Archive of Our Own

Time stops. An overwhelming amount of pink—a color that leaves a familiar dull ache in her heart, meets her gaze. 

The pencil in Ena’s grip tightens and all the years spent trying to separate feelings of fondness, bitterness, associated with the color, spiral back in a way that constricts her lungs. She doesn’t breathe, or maybe she can’t. Her brown gaze doesn’t dare to leave the billboard that leaves her skin searing. All she can do is stare as it stares back. 

The reveal of Akiyama Mizuki’s featured line is set to be revealed on 10.31.22—Please look forward to it! 

It’s almost unbelievable, ironic even. Endless efforts to avoid just the mention of their name, and they still manage to strum their way into her life after all of these years. 

Ena’s mind is numb and she’s for once thankful that the train she relies on to commute is obnoxiously loud today. And thankfully, said train whisks away and leaves the billboard behind in the blink of an eye. 

It’s suddenly hard to swallow for some reason, but she turns her attention back in a poor attempt to focus on the sketchpad that stares back at her, blank and mockingly. 

Focus on work.

But it seems that time has been kind to Mizuki at least. An unintentional, but not unwelcome update after what? Four, five years? 

Good for them.

Tossing her pencil onto the pad, the brunette brings her face into her palms with a shaky sigh. She wants off this train expeditiously, the comfort of her apartment sounding incredibly appealing now.

Ena forces herself to focus on the subtle patter of rain against the window, or the dull ongoing conversations suffocating around her. Whatever can offer the respite she seeks as comfort. She almost misses the way the train halts at another stop, bringing about sudden movement from the passengers, causing her to begrudgingly lift her head from her palms. 

As passengers exit, even more enter and fill available seats. The seat next to Ena’s is left unoccupied however, and she thinks this is her lucky day despite certain circumstances. In an effort to enjoy the extra leg room, she stretches out her stiff arms that ache and pop—until brown meets pink for the second time today. 

Ena doesn’t breathe. 

Something slams into her chest, wrenching the air from her lungs again—it’s their face, it’s them. 

It’s Mizuki. 

The aching familiarity and warmth that follows them, the subtle pink hue to their eyes that are now wide in panic, the curve of their parted lips, the soft slope of their unmarked jaw. And Ena can’t believe it when she sees it; the ever familiar, unmistakable, crimson bow still donned after all this time.

The years have been severely generous to Mizuki in more ways than one at least. 

They gawk at each other, both of them seemingly at a loss for words. Ena never planned for this day to come and she sure as hell doesn’t know what to do now, because the more she looks at Mizuki from across the train, the less thoughts she has in her head. Her brain isn’t equipped for this—she’s never anticipated, for some stupid reason even though they live in the same city, to ever see them again after what had happened years ago. The night before graduation.

Mizuki is the first to tear their gaze away from Ena’s, she watches their eyes silently searching and hoping for another available seat. A quiet huff that only the ever perceptive Ena can notice and they hesitantly decide to come forward. Tentative, careful, steps are taken until they’re only a few feet away from her. 

“…Is this seat open?” Their voice is above a whisper and her stomach flips. Distant and unfamiliar. And yet a voice Ena can never forget as much as she tried, and she tried so hard. 

And then, the years of longing ache twists into something else. Confusion. Annoyance. Hurt. She isn’t sure, but being regarded as a stranger, by Mizuki of all people. 

She hates it. 

“You can sit here,” Ena remarks evenly, betraying the way her heart picks up in tempo. 

With that, Mizuki shrinks into the seat before the train sets off towards its next destination. 

Mizuki thickly swallows and squirms in their seat. “I can move after the next stop if you’d like? I don’t want to—”

“Mizuki.”

It’s so hard to say their name now. It used to be so easy.

And despite that, Ena steels herself into looking directly into their gaze, their eyes fill to the brim with apprehension and uncertainty. She quickly dismisses the thought of how the subtle look reminds her of the very night the two of them went their separate ways years ago. Right now, she wants, no, needs to drive a point across to them. 

“You don’t have to move. It’s—It’s nice being able to see you again.” She truly means it. She’s always just wanted what’s best for them. Ena’s heart beats so fast, nothing could have prepared her for this moment. 

“…Alright.” A small nod and Mizuki now busies themselves by picking at their nails in their lap. A bad habit Ena is familiar with all too well. 

And because she never makes it easy for herself, Ena allows herself to indulge at the way the years have treated Mizuki up close. 

Their lightly dusted makeup hasn’t changed, neither has their trend of pale pink eyeliner, or the way the corners of their pretty lips quirk up awkwardly when they’re nervous. And the ever infamous crimson bow, but instead of them using it to gather their pink locks into a ponytail; it’s used to gather half of their hair up, while the rest of it falls loosely past their shoulders. 

I’m really glad they’re doing well.

With a thud, Ena lets her head fall against the cool window; closing her eyes in hopes that the soft patter of rain can steady her breathing and untangle her messy thoughts. She almost can’t believe what she hears next. 

“It’s nice being able to see you too, Ena.” 

Ena’s eyes shoot open. Their voice is so careful, shaky and uneven, but not devoid of warmth. 

Or of sincerity. 

Something in her heart snaps at the realization that they settled for just her name and not the nickname Ena has grown so fond of over the years. A nickname that was more often than not laced with affection and adoration.

It should’ve been obvious, but a part of her was a little hopeful that the years apart had remedied feelings between them. Hopeful, wishful, ignorant, stupid thinking. 

Instead, she watches as they chew on their bottom lip anxiously. Their gaze diverts away, their arm angles just enough to keep a sizable gap between them both on the arm rest.

Ena blinks. The realization finally dawned on her. 

Despite all, Mizuki is still happy to see her. 

And so she bites the bullet. 

“…How have you been? How’s work?”

There. Something simple, not too invasive. Nothing that ought to make her heart ache more than it does.

“I’ve been good. I certainly can’t complain…” a beat, a breath held on tight, “…and work has been busy. I have an event next month actually.”

Ena’s pulse is erratic, the way Mizuki offers her a small smile, probably hoping to alleviate some of the unspoken tension. Her heart swells with relief. 

“I just saw a huge billboard for it.” Ena returns the smile—albeit slightly forced, she hopes Mizuki doesn’t notice. “…You’ve been busy. I’m really happy for you.” 

They don’t miss a beat. “And how have you been? I can see you’re still drawing,” their finger motions to the blank sketchpad in her lap. “Or well—trying too?” 

Mizuki’s signature smirk and annoying lilt. And a tease. Mizuki is teasing her. Almost as if the years haven’t formed this daunting, strained rift between the two.

Ena blinks twice, realizing she's staring at them longer than necessary. She clears her throat and forcefully slams her sketchpad closed with an added eye roll. 

“Yeah well for some of us, inspiration doesn’t come as easy now does it?” 

She cringes at the unintentional venomous tone that exceeds her. Ena has always been perceptive, and sure, maybe to a fault. So she doesn’t miss the way Mizuki’s gaze falters at her response, or the way they whip their head towards the front of the train; the way their grip along the hem of their skirt turns their knuckles pale white. 

Did she say something wrong? Maybe it was the delivery? Mizuki of all people should be well aware how she can enter the worst type of art block known to mankind, this isn't anything new. 

So why does this particular comment hit a nerve, albeit unintentionally? 

A fake cough and Mizuki brings a pretty hand up to the nape of their neck, rubbing awkwardly. “I hope you can beat your art block soon then...” 

The sentiment is soft, awkward even, but never lacking the typical Mizuki Akiyama™ sincerity Ena has grown to know well over the years. 

A trait she will always love about them. 

And with that final sentiment came a pregnant, long, drawn out silence between the two. Their quiet exchange is now replaced with the lull of passengers' ongoing conversations and the piercing engine belonging to the train. 

This is all too much at once. 

I need to get off this train now. 

She can feel the way Mizuki is squirming next to her, probably from the heavy tension that permeates through the air. They’ve never been good with this type of stuff. Anyway, it’d be best for the both of them if they just cut the painful small talk short and just wait for their respective stops—

“Are you being commissioned for any work at the moment?” 

Ena feels her stomach flip and forces her gaze away from the foggy window and back onto Mizuki—who is currently sporting a forced smile. 

So much for limiting the idle chatter. 

“…Not at the moment, no. But Miss Inoue says I should be expecting something soon.” 

Mizuki solemnly nods at this, despite not knowing who this Miss Inoue individual was. She figures they wouldn’t pry about her either.  

Miss Inoue is Ena’s supervisor, manager, boss, advisor? of sorts. The two of them have always struggled on deciding what to label her position as—just that she was her esteemed art professor during undergrad and Ena values her insight more than anything, almost as much as she valued Kanade’s praise back during her juvenile years. So now Ena relies on her to forward her any commission opportunities through her sea of industry connections. 

And maybe as a shoulder to lean on whenever Ena has the urge to vent about anything and everything. Which is quite often these days. 

Ena lets her posture fall a tad and finally relaxes into the seat. This is fine actually. She can do this. Their conversations are teetering the line of incredibly tame and entirely distant, part of her hates it, despises it even. But she understands why it has to be this way. For both of them. 

“So…”

The brunette raises an eyebrow at them. 

“So…?”

Mizuki’s insistent squirming returns. “If you aren’t too busy. I was just wondering…” A pause as they idly play with a thread hanging off the end of their sleeve. 

“…If you aren’t busy or anything, would you want to come to my event? Or maybe even to the dress rehearsals if you want. A few of our friends will be at the actual showing. I totally understand if not though, no pressure or anything.” Their animated hands wave around, trying to diminish the severity of what they’re insinuating—another charming habit of theirs. 

Mizuki is rambling now. They’re rambling and suddenly Ena’s chest feels like it may collapse in itself, crushing every internal organ of hers and more. Maybe she gave herself too much credit earlier because she absolutely cannot do this. It's like going from zero to one hundred in emotional whiplash. 

“I don’t know Mizuki…” 

They wave their hands even faster at her apprehension, a forced laugh trying to alleviate their candid disappointment. 

“I said no pressure Ena. Even if you think about it, that’s more than enough for me.” 

Ena sighs heavily and before she knows it, the train comes to a sudden halt, announcing her stop and several others. She's actually saved by the bell.

So why does she feel immense disappointment that their exchange, albeit painful, has to end here?

“This is my stop Mizuki,” as she gathers her sketchpad against her chest and adjusts her bag on her shoulder, Ena stands. Mizuki follows suit to allow her space between them to cross their seat. 

“…It was really nice getting to see you again after all of these years, I’m glad you’re seemingly doing well.” 

Ignoring the ache in her heart, she offers them a small nod and a soft smile, preparing to depart until Mizuki catches their wrist in their typical delicate fashion. It’s enough to stop Ena in her tracks, and she thinks her soul escapes her body at that moment. 

Ena gapes at them and then down at her wrist, and then back at Mizuki again. Before they can think twice, Mizuki carefully places a pink card in Ena’s hand and releases their grip in a hurry. Their gaze is everywhere, anywhere, but on her. 

“That’s my card. Erm—it has the address of the venue, even the office number if you have any questions. You can just ask for me. Or not.” A pause, until their pale pink eyes widen in shock. “That is, if you decide to come. Again. No pressure Ena.” 

All she can do is stare dumbly at the card in her possession now. This can’t be real life. Her wrist is searing in eternal heat where Mizuki had held it just a few seconds ago, it all leaves her head spinning. Ena nearly misses the last call for departing passengers and takes a step back. And another one. Until she turns to face away from Mizuki and is out of the train without another word.  

And she swears she hears a final, “…It was nice seeing you too, Enanan.” Before the doors close and the train is whisked away as quickly as it had stopped. 

She must have misheard, because there’s no possible way she was given the luxury of hearing the very nickname she so desperately sought after to hear again for years. 

Without a second thought, she shoves the card into her pocket. If she doesn’t acknowledge its existence, she can pretend this meeting never happened. 

She simply left Miss Inoue’s studio that afternoon, had terrible stomach cramps all throughout the train ride home, and is looking forward to the comforts of her own bed. That’s right. 

And so Ena beelines to the nearest alleyway. Out of nerves, her sketchpad falls and hits the ground with a heavy thud and papers scatter aimlessly. Her hands find purchase on her knees and she squeezes her eyes shut, ignoring the way she feels tears welling up inside her, or the way her entire body is trembling to the touch. Her pocket weighs heavy, scalding, against her body—the only proof she has that the fateful exchange was not a fever dream and most certainly did happen.  

She was so happy to see Mizuki. Ecstatic, that they are doing so well. 

So why does she want to cry right now? 

The question is ridiculous because she absolutely knows why. The years of yearning, lack of closure, of wondering what all went wrong. Years of trying to avoid just the mere mention of their name. It’s all surfacing up too quickly, she feels like she may drown. 

Several years ago. 

Ena’s fingers delicately find themselves wrapped around endless pink locks splayed across Mizuki’s back. Her brows furrow in concentration as she dutifully focuses on braiding their partners' endless waves of hair. Light vanilla intermingled with their signature sweet perfume engulf her very being to the core. All sweet things that remind her of Mizuki. 

Her Mizuki.  

If not for the moon’s illuminating glow, she would miss the way Mizuki’s ears burn pink, or the way their eyes flutter shut whenever she grazes her nails against their scalp with a hushed laugh. 

“If I knew all I had to do to get you to shut up was to play with your hair, I’d do it more often.” 

