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5… Hold True
“...Yuri had apparently texted her while she was off giving herself a pep talk.”
Yuri sat stiffly on the edge of her bed and stared at the phone in her hand as if, at any moment, it might have violently shorted and zapped her like a taser. And given that she minded emotional pain far more than physical, she would almost choose being tased over what she was about to do. But it was two days to New Year’s Eve, and she had made herself a promise weeks prior, covertly scribed it into her poem for the Literature Club so she would have something tangible with which to hold herself accountable. There was no choice to be made. However much it terrified her, she could not and would not break that promise.
It was just going to take several minutes to make herself keep it.
In dire need of encouragement, she cast her thoughts back a fortnight, to the early winter afternoon she and her clubmates—her best friends—had sat outside a café and shared their poems. School had already been out for the holidays, but the club wasn’t just an extracurricular; it was a safe space all four girls would have suffered without. Though, it was also the reason Yuri was agonizing at present.
Her memory honed in on the look that had emerged on Natsuki’s face as she had read Yuri’s poem. The way her cherry blossom eyes had softened as they wandered over each word and her thin lips had parted in wonder, the way she’d been all but deaf to the question Monika had asked her. Yuri thought of Natsuki as far more than a best friend, so such a reaction had done a number on her enamoured mind. After all, the poem had been about Nat. Although Yuri was quite certain Nat didn’t know this, she had liked the poem so much, had been captivated by it… maybe that meant something …
Yuri opened her Messages app in an abrupt rush, fueled by the adrenaline of delusion. She needed to do this before the caution she’d thrown to the wind boomeranged back.
Once her last conversation with Natsuki was on the screen, her thumbs flew clumsily around the digital keys, making more than a few hastily corrected typos. Afraid of losing what little nerve she had conjured, she didn’t even pause to read over the text and make sure it sounded okay. She simply hit send and thrust the phone down onto the bed with a sharp inhale.
Yuri blinked at the forest green rug on her floor, shocked. She’d done it. Her left knee was bouncing rapidly, and her hands were trembling, and her heart was hammering inside her chest, but I did it, I did it. A tiny bit of pride mingled with the anxiety, a rare treasure for someone like her.
Feeling suddenly drained, she fell backwards, her head thumping softly onto the mattress. Her fingers laced over her stomach as she gazed at the cream-painted ceiling, golden in the afternoon sunlight that poured through the wide window behind her. With a few slow and deep breaths, her heart rate returned to normality.
An outside observer would have thought she had just confessed her feelings to Natsuki. Then the borderline panic attack would have made more sense. But no, Yuri was simply a ceramic figurine of a girl, breakable and teetering, prone to overthinking the simplest of actions—like asking a good friend to hang out at a fireworks festival on New Year’s Eve, which was what she had actually done. There was nothing inherently romantic or revealing about it, yet here she was, awaiting Nat’s response like a defendant awaiting her sentence. That ounce of pride evaporated, and Yuri sighed at her own idiocy. Would the molehills ever stop looking like mountains?
It was only more ridiculous when she reminded herself that asking Nat to this festival was the easy part of fulfilling her promise. The hard part, the confession, would come in two days, whether she and Natsuki went to the festival together or not. Yuri would force herself to do it either way, and she couldn’t decide which scenario scared her more: witnessing Natsuki’s reaction in person or waiting on a filtered version of it through the phone. In any case, if Nat didn’t reciprocate—and the loud, loathing voice in Yuri’s head was quite confident she didn’t—the result would be the same. Heartbreak and embarrassment and an awkward smog over their friendship, perhaps over the Literature Club as a whole, that would never fully fade. And it would all be my fault.
Her stomach began to churn again. She pressed her palms into her belly, feeling it rise and fall as she took more deep, shaky breaths. The future was not set in stone, she had to remember that. She couldn’t control the outcome of this. All she could control was her promise and her intention to keep it. To be brave for once in her—
Vvvt. The phone vibrated by her hip.
She sat up straight in an instant, snatching up the device. Natsuki had replied. Holding her breath, Yuri tapped the notification, and the conversation opened. She saw her own message first.
Hello, Nat. I apologize if this is out of the blue, but I was wondering if you’d like to come with me to see the fireworks in the park, on New Year’s Eve? But if you’re busy, or going with someone else, it’s no problem! Just an idea. Let me know.
Goodness, maybe she should have proofread this. It practically oozed agitation.
Then her eyes flicked down to the reply.
oh sure! i didn’t have any plans, so i’d be happy to go w/ u ^-^
Oh!
She’d said yes. They would go together. This was really happening.
Yuri read the message three times over with a grin that hesitated to bloom. She was unsure whether to be elated or apprehensive. The thought of an evening alone with Natsuki (as alone as they could be at a public festival) provoked both emotions equally.
