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Kiryu Coco valued her jackets very much.
She owned a great deal of them — ranging from blue to green to black — and all were adorned with the same thick, white stripes to signify their branding. To say they occupied most of Coco’s closet space was an understatement, because she also made sure to have a corresponding matching bottom for each jacket she had. Her entire wardrobe was, in effect, filled to the brim with those thick, white stripes.
Coco couldn’t pin down what it was. The brand? The comfort? The versatility? She wore them for almost everything, after all — whether it was a quick morning jog or lounging around in her apartment. They were sleek, and cool, and stable, and prestigious, and they just... fit.
Which is why she could barely hold in her laughter when she met Amane Kanata for the first time.
There she was: a girl almost half of Coco’s height, standing in front of her wearing clothes that looked tattered and worn-out. The blue tee Kanata wore was barely ironed, as were the baggy pants whose hems covered half of her foot.
Coco placed her hands on her hips and bent down, meeting Kanata’s eye level. The dragon smirked. “You really expecting to be an idol with that get-up?”
Kanata’s face was all-at-once transformed into a grim frown. She crossed her arms and turned her head away. “At least I don’t have ugly stripes all over my body!” she said curtly.
“Oi!”
“Do I lie?”
Coco straightened her back as she glared. “It’s called fashion.”
“Sure it is.”
The shorter girl rolled her cold, blue eyes for the duration of a moment — angering the taller girl even further. But Kanata didn’t pay any notice to the fuming dragon beside her; her head still faced elsewhere, and Coco absolutely hated it. For some inane reason, this white-haired, wretch of angel was getting inside her mind, and she had only met her a few minutes ago.
Coco was a selfish person. She knew that very well, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t revel in every instant of it. Her apartment was hers. Her coffee mugs were hers. Her clothes were hers — and no one else’s.
Kanata was stealing her thunder, undermining her. That must be why her heart was beating a thousand miles per second, right? Coco wanted — no, needed to be the center of Kanata’s attention.
“Oi,” Coco said, a bit softer this time.
Kanata turned her face a bit, signifying she was listening. A slight smirk began to form around her mouth. She already knew she won.
So stubborn. Coco sighed. “Yakiniku? You, me. Later.”
“You’re paying.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Coco awoke to saliva trickling down from her mouth and onto her expensive bed. She wiped the drool off her face, and, upon rubbing her eyes and regaining full consciousness, stared blankly at the ceiling fan.
Spin, spin, spin.
There was something so foreign about its oscillation; the constant spin of its trajectory — the consistent whir of its machinery. How was it possible? Coco would’ve been bored to death by about the two-hour mark (and that’s being generous). Safe to say, the word stability was not in her dictionary.
Her nose whiffed a potent smell just outside of her room. Kanata must be up already. Coco arranged the messy sheets on her bed and trudged her way into the living room.
The back of Kanata’s head greeted her vision first. It was tied into a neat ponytail, no hair jutting out whatsoever. And as had been the case with every morning, Kanata wore clothes that were far too baggy for her own good.
Yet Coco found this strangely endearing, a far cry from her former attitude. Maybe it was because the sight was hers, and only hers. Who else, after all, could’ve attested to seeing Amane Kanata at the start of each day, every day?
Kanata spoke without looking back, “Morning.”
“Morning.” Coco yawned. She sniffed her nose and groggily walked towards the kitchen cupboards, just beside Kanata who was busy frying fish. Coco opened a cabinet — empty. She raised an eyebrow. “Kanata, where’s my—”
“I used your mug earlier, sorry. It’s there with the washed utensils.” Kanata pointed to the left with her head.
“Oh, uh… it’s alright,” Coco squeezed between her roommate’s body and the kitchen counter and promptly picked up her stark-black mug on the other side of the kitchen. “Did you—”
“Coffee? It’s already there on the table.”
Coco could only blink in response. She then shook her head and coughed. “What, you have some sorta sixth sense now or something?”
Kanata grinned. “I left ghostly saliva on your mug, you know.”
“Yuck. Thanks for that image.”
“Ghost saliva.”
“Oh shut up already.”
It took a few more minutes before the fish was finally deemed ready. Kanata laid it down on the center of the dining table, sided with two small bowls of steaming rice and two cups of miso soup. The food was more than aromatic for Coco’s nose; they smelled… comfortable. Tranquil, even. Coco didn’t know if that was possible, so she tucked the thought away at the back of her mind.
Kanata sipped a bit of tea while leaning on her hand. “Suisei and Anemachi are ordering tonkatsu later.”
“Dinner?”
“Yep.” Kanata titled her head. “Try the soup already. It’s my best one yet.”
Coco slowly neared the soup cup to her mouth and lightly blew on the liquid surface, expelling some of the emanating steam. She inhaled — drinking from the cup after a few seconds.
