Chapter Text
We aren’t in love. I tell myself this every time I find her at the counter, warming her hands on a mug of coffee so sweet it’s hardly coffee and humming a song I don’t yet know. Chihaya’s dark hair is cut short and exposes the slope of her neck, her socked feet tapping to a nameless rhythm. And she doesn’t notice me, not until I rap my knuckles on the wall. She pops her earbuds out and looks at me. Her expression is guarded, which is only natural. I don’t trust her either.
“What is it, Akizuki-san?” she says quietly. Her sharp brown eyes stare, but never meet mine. I tilt my head, trying to appear even a little more approachable. We’re hardly on a first name basis, and yet…
Somehow, we’re married.
“Oh, it’s nothing important. I just need to shop for groceries after work, and I was wondering if there was anything you wanted, or…” My words come a little bit fast, tumbling one after another, and I become self conscious. I half cling to the doorway, and my fingers only grip tighter.
“No,” she says curtly, and nothing more. A silence hangs heavy between us. It’s awkward and suffocating. She doesn’t look away, but it’s clear she only wants to return to her music: a portable CD player from what I can tell, which is strange enough.
Clearing my throat, I try again. My brow lifts in a bashful smile. “Um… You know, when I get home, it won’t be very late,” I say, feeling all the hesitation in the world. Am I assuming too much? What do I think I am to her? Even if it’s what’s expected of us, who’s to say she’s the same as me? Yet I take the risk: “Will you wait for me?”
There’s a pause of complete silence, only the fan above our heads whirring to fill the air. And then she speaks with clear apprehension. “I suppose, yeah. I have to get some work done today too, but you can interrupt if I’m not done by then.” I can’t read her smile, her strange bitter chuckle. Her movements are a foreign language to me. So I take her at her word, and swallow my doubts.
“Great. Um.” I make my way toward the door, wishing this would just end already. For all I try to bridge the gap, it’s a long way down. My heels slip on so easily as I dress in the role I’m far too used to, and my nice purse hangs easily from my shoulder. A sleek suit completes the look. I become the person I’m supposed to be, and murmur, “I’ll be off then.”
I don’t know if I expected a “drive safe” or some kind of kiss goodbye, but I get neither. She only returns to her music and, defeated, I leave for work.
Chihaya seats herself on the bed beside me. Her short hair is damp from the bath and drips beads of water down her neck, blotting her loose white T-shirt. The striped shorts she has on expose her slim legs, where every bone is emphasized, and what muscle there is. Her long fingers drum on the smooth skin of her thigh. She’s beautiful. And yet, a murkiness lives beneath those thoughts, gnawing feelings of jealousy and insecurity. My thighs aren’t so small, and my waist not so perfect. I know she can see my legs peeking out from the hem of my nightgown. I can see her eyes traveling, leaving me in a state of pure unease.
“Chihaya—…”
“Is it… Is it okay if I leave my shirt on?” she says quietly. At first, I don’t follow.
“Huh?” I curse my brain for its confusion. However smart I am as the analyst, the strategist, and whatever else, I can never seem to put two and two together in moments like these. Even though that’s when it counts most. “Wait, you’re talking about… Oh.” It clicks.
She looks away, eyes falling to the simple blue bedspread. Her hand slides across it, smoothing the barely-there wrinkles. “I don’t like my body, and I’d rather not show anyone, but I know that we agreed to do this. So I’d like it if you’d let me have that.” There’s an irritable crispness to her voice; I wonder vaguely if I did something wrong.
So she worries about those things too. Thinking about it now, it’s a bit obvious, and yet it hadn’t crossed my mind til those words left her lips. “No, I understand. This is going to be a challenge for both of us,” I say, in an attempt to soothe the tension. It’s difficult to tell if it worked. “I don’t want to remember our first night, and I’m sure you don’t either. But, I’m willing to work together, so let’s give this a shot?”
