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“Wanna listen to this new Miku song? The composer is pretty underrated.” One of Mizuki’s earbuds dangles from their hand while the other remains plugged into their ear. It’s an offer they hope An takes. They just know she would like this song’s style, with its beautiful melody mixed with unique sound effects. If 25-ji hadn’t established such a mysterious aura, Mizuki might have even suggested a collaboration with this composer.
An doesn’t answer. At first Mizuki thinks it’s because the music is too loud, so they take off the other earbud as well.
“An?”
Nothing, again. Well, not if you count the sound of the subway tracks clattering.
“An!”
“H-huh?” Her head snaps up, perfectly in sync with the train’s jolt as it hits a bump on the path.
“Hm, is something wrong? It’s not like you to be so absent-minded,” Mizuki points out the difference but doesn’t dwell too closely on it. The music’s steady beat still rings in their mind…until another light flickers on in their head, veering their thoughts toward a completely new direction. Abandoning their previous question, Mizuki’s grin gains a more…mischievous tinge. “Wait. Whatever you do, don’t look behind you.”
And of course, the first thing An decides to do is to look behind herself. “...There’s nothing there,” she faintly exhaled with relief.
“Aw, what happened to the An who trusted everything I said?” Mizuki grumbles.
“Hmm, I don't know," An taps her chin, pretending to ponder the question. "Oh, I know! Maybe it's because of that one time you told me a ghost story at 11 PM, and I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night. Oh, but we shouldn’t forget about the dummy you made with Rui--"
Mizuki lets out a delighted little laugh. “Alright, alright, I get it! Your memory is creepily good when you're not studying for Mr. Suzuki’s tests."
“Those are bold words for someone who doesn’t even try to study for them in the first place.”
Mizuki sticks out their tongue. “But you love me anyway,” they say this brazenly, with the intention of it being a joke.
“...But I love you anyway,” An replies so softly, so kindly, so genuinely.
Mizuki doesn’t expect her to agree so readily. But they are in a relationship now, aren’t they? And people in relationships are free to say stupid, cheesy things to each other without being embarassed (okay, maybe a little embarassed). Mizuki giggles, loosening a strand of curly pink hair in order to hide their reddening ears. Then, they notice something.
“An, give me your hands.”
“What? That’s…out of the blue, even for you.” The way An purposefully stuffs her fists into her pockets does not escape Mizuki's attention.
“Please?”
“No.”
“With special frosting and two cherries on top?”
“What type of ‘special frosting’?”
“Your favorite: rum raisin buttercream!” The response is instant. Mizuki has all of An’s favorites unintentionally memorized after going on so many shopping trips, aimless walks, and school festivals with her. An’s favorite food is rum raisin ice cream so her favorite frosting must also be raisin flavored, she doesn’t like mint flavored things because she drinks enough mint tea back at home, her favorite brand of shoes is Adidas and…if Mizuki continues, they would end up with enough material to fill up a book.
“Alright, you got me.” An smiles as she slowly takes her hands out of her jacket. They're no longer clenched. “What do you want to do? A palm reading?”
“Not quite.” Mizuki gently takes An's hand, marveling at how soft her skin felt. They lift it up to the window, and frowns. “You’re bleeding.”
In the span of a mere second, An retracts the hand back to her chest in a defensive position. Mizuki knows they should be concerned, but they also can’t help but think: Huh. Guess that’s why the basketball team always asks for An to join whenever they’re missing a member; her arms’ reflexes are on the verge of being superhuman.
“It’s not a big deal. Just a speck of red that I’m surprised you managed to see at all.”
“It is to me.” Mizuki thinks about the crescent-shaped indents on An’s palm and then to her distracted demeanor from earlier. “How hard must you have been clenching your fists in order to draw blood?”
“I was just th….you know—you know what!” An says the last three words especially loud. Loud enough to summon wide-eyed stares from other passengers on the same cart. “Why don’t we talk about something else? You wanted to show me some music, right?”
Mizuki’s persistence begins to taper off. If An was this insistent on not talking about it with Mizuki, it must not concern them at all. …Yes, that must be it. Everyone has their secrets, and An isn’t obligated to tell them just because they’re…official.
“Yeah, I did!” Mizuki’s smile feels forced. Like plastic. Cardboard. Suddenly, Mizuki doesn’t want An to listen to the song anymore, not if it’s just an excuse to change the topic. Suddenly, Mizuki doesn’t go red when they think about calling An their girlfriend, because the distance between them, all at once, grows even larger than when they were just friends. Suddenly, Mizuki is scared that this isn’t going to last.
