Aya Oosawa’s skin was damn near burning through her pajamas.
By all logic, her other senses should have been taking charge right now. Her eyes were being lambasted by a vibrant movie in a dark, dark room; the audio of the movie combined with Chizuru’s loud popcorn crunching were doing her ears in; the scent of butter and candy was being shoved unceremoniously up her nostrils.
But that was all distant, fuzzy.
It was the one inch section of her checkered pants that was pressing against Mitsuki’s leg that her mind latched onto.
Aya knew Mistsuki and her were something—indeed, they’d kissed, confessed, hugged it out, the whole shebang—but they hadn’t put a label on it yet. It was so very new. Terrifying. So Aya had been the one to suggest a group bonding session, thinking having her friends around would give her strength and get rid of any pressure a solo hang out would put on the two of them.
But now? Now she was regretting her decision. Because it was 11 PM and she had zero idea what was going on in the movie and Mitsuki was right next to her, Mitsuki’s leg against hers—Mitsuki, who she might have been kissing this very moment if she’d just had the guts to form the word date on her lips.
She shifted, felt Mitsuki’s eyes trail over to her.
Oh, no no no. Not that look. Not right now. Please, Aya begged Mao’s ceiling as she stared up at it. Have the decency to crumble and knock me out.
The ceiling held.
“I hate this actor guy,” Chizuru said. She decimated another handful of popcorn. “Like, did they even have auditions or what?”
“The girl’s so good, too,” Mao agreed. “Totally unmatched.”
Aya felt a change in the air as they both turned toward her. She had gotten an A in Social Interactions 101 and knew she was meant to add on, but her mind just went, “Mitsuki, Mitsuki, Mitsuki….” and she was afraid it’d actually come out if she opened her mouth.
“Are you hyperventilating?” Chizuru said with a raised brow.
“What makes you think that?” Aya choked out.
Chizuru sighed and looked away.
It was all Aya could muster to watch the thin bar at the bottom of the TV shrink as the film droned on. It wasn’t going fast enough. An eternity later, and only half done. She spared a glance at her Current Problem, who wasn’t faring much better, gaze trained on the pillow she was hugging. Aya wondered if Mitsuki was also thinking about their point of contact. Hoped might be a better word.
…But also hoped not, because then Aya might truly not survive this movie.
“Aw.” Mao huffed. She flicked Chizuru. “You ate all my popcorn.”
“Not my problem,” Chizuru said
And then the strangest thing happened. Mitsuki stood. It was all in one motion, rushed, like she’d been itching to escape for ages. The three others snapped their heads up at her.
Mitsuki’s form was backlit by the TV. Her hair was messy and her PJs rumpled, and she looked so beautiful Aya could die.
“I’ll get it,” Mitsuki said, holding a hand out for Mao’s empty bowl. When nobody moved, she turned shy. “I just mean, I was going to get some water anyway, so…”
Mao handed her the bowl.
The world itself seemed to let out an exhale as everything went back into motion. Mao and Chizuru resumed their commentary. Mitsuki padded toward the doorway, but steadily slowed as she got closer to her destination. Maybe Aya was reading too hard into it, but it appeared like she was debating something.
As soon as Aya thought it, Mitsuki turned back, and the two of them locked eyes.
Aya’s heart skipped a beat. It had to be intentional. It was. What was she trying to convey? Explain why she’d fled? Or, was she trying to invite Aya to come with?
Before Aya could come to a conclusion, Mitsuki slipped away.
For a few excruciating seconds, Aya sat frozen, heart hammering, not knowing what to do. Then—screw it—she stood.
“Where are you going now?” Chizuru asked.
Aya was already on her way out. “Bathroom.”
She heard Mao start to say, “But the bathroom is the other way—“ when the door shut and cut her off.
It was disorientingly quiet in the hall. The lighting was dim, peaceful in contrast to that dizzying slop on the screen.
Mitsuki was leaning against the kitchen counter a few feet away. The bowl was next to her, but she made no move to refill it.
Aya could have spent years studying her features, but only one of them had been blessed with stealth. (It wasn’t Aya’s fault she looked like a flamingo and made as much noise as a drunk one.)
Mitsuki spotted her.
“Hey,” she said.
Hey? As in, Hey, good job on picking up my signals, or Hey, what they hell are you doing here?
“Hey,” Aya replied.
“I’m glad you came to save me; I don’t know where anything is in this house.”
