she knew what she wanted at the bakery, something sweet, strawberry, or lemon-flavored, just as Oosawa-san likes it, like a lot. She would probably fancy cute-shaped cookies, like bunnies or cats, or a simple shortcake that Oosawa-san always gushes about how good it tastes, specifically from this bakery and specifically only that type. The others? Oosawa-san didn’t have much to comment or gush about, but based on her face, it seemed like the taste didn’t provoke much of a positive reaction from her.
And so, the trip to the bakery was shorter and less intimidating as the trip to the florist’s. She would get in, ask for strawberry-flavored stuff (in pairs, since of course she wouldn’t let Oosawa-san eat the things alone, she knew that Oosawa-san would feel too guilty and ramble about how she’s gonna get fattened up and all that instead, which was not true at all.) However, when the bell chimed in and she asked for the food, word for word, script by script, she was met with the devastating news :
“Sorry, both strawberry and lemon are out of stock today, so we weren’t able to make any cakes or cookies around those.”
WHAT? THEY WERE OUT?
“I- um…” Mitsuki stuttered, her entire plan faltering in front of her eyes. No cookies? No cake? What can she do? The entire time she was walking, her mind was mentally fantasizing about a scene - her and Oosawa-san listening to the album together, eating cookies together as they giggle and maybe… sneak something, a kiss?
But without cookies, all her plans came fumbling down. It may be a small thing for many people, but for her, it is extremely important! The cookie factor is a big thing, and she can’t have the moment she thought of without cookies! What was she supposed to do NOW?
Mitsuki breathed in and breathed out, in the haze of slight panic, totally, she sat down,
Mitsuki sat on the bakery steps, bouquet resting beside her, fingers curling tightly around the empty space where her strawberry cookies should have been. “ Oh god. This isn’t good. at all. What should I do?” She thought to herself, fidgeting around with the bouquet ribbons. The cold morning breeze brushed her cheeks, but inside, a warm frustration bubbled up. Cookies were the key, they were supposed to be the key. but without them, what can Koga Mitsuki possibly do?
“ What if… what if I baked the cookies myself?”
Her eyes widened, heart fluttering with cautious hope. She wasn’t an expert, far from it. The last time she tried baking was months ago, and it was more of a disaster than a success. But this was different. This was for Oosawa-san. For her . For.. for her girlfriend, the love of her life.
Mitsuki stood up abruptly, she glanced at the time on her phone. It was early, she can possibly make some cookies for around 1 hour, 1 hour of preparation for THE HOLY DATE , and it’ll be 10 am when Oosawa-san comes. Great. It sounded perfect. a plan that was made just for her. Oosawa-san would love that she baked cookies for her. Especially when it’s her favorite.
She was already re-imagining all the things she can hear Oosawa-san say, especially if she did the cookies well. her chest warmed up again, smiling to herself as she stood up, clutching the flowers tighter. “Okay, okay, I can do this,” Mitsuki muttered to herself, determination stealing her voice. “I just need a recipe… something simple… strawberry cookies with icing, maybe? maybe a bit of decorations…”
She hurried to the nearby grocery store, the familiar bell chiming as she pushed through the doors. Her cheeks were still flushed from the chilly morning air, and her breath came in quiet puffs as she moved down the aisles, scanning shelves with focused eyes.
Flour? Two cups. She grabbed the bag and tucked it under her arm.
Sugar? A small bag of granulated sugar, lighter than she expected.
Butter? Softened butter wasn’t sold in a block like in the recipe, but she found a pack in the chilled section and carefully set it in her basket.
Baking powder, salt, eggs, vanilla extract… With each and every ingredient, she gathered each with careful precision, double-checking the labels, the amounts, making mental notes to follow the recipe exactly. The hardest part was Freeze-dried strawberries. The store didn’t have them, but after a quick search on her phone, she discovered a small convenience store a few blocks away that sold them as snacks. Mitsuki’s heart quickened as she made her way there, and finally, triumphantly, she held the small, crinkly packet in her hands.
Basket full, wallet a little lighter, she left the store, clutching her haul close like precious cargo. The guitarist checked her phone to see if Oosawa-san is online, she was perfect. She sent a quick text for her, eager to talk to her in any shape or form.