She started to type a simple reply, but with that thought— alone? —she added a question that she prayed was not too obvious.
Great! :) Just to clarify…did you want me to invite Mon and Say, too? Or will it just be us?
nah, they told me they were planning on going 2gether like a day or 2 ago
They would be alone, then. There would be nothing but Yuri’s own fears to stop her from confessing to Nat. But that was why she’d made the promise. She was so very tired of getting in her own way, of gazing wistfully at opportunities as they left her orbit and hating herself for never pulling them in. Of letting a chance of catastrophe outweigh a chance of joy.
So she wouldn’t. Not this time.
4… Recollections
“...Yuri was staring deeply at the table, absentmindedly running her forefinger over its surface.”
A trip to the café the Literature Club had gathered at weeks prior was an unexpected but thrilling addition to Yuri and Natsuki’s New Year’s Eve plans. After agreeing to come to the festival with Yuri, Nat had suggested meeting up there and grabbing a bite before going to the park. So here they were, Yuri picking a table in the deserted outdoor seating area and Natsuki placing their order inside.
Yuri smiled a little as she lowered herself into a chair, recalling how Natsuki had offered to order for the both of them. Not to patronize or pity Yuri, which was what she’d learned to expect from nearly anybody else, but to comfort and support her. It was one of the many things that made Nat stand out so beautifully from the crowd. She put in the effort to understand Yuri rather than judge her, to lift her up instead of pushing her down. Other than her mother and father, no one knew Yuri better—because by some golden stroke of luck, Natsuki wanted to know her.
Was that all she wanted?
The tables were all of silver, almost white metal; Yuri gazed absently at the one she’d selected, tracing nonsense patterns on the smooth, icy surface with her forefinger. Her hands were flushed and stiff from the cold, but she was too deep in thought to mind the feeling.
It was impossible to know that question’s answer, or to even guess. Yuri hardly ever trusted her own perceptions of people. Their actions and words were filtered through her biased, anxious, reclusive mind, which was certain to get it wrong. Not only that, but Natsuki was adept at concealing her feelings when she wanted to. If she actually did have feelings for Yuri, they would be hidden behind mile-high walls for no one but herself to see. It was quite the perfect storm.
Yet there were things Yuri’s gut refused to ignore, things that made her cautiously optimistic. Natsuki’s reaction to the poem, for one. She had seemed more struck by it than by Sayori’s or Monika’s, or any other poem Yuri had brought to the club. And half an hour ago, when Yuri had stumbled across Nat on her way to the café…that song she had been singing…
~Isoide
Itsu no ma ni ka ookiku nari sugita “true emotion”
Yume dake miteru you ja tsurai yo
Koibito wa kimi tte iitai
Yasashii me ga tomadotteru iya da yo
Kono mama ikki ni aijou azukete “please”~
(~Hurry up
Before I knew it, my true emotions grew too large to contain
It’s painful to never do more than dream of it
I want you to be mine
I don’t want to be bewildered by your gentle eyes
Accept all my love for you as it is, please~)
Those lyrics cut Yuri deeper than any knife in her collection could, and not in a relieving manner. They were too eerily accurate to her own situation. The second chorus even included the phrase “true emotions” in English, a phrase she had used in her poem without ever previously hearing the song. Vulnerabilities revealed and true emotions unlocked. She had marveled silently at the correlation as the music had flowed through her from Natsuki’s earbuds. And she had pondered that message of desperate, unrequited love, and Natsuki’s lovely voice as she’d sung the words to herself. Her friend had sounded unusually melancholy…
Of course, none of that really meant a thing. It was all merely happenstance begging to be perceived as signs from the universe. But Yuri had lived the last several months in a curious state of limbo. It was as easy to believe that Natsuki did not feel the same as it was difficult not to believe that she did . Her delusions were a comforting cocoon to hide in when the reality beyond became too unjust and merciless to tolerate. Baseless hope was its own kind of drug.
But this ache would not fade any time soon. Her feelings had taken her hostage long ago. What else could she do but hope?
“You alright?” Natsuki’s voice came quietly from the left, by the door to the café. Yuri looked up hastily, praying her expression hadn’t somehow given away her thoughts. Nat stood carrying a large brown paper bag and two Styrofoam cups—one in her hand, the other tucked between her chest and the crux of her elbow. She was watching Yuri with a blend of curiosity and concern, eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Oh, you’re back!” Yuri forced brightness into her tone, giving Nat a not-too-big smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”
“Ah, okay.” Natsuki smiled back, thankfully convinced, and approached the table. “Welp, here’s everything. Dig in.” She dropped the bag of food on the table and set down the hot drinks more carefully, then sat across from Yuri. All the while, Yuri watched her closely, both admiring and envying the easy, confident way she moved—even though she knew that confidence was not entirely genuine.