“Well, how is it?”
It doesn’t matter, because it tastes like home, was what Coco wanted to say.
Instead, she closed her eyes and said, “Eh. Could be better.”
Kanata chuckled and took another sip of tea.
“Care to remind me why we’re grocery shopping at three AM?” Kanata asked sarcastically. She squinted her eyes, woozily pushing the cart through countless silver aisles.
Coco raised her arms. “I was streaming!”
“I asked you to do it earlier,” Kanata stopped in her tracks. “You were nodding!”
“I-I didn’t have coffee yet!”
“Really? You’re using that as an excuse?”
“Yes, yes I am.” Coco grunted and crossed her arms. “Isn’t it your turn to do the groceries anyway?”
“I told you; I had a collab!” The shorter girl sighed. She massaged her forehead for a little while before continuing to push the cart. “Let’s just get this over with so we can sleep.”
“Fine.”
The pair’s cart filled up in the span of a few minutes. It turned out they were really (really) out of food — to the point where they’d pretty much have nothing to eat the next day if they hadn’t gone grocery shopping. And with each new item placed in the cart, Coco’s guilt grew more and more. Which was an exceedingly rare phenomenon, to say the least.
Coco didn’t like admitting she was wrong. She couldn’t stand it.
But she hated it even more when Kanata was mad at her.
“Hey,” Coco started. Kanata’s eyes traveled towards her direction. She sighed. “I’m… sorry.”
“Wow, that must’ve taken a lot of effort, huh?”
“Oi take it already! Kaichou just swallowed her pride for you!”
Kanata laughed. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”
“Eh?”
“How about you let me sleep in that overpriced bed of yours tonight?”
Coco’s face turned crimson in a snap.
“Ohoho.” The short girl smirked. “Embarrassed are we?”
“N-no!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
This girl will be the death of me. Coco growled. “It’s nothing.”
Kanata clapped her hands together and smiled. “Alright then! Let’s hurry so we can go home.”
Home.
She said that earlier, right? In truth, the thought hadn’t registered in Coco’s mind up until that point.
The little apartment with its creaky doors and handles; the kitchen with all its glassware and pots and pans; the living room with its sofa and pillows; the apartment just next door with two of their best friends; the 7-Eleven across the street with all its instant noodles and cheap iced coffee; and here, in Coco’s room, with her nine thousand-dollar bed and the eternally-consistent fan on her ceiling…
Spin, spin, spin.
All of it was home to Kanata. But where was home for her?
Coco plopped her face towards the sleeping angel next to her. Kanata always looked peaceful when she slept and that night was no exception. Her messy white hair, her ajar mouth, her soft breaths — they were all so captivating.
Home is…
“Wherever you are,” Coco whispered.
Kanata moved her head a bit and mumbled, “What was that?”
The dragon’s laugh was soft. “Shhh. Go back to sleep.”
Coco awoke to saliva trickling down from her mouth and onto her expensive bed. Her eyes flung open to the empty spot beside her. Kanata must be up already.
The ceiling fan was still spinning, although Coco didn’t mind it as much as before.
Coco made her way into the living room after arranging the bed’s messy sheets. She rubbed her eyes, and headed immediately towards the kitchen cupboards without so much as catching a glimpse of Kanata.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
Coco retrieved her mug, yawned, and turned to face her roommate. She nearly dropped the mug.
There she was: the girl almost half of Coco’s height, cooking in front of her and wearing clothes that looked all-too-familiar. With one exception — a black, white-striped jacket was being worn over the baggy, barely-ironed tee.
That’s my…
Kanata hummed and raised an eyebrow. “Oh. I borrowed one of your jackets. It’s pretty cold.”
The jacket was oversized, and completely clashed with Kanata’s usual garb. But it also looked comfy, and sweet, and cute, and beautiful, and about a thousand more adjectives that Coco would never say in front of anyone.
“I hope that’s alright.”
Coco blinked. “Oh no, no. I-it’s fine.”
It didn’t take long before Kanata served the meal: a heaping of spam musubi along with two small bowls of rice and two cups of soup. Coco dug in immediately.
“What are you thinking for dinner?” Kanata asked.
“Hmmm. Yakiniku?”
“Read my mind.” A moment of silence passed before Kanata spoke again, “Last night was nice; we should cuddle more often.”
Coco nearly choked. Kanata laughed as she tried to regain her composure. Coco croaked, “We didn—”
“I’m pretty sure we did.”
“Fine, but you’re paying later.”
“Wait—”
“I don’t make the rules, sorry honey.”
Kanata squinted. “God, you’re annoying.”
Coco grinned to herself, and ate another piece of her rice. Maybe she’ll try wearing one of Kanata’s shirts when they eat later, too.
If it’ll fit, that is. (It didn’t.)