Koga :
Good morning Oosawa-san <3
Oosawa :
Morning Koga-san (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
Koga :
10am @ the CD store?
Oosawa :
huh?
Oosawa :
What for?
Koga :
It’s a surprise ;)
She smiled to herself. Genius. That’s what she felt like. Absolute mastermind. she had a 10/10 plan, and it was foolproof.
Back in her apartment, she spread out her phone on the kitchen counter, fingers trembling slightly as she bookmarked a beginner-friendly recipe complete with pictures and step-by-step instructions. She already had all the instructions, now she just have to SOMEHOW REMARKABLY PERFECTLY replicate it.
First, preheat the oven. She thought to herself while reading the instructions. Mitsuki set the dial carefully to 175°C, watching the little red light glow. The soft hum of the oven warming filled the quiet kitchen like a promise.
Next, mix dry ingredients. Mitsuki sifted together two cups of flour, a teaspoon of baking powder, and a pinch of salt. The flour puffed up in a soft cloud. Mitsuki jumped a bit, frightened by the sudden action. She was very skittish, and it was then, cream of butter and sugar. She grabbed the softened butter from the fridge, pale and cold in her hands, and mashed it with three-quarters of a cup of sugar. The wooden spoon scraped against the bowl as the mixture turned grainy. “Is this how it’s supposed to look?” she whispered, eyes flicking back to the recipe photo. She kept stirring until the mixture looked creamy and pale.
Cracking the egg was next. She tapped it on the edge of the bowl, but half the shell slipped in. “No! No, no, no!” Panic prickled through her chest as she fished out the tiny fragments, her fingers sticky with egg white.
Great. strike one. first disaster.
As she cleaned the egg in the bowl, she let out a small sigh. It wasn’t that big, just a little mishap. She quickly redid the egg and it was okay again. Mitsuki was back on track. Afterwards, the guitarist-now-temporary-baker added a teaspoon of vanilla extract, inhaling the sweet scent.
Slowly, she folded the dry ingredients into the wet, stirring gently as the dough clumped together. It was sticky, soft, and full of promise. She crushed a handful of freeze-dried strawberries she had managed to find at the convenience store earlier, folding the bits carefully into the dough like precious jewels.
Her hands were clumsy, uneven, but she tried her best. The dough was a little hard to control, and she knew most bakers take at least 2-3 tries to perfect the way they can knead the dough and shape it to whatever monstrosity they would like to create. Scooping spoonfuls of dough onto a parchment-lined baking sheet, she pressed each into a flat circle, hands trembling with nervous excitement. “Not too big, not too small… just right,” she muttered, counting them in her head. But she knew she was lying to herself.
What the actual fuck is the normal cookie dough aligment? Mitsuki read somewhere that cookie dough in the oven will expand, so it just makes things hard. She wasn’t sure how to spread the dough properly, so she just tried to replicate the picture alignment as much as possible. It was adequate, she would tell herself, but she knew whatever she was doing was far from fine.
The tray went into the oven, and Mitsuki set the timer for twelve minutes. She leaned against the counter, heart pounding, waiting for the magic to happen.
The timer beeped. She pulled the tray out and reached for a cookie — only for it to crumble between her fingers, a dry pile of powder.
Another cookie broke apart in the same way. Too crumbly, too bland. Her chest tightened and her hands trembled as she sank to the floor, head resting against the cool kitchen cabinets.
Her perfect plan was falling apart, one broken cookie at a time. She was devastated. Mitsuki looked at the clock, it was 9:02. No big deal. Oosawa-san wouldn’t be here for another hour, and she can still make another batch!
One more time. Just once more. I can fix this. I know where I went wrong. Too much flour, probably. Maybe I overbaked them too. The internet says ovens lie sometimes. Whatever. I can do this.
The words of her own encouragement helped her move on, she knew she had to try her best and make the showcase of her deluxe album Perfect. She knew she would do anything for Oosawa-san to be utterly impressed, happy, everything. Besides, she had always meant to try and do something to celebrate Oosawa-san passing the exam, especially after all the stress she has gone through.
