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Sayo hummed softly to herself. Baking cookies was a pleasant, relaxing activity. It reminded her of the better parts of her childhood, of sneaking bits of dough from the bowl and Kumasawa giggling with a knowing glint in her eyes and a smile on her wrinkled face. Kumasawa would always give her some of the cookies, even when they were meant for their employers, picking out the ‘ugly’ ones or intentionally breaking one by lifting it from the baking tray too soon or sometimes just saying that she needed a taste tester. Back then, she had been innocent, and all of the cruelty she had experienced had been easy to push aside.
This was better than her childhood, though. Rather than sneaking cookies from her masters' plates, she was baking cookies for herself and someone she loved. It was a little silly, but she believed that the feelings she held within her heart would make the sweets richer and more lovely. Even though they were simple chocolate cookies, she'd make them heart-shaped and planned to make strawberry frosting to top them with. It wasn't enough to convey everything. But surely, it would be enough for the other person to understand.
The door to the apartment opened, and Sayo whirled around in surprise. They had expected to have a little more time, and smiled sheepishly.
"You're back early," they greeted.
Erika shrugged as she set down her bag and took off her shoes. "Hm. Does that ruin anything?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Ah, um…" Sayo bit their lip. "I guess it wouldn't have been a secret too long, anyway," they confessed.
Erika sniffed the air, like a dog catching the scent of their quarry. A smile spread across her face. "Something for Valentine's Day?"
Their face reddened. "I wanted to finish before you got back… You can try some of the cookies now, but I was going to ice them."
Erika had seemed like a predator before, but now she softened. She was beautiful when she was sharp, a piece of broken glass catching the light, but she was beautiful like this too. The mellowed bitterness and reluctant sweetness often reminded Sayo of dark chocolate or coffee, and she wanted to swallow it all up.
"You're a fool," she muttered. "You can't keep secrets from a detective for long."
They giggled. "Then, do you want to help make the frosting while the cookies cool, Miss Detective?"
Erika's cheeks turned pink, but she looked smug. "Sure. I can help you," she sniffed.
Sayo stepped forward, taking Erika's hand. "They're for you, you know."
Erika scoffed. "I know. They wouldn't be for anyone else."
They squeezed her hand. "Still. They're for you," they whispered, and pecked her lips.
I'm for you, Sayo thought but did not say: Erika wouldn’t accept such sappy, romantic words. Erika was a creature of logic, a creature of the material. She required tangible proof of every claim: a kiss for each loving word, a gift for every promise of devotion. It wasn’t due to shallowness or greed, but distrust and fear.
She turned away to retrieve strawberry puree from the fridge - she’d prepared it earlier and set it aside to cool. “Could you find the confectioners’ sugar?”
Erika swiftly retrieved it. “So, strawberries,” she noted, glancing at the bowl of puree. “You know, Freud wrote about them once.”
Sayo rolled their eyes. “That philosophy class you’re taking is doing awful things to your brain,” they huffed as they measured out sugar and butter to mix with the puree. “If I have to hear about Freud’s ridiculous theories one more time -”
“It’s not as if you’re any better about Foucault,” Erika shot back. “If I have to hear a lecture about surveillance one more time…”
“Foucault was a visionary,” Sayo insisted. “Unlike Freud, who was too scared to confront incestual abuse and made up nonsense to cover it up.”
“Perhaps the truth is that far more children have incestual desires than you think~” Erika chirped, smirking, clearly trying to goad Sayo into a long, ridiculous debate.
They could only sigh and shake their head, choosing to focus on mixing together the strawberry frosting rather than sinking to Erika’s level. Erika was a shark that struck whenever she smelled blood, but sometimes that blood was nothing more than the scent of a good, idiotic argument that she would love to get lost in for hours. They’d already spent entire weekends shouting at each other about the virtues and flaws of Freud and Foucault, and were both well aware that Erika was being preposterous. Freud was a crock of a scientist, and Erika was merely coping with her required philosophy class by baiting Sayo into tearing the man’s work to shreds.
Though… They smiled and hummed. “So, when are you going to ask Riyu-san on a date? Tell me all about your ‘incestual desires’, Erika~”
Erika’s face went white, and she mimed vomiting. “Gross.” She scowled, but didn’t say anything else.
Sayo giggled and moved onto frosting the cookies, carefully spreading pastel pink frosting onto chocolate hearts. “Do you want to try one?” She proffered one to Erika, who snatched it and took a bite.
“Decent,” Erika concluded - and scarfed down that cookie, and several more after that. “Thank you for the Valentine’s Day gift,” she mumbled, face turning the faintest shade of pink. “I didn’t forget, you know.”
They smiled expectantly. “So, is there something for me, too?”
“Nothing that exciting,” Erika insisted, and went over to her bag, retrieving a small box from within. She thrust it out unceremoniously. “Here.”
Sayo carefully undid the pink ribbon holding the box closed, and then took off the lid. “Oh! It’s lovely.”
Erika had foregone sweets in favor of jewelry: a heart-shaped pendant. “It’s not real gemstones, just sparkling glass,” she muttered. “Unlike some people, I’m not rich.”
They didn’t even laugh at the jab, too busy staring. “Can I try it on?” It was a deep blue, the color of the ocean, or of the depths of their eyes. That… was probably why Erika had picked out this color… …Despite her voiced disdain for sappy romance, she was prone to it herself at times.
“Of course, unless you want it to collect dust,” Erika replied. “Do you like it?” There was something suspiciously, painfully close to vulnerability in her voice.
Sayo undid the clasp and put it around her neck. As she clasped it shut, the heart glittered in the light. “I love it.” She reached out to stroke Erika’s cheek, her thumb wiping away a crumb of chocolate cookie, and then kissed her. The faint, lingering taste of chocolate and strawberries, crafted by Sayo’s own hand, spilled onto her tongue.
“Good,” Erika murmured in the wake of the kiss, a reassurance to herself rather than one of her usual bold claims. “Good.”
‘I love you’, Sayo did not say in return - the words were too bold, too cutting, too difficult to believe. Instead - “Want more cookies?”
Erika fashioned herself a haughty, bold smile, befitting a noble lady, and nodded.
If the words couldn’t be believed, if they would rip the throat when spoken, then crystallize them: turn them into embraces and kisses, mold them into cookies and cakes, melt them into necklaces and rings. That would be enough, for now. Sayo herself found those words difficult - how easy was it to lie, and how difficult was it to tell the truth… Their ways were twisted, but Erika, who had clung to the truth until it had split her palms open, understood them. Whether it was in rejecting reality, or in drowning within it, the world was too cruel to accept easily, and love was too wicked to easily swallow. Love was something as sweet as chocolate, yet as bitter as blood.
They could wait a little longer to say those words aloud - they heard them regardless - unspoken and lovely, delicate and strange. A sweet illusion they both wished they could believe in.