A nod is what I receive. I could sigh in relief! She still won’t smile for me, not genuinely, but perhaps that will come in time. For now, this is enough. “Alright. Then… How do we start? I’ve never done this before.” Absent is that word, but the intent is clear. Her cheeks warm and she continues to avert her eyes, now more purposefully.
“I have, although only with my…” I say, realizing midway the impact of my words. It’s a strange ache, dulled with time but painful nonetheless. I can’t think about her right now. “A-Anyway, that doesn’t matter. It’s a bit different for everyone, I think. If you’d like, I can take the lead.”
“Yeah, please do,” she says. It’s clear she’s nervous in the way she straightens, and how she flinches when I touch her shoulder through the cloth of her shirt. I’ll have to be gentle. I begin to lean in slowly, all the while ignoring how my heart thuds in my chest. Her eyes widen for a moment as I approach.
Milk chocolate. Her eyes are a soft light brown, twinkling in the low light of her bedroom. The purpose is to absorb everything about her into my eyes and my head, so that it may go that much smoother. Her long lashes, untainted with makeup! Her pink cheeks, soft lips, everything is that of a particularly pretty girl. Even if her features are longer, or not within the realm of typical “cute”, they’re absolutely beautiful in their coolness and maturity.
I could fall in love with her, one day. The thought is startling, and I hesitate for a moment. I don’t know where that came from, and right now I don’t really care. Both of us are here on the decisions of other people, for a purpose that’s beyond us. In a pretend marriage, what would love ever matter?
Our lips meet and close the distance. She immediately tenses up though, maybe struck with nervousness, and barely moves or responds to my touch. My hand snakes from her shoulder to the back of her neck and she shudders at the contact. I use my fingers to play with the base of her hair, which seems to do the trick. She relaxes just enough for me to fit us together and my lips mold against hers. It’s unfamiliar, definitely, and I’m not used to her scent yet, or the unique language of her body. My mind drifts, and I wonder vaguely if she’s ever kissed before.
It doesn’t feel like anything in particular. Not that it’s bad, but the spark and chemistry are clearly missing. Maybe I’m too nervous? Too preoccupied to enjoy it in the moment? I pull away briefly, and watch her eyes flutter open. “Do you think you can open your mouth?” I say, tone honey soft. She nods dumbly. In return I give her a smile to ease her worries, at least a little. Or maybe it’s to ease mine.
Easy isn’t the word I would use, not yet. First kisses, and even second kisses, never go quite how you want them to. But I can feel the breath from her nose on my skin and the warm touch of her lips on mine, so maybe it’s all okay. Her hair between my fingers is silky soft, and she presses into me every time I toy with it. Keep it nice and slow. I trace my tongue along her lip, and feel her shiver against me. I can’t tell if she’s that into it, or if she’s so unused to close human contact that it’s only overwhelming. This concerns me.
I break again, only to have her look at me with an almost lonely look. It’s possible that I’m misreading her, but my gut still urges me on. Something is wrong, or at the very least not right. “Chihaya…” I murmur, her name still strange in my mouth.
“Did I mess up?” is her immediate response. She’s trembling, and there’s a naked vulnerability that I’ve never seen on her before. I understand then: she’s afraid. No tears come, but I know then that I need to do something, before she can deny it all and put her defenses up again. “M-Maybe we should…” she starts to say, but I’m faster.
My lips reach her skin. Not to fit against hers this time, but pressing chaste to her soft cheek and the line of her jaw. I trail kisses along in the hope they’ll be some comfort to her bruised heart. It doesn’t matter in the moment who hurt her, or how they reached their claws in that deep. I’m not going to ask. Right now, what I need to do is soothe that pain and raw fear. My voice whispers to the nape of her neck. “You’re doing fine. It’s okay. We can stop anytime you need.”
At that, she relaxes and falls into me. Her body sinks into my hands, as if she’d been waiting her whole life to hear those words. I wonder if she’s been burdened with expectations as I have, carved into the kind of person others want her to be. Or maybe… “Thank you, Akizuki-san,” she says. There’s a warmth in her tone that didn’t exist before.