Mizuki smirks, “Enanan, you have such a way with words! Not sure why you don’t write our lyrics sometimes.” 

She rolls her eyes and tugs a strand of their hair–definitely not on purpose. 

“Ouch ouch ouch! That was uncalled for…” They purse their lips into a fake pout and cross their arms in front of their chest. “Don't make me call Little Brother into your room.” 

Another tug, except harder this time. 

“Enanan!!”

“Don’t mention my brother now of all times then. You’ll ruin the moment. And if you dare call him, I’ll stop braiding your hair.” 

“I wasn’t actually, I take offense that you actually think I would have,” Mizuki whines in protest.

“I can never be too sure with you.”

The brunette leans into the crook of Mizuki’s neck, laying tender warm kisses in a wake of pale goosebumps as she trails from her partner’s collar bone, up to the shell of their ear. A silent apology just for them. 

Mizuki relents with a huff and leans back into Ena’s adoration, relishing in their closeness. The comforting silence returns and fills the void between the two who naturally ease back into their doting embrace. A quiet wind chime outside her room makes its presence known occasionally throughout the otherwise undisturbed night. 

“Are you always going to be this annoying even after we graduate?” Ena smiles fondly, her fingers ghosting across the nape of Mizuki’s neck in jest. 

Graduation. It’s only a few weeks away. The topic doesn’t come up much between the two, but Ena feels like they certainly should address their plans for the future. No matter what Mizuki chooses, she’d support them every step of the way. For as long as they’ll have her of course. 

The brunette finishes the braid and admires her handiwork for a moment—until she realizes the heavy silence between the two; even after the light banter directed at them. 

“Mizuki?” 

If she wasn’t as perceptive as she was, Ena might’ve missed the way their shoulders begin to shake, or the way their fingers grip her bedsheets to a point where her knuckles are beginning to turn snow white. 

“Did I say something—”

“The braid looks so cute,” Mizuki’s demeanor switches in an instant, their grip now wrapped around a mirror to examine their girlfriend’s work up close. Ena notices their smile doesn’t quite reach their eyes, and the way their chest rises and falls unevenly.

“We should stop procrastinating and start on that music video now hm?” Mizuki murmurs, turning their back completely away from Ena. Their attention now entirely glued onto the laptop sitting on her bed.  

She has to be imagining this. This unspoken rift between them. Was it something she said? Ena looks down at her hands in her lap and tries to ignore the way her chest constricts and threatens to swallow her whole. 

She’s not stupid. She knows when Mizuki is upset about something. And it’s evident their partner has no plans in revealing their feelings at the moment. So she won’t force them to. All she can do is remind them that she’s with them every step of the way. For anything. 

And hope one day they can confide in her with whatever it is that’s gnawing at them. 

Ena rolls around in a mountain of blankets, draped in a comforting oversized sweater that hangs along her frame casually. Her hand reaches to adjust her glasses that fall along the bridge of her nose and spins the Apple Pencil in her free hand. She ignores the fact that her apartment is a disaster at the moment, both empty and decorated canvases cover every inch of a corner with no end in sight. 

She deserves this moment of respite, after whatever the hell happened on the train ride earlier. All she can do is mope now, and mope she shall; ignoring the fact of how swollen and pink her eyes are at the moment. 

Until her phone rings beside her ear and nearly causes her to fall off her bed. 

Frowning, Ena lifts the phone to her ear with caution. “Hi Miss Inoue.”

“Ena! Nice work today, I saw your updated portfolio at the studio.”

And now she can’t help but smile to herself at the praise. Her heart skips a beat and she kicks her feet up like some juvenile lovestruck teenager. 

Finally some good news. 

“I’m glad you liked it. Let me know if there’s a job available. I’d rather not sit in my apartment moping all day.” Ena cringes at the last second slip up. As curious as her advisor tends to be, this will really get her started. 

“Moping?! You’ll have to tell me some other time because I’m in a rush however; I do have a potential job for you. You’re set to meet with the commissioner tomorrow morning. Sorry it’s kinda last minute—”

There’s a sudden ridiculous amount of noise on the other end and Ena is forced to distance her phone away from her ear, her frown deepening in annoyance. 

“I'll send you the details over text! Let me know if you accept and how it goes tomorrow. It seems easy enough, something about helping design some advertisements for a future showcase.” 

The two exchange pleasantries and promptly hang up right after, leaving Ena alone to her thoughts once more. The brunette groans and shoves her head into a pillow. Her eyes are so, so incredibly swollen. 

She normally would be jumping for joy over a potential commission. If things go well, she won’t be reliant on ramen noodles for a month. But instead, all she can think of is pink. Pink and the sweet smell of delicate vanilla that she associates them with. The two together is enough to make her nauseous. 

And so like any sane person does, she reaches into the pocket of her coat she had uncaringly thrown onto the floor and fishes out the damn card. All she can do is twirl it between her fingers. 

Years without a thought about Mizuki—and now they come running back into her life again like a freight train. She hates dwelling on this any more than she has to. 

Hell—she doesn’t even know why she’s idling playing with the card to begin with. Everything reminds her of them. After so many years spent shoving the thought of them to the furthest crevice of her brain, it all has rushed back in a matter of seconds because of today.  

And yet a large part of her was so happy to see them. 

An even tinier part of her wonders if they've ever found someone who replaced Ena’s significance for them in their life. She’s spent years apart from them. Years where Mizuki has undergone changes of their own, has experienced moments without her being there. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. 

Stop. Stop it. It’s been years, get a grip.

The brunette tears the card in half and tosses it behind her—she shouldn’t care. She’s let her thoughts stray enough and she refuses to cry anymore than she already has. 

And thankfully, her phone vibrates next to her, likely Miss Inoue’s message regarding the information for the commissioner she’ll be meeting tomorrow. Her chocolate gaze lamely glides across her screen at the address once. 

And then twice. 

While adjusting her glasses, the brunette sits up from her cocoon of blankets and reads over the address for a final time. 

Why the hell is this address so familiar? 

She shakily inhales and lets her attention fall back to the torn up card laying pathetically on her bedroom floor. The longer she keeps this shit in her line of the sight, the worse—

Her hands grip the pieces of the card together and line them up next to her phone. Ena almost bites onto her own tongue as her heart threatens to slam against her chest repeatedly until she passes out. 

The addresses are identical. 

It’s only when Ena puts the pieces of the card down, that she feels the familiar sting of salt along her cheeks.

Mizuki jogs up to a blue haired model in earnest, pink heat dusting their cheeks and along the nape of their neck faintly. Beads of sweat gather across their forehead. And yet none of that distracts from the slight bags decorating underneath their pale eyes they so desperately attempted to conceal with massive amounts of makeup this morning. 

They were up all night, tossing and turning. Their unexpected meeting with Ena gnawing at the forefront of their mind since she left the train. 

And all they can do is busy themselves with work during their dress rehearsals, in hopes that a certain brunette doesn’t come crawling back into the chords deep within their chest to strum a familiar tune they’ve managed to nearly forget. 

“Woah Mizuki. You look rough, there’s no reason to be nervous about the show. It’s gonna go great.” 

Mizuki sighs, wrapping the measuring tape around Haruka’s chest with ease. They could lie and be done with the conversation, but Haruka is a close friend. Someone they’ve managed to grow closer to through the industry and they’d like to keep it that way quite frankly. 

“It’s not because of the event. I saw Ena yesterday. Unexpectedly.” 

Haruka’s mouth turns into an “o” shape. She’s clearly floored. She doesn’t know the details, just the Cliff Notes version considering their blossomed friendship didn’t truly occur until years after the messy breakup. 

Everyone—however, knows how much Ena meant to Mizuki. How much she still means to them. 

Mizuki’s normally nimble, steady fingers slightly tremble today and they find it harder to insert pins into pieces they still need to alter over the weekend. Everyone in the venue is working tirelessly, for them . For their show. And here they are, pathetically moping about the past. Over consequences derived from their very own actions. They drop their hands from Haruka’s bosom and now tug a little tighter along her waist.

“…Did something happen? Nobody would blame you if you took a day off today.” Haruka’s brows furrow in worry. 

“Nothing happened,” their response is a little dry, unbecoming of Mizuki. “Actually—I wish nothing happened. It actually seems like she wants nothing to do with me.” They wear a painful smile as they mentally note the measurements and steps back from Haruka. 

“It’s fine though. Give me a couple of days and I’ll be right back to where I was before yesterday,” they choke out and chuckle. 

Haruka blinks and runs a quick hand through her blue locks. “Are you sure nothing happened then?” 

Mizuki coughs and fidgets in place. There’s no reason why they should have to repeat themselves right? What is with her? 

“Yeah. You know I kinda got that impression when I invited her over to my show and was pretty much rejected on the spot….” Repeating yesterday’s events leaves a vile taste in their mouth, maybe telling Haruka so soon was a mistake. 

“…So why is she walking in right now?” 

Mizuki freezes in place. “This isn’t time for jokes Haruka, you’ve seriously let Minori—”

They turn around and nearly choke on their saliva. Because there she is, taking a seat at the furthest chair in the venue, sketchpad in hand, and with her signature scowl that seemingly hasn’t disappeared despite the years. 

Mizuki whips back to Haruka before they’re caught gaping at their ex and guides Haruka backstage. 

“Wh—Aren’t you going to say hello?!” 

Mizuki halts the moment the two of them are away from the backstage workers and all other prying eyes. Their heart feels like it may stop beating any moment. 

She actually came.  

“You really expect me to just walk up to her after yesterday?! I thought you were the levelheaded one Haruka,” Mizuki snaps and glances at their choice of outfit today. 

A white romper with their signature pink assortments decorating along the hems and stitching. Despite yesterday being hell on Earth, they silently thank Morning Mizuki for still bothering to keep up with appearances. 

Haruka brings her perfectly manicured fingers up to the bridge of her nose and sighs. Mizuki doesn’t like that. Not one bit. 

“She’s here, Mizuki. Whether it’s because of work—or because of you,” the model lightly pokes their chest to accentuate her point, “You need to at the very least greet her. This is your event.” 

They chew on their bottom lip with force. She has a point. There’s nothing wrong with just greeting her. It should be harmless.

Ignoring the years of repressed, internalized self-hatred that are on the verge of spilling any moment—yes harmless. 

Mizuki’s gaze feigns interest up towards the venue’s stage lights, slightly enthralled by the warmth of the light, hoping this minor distraction can ease their harsh breathing. 

Ena is here. 

Haruka’s frown relaxes a tad and she brings her hands up to tame Mizuki’s loose pink locks, finishing it off by adjusting their staple crimson bow. 

“Go greet her. I’ll be here. An is here—Rui is somewhere here too. I think he said something about fixing a generator outside.” Haruka pats Mizuki’s cheeks twice before nudging them in the direction towards the front of the stage. 

Haruka is right. Sound advice as always. They can always count on her wisdom and straightforwardness.

So why are their lungs tightening against their chest, threatening to collapse inside of them at just the sight of her. 

Making their way to Ena allows them a second opportunity to appreciate the way the years have refined her signature scowl. The way she’s let her hair grow out a little longer—now past her visibly stiff shoulders. How she still unknowingly chews the inside of her mouth when she’s thinking, or in fact, overthinking. 

Drinking in the sight of her again is enough to satiate Mizuki for another five years if they’re forced to endure it again. 

And yet of course, while Mizuki is in the middle of ogling every alluring feature belonging to their ex, Ena just happens to lift her attention up from her lap. She just has to meet their gaze by chance. 

But what Mizuki doesn't expect is the bright pink flush that spreads across her cheeks as she quickly tears her gaze to focus lamely on her phone. They similarly feel their own cheeks rise in temperature until they're standing only a few feet away from Ena’s seat. 

It all resembles the stolen glances the two of them used to risk back when they were together. It’s enough to make Mizuki’s stomach flip inside out. 

“You showed up.” 

Ena’s grip tightens along her bag as she stands up to properly meet Mizuki’s gaze. 

“…I showed up,” a pause while she sets her sketchpad down to iron out her skirt with her hands. “For work.” 

Mizuki thickly swallows. Right. 

They shake their head in response, a tad too forcefully, likely attempting to convince themselves at this point. It’s delusional to anticipate otherwise. 

“Of course. For work.” Mizuki repeats as their smile falters but doesn’t fade. They silently watch as Ena returns to her seat, and now they’re unsure what to do next. Their pulse is erratic and unmanageable. What a fucking mess.

The brunette sneaks a peak from below and sighs, patting the empty seat next to her invitingly. 

“I don’t want to take you away from your work. But if you want to sit. For a bit. You can if you’d like…”

“You’re sure?”

Ena nods and before she can change her mind, Mizuki gracefully accepts the invitation. The space is much more lucrative compared to what they had to deal with on the train—for better or for worse. They always relished in being close to Ena, the years apart never changed that. 

“So this was the job you were referring to on the train yesterday?” Default to small talk, fill the awkward void. Right.

Ena sighs for what seems like the umpteenth time now and shakes her head. “I actually didn’t know at the time. When I found out I was being commissioned here I—”

The sudden pause forces Mizuki to meet her gaze. It’s hardened and detached. Her rigid frame returns as quickly as it dissipated and Ena is distant once again. Mizuki can see the way her jaw clenches down, how her manicured nails dig into her arms, likely leaving crescent marks all along the otherwise unblemished skin. 

She’s in so much pain. The sight nearly makes Mizuki want to get up and leave. Give her the space she likely needs, away from all the terrible memories she surely associates them with. 

