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A click rouses Shiho from their slumber. Frowning, they crane their neck to find Honami standing at the door entrance. Their frown disappears and they sit up against the headboard.
“Oh, are you still napping? I’ll come back later.”
Shiho rubs their bleary eyes. “No need. I’m already awake.”
Smiling, Honami walks in and gently closes the door behind her, placing a glass of water on the counter.
“Thought you might have been thirsty.”
“Ah, thank you.” Shiho feels Honami’s eyes on them as they sip from the cup, water flowing down their parched throat.
Honami sits next to them on the bed. “The other two went out for ice cream.”
Shiho raises an eyebrow and puts the glass back. “In this weather?” They glance out the window, a light shower drumming away on the glass. Raindrops race each other to the bottom.
“Saki-chan said ice cream will help a gloomy day feel better,” Honami replies, shrugging.
A smile tugs at Shiho’s mouth. “I suppose that has some truth.”
Honami’s laugh is a carol of robins singing in the early morning, when dew has begun to settle on the leaves and flowers that are bathing in sunlight, calling out for each other.
She glimpses briefly at the blanket, then at Shiho. “Do you mind if I join you?”
Shiho scoots over to make space. “I’ve got plenty of room over here.”
Honami crawls underneath the blankets, lightly dressed — just a long-sleeved shirt and shorts. A younger Shiho may have noticed the brunette’s hair untied and reaching past her shoulders, but as an adult, Shiho hardly pays attention to it anymore.
When Honami is comfortable, she turns to her side to face Shiho. Shiho does the same and hesitantly reaches a hand forward, Honami holding it without a word exchanged.
Honami’s eyes soften at the corners in a small smile. A shallow valley leading into her whites. It’s one of the most beautiful sights in the world. The only comparable thing is Saki’s eyes. Or Ichika’s.
“Shiho-chan?”
“Eh?” Shit, did Honami say something?
Honami’s smile grows. “It’s very comfortable.”
“Oh.” But Shiho isn’t thinking about the mattress — they are trying to figure out if in their admiration of the woman lying in front of them, they have somehow tuned out any words she may have said — so they blurt the first words they think of. “I know.”
Shiho knows the answer is dumb before Honami’s subsequent giggle tells them so. They are reminded of the robins and morning dew, and this makes them feel a bit better about their stupidity.
Honami reaches her hands to the back of Shiho’s head and gently strokes their hair. Shiho moves in slightly closer to accommodate.
“Your hair’s getting a bit long,” Honami comments.
Shiho was aware their grey hair had gone down to her shoulders when they saw themselves in the mirror this morning. “Yeah. Unless you wanna give me a haircut.”
Honami grins. “Well, I can ask my dad for some of his equipment later this week. Or I can…” Her eyes light up, the proverbial bulb above her head flickering to life. “Sit up for me, please?”
Shiho obliges. There is more shuffling as the two adjust their positions. As Shiho sits upright, Honami searches around in the nightstand’s drawer until she finds a hair tie.
“What do you have in mind?” Shiho asks as Honami lifts up their hair, the ends no longer tickling their back and shoulders.
“I’m not sure,” Honami admits, pausing. “Usually Saki-chan is the one playing with our hair. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Whatever you say.”
Honami works. Shiho wishes they can see in the back of their head just to watch Honami’s concentrated face. Furrowed eyebrows and the most subtle and adorable frown. The same one she has while practicing, on stage, or, rarely, drawing.
That is one of the more curious things about Honami as of late. Out of the blue, she will flip open a notepad, pick up a pencil, and start doodling. Despite her insistence in the past on staying as far away from a canvas as possible, and the doodles never resembling anything close to the object she had in mind, she still draws. And even though she expresses chagrin and disappointment after every doodle, it’s never enough to stop her.
Shiho finds that extremely cute.
Honami pulls a bit too hard and the sudden, sharp pain prompts Shiho to make a sound halfway between a hiss and a grunt.