Mizuki shakes themself mentally. An—sweet, bubbly, charismatic An—was the one who invited them to the festival, invited them to sing, and invited them to share her confidence. The first time Mizuki attended one of VBS's shows, they were astonished to hear the things people said underneath their breath. There were more positive comments than negative ones, of course, but the ones with poisonous things to say always shouted their opinions the loudest. “The blue-haired girl's singing is not as good as the rumors say," or “Their reputation is the result of Ken’s success." When Mizuki had told An about this, she shrugged. Her fingers wormed her way through Mizuki’s, and she said, “I know whose criticism matters and whose don’t. Some try to lift you up, others want you to crumble.”
It baffles them, just how simple An made that statement feel. Like it was an unnecessary given in one of the geometry problems An would go to Mizuki for help on. Typed neatly in size 12, Times New Roman, was a truth that doesn't need to be put into words to be true. But it was only until An took Mizuki’s hands in hers and told them—when Mizuki finally, finally knew.
An was the one who first closed the mile between the two of them. Even when Mizuki had tried so hard to run.
It finally dawns on them.
This… this is their opportunity to help An a little in return!
Mizuki lets the smile fall from their face. “… But, I’m not letting you listen to it until you tell me just what you’re worrying about.”
An jokingly grabs for one of the earbuds. Mizuki yanks it away from her grasp, clearly unimpressed. “Come on, you can’t be serious?”
Mizuki is serious. As soon as An realizes this, her smile disappears in suit. “I told you already. It’s not a big deal.”
“Then you should have no trouble telling me what it is.” They shoot back. This shuts An up immediately, and part of Mizuki jumps up with worry; was their answer too blunt?
But wait…An’s cheeks are turning…pink?
“O—okay. But…promise me you won’t laugh.” She fidgeted with her long, fake nails.
Mizuki laughs. Oops. They manage to get the giggles under control before saying, “Okay okay, I won’t. What are we, third graders? Should we seal it with a pinkie promise too?”
An is already staring at Mizuki expectantly, her pinkie extended in the position to receive.
“You’re dragging this out on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Just promise!”
Mizuki promises.
“I was thinking about how to tell my dad. That we’re dating, I mean.” An blurts out. Her eyes are squeezed shut, as if scared of how her partner would react. Mizuki is surprised, but also…not. “It’s not that he won’t accept me, I’ve just never had to tell him something like this before.”
Mizuki nods. Part of them understands the stress, because they had to go through the same thing when coming out to their own parents. But there is also something different for An, who looks up to Ken much more than Mizuki does with their father.
“How should I even start?” An massages her temples. “‘Hey, dad, I don’t like men. By the way, this is my significant other! You never met them before, but they’re really cool and mean so much to me!’”
“Hehe, that’s exactly what you should say. I could respond with, ‘Hey, Mr. Shirashi! Your daughter is super hot!” Mizuki winks as An groans in the background. “She means a lot to me too, and I hope you accept our relationship!”
“Shouldn’t you at least introduce yourself before saying I’m…pretty?”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that.” Mizuki clears their throat. “Hey, Mr. Shirashi! I’m Akiyama Mizuki. Your daughter is super h—“
“Yep, t-that’s good enough!” An stutters. Her fingers instinctually brush through her long, blue hair. Once, twice, thrice.
“Is it?” Shouldn’t I go on a long tangent professing my eternal love for you? ‘Oh, Mr. Shirashi, your daughter saved my life with her kindness. I owe her the world. Please do not worry about me hurting An, because I will sooner die than let anything cause her harm!’”
“Please don’t actually say that on the day of the dinner party.”
Mizuki tilts their head. “You didn’t mention anything about dinner, much less a dinner party. ”
“It’s not going to be today.” An rushes to amend. “I just received a text back from my dad saying he’d be available this Friday.”
Mizuki pouts. “Shouldn’t you confirm whether or not I’m available for it too? I’m actually a very busy person, you know.”
“The dinner will be well after school, and won’t go past midnight. Which won’t affect you to begin with, because you never attend school.” An tugs on Mizuki’s ear, inciting a loud ouch! from the latter. “If you want to earn my dad’s favor, you’re going to have to start going to classes more than just once every month!”
“Fine, fine. I will.” Mizuki concedes. “An, stop pinching me~”
An lets go. “Then I expect to see you at school tomorrow.”
“But it’s a Monday…Annnn, Mondays are the worst!”
“You promised!”
“But not with a pinkie promiseee~”