But they selfishly can’t. They’re so tired of leaving. Every night since, they wished they never left. 

“…Anyway,” Ena shakes her head. She clears her throat and runs a quick hand through her neat locks. “I’m here now. And I have to speak to the director in a bit.”

Mizuki nods and scoots a little further back into the seat. “She should be here soon. Do you know what the commission is about? They don’t tell me a lot about the marketing ploys and stuff.” 

“Hmm. I’m not surprised.” Ena is quick to turn her head away from them, but they’re sure of it. She’s donning the smallest of smirks and Mizuki can’t help but stare—stare at the way she’s attempting and failing at hiding her teasing lilt. Her knowing grin, albeit shy and faint. 

Mizuki relishes in this sight, it almost feels like the way they used to act around each other. A painful reminder, but one that isn’t unwelcomed. 

They don’t want to scare her off. Not when she’s willingly giving them the opportunity to talk to each other like this, to tease each other like they used to. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Good one Mizuki, tame and not too invasive. Haruka would be proud. 

The brunette's attention returns and she all but lets the small smile thread across her lips unabashedly now, Mizuki’s breath hitches. 

“It means nothing has changed then. You should stick to what you know best.” Ena playfully huffs and relaxes into her seat, her gaze now following the entire expanse of the busy venue. At the way workers from all over the world jog with purpose, models donning outfits she can only assume were designed by Mizuki’s intricate mind. It’s all so much. 

“This is incredible. I’m really proud of you Mizuki,” she confesses with the utmost sincerity and respect. It’s enough to make Mizuki’s heart swell. 

“Ah—it’s nothing really. Well okay that’s not fair. I’m really grateful for all of this. An is here helping. This is her dad’s venue after all. Rui and Haruka are here too. I wouldn’t be here without them.” 

A half lie. Half truth? Regardless, they lied to her just now. They want to include Ena in that list. So badly. The largest part of why they’re here is thanks to her. And yet, at this very moment, complete transparency to Ena involves vulnerability they aren’t ready to reveal to her yet. 

They’re unsure if they’ll ever be ready. 

And none of this doesn’t stop the way Mizuki catches a glimpse of the sudden hurt that flashes across Ena’s features. 

Mizuki hates themselves for this. For everything. If only she knew.

Ena is stoic now, unmovable. But Mizuki knows her well enough to spot the slightest trembling in her shoulders, the forced swallowing.

“You deserve all of this…” a heavy beat of silence, Ena sucks in a tight breath, “…you deserve so much more.” 

A similar sentiment they’ve heard before. How could they forget about Ena’s choked sobs at their expense the night before graduation. 

Mizuki swears, something breaks in Ena’s eyes. It’s impossibly brief, maybe a trick from the stage lights. Still, Ena’s shoulders stiffen, she holds herself straighter against the chair she was once so relaxed in.

Mizuki hates themselves just a little bit more.

She stands up from her seat and presses her sketchpad against her chest. Every movement is mechanical and practiced, nothing like the languitiy she had entered the venue with earlier. 

Her voice raises an octave. “I think I saw the director—I’ll see you Mizuki.” 

Without giving them the opportunity to bid her farewell in return, the brunette is gone, leaving Mizuki alone to their thoughts. 

How very ironic considering the circumstances. 

They glance down at the hem of their jumper and find a pathetic string hanging from the end. They should really remember to fix the entire hemming to this once they’re home—whoever was responsible evidently did a shoddy job. They blink back tears threatening to spill—not here . They suddenly remember the dozens of other alterations that need to be done instead. 

Mizuki thickly swallows, sighing a trembling breath they had no idea they were holding in. There’s no time for crying—not when there’s so much to do. And especially not when so many people are counting on you. 

And Ena is still here.  

The night before graduation.

Golden hues from warm street lamps caress and highlight Ena’s pretty features. Mizuki is enthralled. Like a moth to a flame. 

The two of them are lighting sparklers, Ena’s idea of a small, intimate celebration to commemorate their ceremony tomorrow. Mizuki tried to argue against it, but Ena was determined to make something meaningful out of it—just for them. 

And here’s Mizuki, nearly ending up with three or four first degree burns across their hands for gawking too long at their pretty girlfriend and not at all focused on the literal fire hazard in their possession.  

“You seem very distracted lately.” Ena murmurs into the intimate night, idly guiding her sparkler around aimlessly. 

“Do I? Maybe it’s your fault.” A soft smirk and a quiet laugh before Mizuki pokes their sparkler into a puddle of water next to them. “Maybe my girlfriend is just too pretty.” 

“Don’t blame me for your insufferable self.” With an eye roll and faint blush, Ena hands her sparkler to Mizuki before beginning to light another one of her own. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you? Any thoughts about graduation tomorrow…”

There it is again. The dreaded topic regarding their future. The stepping stone used to regard a major cornerstone in someone’s life, aiding in directing them into the giant, unknown abyss that is the future. Where nothing is promised, nothing is for certain, and absolutely nothing may last. 

Mizuki hates it. 

“I don’t know…Do you have any plans?” Hopefully the deflection is enough to distract their girlfriend temporarily. Their pale gaze falls onto the new sparkler handed to them with a heavy sigh. 

“Not particularly. I mean, I know it involves art. Maybe try to apply to a big time art school? See where that takes me…” Ena mumbles into her arm, waving the sparkler idly. 

“I’d like for you to be involved in my future if at all possible…” She continues, her voice unsteady despite the enormous amounts of resolve and vulnerability she’s conveying. “And of course, I’ll be by your side—every step of the way.”

Her face is burning now, undeniably flushed, but she means every word. Her eyes widen in panic at the realization of her confession.

“If you want! I mean—only if you want…”

Mizuki is quiet. The pregnant silence is long, drawn out and exceeds their normal comforting silence the two often share together. This grows into something else. Something uncomfortable. Ena’s brows furrow in worry. 

“…Mizuki?” Concern is laced in the question, her voice strained for entirely different reasons now.

Her partner dips the sparkler into the same puddle, but this time stabs the stick hard enough into the cement until it snaps in half. 

Ena’s comforting words, promises of a forever, of a future involving just the two of them. They shouldn’t be meant for them. Not for someone who’s essentially deceiving her, not for someone who’s unsure of so many things in their life. 

The future is too fickle, nothing is promised. As much as they want to believe someone as wonderful, amazing, caring as Ena, will willingly stay by their side despite all— they can’t. 

She’s bound to run the moment she finds out. They can’t blame her.

And how can they let her offer them something as special as her unconditional love, when they aren’t deserving of half of it.

They don’t deserve any of it. 

“I can’t…”

Ena drops her sparkler into the same puddle. 

“…You can’t what, Mizuki?”

Another long pause, Mizuki thickly swallows. 

They love her so much. And yet they know how undeserving they are of all of this. Mizuki doesn’t know what they want to do more, laugh at their own thoughts that have plagued them since they were a child, their own selfishness or cry at the way Ena’s face contorts with pain because of them. 

They’ve hurt her.  

“Talk to me Mizuki. I’m right here—”

“…I can’t keep up with this. Any of this.”

She chokes.“I—I don’t understand.”

Mizuki feels tears gathering along the corners of their eyes and their throat betrays them all the same. “…I’m undeserving of so much Ena. Your promises of forever…I can’t keep them.”

Two warm hands interlace with theirs and squeeze tightly. A silent plea to stay. Ena’s pink cheeks are lined with salty tears, and Mizuki feels nauseous. 

“You can Mizuki. Please—let’s at least try.” The slight hiccup in her voice near the end goes unnoticed, if Mizuki stays here any longer she’ll let the brunette convince them, and they’ll never forgive themselves for this. 

For deceiving her. 

“…Ena, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.” 

“Mizuki wait—” Their hands separate and the two of them stand in unison. They hate how Ena’s searing touch still ghosts along their fingers. 

“Can you please wait. I don’t understand what’s going on Mizuki.” 

Mizuki can no longer look at her directly, because the once intimate night between the two is now replaced with choked sobs and repeated pleas in between tears. Explanations deserving to be said but can't be offered. 

“Mizuki, I love you. I’ve meant everything I’ve said. You’re deserving of so much—can you say something please ?”

It’s desolate solitude for them, a breath stolen and shattered, its pieces digging inside of their ribcage. Pleading for an outlet, for some sort of escape.  

Mizuki has hated themselves more times than they can count over the years. But nothing like tonight. Ena is fighting back strangled sobs and trails of tears that have ruined the very makeup Mizuki has grown so fond of over the years. 

And they were the sole reason behind it. 

It’s when water is flowing down their body and washing nearly ruined makeup and sweat away that Mizuki realizes how much they needed this. They sigh into the warmth, feeling the scattered droplets over their pale skin. Of course, the only thing tormenting the forefront of their mind is Ena in their venue today. 

And the pain etched incredibly obvious across her face. 

A sigh and they press their wet forehead against the cool tiling of their shower. 

Not a day goes by where they don’t think about her. Think about the way Mizuki ran off that night. They’ve regretted it every day since. 

Days that felt like weeks spent sprawled across Rui’s floor or An’s bedroom—scorned by nothing but regret, shame, longing. 

And yet seeing Ena sitting on the train yesterday for the first time in years; it feels like fate. An opportunity to make amends. And they so selfishly, desperately want to. Knowing full well they may never return to their easy days prior to the night of graduation, where they would relish in adoring touches, playful back and forths, heated embraces as if they were the last. 

Little did Mizuki know it likely was. 

“So did you take the commission?” 

Ena takes a selfishly large sip of her extra sweetened tea, wincing at the temperature that leaves her tongue reeling. 

“I did. I can’t really be picky can I?” 

Miss Inoue snorts and adjusts the designer purse that hangs off her shoulder. 

“Well no. It’s just normally—I don’t know? You’re at least a little excited. Not with that scowl you have on. You’re gonna get wrinkles by my age you know!” 

Ena feels like an artery may burst. It’s too early to deal with her advisors’ eccentric personality. Along with everything else going on as of late. Mizuki mainly. 

“Well. When you find out you’re basically working for your ex, I can’t really be jumping for joy right, Miss Inoue?” 

“Jesus Ena, I thought I had it bad.”

The brunette flushes with annoyance. “Really—thanks for that.” 

The pair make their way down the sidewalk until Miss Inoue stops in her tracks and points at the seemingly five star establishment behind her. 

“This is my stop. But honestly Ena, you’re there for business. Next month will be here before you know it.” Her professor places both of her thin hands on the smaller girl’s shoulders, squeezing lightly for added comfort. Ena’s not sure why she feels her eyes prickling by the second. 

It’s just—she can’t help but think of all the times she’s been stuck with teachers who don’t mince their critiques. They only ever offered criticism of her art; never ways that may help her improve, or things she actually does well. 

Until she met Miss Inoue. 

“Let your art speak for yourself. It’s gotten you this far. You should hold your head up high.” With a final tap to her chin, Miss Inoue takes a step back and waves off her former student. 

“And who knows! Maybe it’ll work out for the best. Especially if you change that scowl of yours. No one is ever going to find you cute looking like that.” 

Now that sounds absurd. Nothing good can come from this. Not when Mizuki most certainly wants nothing to do with her. Not when they’re at the peak of their career, with friends who’ve all been there for them—when she wasn’t. 

They even revealed as much to her yesterday, much to her shock. 

“…Right, I’ll call you and let you know how it goes then Miss Inoue.” 

A final wave and the two of them turn their separate ways. Miss Inoue has a point. Not about Ena’s scowl or whatever. She doesn’t even know what she’s referring to in regards to that comment. 

But about her art. Ena is finally at a point in her life where she can appreciate her work, her ideas, for herself. And in turn, allows for people like Miss Inoue to recognize her talent for what it is. 

She’s gone five years without Mizuki. A little over a month of having to see them everyday won’t kill her. She has to make the best of it. 

Ena can’t do this. 

The moment she walks into the softly lit venue for the second time, Mizuki is right in her line of sight working hard with a stagehand. Looking as charming as ever. Ena tries not to stare, honestly, but it’s incredibly difficult not to. Especially when she notes the slight sag in their shoulders, the way their cheeks are flush and pink; likely due to exhaustion.

And so the brunette wordlessly takes the same seat as yesterday, attempting to focus on pulling out her sketchpad from her bag. 

Just focus on getting a draft done. 

“You showed up again.” 

Ena nearly yelps, she has to slap a hand across her mouth to contain herself. Turning in her seat forces her to meet the very person who’s turned her life upside down for the last several days. Or maybe years. 

There Miziki stands, the same tentative distance as yesterday. Except this time Ena regards the failed attempt at concealing the bags under their eyes. Mizuki looks fatigued. Probably because of the stress of their work of course. 

She coughs and clears her throat. “Yeah. I do have work to get started on. I’ll be here for the next month and a half.” 

Mizuki nods at this, and their smile grows a tad wider. 

“Uh—you don’t have to keep standing. Unless you have to get back. You look pretty busy.” Ena eyes the way their fingers squirm against their white jeans. Such an obvious habit. 

“Everyone’s about to take a break soon anyway. We’re way ahead of schedule.” Mizuki takes the seat next to Ena with ease, she can feel the way their shoulders all but melt against the chair. 

Ena hums in response and idly sketches an assortment of lines into her sketchpad. This tentative idle chatter is fine. Sure her heart feels heavy against her chest, but it’s nothing she can’t handle. 