“Ah! Sorry. Am I being too rough?”
“Mm mm, you’re fine.”
Still, Honami’s fingers slow down, her actions becoming more delicate. Shiho lets a smile escape their otherwise deadpan face. It’s the little things that make them fall head over heels. They still haven’t forgotten the time Ichika profusely apologized after her guitar pick went flying into Shiho’s face.
One loop, then another, and Honami lets go of Shiho’s hair. “Done.” She produces a mirror for Shiho to see the final result. “What do you think?”
Honami ends up tying their hair in a small bun. Shiho nudges it with the back of their hand. “Looks good.”
Honami scoots in closer, nearly lying on Shiho’s back, arms resting on their shoulders, the mirror now full of the bassist’s face. “And what do you think of the person in the mirror?” she asks.
Shiho can answer with anything. I think they still have much to improve. I think it’s surreal and a privilege that people look up to them. I think they’re craving ice cream right now.
Shiho doesn’t answer with any of those. Instead, they tilt their head back until they meet Honami’s eyes and say, “I think they’re the luckiest person in the world to have you as a girlfriend.”
Honami is evidently caught off guard. Shiho may have taken a bit more satisfaction in making their girlfriend go tomato red if they also didn’t start blushing intensely.
“Shiho-chan…” Honami breathes. She beams. “You always know the right thing to say, don’t you?”
“Huh?” Before Shiho can process her response, Honami gets off their back and appears in front of them. They can’t put a finger on the exact emotion they feel, but Honami gazing at them only makes Shiho more flushed, for all the good that earlier sip of water did.
“Do I have permission to kiss you?” Honami asks.
Shiho’s brain briefly short circuits. Their heart pounding in their chest, their stomach doing backflips. Eventually, they say, “Permission granted.” They bite back a smirk.
Honami giggles. “Very well.” The next thing Shiho knows, they’re being pushed back onto the mattress and Honami is lying on top of them. Shiho’s arms lie limply, bent and pointed up. The weight of Honami’s body on them shortens their breath. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to.
Shiho closes their eyes as Honami leans in. This is just the balm their exhausted soul needs after what has been a frantic week of demands from the band’s label and long studio sessions. Honami’s mouth is warm and sweet like honey. Her tongue slides in, interlocking with theirs.
She stops advancing, holding the kiss so tightly Shiho may suffocate. They’re already getting lightheaded. Good. They can stay like this forever.
Unfortunately, survival instincts take over and Honami pulls out. The two gasp for air. If it were up to Shiho, a kiss from Honami every day would be considered necessary for survival. Honami’s hot breaths condense on Shiho’s face. Honami’s eyes, clear skies they want to soar freely in.
The brunette smiles. “Hi,” she says.
Shiho can’t stop the grin growing on their face. “Hi.”
Honami, thankfully, doesn’t take long before diving back in. Shiho is mildly surprised when her lips press against theirs; Honami isn’t usually so strong. Hm, that’s not quite the right word. Forceful? She’s definitely turning it up this time.
As her tongue penetrates further into Shiho’s mouth and the feeling of lightheadedness quickly comes back, they realize they don’t mind this sudden change. They invite it wholeheartedly.
Make me yours. Do whatever you want with me.
Shiho is vaguely aware this is the embarrassed, lovey-dovey, mushy part of their brain talking. The part of their brain they try to suppress in public and occasionally with the girls. But they don’t care right now. Honami’s kissing them, and that’s the only thing that matters. She may as well be the only other person in the world.
It’s wet. Really wet. Spit surrounds Shiho’s lips and trickles slowly down her chin. Honami’s hand cups Shiho’s face. When was the last time Honami was messy like this? Maybe Honami can read minds and she has read what the mushy part of Shiho’s brain just said. Maybe she is trying to make do on that request. The thought stirs something deep and primal in Shiho’s body.
“Honami…” A whine escapes Shiho.