A laugh escapes me, almost a giggle. “Call me Ritsuko! Akizuki-san is too stuffy. We’re not lovers sure, but we can at least be friends.” I pull away enough to look at her, and our eyes meet. For the first time, she doesn’t look away. After weeks of shuffling awkwardly around each other, this progress is very welcome.
“Okay, Ritsuko. We’ll be friends.” She smiles at me. It’s still guarded, but less so, and with none of the vague bitterness I’d seen before. We sit there on that bed together, gazing at each other more comfortably than before. I kind of like it.
“Do you want to stop here for tonight?” I offer. Better not to push things, especially if it’s too much for her right now.
Appearing to consider this, she answers, “I think so. I have a meeting with a client tomorrow anyway, so I have to rest.” I agree, content with this answer. Considering I also have work in the morning. “Last I heard from him, he wanted something sort of jazzy, so I need to follow up on that,” she continues. “I can never tell what these people are looking for, so sometimes I get it right and sometimes I don’t.”
“Being a musician sounds difficult.” For once, it doesn’t feel so empty to say. I dislike small talk and just saying things for the sake of it, especially when so much of adulthood feels like lying and posturing. But Chihaya is honest with me, so I give her that much back.
“It is,” she says, “but I really do love music. As a child I wanted to be a singer, but my parents put their foot down, and…” Something unknown flashes in her eyes, and then it’s gone. “At least I can do this. I’m grateful for my work.”
There’s so much I don’t know about her, and so much I have yet to understand. For the moment, though, I kiss her goodnight. I may not be able to give her love, but I can at least give her security. And once in a while, a shoulder to lean on. The door clicks shut when I leave, my heart filled with a muddle of relief and ease but also a nameless something, still unsatisfied. Unwilling to think about what that means, or why the cracks in my heart Azusa left still sting, I bury my feelings deep. I promised myself, didn’t I?
If only we could take it slow. Ideally, I would get to know Chihaya over time, and cross each boundary line with not only my comfort in mind, but hers. That isn’t an option here. I can continue to stall things and give excuses to my parents (and hers, since she refuses to talk to them; I don’t blame her), but it’s only delaying the inevitable. The purpose of our marriage, arranged as it may be, is to have a child. Our individual feelings on it have never once mattered.
We sit at the dinner table with our meals of curry and rice, cobbled together from my favorite recipe. I can’t seem to enjoy it. Stress has been ebbing away my sense of flavor, and Chihaya barely touches her plate. It’s the first time we’ve eaten together as glorified strangers, so neither of us has anything to say. Nor would we share them, even if we did, and that very fact leaves the atmosphere freezing cold. I bite my lip.
“Thank you for helping me earlier. I really appreciate it,” I offer awkwardly. She’s staring at her plate as if she’d rather be anywhere but here. Her expression doesn’t change, and her body that would be curled into itself were she not sitting down does not move. I begin to worry once again. “I’m sorry, it’s okay if you don’t like it. You don’t have to eat it. I know my cooking isn’t the best.” Nervousness turns into apologies spoken too fast and too soon. I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips.
“No, it’s good,” she says quietly, in such a way that doesn’t reassure me whatsoever. She’s been silent and frowning this entire time, lost in thoughts that I can’t reach. I feel cut off from her, but then, haven’t I been cutting her off too? For all my soothing words, have I ever once let her in?
“It’s okay, really. You don’t have to make me feel better or anything. I’ll just clean up, and…” I start to say and stand up with a clatter, realizing too late that I’ve completely misread her when her eyes rise from below to bore into me. Her stare feels much too tired and irritable, which I deduce from the way her fingers drum impatiently on the table. Her mouth is thin and stretched tight, and if I were to guess, she must be holding back words that she’d later regret. Something which I happen to be very bad at.