Mizuki breaks the momentary silence once again. “Y’know, you never did tell me what the director even commissioned you to do yesterday.” 

That’s right. Because they promptly gave her too much insight into how life has been for them since they separated. It was enough to make Ena hesitate on even accepting the job, but she won’t tell them that. 

“Right. I just have to come up with a design for some flyers and a potential billboard that’s set up to be shown a week before the actual event.” 

“You’re the perfect person for the job then!” 

Ena’s pulse skips a beat. How can they just talk like this—so reminiscent of how they used to be. She can’t meet their gaze. 

“Who knew getting older made you more tolerable?” Ena returns the polite smile—albeit slightly forced. But it’s getting easier. 

And Mizuki doesn’t let the silence settle. Not with this unforeseen playful back and forth. A habit they have always had when they’re nervous, opposite to Ena.

“Would you rather me say you’re terrible then? Hell, couldn’t you guys commission literally anybody else…” Mizuki fakes a pout and folds their arms across their chest with a dramatic sigh. 

Ena’s laugh is breathless and she brings her palm up in a poor attempt to conceal her idiotic smile. Her chest feels a tad lighter, the room a little brighter. At this point, in the past, she would have instinctively leaned in and kissed Mizuki’s cheek to soothe out their teasing. Instead, her hand falters, dropping her pencil as her own thoughts betray her. 

Enough of that. 

Mizuki is quick to keel over and retrieve it, handing it over to her with ease. “I should probably go now. I don’t want to stop you from your work either.” They stand, ironing out imaginary wrinkles out from their pants, probably an attempt to settle their own nerves after their exchange. 

“If there’s anything you need—feel free to find me. Or anyone else really.” They bite back a small smile and bow awkwardly before all but skipping over back to a group of stagehands. 

Ena’s breathing finally catches up with her pulse, her mind however; is running on overtime trying to decipher whatever the hell that was. Miss Inoue’s parting words ring obnoxiously loud against her temple, maybe it’s the beginnings of a headache. But Ena welcomes it all the same. 

It’s the tiny bit of orange and purple hues that peak through the venue windows that stirs Ena out of her concentration and she has to blink away the exhaustion that clouds her vision. With any subtle movement, the brunette feels her stiff joints physically ache from sitting still for too long. 

One quick scan of the venue and most of the models and stagehands have already left for the day. There’s no point in sticking around then—not when she has over a month here still. And she certainly made good progress with her draft. 

The brunette stands, shimmying her sketchpad back into her bag and silently makes her way to the exit. Swinging the back door open allows for the sunset to envelope her frame like a warm blanket as she mentally decides what to cook for dinner tonight. She should probably call Miss Inoue on the way—

“Ena!” 

She stops in her tracks and tightens the bag around her shoulder. The chime hits the door a second time and all Ena can do is gape at Mizuki who’s now buckling over out of breath behind her. 

“M-Mizuki?” 

As they regain their composure, Ena’s brows furrow in confusion. Whatever they needed to sprint here for could certainly wait until tomorrow. She’ll be here again.

But unprecedented resolve is etched in their expression. Their pale irises are hard, and selfishness overcomes them. Ena tightens her lips, the idea of reprimanding them long gone now. Whatever they plan on telling her is evidently important. 

And Ena can’t help it—the way the sunset accentuates all their soft features in all the right places. Mizuki looks so beautiful right now. Ethereal. The brunette has to take a tentative step back before she's swallowed whole. 

“Can we be friends again?” It comes out erratic and messy; Mizuki knows it takes Ena by surprise by the way she freezes completely.

“Huh?” The woman breathes. Mizuki sounds incredulous. No amount of preparation would suffice for this very confrontation. They should stop here, take it back before it’s too late. Before they dig a deeper grave. Something they'll both regret.

“I—I completely understand if you never want to see me again. I’ll even work from home if you want. Nothing can justify what I—” a sudden pause. Mizuki has to stare hard at the sidewalk, thickly swallowing. 

“…But if there’s even a slim chance. That you’re willing. Maybe we can just…talk again as friends. Like we used to do back before—“

“Please don't.”

Mizuki almost bites onto their own tongue, their rambling interrupted halfway through.

 “…What?”

“It’s taken years for me to find some sort of stability, Mizuki. I don’t know if I’m ready to—” Her voice halts and Ena has to fight back a choke. This is all happening way too fast. 

Maybe the first true thing they share in common after the years apart is the obvious pain etched in both of their expressions. It hurts. She can feel the tears stinging at her eyes. She’s not going to cry in front of them. Not when this moment feels eerily similar to the night before graduation. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested…”

“It’s fine.”

Ena can’t look at them. Because if she does—the dam she’s so carefully built over the years, sealing away the flood of emotions that have shaped her as a person, will collapse and drown her whole. 

So she leaves. Her pace is brisk and rigid, and she doesn’t dare to turn back. 

All she can do is pretend she didn’t catch a glimpse of Mizuki staring emotionlessly at the ground, at the cusp of crying. Lacking warmth and everything that makes them who she has fallen in love with. 

The bathroom tile floor is cold and uncomfortable. Ena doesn’t care. Instead, she slowly blinks, clearing the moisture that has gathered in her eyes over the minutes, only staining her cheeks further. 

She winces, the swelling and puffiness of her eyes finally getting to her. 

Ena misses Mizuki, so terribly and fully. This much was obvious. But she can’t do this again. Mizuki’s suggestion, of being friends again, has made her go cold all over her body, blood frozen in its flow. 

Friends.

Her rejection was instinctive—but part of her wonders if she was too hasty. No, it isn’t fair to her that Mizuki ran that night. Broke her heart and cut ties with her with little to no closure. But she doesn’t want to hold that against them. She never has. Ena knows them far too well for that. 

Why hasn’t her mind fully removed Mizuki’s proposal, despite all of this?

Ena sniffles and promptly lifts her phone up to her swollen eyes. Miss Inoue left three voicemails but she doesn’t want her advisor to hear her like this. The woman has seen Ena in many unfavorable situations—but she doesn’t need her middle aged advisor giving her fortune cookie pep talks about her love life. Not now. 

Her thumb hovers over a certain contact and she groans. Ena can choose a handful of friends who would be more than willing to lend an ear, but that isn’t what she needs right now either. And so she presses the contact and lifts the phone up to her ear. Dull monotonous ringing is loud against her ear until she hears static. 

“Ena? It’s two am what the hell?” 

“…Akito, I need your help.” She hates how unsteady her voice sounds right now. But it doesn’t matter. Not with Akito at the very least. He was there when she was face first on the bathroom floor after graduation. Similarly to now. 

Sure her friends are aware of the gaping hole left in her chest after what happened with Mizuki, but Akito is the only person who truly saw Ena at her lowest. Locked in her room for weeks without a word, failed attempts at eating, sleeping for days—he’s seen everything. Which is why she needs to talk to him now. 

“You okay..?” His voice is hoarse, he was likely sleeping but still answered anyway. She can even sense the hint of concern through the line. Ena shrinks into the collar of her hoodie. 

“Sorry for waking you.”

He shuffles on the other line until he clears his throat. “Don’t sweat it. I know how much you value sleep, so whatever’s bothering you has to be important.” 

The light jab is enough for her to crack a tired smile. 

“…I ran into Mizuki the other day.”

Somehow the silence on the other line is incredibly loud. Akito clears his throat again awkwardly and sighs. 

“How’d that go?”  

“Mmm. It was supposed to be a one time thing. Until I ended up taking a job for their event next month.” She idly wraps the hoodie’s drawstring around her index finger and tugs. 

“…You didn’t consider resigning the job?”

She pulls harder at the string now. “I did, but I need the money.”

Silence again. She knows Akito thinks she’s full of shit. It’s so obvious. 

“I miss them. So much. And seeing them on the train—then at the venue. My chest never felt lighter. I was so happy …” Her voice shakes and she can hear Akito huff on the other end. He probably thinks she’s being ridiculous. 

“I know.”

Huh?

“Excuse me?” 

She hears more shuffling on the other end until it’s quiet once more. “I know how much they make you happy, Ena. That isn’t a bad thing. Far from it.”

The sentiment is enough to irritate her swollen eyes again. Because hearing it out loud for the first time makes this all real, it terrifies her. 

“So what happened?”

More sniffing and she mumbles lamely. “They asked to be friends again today.” 

Her ears must be betraying her, because the next thing she hears is laughter. Akito is laughing at her. 

“What the hell?” 

“Wait, wait Ena,” he’s quick to collect himself, but the amusement in his voice is still evident and annoying. “I know how much you care for them. We both know this.”

“…Right.” 

His tone is somber now, all traces of prior amusement gone. “And it’s obvious how much Mizuki cared for you. Probably still does. The two of you were inseparable. It was kinda annoying…”

Ena has to choke back an ugly sob. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“Yeah well this isn’t about me. Anyway, whatever was going through their head that night was probably festering in them for who knows how long. Until they just felt like that was best for both of you .” 

Ena parts her lips to refute until Akito continues. 

“They’ve always had your best interest at heart. So it’s hard to imagine any malicious intent...” Ena nearly drops her phone, because she swears she hears a slight tremor in her younger brother’s voice. “I won’t lie. Seeing the way the entire situation left you for years. I was a little hesitant. But I trust your judgement. And I trust Mizuki.”

The brunette lets her phone lightly fall against her forehead with a thud. Her mouth is so dry—likely from all the crying. And she can feel tears gathering in the corners of her eyes yet again. 

“…I hate you y’know.” She takes her sleeve and forcefully rubs her irritated eyes. Calling Akito was the right decision. Her thoughts are a lot more organized, she’s thinking much clearer now. “…Thank you so much Akito.”

“You don’t have to thank me Ena,” he yawns into the speaker. “Do they still call me Little Brother? Shit was so annoying.” 

Ena frowns.

“Yeah you know—with all the deeply rooted trauma and years of coping, you haven’t really come up in our conversations that much.”

“Right, yeah. Love you. If you need anything else, feel free to call. Or don’t. Good luck with Mizuki.”

A click, and just like that, the brunette is met with agonizing solitude once more. Her red rimmed eyes glaze over her contacts until she finds Mizuki’s name. Despite scrubbing every acknowledgment of their existence after their separation—she couldn’t dare part with their number. 

A part of her hopes they still have hers. 

Ena can’t help but feel kind of pathetic now. Especially when she’s lamely staring at their contact for what seems like hours.

Is Akito right? Is trying to salvage their friendship really worth a shot? The echoes of this afternoon lingers in her mind, with pinpricks of heartache when she recalls Mizuki’s contorted pain.

She opens their contact before she can think twice.

Ena: sorry about earlier, being friends again sounds nice actually. Let’s talk more tmm, sleep well 

…

its Ena btw

The message is sent and Ena regrets the decision almost immediately. It doesn’t help that she’s sending it at nearly three in the morning. The brunette squeezes her eyes shut.

She steels herself mentally. Her work comes first. But there’s an undeniably juvenile sort of excitement growing in the pit of her stomach she can’t dismiss. 

Mizuki drops their phone from a considerable height and directly onto their face, keeling over in anguish. What a way to start their morning. 

“Shit shit shit shit…” They scramble to retrieve it, swiping back onto the message that has their heart running rampant. 

They turn the screen off and on again. The message is still there, undeniable. So, unless they slept past their alarm and is having one of the best dreams they’ve had in a long time, the message is real. 

Their eyes settle a little too long at the end.

its Ena btw

They stifle a dorky grin, their heart feels so full at the thought of Ena with that scowl of hers trying to find a way to send the world’s most awkward text. 

Mizuki has no idea what exactly is coursing through them right now. Excitement, giddiness, unbridled terror. Regardless, they grab their pillow and scream into it. Ena is giving them a chance. 

They have to dress to impress for work today. Mizuki will not fuck this up. And they should start by replying to the text first. Something appreciative and quick, the way Ena would likely do in return. 

Mizuki: thank you so much, ill see you later today then :)

Right, that should be fine. Their skin is searing all over, it’s like electric static is coursing through them. They’re unsure how they plan to start getting ready for the day—not when Mizuki is already late and all they can think of is a certain brunette. They’re fucked. 

Ena swallows and she can feel her body shudder. Either positively or negatively, maybe both at the same time. At the very least, when she enters the venue, the object of her affection—dilemma, is nowhere to be found. 

She takes a moment to straighten out her outfit, a pale pink skirt topped with a beige v-neck sweater, before plopping herself on the same chair. She goes for a light makeup too—in a poor effort to conceal the swelling of her eyes. And for extra good measure, she decides to wear her glasses today.

Totally not because Mizuki made an off hand comment years ago about wanting Ena to wear her glasses more. Absolutely not the case.  

Ena trades the sketchpad for her iPad today. Mainly because she can’t handle lugging around her years worth of art along her shoulder anymore than she needs to. 

So imagine the dread she feels threatening to swallow her whole when she goes to turn on her tablet and is met with the out of battery symbol. 

“Fuck.”

One more time for good measure. She holds down the power button but to no avail. 

“Shit.”

“It’s only ten in the morning, Ena. Don’t you think it’s a little too early to be frowning like that?” 

The brunette chokes, as the familiar, silky voice calls out from over her shoulder. Her pulse picks up in speed and only now does she realize how much she’s longed to hear their voice again.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” 

Ena lets herself look at them for a moment. Mizuki seems as soft and delicate as ever, always choosing pastel, light colors to complement their look. And their cascade of pink locks—loose and untamed as they spill past their shoulders and across their back. She always did love the way their hair looked loose. 