Honami only responds with a “Mhm,” acknowledging Shiho but nothing beyond that. After all, her saying more meant she would have to pull out again, and it seems like neither side wants that.
Please, don’t leave. Can we stay like this? Can we keep going? Please.
Shiho barely thinks about what their brain is saying at this point. All they know is a deep-seeded feeling of desire that pulses and grows the more Honami presses. More. Want more. Right now and forever.
Even in their borderline delirious state and the constant pops of saliva filling their ears, Shiho still instantly recognizes the snap! sound of a camera shutter. Honami notices it too, as she abruptly lets go and turns to see the source of noise.
“Oh. I thought it was on silent.”
Bewildered, Shiho tilts their head forward. They recognize that sunny voice from anywhere.
Ichika and Saki stand in the doorway, dripping wet from top to bottom. Ichika holds four colourful bowls with both of her hands and Saki holds her smartphone. Ichika is evidently stunned, but the blonde just smirks. “You two kept busy while we were gone, huh?”
Honami makes no effort to get off Shiho. She glances at them, her light blue eyes wide, a small line of spit around her mouth, and Shiho simply shrugs. They already got caught. No point in trying to hide it.
Honami turns back to the two. “When did you two get back?” she asks.
“Just now,” Saki replies. She pouts. “You two didn’t tell us it was going to rain. We got ambushed!”
“To be fair,” Ichika says from behind Saki. “It was pretty cloudy before we even put on our shoes.”
This unhelpful comment earns Ichika a glower from Saki, and the guitarist shrinks in her glare. “Oh yeah.” Saki takes a container from Ichika’s hands and shows it to Honami and Shiho. “We got sorbet. The shopkeeper even gave us lids because of the rain.”
Oh, right. The ice cream. Shiho budges, but forgets Honami is still on top of them. Honami notices and finally gets off of the bassist. She stares at them for a moment. “They didn’t happen to give you any napkins, did they?” she asks Saki.
“They did!” Saki pulls out a sheaf of white tissues from her pant pocket. Her beam turns into a coy smile. “What, did things get a little messy?”
Honami’s face reddens as she receives the napkins. “I guess you can say that…” She beckons Shiho to come closer, which they do, and wipes their mouth clean of any saliva. With another napkin, she does the same for herself. Their faces are still flushed, but that will be dealt with soon enough.
Honami gets off the bed first. She holds out a hand for Shiho with a small grin on her face. They gratefully take her hand and get off the bed for the first time in hours. The two are still holding hands when they go over to Ichika and Saki, who are setting up on the coffee table. The four of them sit around it.
“There was an Apple Pie flavour available, so I got that for you, Honami.” Ichika smiles, giving Honami a container with bright red sorbet inside.
Honami beams. “Thank you, Ichika-chan!”
“What is an Apple Pie sorbet supposed to taste like?” Shiho asks.
“Uh, like apple pie?” Saki answers matter-of-factly as she hands out wooden spoons. “Yours is the green one, by the way. Lime flavoured.”
Shiho takes the container with the green sorbet and pulls the plastic lid off. “Thanks.” They pause. “I actually like Green Apple better, but that’s just me.”
Saki gives her a look. “I’ll keep that in mind next time, Shiho-chan.”
“Of course, I’m fine with Lime, it’s just-”
“Relaaax! I’m just playing with you!” Saki giggles, lightly punching Shiho in the shoulder. They’re too flustered to say anything.
“Oh!” Saki exclaims. “We should totally do a toast!”
Ichika has a lob of bright blue sorbet on her spoon and she has it up to her mouth when Saki makes the suggestion. “With our sorbets?” she asks.
“Exactly!” Saki’s eyes twinkle. “Come on, let’s do it!”
Ichika reluctantly puts the spoon down and stabs it into the bowl of sorbet. Shiho looks at Honami. She notices, and chuckles, holding her container up. Shiho does the same. Warmth fills their chest.
“Okay! Three, two, one, kanpai!!”
“Kanpai!”
“Kanpai!”
“Kanpai.”