“No,” she says finally, and I can hear the restraint in her voice. “I’m not lying. I really do think it’s good, that’s not the problem. It’s just… Work was difficult today, and I have a lot on my mind. My parents called in the middle of a meeting.” My heart that had been so high strung immediately drops. So that’s it. I sigh, half in relief and half in knowing. I would say I wish she’d told me earlier, but then we don’t have that kind of relationship. Yet?
“I understand,” I say, and sit back down. If I can be there for her, even just in presence and in a hot meal, I’d like to be. Because, I know that when I have a bad day, that’s all I really want. A conversation can be too much at times. “Do you want to talk about it?” It’s a no pressure question, and I try to convey this with my tone of voice. The last thing I want to do is to drive her into a corner; her parents already have that covered well enough.
Chihaya shakes her head, bangs swaying on her forehead. “I don’t, but… Um. Ritsuko?” It still makes me a bit nervous when she uses my name like that.
“Yes? What is it?”
She looks down at her lap, and though they’re cast in shadow, I can see that her cheeks are burning. “When you… Um, when you kissed me yesterday, my head sort of went blank and I forgot everything I was worried about. And, I was wondering…” It takes a moment to process, as I stare at her fidgeting and twisting her mouth into strange shapes. Her voice shakes as she speaks, and it’s a pitch higher than usual. This must be what she’s like when she’s nervous.
But I can’t help it: I start to laugh. Not cruelly, but the spontaneity of it takes me by surprise, and it’s hard to stop the giggle in my throat. I move my hand to cover my mouth, but her head is already shooting up, eyes wide with pure and utter horror. “S-Sorry,” she stutters, “just…”
“No, it’s okay,” I say, trying my best to quiet down. My voice feels like honey, and there’s an ease to my shoulders that wasn’t there before. A feeling that I can only describe as my head being full of sweet soda pop. I’m smiling genuinely for once. “I wasn’t laughing at you, don’t worry. I’d be happy to kiss you again if it’d help you feel better.”
Her expression softens, but she still looks uneasy. The tips of her thumbs knock together over and over. I must have really hurt her feelings. It’s a sobering thought, but before all the laughter drains from my face, she lifts her eyes to meet mine. “I would like that a lot,” she says, and she sounds just as sweet as I feel. It’s subtle, but right and somehow very perfect. I think to myself that I'd kiss her right there if it wouldn't spill the food.
There’s a tremble in my fingers, a giddy nervousness that makes my chest ache. We sit in my personal reprieve of a bedroom. I never thought that I’d let her in, not so soon, and I feel a little too conscious of it. The computer clutter of entangled wires that I swore I’d straighten up but never did, and the fallen bra that I kicked under the bed when I walked in… Her eyes, however, only grace my neck and collarbone.
“Are you ready?” I say softly, more for my own sake than hers. She nods. I feel that familiar squeeze in my chest, a nameless anxiety with no reason or end. Am I ready? Has that ever even mattered? I cup her cheek in my hand and caress it. Her eyelashes fall shut, and she hums in simple pleasure.
When we kiss, I let my worries melt into the warmth. Her lips press to mine, her breath is hot on my skin, and her fingers piece and weave through my loose hair. Her arm around my neck secures me, while my bent legs hold her in place from behind. We’re in a trap of our own design.
Never being the patient one, I flick my tongue across her teeth and she lets me in. Quickly too, with greed in the way she tastes me. Her left hand, warm with body heat, wanders onto my upper leg while her fingers drum on the back of my neck and it all feels so good. I know our standing is precarious, but when her thumb kneads my thigh and her tongue twists around mine I don’t need to know anything else. I moan into the kiss and graze her lip with my teeth.
“Chihaya,” I whisper, centimeters apart from her. My lips are wet and the air in my lungs feels heavy. It’s almost a buzz that creeps up inside me, like a static that sends shivers through with every touch and flutters in the pit of my stomach. She arches her head up, and before I can react, her teeth close gently around the nose of my glasses. She snatches them right off my face.