Ena blinks twice, realizing she's been caught staring; forcefully stomping down the impossibly light, warm feelings that such a sight causes to stir inside her.

“Think of it as me looking out for you. Keep it up and you’ll get wrinkles by the time you’re thirty,” their smile widens as they take the open seat next to her with ease. 

Ena’s heart skips a beat—she’s just glad they didn’t wait for permission to sit this time. 

“You sound like Miss Inoue, it's kind of disgusting…” 

Mizuki’s faint mischievous glint in their eyes shifts into something more akin to curiosity now. “There’s that name again. Who is she?” 

The question is innocent enough, however Ena is fully aware of the looming implications that come attached to it. It’s the first peak Mizuki is getting into how Ena’s life has been since their separation. How life without Mizuki has been. 

They’re friends now. This should be fine. 

“She was my art professor in college. Now she’s kinda like my advisor I suppose,” Ena murmurs. “She’s the one who got me this job actually.”

Mizuki nods and bites back a smile. “I guess I’ll have to thank her then when it’s all said and done.” 

The admission knocks Ena’s breath away. Mizuki has always been braver, a lot more open, than her when it comes to comments like these. This lightheartedness, playfulness, of their current small talk is enough to make her head dizzy. 

She has to look away because she can legitimately feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

“…You’re insane,” her signature huff before adding, “and you will not be meeting her. I’d rather jump off the nearest cliff than have the two of you in a room together.” 

Mizuki barks back a laugh and it sounds melodic and beautiful. “Okay, okay.” 

Seeing Mizuki so relaxed compared to the last several days where the tension between the two was palpable; it’s a sight Ena sorely missed. 

“So why were you cursing up a storm before I got here?” 

Ena hums and shoves her tablet back into her bag without a second thought. 

“I forgot to charge my iPad. So I can’t get any work done here,” the brunette stands and readjusts the bag hanging off her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow Mizuki.” 

Mizuki gapes at her for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. 

“So you’re leaving..?”

Ena’s nose scrunches at the obvious. “Yes? Did you miss the fact that my iPad is dead? It’d be pointless to stay.” 

Mizuki stands and they’re doing the thing again where their fingers are squirming and fidgeting at their sides.

“I mean—you don’t have to leave so soon. What are you gonna do, sleep all day?” Mizuki fumbles out with an anxious chuckle and Ena’s eyebrow curls. 

Are they nervous?

“I’ll have you know I’ve sorta fixed my shit sleeping schedule since high school—” she cuts herself short. Too far back, she needs to reel this topic to the present before the dull ache in her chest gets worse. 

“Anyway it’s not like I can do much here.” 

And before she knows it, Mizuki is taking a step forward and pulls Ena by the sleeve of her sweater tentatively. “I can show you backstage. Give you a proper tour of where the magic is happening.” 

The sudden closeness is enough to force the brunette’s breathing to hitch. And their smile is so earnest, Ena can’t dream of rejecting the proposition. So she doesn’t. 

“…Alright. Lead the way.” Ena returns the smile and carefully follows Mizuki to the back, who is currently busy fist bumping the air like a child. 

“Great! Okay, you won’t regret it.” Mizuki’s enthusiasm is contagious. Ena trails behind them as her eyes widen at the sight that awaits her backstage. 

It looks straight out of a modeling catalogue. Like a convention of gorgeous people donning wide varieties of absolutely stunning outfits are all meeting up here in this very venue. She even thinks she sees Haruka among them. They’re all here—fitting and trying on an assortment of different pieces, all designed and altered by Mizuki. 

And in between the models are stagehands and managers walking with purpose, back and forth, shouting instructions and spewing stage talk that Ena can’t even begin to decipher.

“There’s still so much to do. I actually have to take home another handful of pieces tonight and size them properly...” Ena sneaks a peak at Mizuki, who stands beside her, arms tucked neatly behind them. 

Mizuki is smiling at the sight, full and true, a smile that makes their pale eyes shine and gracious dimples sink into their skin. Ena’s heart won’t stop racing.

“This is amazing, Mizuki. The outfits are beautiful. I don’t know how you always manage to one-up yourself.”

Their head tilts awkwardly to the side, bringing their hand up to rub at the back of the neck.

“…I really hope you decide to come to the real thing.”

Ena feels her throat tighten at the request. The same realization dawns on Mizuki, who attempts to wave off the implications in a hurry. 

“If you want! I know you’re only here for work, so again, no pressure Ena,” their attempt at alleviating the tension is still full of sincerity, it nearly blinds the brunette. 

“I’ll see if I can make it,” Ena leans against a wall as the two of them find themselves tucked into the corner of the backstage in their own little world. “I’d hate to design the best billboard in the city for it, just to not show up.” 

Mizuki laughs, their cheeks are flushed and red, their pink locks bouncing effortlessly at the movement. Ena can lose herself looking at just how beautiful they are. The backstage suddenly feels a couple degrees hotter. 

She lifts up her watch and sighs. Before her mind begins to betray her any further, she should leave. 

“I should get going for real now,” she pushes herself up from the wall, grips her shoulder bag a tad tighter and smirks. “Meanwhile everyone else is working their ass off, you’re here doing absolutely nothing in typical Mizuki fashion.” 

“That was a low blow Ena, I’ll have you know I work overtime on the weekends…” Mizuki follows her pace as the pair make their way towards the exit in stride. “And I’m not the one who forgot to charge their iPad. Talk about irresponsible,” Mizuki chirps with a wide smirk.

“You’re the worst. Some things never change,” she lamely responds. And it’s Ena’s turn to start fidgeting near the exit. The thought of ending their banter that’s so reminiscent of old times, doesn’t sit well with her. Even if she’ll see them tomorrow. 

Mizuki side steps Ena and swings open the door wide enough for the pair to slip out together. The two of them here, outside of the venue, reminds her of the nausea inducing memories from yesterday; the complete opposite of what she’s feeling now. 

Had they still been a couple of teenagers, they probably would have kissed then, challenging the autumn chill with each other's warmth.

Mizuki exhales softly. They’re looking at her in the eyes, authentic and pure. She’s forgotten what it feels like to be looked at with as much earnestness as Mizuki has. 

So what went wrong all those years ago? Why was she forced to go years without them in her life?

“Enanan.”

Ena’s heart beats just slightly faster and her breath hitches. It’s something so incredibly trivial, it shouldn’t matter at all; and yet it means the world to her. The use of the nickname that died the day the two of them separated. She wants to hear it again, everyday in fact. Now and forever.

“Thank you for agreeing to this. To being friends.” Mizuki brings their hands to the hem of their dress, gripping tightly. Their eyes fall to the sidewalk and Ena has to pull her sleeves over her palms to shield away from the slight afternoon chill. 

“I just really missed you.”

Ena holds her breath. The admission is enough for time to stop. 

They missed her?

So why did they leave? 

There’s so many questions that reach the tip of her tongue, but her throat tightens and nothing comes out. She’s so tired of yearning the last several years, and yet here’s Mizuki, under the autumn orange glow, openly revealing they had missed her .

Her own admission with Akito from last night subtly rings in her head. 

Ena knows if she meets their gaze now, everything will spill, threatening to ruin all of the progress the two made today. So she focuses on the sidewalk, ignoring the way her vision begins to blur against her glasses. 

“I missed you too, Mizuki…” She hears the way they draw a sharp breath above her, then a sigh of relief. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” it comes out awkward and forceful as she spins away and heads in the opposite direction. The worry creeping in is quick to settle however as she hears Mizuki respond just as quickly, as lighthearted as ever. 

“See you tomorrow, Enanan.”

Only one thing results from today, which was only supposed to satiate the need for Ena to be around Mizuki more. She realizes that no matter how many lies she’s told herself the last several years, she’s still completely in love with them. Friendship just can’t work, as she suspected from the very start. 

Ena bites her lip, hard enough for blood to reach the surface. 

The two of them commit to toeing this imaginary line between tentative small talk, friendly banter and—something else, for a little over a week now. The subtle autumn chill turns a tad more brisk, yet Ena showing up to Mizuki’s venue at nine am sharp is consistent and welcomed. 

They’re comfortable, content even, with their current relationship and unspoken boundaries they’ve drawn; yet neither want to make the first move in regards to addressing well— everything . 

Mizuki stuffs their face into their pillow with an obnoxious groan one night. Their gaze begrudgingly shifts towards the alarm clock sitting on their dresser. 

11:32 pm  

They can’t sleep. Failed attempts at closing your eyes are meaningless when your thoughts are too loud. 

Mizuki kicks their suffocating blankets off their body and sits up, running a quick hand over their face with a tired yawn. A midnight convenience store run sounds nice, despite the slight night chill. And so they shimmy on a sweater and leggings without a second thought, all while gathering their thick pink locks into a messy ponytail. 

The odds of bumping into anyone they recognize are slim to none—especially at this time. No need to bother with appearances and the like. 

The moment they step foot out of their apartment, the autumn winds make their presence known, nipping at their nose and ears in record timing. Mizuki pulls their sweater tighter against their body, crosses the street with haste and towards a desolate convenience store nearby. 

Before they can let the October temperature settle down their spine, Mizuki swings the door open in search of the inviting heater of the store. They sigh into the relief that is freshly baked bread permeating the air and relish in its warmth before making their way towards the back—towards the candy aisle.

Their eyes glaze over ridiculous amounts of assorted candy. This midnight escapade was an impulsive decision, so they’re not entirely sure what they’re craving at the moment. 

Ice cream actually doesn’t sound too bad. 

Mizuki trots over to the refrigerated aisle until they’re frozen in their tracks. 

“Enanan?”

Mizuki instinctively takes a step forward, gaping at the woman who’s currently eyeing two flavors of cheesecakes in sweats and an oversized hoodie. They can’t believe it—a sight entirely so domestic it’s enough to ignite every synapse in Mizuki’s body. The brunette turns to face them, their look of shock can’t be any more candid.   

“M-Mizuki?”

Another step forward and the pair find themselves tucked away in the back of a convenience store on a Saturday night, the subtle hum of the freezers interrupting the near silent ambience. Mizuki forcefully swallows the impossibly light warm feelings that such a sight spark inside them.

“What was that about you fixing your shit sleeping schedule since high school?” They smirk, leaning over to peak at the predicament between deserts Ena is in the middle of. 

“That’s not funny. I just couldn’t sleep tonight,” she deadpans and is quick to run a hand through her bed head self consciously. Of course Mizuki doesn’t fail to notice, smiling a little wider. 

“Plus, I was up working on the final touches of the draft. Once I’m done I can submit it to the director for approval.” 

“Nice, are you gonna show me this draft anytime soon?” 

Ena sighs, “You’ll get to see the final version soon. Can’t you be a little patient?” 

Mizuki shakes their head and stuffs their hands into the pockets of their sweater. “Nope. Can you blame me? It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to see your art. I miss it.”

“…I don’t know how you can just say stuff like that…”

Mizuki smirks,“Like what?”

They catch Ena gaping at them and their cheeks burn. It’s just a few beats of quietness over their admission until a ringtone severs the tension. Mizuki digs their phone out of their pocket to peek at their screen. Someone from work, they’d normally answer but it’s well past midnight. 

And Ena is here. 

So they shove the device back into their pocket and let the insistent ringing die out. 

Ena’s brow curls up in curiosity. “…Are you not gonna answer that?” 

“Nah. It’s just work, they can call back in the morning.” 

Ena rolls her eyes, though it’s a friendly, almost affectionate gesture. “The poor stagehand trying to get ahold of you while you’re too busy,” she leans over to follow their gaze which is currently trained on an assortment of ice cream. “…trying to decide on an ice cream flavor at 1 am.” 

Mizuki has to bite back a smile. “It’s not just about the ice cream and plus, I’ve already decided on a flavor unlike you.” They reach for the strawberry popsicle and wave it in success. 

The brunette frowns and instinctively settles for the caramel drizzled cheesecake. “Annoying as always.” She spins and makes her way towards the register without a second glance. 

“You don’t mean that,” Mizuki murmurs with a small smile, lining up behind the brunette at the register. 

“I definitely do.” The unknowing employee takes the cake and rings up the total, leaving Ena to shove her hand into her bag to pull out her wallet—only to be met with nothing. 

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.”

“Forget something, Enanan?” Mizuki’s grin is wide and obnoxious; Ena scowls further into her bag, praying her wallet manifests out of thin air. 

Mizuki steps forward, tentatively placing a gentle hand on Ena’s forearm before extending their free hand out and handing their card to the employee. Their fingers are scalding at the touch.  

“You can ring us up together if it’s no problem.”

The employee nods, finishes up the transaction and returns Mizuki’s card; they take the chance to peek at Ena sporting a pretty scarlet blush beneath them. 

Mizuki is so enraptured at the sight, they nearly miss Ena’s sheepish murmuring. “…I’ll pay you back on Monday.” 

They hum and take the bag from the counter. “No need, I’m sure you can pay me back some other way.”

Ena’s embarrassment contorts into confusion as the pair step outside, leaving behind the warmth of the store for the crisp chill of October. 

It’s only when Ena glances over to her right that she notices Mizuki has promptly made themselves comfortable on the vacant bench outside the shop, currently in the process of unwrapping their popsicle in 55 degree weather. 

And when they finish, Mizuki meets her gaze with a small, expectant smile, beckoning the brunette to take up the space next to them. 