She set everything up again. Clean bowl. Clean counter. Another tray of ingredients. More flour. Another egg. A little more hope.
She began with the wet ingredients this time. Butter first, sugar second — though she accidentally measured the sugar with the wrong cup, the one meant for flour. “Wait, was that… a third of a cup or half?” she muttered, staring at the now-half-empty sugar bag. She shrugged it off, figuring it would be fine. Sugar was sugar, right? She could just… add a bit more vanilla.
Or two teaspoons. Oops. That poured out a little too fast.
And then the egg.
She grabbed one from the carton and cracked it straight in. The yolk broke, bleeding gold across the butter like an ink stain. Then she remembered — She forgot to cream the butter and sugar first.
“Shit,” she whispered, staring at the gloopy mess.
Still, she stirred.
It didn’t come together the way it did before. The butter didn’t melt in quite the same way. The sugar was uneven. The egg made it runny — almost soupy — and the vanilla just sort of floated on top, like perfume in a puddle.
She kept stirring, stubbornly. Maybe it will work out in the end.
She added the flour mixture in small batches, but it didn’t fold gently like before. It clumped in places, refused to mix in others. And when she added the strawberries… It looked wrong. Like a paste, not a dough.
Still, she scooped it onto the tray, shaping the blobs as best she could.
This time, they didn’t flatten. They didn’t even spread. They just sat there like awkward little mounds, baking unevenly. When she pulled them out, some were still raw in the middle, others burnt on the bottom. One had completely melted into an amoeba of half-baked pink goo.
Mitsuki stared at the tray, lips pressed tight, the silence of her apartment somehow louder than before.
Her phone buzzed for a bit, but she noticed it wasn’t from Oosawa-san, so she didn’t bother checking it.
Either way, she didn’t want to waste the ingredients. So she put them in the oven, set the timer, and waited for the ping.
This time, however, the ping didn’t come up when it was supposed to. The oven’s mechanics must’ve been a bit broken, because after a good amount of time without any notice of the oven, she suddenly smelled a bit of smoke. Wasn’t alarming fire smoke, but smoke nonetheless. She frantically dropped to the oven floor. Then she turned the oven off manually.
Too late. As she opened the oven door, she almost burnt herself by just how hot the oven was. She let out a small shriek, holding her hand tightly. She forgot her gloves! And so she took the gloves, quickly took the tray, set it on the table, and coughed out the mess.
The tray hit the counter with a dull clunk , and what sat on it was nothing short of culinary devastation.
The cookies (if she could still call them that) had lost all form. Some had oozed outward like slow-moving lava, forming uneven, crusted puddles that clung stubbornly to the parchment paper like dried glue. Their edges were scorched, curled up in crisp black ridges, while the centers remained pale and sunken, sticky to the touch and slightly raw. One of them had fused into the next, creating a sort of lopsided, conjoined lump that looked vaguely like a brain.
Pink streaks from the strawberries bled across the surface, some burnt into a deep reddish brown that smelled more like caramelized jam gone wrong than anything sweet. The sugar had clumped in places, leaving behind shiny, hardened blisters that crackled under her finger. A few pieces had bubbled oddly, as if rejecting their own structure mid-bake, and collapsed inward, forming crater-like pits.
The parchment was dotted with greasy spots, the butter having escaped and pooled beneath the cookies, now soaked through into a translucent, oily map of failure. Thin wisps of smoke still drifted from the worst of them, a bitter reminder of time gone just a little too long.
And then, the smell… Oh god the smell. not just burnt, but layered. Burnt sugar. Burnt flour. Burnt strawberry. The once-delicate scent of vanilla now clung to the air like a ghost of what it was supposed to be, buried under the acrid sharpness of overcooked everything. A sensory nightmare, she would say. And she was already coughing her way into hell.
She looked at the clock, 10:01. And speak of the devil, she heard someone walk into the shop. Since her uncle was overseas to be with Kanna, she was in charge of the shop. And she knew only one person would be here precisely at 10.
Oosawa-san was here.