“Me neither, apparently.” Aya flushed at her own stupidity. “I said I was going to the bathroom…”
Mitsuki, gathering that they were nowhere near the bathroom, laughed. “Long way.”
“Long way,” Aya agreed. She wandered over to the counter.
She was wondering if she should genuinely give a tour—but Mitsuki squashed that in an instant, when she suddenly pressed close to Aya. Which was new, because usually Aya was the one initiating touch. No complaints here.
“Bold,” Aya said.
“Terrified,” Mitsuki said, even quieter.
Aya looked over at her, surprised by the admission. Mitsuki was red from head to toe, but her expression was almost determined. They both felt the same, then.
Aya stepped in front of her, backing her against the counter. “Mitsuki,” she said.
Mitsuki put her hand to Aya’s chest. “Your heart…” Was nearly beating out of her goddamn chest? Yes. Yes it was.
“Mitsuki,” Aya repeated.
“Yes?”
“I’ll say something and you tell me if it’s true.”
Mitsuki swallowed. “Okay.”
“You were thinking about me during the movie.”
Now that was bold. Mitsuki was silent for a moment. She said, “True.”
“You wanted me to follow you.”
“True.”
“You”—Aya briefly hated herself for starting this—“want to kiss me right now?” Maybe? Please?
Mitsuki stared down at her.
“True,” she whispered.
There was a second where neither of them knew what to do with that. Then, at once, they leaned in.
It never made sense to Aya that someone so reserved could kiss with so much verve. But Mitsuki kissed how she played music. Skillful. Deliberate. Daring. She brought a hand to Aya’s cheek, a tingle of heat that spread downward.
Aya needed to be closer. Which was impossible, since they were flush together, but lord did she try. She dug her hands into Mitsuki’s hair, her shirt, used the back of her neck to pull them into a deeper kiss.
A moment later, Mitsuki moved back an inch, breathless. “My turn,” she said into the air between them.
Aya was hardly in the mood for conversation, but she allowed a, “What?”
“You want to be my girlfriend,” Mitsuki said.
Aya caught on. Oh.
She grinned. “True.”
Mitsuki smiled too, which made it hard to restart the kiss, but they managed. A feather-light touch under the hem of Mitsuki’s shirt had her getting serious again, and she spun them around so that Aya was against the counter.
Frankly—thank god for that, because without that support, she might have crumbled to the floor with the amount of things she was feeling right now.
Everything was warm, exciting, perfect.
Until footsteps caught Aya’s ear.
How long had it been? Chizuru and Mao were definitely reaching their limit of waiting.
Aya didn’t want to stop. She wasn’t sure she ever would. Mitsuki said against her mouth, “did you hear something?” But Aya quickly shut her up again.
It was only at the very, very last second, at the sound of the door sliding open, that she jumped to the side.
Mao stood in the doorway.
She raised an eyebrow at the scene: Mitsuki, panting, hand over her mouth. Aya, gripping onto the counter for dear life, lipstick smeared and eyes wide.
Mao didn’t comment on it.
“How long does it take to get popcorn?” she grumbled instead.
“Mitsuki hasn’t been to your house before,” Aya said. No shit, Sherlock. “She got, um, confused.”
“Confused,” Mitsuki echoed. “Yeah.” Aya refused to look at her face, knowing it would snap the last threads of her composure.
“The snacks are right there, though?” Mao said.
“Right, right.” Mitsuki grabbed the bowl, but her hands were shaking too hard to make any progress.
Aya slowly slid to the floor. She really, really couldn’t do this.
Mao glanced between the two of them.
“Okay. Is anyone going to tell me what’s going o—“
It was Chizuru, of all people, who came to the rescue, cutting Mao off. “Mao! Get in here now!” she shrieked. “He just took off his clothes. Ew, ew, EW!”
Mao sprinted out of the room to investigate, her friends’ suspicious actions quickly forgotten.
Aya and Mitsuki were silent for several beats. Alone again.
Eventually Aya said, “Wanna go on a date tomorrow?”
More silence.
“Yeah,” Mitsuki said. “But first we have to finish this movie.”
They shared an annoyed look. However, Mitsuki finally calmed down enough to get the popcorn, and Aya fixed her makeup best she could, and they got it together. When they returned to the movie, the progress bar had barely moved. Actor Guy had, in fact, taken his shirt off, but Aya didn’t care. Not at all. By the end of it, she still couldn’t come up with a single plot point.
Though at least, now, she had something to look forward to.
She pressed her leg even harder against Mitsuki’s.