“Are you insane? It’s freezing out here,” she snaps, only now remembering her cheesecake is in the same bag Mizuki is currently flaunting with pride. 

Shit. 

“You owe me remember,” they shake the bag in their lap, a mischievous glint in their eyes. 

With an indignant huff, Ena is quick to take the seat next to them. Mizuki dons a proud smile and fishes out her cheesecake with their free hand. Their fingers brush during the gentle exchange and Mizuki’s cheeks now suddenly match the color of their hair. God they’re so childish. 

“Is this something you do often now?”

Mizuki bites their popsicle and relaxes back against the bench. “What’s that?”

Ena snorts and takes a spoonful of their cake graciously. “Going to convenience stores at midnight for ice cream. Being an annoyance. I don’t know, the list is pretty long.” 

Mizuki throws their head back and laughs, “Tonight was just an exception,” a bated breath and Mizuki hesitates. “I just couldn’t sleep, lots on my mind...” 

“Guess that makes two of us then.”

Silence falls between them, only filled by the hum of the store’s generator, with the occasional lone car passing nearby. The silence is far from uncomfortable, but different. A moment of reprisal from all the things they want to say—need to say. 

Under the store lights however, the blue hues accentuating Ena’s jawline and cheekbones leave Mizuki’s pulse running erratic. She’s so pretty, even now.

“…A penny for your thoughts?” The brunette murmurs, bringing another spoonful of cake to her lips. 

Mizuki follows suit with another selfish bite of their ice cream. They can’t yet. Maybe they oughta purposefully go for a brain freeze right about now. “I don’t know—I think I’m just sleep deprived.” 

They can see it. The flash of disappointment across Ena’s face at the blatant lie. Another regret is added to the already long list that continues to keep Mizuki up at night. 

She deserves better than this.

And because Ena is just that type of person, she won’t force it out of them. Instead, she leans into their presence, enough for Mizuki’s ears to turn scarlet over the sudden closeness, and pinches their cheek with her free hand. 

“Is that also your excuse for biting your ice cream? You never used to do that, what the hell?” The disappointment is gone, replaced with—something akin to fondness, Mizuki thinks. 

“Okay, okay! It was just a bad habit I picked up over the years. I'm sorry,” Mizuki’s whines intermingle with bated laughter and Ena is forced to smile at them. She’s missed this so much. 

“You manage to pick up the most annoying habits then,” she retorts and falls back into the bench. Mizuki notes their shoulders brushing against each other’s—and how Ena doesn’t pull away; they finish their popsicle with a satisfied hum. 

“Do you want some?” 

Mizuki snaps the popsicle stick in half. 

“What?” 

“…Do you want some cheesecake?” She’s currently lifting a spoonful in Mizuki’s direction, her cheeks adoring a dark blush that is spreading rapidly across her neck and ears. Mizuki owlishly blinks once—then twice, feeling their cheeks begin to searing in turn. 

The thought of the two of them sharing an indirect kiss leaves their mind as quickly as it enters—and they’re forced to pinch their forearm in secret. Friends do this all the time, don't be ridiculous. 

Because that’s exactly what they are. 

“…Since you’re offering,” Mizuki’s lips delicately find themselves wrapped around the ends of the flustered brunette’s spoon, pulling away as they hum in appreciation over the sweet desert. They feel Ena’s molten gaze eyeing their face, their lips, and Mizuki’s left a little breathless. 

“It’s good, it kinda tastes off with the strawberry ice cream though…” they nervously laugh and turn to face legitimately anything else. The autumn breeze suddenly feels comforting against their heated skin. 

A beat of silence again. Mizuki peaks over at Ena who’s idly tapping the spoon against the near empty container. 

“High school feels so long ago,” Ena sighs and Mizuki has to double take at the whiplash in topics. As if they didn’t just share a spoon merely five seconds ago. 

“…What makes you say that?”

“Hmm.” Her eyes aimlessly wander across the road in front of them, until they're back on Mizuki. “It’s just—so much has happened. Part of me hates looking back at how things used to be,” she sinks a little into her hoodie and sniffles. “Sometimes you think it gets easier, but then it hits you like a truck when you least expect it.” 

Mizuki doesn’t respond. Or can’t. How can they? There’s so much to unpack and they’re beginning to feel like the air is thinning out between the two of them. It's obvious what she's referring to.

“I was also thinking about how annoying you used to be. And still are, mind you.” She offers a small smile at them, bumping their shoulders together gently. Mizuki finds respite in Ena’s playful banter. 

She’s always so perceptive of their feelings, this familiar dance between the two that involves toeing the line of complete and utter vulnerability—but never at the expense of either one of them becoming uncomfortable. Another trait they loved about her. Still do. 

And another beat of comfortable, intimate, silence falls between them. 

“Uh,” only when Ena draws their attention back with a small cough, does Mizuki realize they had been staring. 

“I was wondering—are you… seeing anyone?”

“What?”

Ena looks about as red as Mizuki’s signature bow, until she gives up completely and pulls the collar to her hoodie above her nose with haste. 

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just—“

“I’m not.” Mizuki is quick to respond, their heart nearly about to explode. “Work is—a lot. I just never bothered with any of that.”

“Oh. That’s…” Ena trails into silence, probably not knowing what else to say without falling into dangerous waters. If not for certain circumstances, Mizuki might’ve found it entertaining to see her flounder like this.

“…Are you?”

The mood changes considerably in a matter of seconds. This is all insane. The fact that the two of them are even entertaining this topic leaves Mizuki’s head spinning. 

“I’m not either,” Ena slowly plays with the empty container once belonging to her cheesecake. Mizuki catches a glimpse of the tips of her ears burning a pretty shade of pink. “…Work has been a lot for me too.”

“Miss Inoue tried to set me up with a few people—nothing ever worked out. Then she finally told me I have zero game.” 

Mizuki snorts, “God I gotta meet this lady.” 

“Definitely not,” Ena bites back a shy smile and finally stands. The realization that all of this is coming to an end hits Mizuki far too quickly and disappointment seeps into their chest. 

“I should head home,” the brunette yawns and rubs the irritation out of her eyes with her free hand. Mizuki nods and opens the plastic bag for her to dump her trash in. 

“Thanks for making my insomnia worse,” Mizuki grins and stands, ignoring the insistent ache coming from their back, likely due to the hard bench. “You’re a terrible influence, Miss Shinonome.”

“Very Mizuki-Like to force me into sitting outside with you well past midnight in the middle of October to eat cold dessert together, only to then blame me for your insomnia.” 

“…Yikes. When you put it like that, you make me sound horrific.”

Ena shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Another playful gesture. Then, she gives them a long, curious look, as if trying to read Mizuki’s mind; searching for something deep inside them. All they can do is fidget over her heated gaze. 

Whatever it is she’s searching for, she evidently doesn’t find. 

“I’ll see you Monday, Mizuki,” she decides, turning her back towards them as she begins to make her way home. 

“See you, Enanan,” they wave her off and once she turns the corner, Mizuki all but collapses back onto the bench again. Their eyes train upward to the midnight sky and begin to count the stars decorating the dark expanse. 

And then Mizuki’s vision starts to blur. Before everything threatens to spill, they take their sleeve and forcefully press it against their eyes, a silent plea to compose themselves. They’ll tell her as much as they can, when they’re ready. 

Because even interactions as tame as those hurt. It hurts like hell. It’s not nearly enough. The burden from years of regrets feels like it may swallow them whole. With Ena back in their life, Mizuki finds themselves closer and closer to taking the risk.

“Miss Inoue, respectfully—I’m going to hang up on you. You’re making me late.”

“Don’t be that way Ena! You can’t leave me hanging on your little crush you’ve got on your ex. I’ve heard worse, trust me!”

“Goodbye, Miss Inoue.”

“Ena, wait—”

She hangs up and all but sprints the remaining distance towards the venue. It’s been two weeks since her and Mizuki’s midnight escapade took place, and the two have certainly gotten closer ever since. She won’t complain, the dull ache in her chest is getting easier to tolerate, especially if it means Mizuki is in her life again. 

She’ll grant them friendship if that’s what they truly want. 

And then a drop of water lands on Ena’s nose, forcing her to look up at the looming clouds splayed across a grey sky. Awesome. She’s late and she’s going to be caught in a storm. 

With the remaining stamina she has left—which isn’t much considering she certainly isn’t an athletic person in any regard—Ena turns the corner and onto the venue’s street; only to find Mizuki at the entrance. 

“Woah, since when do you run?” 

Ena is heaving and trying to regain control of her gasps for air, and Mizuki is laughing. She wants to punch them. 

“I’m…supposed to meet the director at ten am sharp…” She coughs and presses her back against the brick wall to the venue. 

Mizuki slowly nods before taking out what Ena can only assume are the keys to the venue, and begins to lock it up.

“…What are you doing?” 

One hand motions to the sky, their attention not faltering from locking up. “They issued a weather advisory just a few minutes ago. To make it easier on everyone, we all just decided to cancel today and regroup in a couple of days.” 

Ena’s shoulders slump and let’s out a strangled groan. “The money I spent on breakfast, the train ticket—”

Mizuki snorts and stuffs the keys back into the pocket of their coat. “In that case, would you wanna take the train back together? I’ll even pay for your ticket if it makes you feel better.” 

The brunette hesitates because the last time the pair boarded a train together, albeit unplanned, it didn’t end well. Things are different now, however. She hopes they are. 

“That sounds fine. You don’t have to pay though, I still haven’t forgotten the cheesecake you bought me.”

Mizuki smiles, but Ena notes it doesn’t quite reach their eyes. “I haven’t forgotten that night either, trust me,” the pair match each other’s pace as they head together towards the station, “and I already told you, keeping me company that night was more than enough.” 

Ena hums, her attention falling on the insistent drops of rain now falling on the both of them; so they pick up their pace a tad. “Are you nervous?”

Mizuki owlishly blinks.

“For?”

“Your event is a little over two weeks away. Are the nerves finally hitting you yet?” Ena clarifies. 

Mizuki tilts their head, offering a crooked grin just for her. “Just a little. I’m more excited than anything,” they fish out their boarding passes in unison and scan them with ease. “…Admittedly, these last couple of weeks have been good for me.” 

Ena’s pulse stutters, because she’s not sure if she’s reading too much into the implications of their frankness. 

“Well—I'm glad then,” Ena mumbles and has to look away. Because Mizuki is staring back at her with their signature up to no good smirk. 

“I’m honored Enanan is so worried about me!” 

“You asshole—” She hates the way her voice rises an octave in embarrassment. “Obviously I’m always worried about you.”

Mizuki eyes her amusingly, and then allows their lips to curl, a soft chuckle resonating through the station. "I know, Ena."

The train ride goes smoothly. It certainly goes better than most of the scenarios Ena made up in her mind. Until it doesn’t. 

Ena is busy tapping on her phone mindlessly; that is until the speakers crackle to life and disturb their comfortable silence. The announcer repeats the weather advisory currently in effect, with an added flood warning now; which results in the last several scheduled stops being cancelled or postponed. A wave of dread washes over Ena.

“And how the hell am I supposed to get home now?” 

Mizuki folds their manicured hands into their lap, their pretty lips spreading into a small smile. “You can come over to my place and wait it out.” Ena’s heart hammers against her chest and the train suddenly rises in temperature. Only Mizuki would be bold enough to extend such an offer, and so casually while they’re at it. 

“…I don’t know Mizuki…”

And as if some god above is playing tricks on her, a treacherous clap of thunder breaches their quiet exchange and threatens to shake the train. 

“You really can’t expect me to let you walk home in that,” they add. “It’ll just be for a few hours. I won’t even force you to watch this new anime I’ve started! Shame. You’d probably like it too, it’s super gay.” Ena frowns at the last comment. Unprovoked and unnecessary. And there's no possible way she’s that predictable. 

But Ena relents anyway. Because she can’t ever say no to Mizuki.

Oh right, and also because the weather is getting significantly worse. 

The pair exit the train and their streak of bad luck continues.

“Mizuki, do you have an umbrella—” Thunder cuts her off, and suddenly, one drop turns into hundreds. 

“Nope.” Mizuki answers. They’re on the other side of the intersection, which means they’re at least ten minutes away from Mizuki’s apartment. The wind is quickly picking up speed. 

“What do we do?” Ena shouts to be heard above the now insistent storm. She’s holding onto Mizuki’s coat, her other hand covering her eyes from the falling water. 

Rather than answering, Mizuki pulls the smaller brunette against their side, sporting an amused grin as Ena chokes out profanities while the two of them sprint underneath the torrential rain like children. 

In the end, they finally find respite in the hallway of Mizuki’s apartment complex. Both of them are absolutely drenched, and Ena can feel the cold reaching her bones, while Mizuki’s teeth chatter next to her ear. She huddles closer to their arm instinctively, likely looking to share body heat. Mizuki lets her, albeit with a scarlet tint painting their cheeks as they attempt to open up their door. 

“Somehow—I blame you for all of this.” The brunette murmurs sardonically. She uses their free hand to brush away the strands of wet hair that stick to her forehead and grimaces.

One glance out of the hallway window and the sun has completely vanished now, replaced with pitch black clouds and unyielding rain. 

And for once, Ena’s entirely oblivious to Mizuki floundering and struggling to open the lock to their own apartment because of their current embrace which is short circuiting their mind. 