She scrambled to her feet, nearly slipping on the glossy page of the recipe printout she had dropped earlier. Her socks skidded slightly against the linoleum, and for a moment, she considered pretending she wasn’t home. But she already knew that knock… the rhythm of it, patient but certain.
She had to suck it up, so she showed up to the CD room. She was less than cool or anything, and she knew so. The cookie dough stuck to her clothes like insane, she was messy, less than attractive. As she glanced at Oosawa-san, she felt guilty. Oosawa-san was so beautiful. her flowing pink-salmon hair was like silk, her makeup perfect and soft, her clothes… stylish and pink. It was all so beautiful. And yet she was in this state, to showcase her album.
Maybe she’ll delay it, even, showcasing the album. this was a less than ideal situation for that. But now, there was something else on her mind.
“Koga-san!” Oosawa-san said, her voice a bit higher than usual “What happened?”
“I… um… I tried baking cookies for you, but uhm… it made a bit of a mess, you know?” She explained herself, looking away sheepishly as she fidgeted with her clothes. Mitsuki recently had gained a lot of confidence, she was more bold, more assured of herself. Especially compared to when she started school. But in front of Oosawa-san? she was skittish again, frightful, everything. She was a bit afraid of how Oosawa-san would react, of how things will be when she had wanted the showcase of her deluxe album to the girl she loved most and yet… she was here, messy, no cookies, no nothing.
Well, at least she had the flowers. She supposed. She showed it and handed it over to Oosawa-san. The pink-haired girl’s eyes lit up at the vary of flowers and just how beautifully it was displayed. murmuring a thank you, she looked at the flowers, then at Mitsuki again. Mitsuki looked away again, trying to utter out an explanation
“I.. I have a surprise for you, and uhm.. I wanted to show it to you and give you flowers and cookies, but.. the bakery ran out of your favorites, so I tried to bake it on my own. and it was a disaster.. I’m sorry, Oosawa-san.” She tried to say.
Oosawa-san stared at Mitsuki again, a surprised expression laid on her face, soft, warm, beautiful.
“Koga-san… you.. you shouldn’t have gone through all this trouble” Oosawa-san said, smiling softly “What was the surprise?”
“I… here” Mitsuki said, before handing her a CD disk. “I felt bad that the album I dedicate to you was listened to by someone that wasn’t.. that wasn’t my biggest fan, my first fan, someone that i love with my whole heart. Who was… you, so I made a deluxe version for you to listen to. I spent a lot of time making it..”
…
The gyaru’s eyes widened. Her expression is more clear now. Blush slowly tinted her cheeks, a soft pink-reddish tone, she held the CD case, and opened it. She looked at it and the song selection was written. Then she saw a note. A note dedicated to her.
“To Oosawa Aya,
You are my first fan, my first love, the person who have helped me through in life.
Please accept this deluxe album as what I want to say to you through my heart.
I love you,
Koga Mitsuki”
Oosawa-san stood there in the soft silence of the CD room, the bouquet of flowers now resting in the crook of her elbow, her other hand trembling just slightly as it held the CD case open. Her eyes scanned the note again, and again, and again, as if to make sure she hadn’t misread it. As if seeing the words in Mitsuki’s handwriting would help her believe them more fully.
Her lips parted, but no words came out at first. Just breathe. Shallow, careful. Her gaze lifted to Mitsuki again.
And in that moment, all of the pink haired girl's usual bravado, the polished charm of the stylish gyaru, the sweet tone and teasing words she often wore like armor — all of it peeled back like petals falling from a bloom. To be fair, it was always like that when she got to be with Mitsuki. But.. Now, it was like unwrapping something deeper, something more personal within the two of them, a small link that intertwines their souls together, and to burst out just all the love that Oosawa-san held for her.
“Koga-san,” she said quietly, her voice softer than Mitsuki had ever heard it — raw, almost trembling, “you wrote this… for me?”
Mitsuki could only nod. Her mouth was too dry to speak. Her pulse was pounding so loudly in her ears it almost drowned out her thoughts.
Oosawa-san closed the CD cover, and leaned in to give Mitsuki a kiss.
This was nowhere near their first kiss, they have kissed a few times before, but just like the first time they did, it was magical. Sweetening.