Except I look at her, holding them between her lips like a very serious puppy, and begin to giggle. I don’t know where she learned to do that, and probably she meant it to be sexy, but… “Let me have those,” I say fondly, taking them from her by the temple. I place them on the end table and leave them be. It’s not as if I need them right now (which is weird, because I’ve always hidden myself behind them, haven’t I?).
I turn back and expect her to apologize as she always does, or avert her gaze in cautious insecurity. But what I find instead are her brown eyes, direct and darkened with lust. My breath hitches in my throat, and then she’s pinning me flat to the bed. My legs are still bent on either side of her, and it only now occurs to me how inviting they must look. My face heats up.
“All this time, I knew you were pretty. Seeing your figure made me itch with jealousy. But with your glasses off your face, I think I understand. Even if I can’t explain it,” she murmurs, and dives into my neck. She kisses, gently nibbles, and sucks at the skin, leaving marks of an absent love all over. Or maybe it’s more like possession. I tangle my hands in her short hair, and I’m so confused and overwhelmed and strange. This isn’t love the way Azusa taught me; it isn’t tender and slow, but I can’t help but fall into her rhythm.
Her long slender fingers push up my nightgown from below, until it’s creased and folded above my bare breasts. I hold my breath for that moment, as she trails kisses and soft bites downward, wondering what she’ll think. What will go through her head when she sees me like that, my unflattering curves writhing beneath her touch. My reason, or something similar, urges me to stop her.
And yet, I don’t. Because what she says next, breathless and crisp, is, “No… You’re beautiful.” My exhale of relief becomes a sigh halfway through. I don’t believe her. After all, her mature, almost sculpted face wracked with lust stirs something inside me. “Beautiful” is a word she should have ownership of, as her long lashes leave butterfly kisses on my breast. Her lips close around the peak and she kisses that too, and pinches it ever so gently. It pokes up simply and in full view, but I can’t bear to look any more than this.
I don’t want to think about Azusa, although the corners of my mind keep trying to push her face, her sweet voice into the forefront. The way she’d tease me and say, “Your body is so much more honest than you are.” But where Azusa prodded at my insecurity, Chihaya understands it and respects it. If I told her to stop, she would without question. I don’t know how to feel, or how to explain the overflowing something from my chipped heart.
“Are you okay?” she says, and looks up at me. There’s tenderness in her eyes, and I realize that I’ve begun to cry. She reaches with her left hand and thumbs a tear away, caressing my damp cheek just as I’d done for her. I don’t understand. It doesn’t make any sense to me. “We can stop, if you want.”
This isn’t what’s supposed to happen! Something within my throat feels heavy and twisted. I shake my head, and bury my feelings once again. My tears will dry soon, and it’ll be fine. She needs this, doesn’t she? And I want to help her. I want to be there for her when she needs me. And for our parents, for the sake of our families, we need to…
No words will come out, though I try to force them and move my mouth silently. She sits up again. The mood is drenched, and I hate everything about myself. My pillow beneath me is stained with tears. Chihaya looks at me, but I feel no ridicule or impatience in it. Only kindness, and that hurts even more when I don’t deserve it. Who would have sex with her wife while thinking of her ex, in the first place? I’m the lowest, and I can’t even tell her why. Not when even I don’t understand.
She leans down and kisses me briefly, just a moment too long and with all the tenderness I was missing. It’s almost like love, but not quite, and when she breaks and looks at me she’s smiling with an emotion I couldn’t possibly name. One I’ve never seen before from her or anyone else, that leaves me feeling warm and wretched all at the same time. Gently, she lowers my nightgown, her fingers brushing cool against my skin. Then she lifts the green bedspread and tucks me in. I feel as though I’m the one who needs to be looked after for once, and it frustrates me endlessly.
“I’ll let you get some rest,” she says softly. She’s standing by the door, and I realize I never noticed when she stood up from the bed. “Goodnight, Ritsuko.” The light switches off, the door shuts, and I’m alone again.
Maybe more than ever.