A click and Mizuki’s prayers are answered because their apartment door swings open, ushering Ena in. 

“Uh, excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting anyone over…” 

Ena certainly doesn’t know what to expect from Mizuki’s apartment because it’s been years. She has to constantly remind herself of the giant rift of time the two have spent away from each other, even if it’s painful. Highschool Mizuki was incredibly self conscious over the state of their room, although would never admit it. 

So to see the current shape of their apartment—almost as cluttered as Ena’s—is a shock to say the least. 

Mizuki is quick to notice Ena’s face contort into bewilderment and blushes further. “…Give me a break Enanan, it only looks like this because I’ve been so busy.” 

“You haven’t even let me say anything yet,” Ena retorts with a hidden smirk. 

Underneath all of the variety of fabric made of different material that’s scattered and thrown everywhere, meters worth of measuring tape splayed across the floor, and magazine cuttings decorating the carpet; Ena deduces their apartment is rather homey. And offers warmth that she so desperately needed away from the storm. 

Their eyes widen at the realization that they’re both soaked, and they spring forward in the direction of what Ena assumes is their room. 

“I’ll be right back, I’ll get you a change of clothes.” 

And when they leave, Ena’s curiosity gets the best of her. Because she idly wanders into the living room where Mizuki has hanging an array of old photos and awards from over the years. 

She regrets it almost immediately. 

There’s photos of occasions Ena has no recollection of, because she wasn’t a part of any of them. Guilt wells up in her chest. And unwarranted jealousy over those who were able to be a part of all these memories. Mizuki has lived their own life seemingly without the need for her—she should be happy for them. 

She has to blink back salty tears. Not here, or at all for that matter. 

Mizuki returns and Ena is caught staring at the photos. Their small smile falters.

“Here you go, feel free to use the bathroom to change.” Mizuki murmurs and hands over the folded clothes. She can feel the indifferent stare etched in their face, the way their hands have a slight tremble. 

There's that rift between them again.

“…Right, thanks.” Ena hopes they don’t notice the way her voice strains from lack of confidence and staggers to the bathroom. 

Their bathroom offers minimal comfort to Ena, who has to fight back further tears; because holy shit everything smells like Mizuki. It makes her head dizzy, she might suffocate. The very perfume she used to bury herself in when accepting their soft hugs, reciprocating eager kisses—

Ena is forced to kneel down in the middle of the bathroom and lay her head in the palms of her hands, counting to twenty. She wants to try again, for real, not as friends. Give their relationship a second chance. Ena hates how much she craves it. How much she’d like to discard logical thought and just let herself go.

She can’t let herself start crying, especially not on Mizuki’s bathroom floor. So she gathers strength and changes her drenched clothes into the snug sweater and shorts belonging to Mizuki, ignoring the way their perfume faintly caresses her nose and opens the door back into the living room. 

The insistent typhoon outside separates the subtle stillness of the apartment from the real world, but not nearly enough to conceal the half sob Ena mistakenly hears seeping through Mizuki’s bedroom. 

“Mizuki, do you have a dryer for the wet clothes—”

Another strained cough, and adamant sniffling now. “…Sure, give me a minute.” 

And so she does, until she hears what sounds like glass shattering against the floor and her heart sinks into her chest. Before her thoughts can catch up to her movements, Ena is sprinting towards their room. The sight is enough to leave her nauseous. 

“Mizuki?!” 

They’re kneeling down on their bedroom floor, surrounded by shards of glass and several drops of blood; Ena’s legs move on their own and her trembling hands reach out to cup Mizuki’s empty expression. 

“Mizuki, are you okay—” Ena’s unsteady voice is halted to a stop as she takes in their surroundings. A fragmented picture frame lays pathetically in the midst of the glass and in it lies a photo the two of them took during an aquarium date during their final year at Kamiyama. 

“…It was an accident…”

Mizuki’s murmuring pulls Ena’s attention away from the photo and back to their thumb exhibiting a small cut from the glass. “…You don’t have to explain yourself to me Mizuki, do you have any bandages?”

“In the bathroom drawer.” 

Ena nods and runs a quick thumb against their cheek in silent comfort. They’re paler than they normally are, and dark bags heavily line their swollen eyes. 

“Don’t move from here,” Ena orders, darting back to the bathroom. Her head is spinning, but she composes herself enough to gather bandages and saline wipes. When she returns, she lays the bandages on their bed and kneels down to meet their empty gaze. 

“Let’s move you to your bed, Mizuki.” Ena’s voice doesn’t betray her worry thankfully, and the two of them move to sit across from one another on the edge of their bed. 

Her careful touch reaches for Mizuki’s cut, warm fingers gently caressing cold as she silently rubs the wipe across the wound. Her heart is hammering against her chest, especially at the way Mizuki’s unsteady breath tentatively ghosts her cheeks at their proximity. 

Ena applies slight pressure to their thumb to halt the bleeding. There’s a nervous and heavy strain permeating the tension between the two. Ena catches a glimpse of Mizuki’s gaze and is met with something akin to the indifference, emptiness she noticed earlier. 

“…I’m sorry…” Mizuki is the first to break their solemn silence and Ena shakes her head gently. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for Mizuki, it was an accident.” She won’t look up from their thumb again, because if she does—she’s sure she’ll shatter into a million pieces like the frame on the floor. 

As she’s wrapping the injured finger, she feels Mizuki shudder. “…I mean I’m sorry…for everything…” 

For everything?

Ena’s long dormant heart feels like it’s about to leap out of her throat, pounding a loud rhythm in her ears. Even after she finishes wrapping their cut, her tentative fingers still find themselves laced around Mizuki’s hand. 

“I’ve regretted leaving ever since that night…” Mizuki chokes and Ena makes the mistake of lifting her head—because now tears are streaming down their stained cheeks. 

“…Mizuki please. We don’t have to do this now—”

“You don’t understand Ena,” their voice is trembling and their grip on the brunette’s hands tighten in desperation. “I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea. Everyday we’ve been apart I—” Another sob. Something deep in Ena breaks. 

“…I love you so much. Just as much as the night before graduation…”

A sob forces her chest to rise and fall, and Ena doesn’t know what to do with her own body, with her hands, until she’s gripping Mizuki’s sweatshirt; pulling them forward to dig her face in their shoulder. One tear falls, and then another, until she’s staining their shoulder and shaking into the embrace. 

In between quiet sobs, Ena finds strength to ask the only question that’s ever mattered to her since then. 

“…So why did you leave…?”

Trembling hands find purchase along Ena’s back. Mizuki’s breathing is so erratic, she can hear the way their heart stutters arrhythmically. 

“Ena you were so ready to give your heart to me, I—” their grip tightens, “I can’t accept it. Not when I’m so undeserving—when I’m deceiving you. I can’t…” Mizuki is sputtering now and everything spills out so fast. 

“There’s so much I’m not ready to say yet…” it’s barely above a whisper, but leaves a wake deep in Ena’s core all the same. 

“Mizuki please,” hands soaked in anguish slip their way past locks of soft pink hair and reach their scalp. “…I’m not asking you to say anything you’re not ready to. I’ll wait however long it takes.” 

“…I’m just asking you to trust me,” her voice quivers against the nape of their neck. “Not everything is your burden to bear…Let me share some of it. That’s what I meant when I said I want you in my life always.”

Mizuki stills under her soothing fingers weaving along their scalp.

“I’m so scared, Ena. I don't want to lose you…”

“Mizuki, look at me.”

“I...I can’t,” their voice unsteady, barely above a whisper.

Then Ena’s hand was at their chin, tilting their head and Mizuki obediently lets her. There lies an intensity in her gaze that Mizuki can’t describe. Unequivocal resolve. Sadness. Acceptance.

“I know, Mizuki. And I’m asking you not to be—not with me.” 

“…What if you get tired of waiting? God—I don’t even know where I would begin…there’s just so much.”

Without thinking twice, she rejects their worry in a hurry. “I won’t. Mizuki, it goes both ways. As much as I want you in my life always, the thought of you not being involved in mine…” 

“It doesn’t have to be today. Or tomorrow. Or anytime soon. Not when I’m promising you I’ll be by your side forever.”

She admits—fast and messy, she’s rambling. Fearing any second of hesitancy will allow them to slip away from her again.

Ena parts her stained and runny face away from their damp shoulder and presses a tender kiss onto the crown of their head. Silence befalls the two of them like a weighted blanket, only the rain offering some semblance of noise as it hits the bedroom window with no end in sight. 

Mizuki draws a shaky sigh beneath their exchange. “I’m so sorry for leaving…”

“Enough of that, we’re here now. I—” Ena lets out a long sigh, forcing her heartbeat to settle into a steadier rhythm. “I missed you too. So much. It felt like a part of me was gone… I thought this whole time you wanted nothing to do with me.” 

They strain a broken laugh underneath her, shaking their head into Ena’s chest in earnest. 

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” they pull apart, facing each other with blotchy swollen eyes, runny makeup and stained cheeks. And as disheveled and completely spent Mizuki looks—Ena thinks they’ve never looked more beautiful. 

Mizuki’s gaze falters and in a poor attempt to salvage their composure, they slowly open Ena’s palm. Their manicured fingers idly draw imaginary circles and trace along her visible veins. 

Without glancing up, they’re the first to break the sudden silence again. 

“The day we bumped into each other on the train, when you said not everyone can be as easily inspired like me—” 

Ena’s brow furrows, because it's an entirely random topic to diverge into. 

“Yes?”

Mizuki sighs and now it’s their turn to lean into Ena’s shoulder, who welcomes them eagerly; running their nails along their back and spine soothingly. 

“…Ena, you’re the reason why I’ve been able to design the things I’ve come up with. I wanted to tell you so bad at the time,” her pulse is erratic at their confession, quickly replaced with guilt over the way she remembers snapping at them over the topic. 

“It’s always been you. For everything. The inspiration, the designs, hell this upcoming event. You kept praising me and mentioning how successful I’ve been, but it’s only ever been because I had you in mind. I never once stopped thinking about you.”

If Ena’s face was no longer tinted scarlet from her never ending tears earlier, they certainly are now. And she’s not sure if it’s their intertwined limbs and shared embrace or their pretty praise that’s the cause of the temperature spike in their bedroom; she welcomes it all the same. 

The brunette untangles their comfortable limbs out of Mizuki’s warmth and promptly falls back on their mattress with a huff. One arm is used to shield her red rimmed eyes, while the other finds itself still interlaced in Mizuki’s. 

She doesn’t want to let them go. The fire in her core sears, only able to be stoked by Mizuki’s touch, fed by their hand.

Stupidly, tears well up under Ena’s sleeve and she finds herself half-laughing, heart full and overwhelmed. That part of Mizuki hasn’t changed at all. The way bold compliments effortlessly spill from their pretty lips. 

“You’re going to make me cry even more.”

“I think we’ve both cried enough to last a lifetime,” Mizuki admits. They fall back themselves and lay facing the brunette. Even in the dim bedroom that nearly envelopes the pair in complete darkness, the smile they adorn is full of wanton affection and adoration, is bright. 

Mizuki scoots closer to the brunette, carefully lifting their arm away from her poor attempt at concealing her swollen eyes. Ena is quick to screw her eyes shut and Mizuki laughs. 

“…There’s no point in being shy. I probably look worse than you right now.”

Ena peaks through one eye before she relents. “Yeah I guess you’re right…” Their laughter breaks through the comfortable dimness again, evidently much lighter and melodic. Ena falls a little harder. 

She briefly takes her hand away from Mizuki’s before she gently cups their cheek, her palm warm. “…I meant what I said earlier, Mizuki. Even if I have to remind you every second of the day for the rest of our lives. You’re all I want in my life. The absolute only constant thing.”

Her fingers trail up to Mizuki’s damp bangs and carefully tuck them behind their ears. 

“…I love you. So much. It scares me…”

It holds no apprehension, no wavering momentum. It’s too close to a promise, and that’s what scares Mizuki the most as well, because they completely believe her. 

Ena senses the way Mizuki melts into her embrace, the way they earnestly try to fight back emotional tears threatening to spill all over again. 

Curious hands reach beneath the bed, until Ena finds what she’s looking for. The picture that fell out of the frame—of the two of them at an aquarium date so many years ago. Mizuki’s chin falls against her shoulder, eyeing the photo with hints of unease. 

“…I can't believe you still have this photo…”

Pride swells a little nestled in her chest. Even despite all of the foreign pictures displayed in the living room, devoid of any association between the two—the memories of their relationship reside in arguably the most personal room in the apartment. 

“I’ve kept everything…even though it made me feel a hundred times worse. ” She feels a tremulous sigh graze against the crook of her neck. “Plus—this picture is my favorite.”

Ena raises a curious brow, “…Why? I mean the day was fun and all but—”

“Cuz it’s when you were trying to take a picture of a whale shark for Mafuyu, only to scream in the middle of the exhibit after a penguin scared the shit out of you from behind.”

“Okay. Forget I asked,” Ena groans, and Mizuki bursts out a strained laugh; it's so hard not to tease her, not with the way she creases her eyebrows or dons that adorable scowl, eyeing them with the intent to kill. The mood is already shifting into something considerably more sweet.

“You also looked super cute that day. God I mean, glasses and all— ow ouch Enanan, okay!” Mizuki sputters despite the smaller woman leaning over their chest to pinch their cheeks—hard. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Her scowl shifts into something gentle and small, with one more slight tug of their scarlet tinted cheeks. She tentatively soothes out their cheek with her now feathery touch caressing them.