Mitsuki could taste Oosawa-san’s strawberry lip tint, its smell was so sweet, so stunning, but the taste wasn’t like strawberries at all, moreso it was a dull taste of vaseline and a bit of sweetened taste of chemicals, nonetheless, she can’t help but smile. Oosawa-san’s lips were soft, well-taken care of, and she felt bad for not wearing chapstick earlier, her lips are so dry now, especially after the lack of water she had and just how little product she actually has. Her girlfriend must think her lips are so chapped!
But nonetheless, the two girls continued to melt into the kiss, embracing each other tightly, before Oosawa-san pulled away softly.
The two’s eyes met each other, and it was like prom again, when all the eyes in the crowd lead Mitsuki to the one and only Oosawa Aya
“I… I love you, Oosawa-san” Mitsuki confessed
“Call me… Call me Aya”
“...I love you, Aya-chan”
The name sounded so natural on the tip of her tongue, the sense of familiarity getting to her as if it was always there,
but to think about it, there was always a sense of familiarity between the two of them. Whether it’s from the music they share to each other, to the simple dynamics that just makes their interactions and everyday lives seem more natural, almost as if the entire world was empty until the two of them met, and their lives just clicked into one another.
Almost as if they were soulmates, and they were bound to be together, to meet, and to love.
“...”
The silence dragged on between them, but it was in no way awkward. Mitsuki smiled, then kissed Aya softly again. The gyaru giggled a bit, and the two both had a hearty laugh out of pure happiness.
“Come on, I know how to bake cookies, if there’s ingredients left I’ll re-bake it for you” Aya smiled, pulling away softly as she gestured for Mitsuki to let her go into the kitchen. Mitsuki nodded, and she knew she HAD to marry this femme.
Cleaning up the mess wasn’t an easy task, but re-baking everything was much better. The two had a fun time baking together, turns out Aya, despite not having much experience, was a relatively decent baker, unlike some butch whose name starts with an M. It was a relaxing time, much less frightening and stressful than when Mitsuki was fumbling to make the cookies in time for Aya to come. Now, they had less restraints in time, a more actually experienced baker, who is a beautiful pink-haired femme, she may add as a bonus, so needless to say, they ahd fun with their date.
Aya loved the album. a lot. Mid baking when listening to the CD (They turned it on while the started baking), she almost cried, The gyaru doesn’t fancy crying much, especially when it messes with her makeup, but when listening to Mitsuki’s raw words, the songwriting, just everything oh god, she can’t help but shed tears.
“Aya-chan!” Mitsuki gasped out, looking at the tears rolling down Aya’s face “U-Uhm… please.. please don’t cry…” She said, wiping off some tears from her beautiful face, trying her best not to smear her girlfriend’s makeup
“I can’ttt” Aya whined “Your songs are just so goooodddd, I love it so muchhh”
“I- uhm… thank you” Mitsuki said timidly “I’m glad you like it”
“Mitsuki-san?”
Mitsuki was caught off-guard by the first name basis
“Can I.. Can I call you that?”
“yes, of course Aya-chan”
“I.. thank you for this, for everything.” Aya said, smiling as she looked into Mitsuki’s eyes “You are very talented, and.. I love you”
“I love you too” Mitsuki said almost immediately (DESPERATE BUTCH) “You are very special to me, Aya-chan”
“You are too”
And upon hearing those words, Mitsuki knew that whatever comes between them, whatever blues or sadness that come by, the two would stick together, support each other, and love each other.
It was magical, really, they were really soulmates. two puzzle pieces that were missing each other, that upon meeting drastically improved and changed their life for the better. Both Mitsuki and Aya feel the same. When they met each other, they shined more brightly, they smiled more brightly, because they had each other, their support, their love, their bond.
Oosawa Aya and Koga Mitsuki were really meant for each other.
And as they knew and realized that together, the two kissed each other again, smiling and giggling while they forgot the cookies that ever existed in the oven.
(Spoiler alert. they were slightly overcooked due to these FAGGOTS forgetting about them slightly, but they tasted good with some icing, so no worries.)