“…I will if you’re the one asking.”

Ena’s heart flips. Because the statement could've been taken in jest. It should’ve been. But Mizuki is returning her gaze with the utmost sincerity. Almost like a promise. 

The earlier torrential storm has all but subsided now, leaving behind in its wake soft droplets that stream and fall against the bedroom window. Lunar rays threaten to peak out from between the overcast—reminding Ena that she should leave soon. In fact, she should have been left. 

They hold each other’s gazes for a long moment, both unsure of what this space is between them, whether it’s something to cross or stay behind.

Ena wants to so badly cross it—to dive head first into everything that stands before her; what she’s ached for. 

Her delicate fingers trace Mizuki’s jawline, down to their chin. Her voice drops a notch, “…I should go home Mizuki…”

They shake their head underneath her chocolate gaze, donning a small, innocent smile threaded along their pretty lips. “You don’t have to.”

She doesn’t want to. It’s the furthest thing she wants to do at the moment. But the implications—

Ena sighs. 

“If you don’t want to go…I’d like for you to stay. Cuddling isn’t illegal now is it?” 

The core in their stomach is smoldering now; the realization of their sudden closeness, their limbs splayed across and intertwined amongst each other, basking in each other’s warmth. The way her fingers idly trace along their eyelids, down to their thin cheeks and across their collarbone. 

The way things have managed to change between them and in so little time after years of yearning. It’s enough to steal her breath, how easily Mizuki inserts themselves back into her existence like a well placed puzzle piece. However, this time without the gnawing fear of what ifs or what went wrong. 

And as a silent response, Ena snakes her arms around Mizuki’s torso, the same way she used to comfortably fall into their embrace with ease however many years ago. She squeezes against their chest and draws a long sigh. 

The faint smell of vanilla and salty tears no longer makes her feel nauseous, she realizes. 

Mizuki melts into their position and wraps their mountain of blankets across their intermingled bodies. “I knew you couldn’t resist my charm.”

Ena yawns into the nape of Mizuki’s neck. “Don’t push your luck, you’re just very comfortable right now…” Her voice is dripping with drowsiness—the emotional whiplash from their years of vulnerabilities spilling out is finally catching up with her. 

Pressing a kiss to Ena’s throat, Mizuki welcomes the brunette’s hum in content. They stay that way for what seems like hours, just holding onto each other as the light rain comes down against the windows. 

Longing. Intimacy. Reassurement. A promised future. That is what this is. Nothing more, nothing less; and yet, for Mizuki, it’s everything.

They're shaped by constant insecurities, accustomed to fearing the unknown, but here, Mizuki comes undone at the hands of acceptance.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Can you trust me for just one second? God and you say I’m impatient.” 

“I do trust you it’s just…Mizuki, it’s like you don’t hear yourself talk sometimes.”

"I resent that. You make me sound way more insufferable than I really am y'know that Enanan?"

The weekend before Mizuki’s grand event arrives. A week since the pair succumbed to each other’s chasmic abyss of vulnerabilities in the midst of a storm; taking their tentative first steps towards healing. Together. 

Mizuki has found it noticeably easier to breathe lately. 

Since then, Ena visits Mizuki every afternoon after work, the pair working overtime in comfortable silence for the showcase. The brunette will never admit it, but she finds herself unwilling to part from Mizuki’s side when the two finish for the day. There were even occasional nights where they talked into the early mornings until the following day, cuddled up in Mizuki’s bed, heads propped up on their elbows.

Fast forward to the present—where Mizuki is currently leading Ena—albeit unknowingly, towards the seaside; under the expanse of the night midnight sky. 

“Okay! Now you can open your eyes,” Mizuki relents.

It’s the scent of the sea breeze that embraces them comfortingly, and they let out a deep breath, tasting salt on their tongue.

They grip onto Ena’s hand a tad tighter. 

Mizuki listens. The gentle sound of ocean waves in the distance. The warmth of the sand spreading beneath their feet. The cool breeze across their flushed skin. The soft hue from the full moon highlighting Ena’s sharp features, who clutches Mizuki’s arm, curiosity etched evidently across her expression. 

“The beach at night is beautiful,” her voice is carried across the subtle breeze, “…but why are we here? It’s about to be November.”

In an attempt to satiate her confusion, Mizuki shakes off the bag that’s hanging off their free shoulder in a hurry. Ena peeks inside, only to respond with a bright pink blush that spreads from the bridge of her nose and all the way down to her collarbone. 

Sparklers. Very reminiscent of a certain night that has plagued the two of them for years now. 

“…You can’t be serious.”

“I’m absolutely serious,” When Ena meets Mizuki’s gaze, Mizuki’s expression is gentle, but there’s sadness etched in it too. “I want to make up for the night before graduation…it was supposed to be something special—between us. Instead it’s…I don’t know. I just hate it…”

Mizuki’s rambling. They know it, their voice sounds strained, but they really, really just want Ena to know how they feel. They don’t want to tiptoe around her anymore.

“Sorry, it’s stupid—really,” Mizuki looks away, knowing the words are not coming out the way they practiced every night in the bathroom mirror. 

“It’s not stupid.” Ena’s hands suddenly firmly grasp their own, and a bewildered Mizuki looks up to see the brunette leaning in close, a molten gaze meeting theirs in earnest. “I appreciate the sentiment. More than you know, Mizuki.”

“…I just don’t want to resurface any bad memories for you…” Mizuki murmurs with a sigh. “We don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to.”

Ena looks at them for a long moment. Her hardened gaze silently dances across Mizuki’s features until she’s meeting their pink gaze once again. “I want to do this Mizuki. And I don’t fault you for that night. I just want you to always remember I’m here for you…whenever that day may be.”

The shorter girl tears her attention away, feigning interest in their interlocked hands, at the way Mizuki’s thumb is gently caressing her palm. She’s lucky the dark manages to conceal her growing blush.

Mizuki’s smile is small, but it’s there.

“I believe that now Enanan,” they squeeze her hands in silent affirmation before taking a seat against the cool sand—pulling the brunette down with them. 

“Jesus Mizuki—can you not wait two seconds?!” The brunette curses underneath; the two of them making themselves comfortable as the subtle waves hitting the shore fill the crevices of silence between them. 

“Sorry, sorry I’m just excited,” grinning back at her, Mizuki tears the box of sparklers open and hands an unlit one over to Ena. 

The brunette hums, accepting the stick as she patiently waits for Mizuki to light it. “Y’know the event is on Friday right?”

“That I do.”

Mizuki’s knowing smirk grows wider at Ena’s visible curiosity. “And you’re still not nervous?”

“Not at all. How can I be?” Their nimble fingers light their sparkler which crackles to life against the night. “I’ve had so many people help me. Including you. Especially you.”

Ena is full on blushing now. “…I know initially I said I was there for work. And I was. But getting to see you everyday—doing something you love . I don’t know…it made me so happy after not having you in my life for years…”

Mizuki angles their sparkler against Ena’s unlit stick, igniting hers in the process, ignoring the way their ears burn similarly from her confession. The peace and quiet of the oceanside beach isn’t enough to silence the way their heart is running rampant against their chest. It isn’t enough to distract the heavy tension of unspoken feelings permeating between them that neither dare to cross. 

And—oh. 

Beautiful. 

Ena is so beautiful, even more so under the moonlight gently caressing her sharp chocolate gaze. The way her sparkler’s orange hue offers a shade of inviting warmth along her cheeks, revealing a similar pretty blush she’s also been sporting the whole time. 

Time seems to freeze at the realization of just how close the two of them evidently are. Their legs straddle the brunette, warm breathing intermingling and caressing exposed flushed skin; their lips a mere few inches away from here. Here in this moment—Mizuki wants so desperately to be selfish, they want to submit to unchecked reservations, to welcome the chasmic fear of the unknown for the very first time in their life. The very thing they fear.

And so Mizuki does. They greedily close the distance, and Ena instinctively obliges them and drops the sparkler into the damp sand, tangling her hands into Mizuki’s pink locks instead. 

Ena’s lips are warm and soft, and they somehow feel like home and something new all the same. This duet between them is familiar—they’ve memorized her lips before, with their fingers, with their tongue. Despite the tension thrumming in the air, Ena doesn’t resist.

And even after all of these years, they still fit against her, despite their fears.

They never anticipated getting to be here, with Ena, ever again. 

Mizuki sinks into Ena’s feathery touches, into her embrace, pressing themselves closer against the brunette, silently pleading to close the gap. Mizuki’s tentative touch finds purchase across the nape of her neck, angling her head to deepen the kiss; Ena’s own hands find Miziki’s sweater to pull them in closer.

And when it’s over, before Ena can open her half lidded gaze, Mizuki is quick to shrink themselves into the crook of her thin neck. They can’t open their eyes, or refuse to. They’re terrified, more than they have been in a long time. They wouldn’t blame Ena if she doesn’t want anything to do with them, even as friends. Because they never agreed to this—

“…I’m glad you made the first move, because if you hadn’t I was going to lose it.” Ena’s thumbs coax Mizuki away from her neck, caressing their cheeks, her voice hoarse but full with content against the shell of their ear.

“So I didn’t overstep…?” It’s choked out as they press their nose against her collarbone now, inhaling her subtle perfume and hiding away with a small smile. Maybe they’re not the only one turning crazy here.

One kiss isn’t enough evidently; as a silent response, Ena surges forward to catch their lips once again. Thin fingers are tangled into their pink hair, pulling at their scalp in tease.

Mizuki inexorably melts into the embrace, dizzy at the way the brunette is smiling against their lips as they meet again and again against the coolness of the sand, hidden away by the darkness. Their touches scalding at the product of years of yearning. 

“Does this mean—” 

A quick breath between a desperate onslaught of kisses now. Mizuki’s hair is splayed across the sand, disheveled and unkempt. Ena’s ruffled locks resemble their state—her darkened gaze raking over the sight below her before pressing one final numbing kiss against them. A lower lip is trapped between her own teeth for a mere moment. Right now, the two are tasting heaven after years spent in purgatory. 

The pair eventually break apart, and Mizuki all but sputters out the elephant in the room. 

“…What exactly does all of this mean?”

“Hmm,” Ena lazily mumbles, blown pupils and lips slightly swollen. Her head falls against Mizuki’s chest, the irregular cadence loud against her ear. “What do you want it to mean?”

“I want to try us again—so badly.”

Mizuki feels a small smile stretch across the brunette’s lips beneath them. She pauses in twining a strand of pink hair around her manicured finger. 

“I'd like that too.”

Ena’s molten gaze pleadingly stares into Mizuki’s pink irises now. 

“I just want you to trust me. With anything.”

No one's ever said something with so much unwavering resolve to them. God, they feel so wanted, unconditionally desired by someone who clearly trusts them wholeheartedly in return.

Mizuki’s mouth runs dry. “I do, Ena. I know that now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ena lifts herself up from their chest, the feeling of their racing pulse beneath their skin rises. She leans and kisses Mizuki for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. This once, however, it’s neither hurried nor desperate. It’s sweet like honey and achingly tender. 

“…I love you, Ena. So much—I hardly know what to do with myself sometimes.”

It’s a faint murmur against Ena’s lips, and when she finally breaks free from their embrace, she finds Mizuki’s pale pink eyes reflecting the moon’s hues. 

“Let yourself be loved, Mizuki. It’s what you deserve,” Ena places several gentle kisses along her partner’s cheeks, their nose, reaching up near the shell of their scarlet ears. Each caress, Ena breathes a quiet confession—a promise, a reminder.

“Let me love now and forever.”

The moment they enter the venue, Mizuki gets positively bombarded with questions from journalists, models in the agency, investors and interviewers alike. Someone flashes a camera directly in their face, the intense light momentarily stunning Mizuki. They blink dumbly—once then twice, their heart threatening to burst out of their chest. 

Maybe they were full of shit about not being nervous.

It wasn’t until a hand wrapped around their arm gently squeezes them that they’re pulled out of their reverie.

“Are you nervous now?"

Mizuki startles at the voice warm against their ear—their pink gaze falling on the shorter brunette draped along their arm. Mizuki loses themselves at just how handsome she is, donning a button up white dress shirt, black jacket and matching slim trousers, hugging her frame nicely. 

Mizuki’s heart swells at the sight, part of them believes this moment is just some bizarre and unrealistic dream; that when they wake, they’ll be forced to endure the cold and unforgiving life they once knew, a life without Ena Shinonome. She tightens her hold of Mizuki’s forearm, offering a playful smile their way. 

The kind action feels like a warm blanket enveloping their soul. High on success and dizzying happiness, Mizuki squeezes Ena’s fingers in affection. 

It’s suddenly a little easier to breathe now. 

“Not anymore—I’m just glad we’re here. Together.” Melting into their girlfriend’s embrace, Mizuki poorly attempts to fight back emotional tears over it all. 

“Of course we’re here together. I promised you I’d stay by your side forever, didn’t I?”

The day they completely undo themselves to her looms over them, threatening to swallow them whole even now. But a life without Ena isn’t a life at all. The burden of insecurities finally rolls off their stiff shoulders. 

If Ena’s unwavering sincerity is truly the pinnacle of happiness, then Mizuki doesn't want to go back to life without her ever again. A life without being seen; the way Ena sees them. A life without the conviction and assurance Ena offers, a far cry from a future enraptured with the unknown. 

A life without complete and utter acceptance for who they are.