She reached for her cup of oolong tea, about to draw it to her lips, when a rare sportive impulse got the better of her. Instead, she raised the cup in Natsuki’s direction, battling an involuntary grin, and said, “Cheers to the New Year.”
Natsuki’s responding grin was contrastingly unbridled and made Yuri’s heart stutter. The girl lifted her hot chocolate, moving it towards Yuri’s cup. “To the New Year,” she declared just before the muted tap of their drinks meeting.
She held Yuri’s gaze even after the gesture was over. Yuri couldn’t tear her eyes away if she wanted to. She hoped the warmth that was rushing to her face could be attributed to the cold.
Two things occurred to her then. The first: in this moment, she felt so purely, utterly happy that she could almost ask herself if she was dreaming. The second: she was mere hours away from potentially losing the reason for this bliss forever.
3… Longing
“...the apprehensive tension she’d become an expert at noticing had returned to Yuri’s bearing…”
As Yuri led Nat upstairs, toward her bedroom, the relaxation she had felt while talking with her parents ebbed away, trading places with the familiar weight of trepidation. Irritation, too, because she hardly knew why she felt anxious again. Was it because she had never brought a friend into her room before? Or because that friend was Natsuki, and the two of them were about to be alone in a private space for the first time…?
Just as she reached her bedroom door, Nat’s gentle voice came from behind. “Hey, Yuri? Are you okay? You…you seem tenser than you were downstairs.”
Caught off guard, Yuri turned to look at her but found that no words would come. This was yet another of Natsuki’s elements that rendered Yuri defenseless around her. She read Yuri like an open book and never allowed her to bury the sadness or fear she found in the pages. And right now she was so close, her catlike eyes blinking slowly and reflecting what little light the hallway possessed, and she was so achingly pretty that Yuri had to look away.
A short, humorless laugh escaped her. When she replied, the words sounded feeble. “How are you so good at that? At…at reading me.”
Natsuki gave a small shrug. “I know you well,” she said simply. “I can tell the difference between the you that was down there talking to me and your parents, and the you…inside the café, for instance. Or around lots of strangers at school.” Once more, her tone turned soft and knowing. “You’re anxious about something. What it is, I have no idea, but…you know you don’t have to bring me in here if it makes you uncomfortable, right?”
It was just as Yuri had thought back at the café: nobody else knew her so well. She was not yet used to being so easily seen, and it was almost too much for her to bear. Still, she made herself look at Nat again. The girl’s lips twitched up in a wisp of a smile when their eyes met. Yuri returned it.
“Yes,” she sighed. “I know. You’re so understanding, and kind, and patient, and I want to let you in. Truly. I’m just…not used to things like this,” she finished vaguely. Frustration bubbled up at her inability to explain this irrational feeling. Her focus returned to the floor, and she sighed again. “I know it’s only a matter of me opening a door into a room. I’m sorry for making it such a big deal.”
“Nuh-uh,” said Natsuki firmly. Then she moved even closer, surprising Yuri enough to look back at her. Their height difference was so great that Natsuki was gazing through her lashes even with her sharp chin angled up…her lips mere inches away. Yuri felt herself take a silent, trembling breath; Nat’s intoxicatingly sweet scent engulfed her, vanilla and strawberry and why is she so close to me?
“Don’t apologize,” she went on, and Yuri just managed to reign in her senses and listen, “because it is a big deal. I get it. It’s not just a room, it’s the most personal place in the world to you. And it’s a big thing to trust someone enough to let them into it. Which, um, by the way…” She flashed an adorably bashful smile. “I’m really glad I’m someone.”
At that, Yuri lifted her head with a small frown. “Of course I trust you that much, Nat,” she murmured.
Natsuki opened her mouth to respond, but no response came. Yuri was unsure what made her pause. Her cherry blossom eyes widened a little, blinking rapidly. She swallowed visibly, as if…nervous? Reflexively, Yuri glanced at her neck, the brief movement beneath the pale, flawless skin. And though her gaze should have flicked back to Nat’s eyes, it instead drifted to her mouth. Momentarily, but long enough to have been noticeable.
Confound her, she couldn’t help it. There were a number of things Yuri couldn’t help around Natsuki. As someone accustomed to being in full control of herself all the time, she had expected the sudden loss of that control to be frightening. But there was something freeing about her newfound unpredictability—part of her rather welcomed it. She felt exquisitely wired, standing on some unfamiliar precipice. And if Natsuki had reached out right then, brushed her fingertips over her arm or her cheek or her lips, Yuri would have readily thrown herself over the edge.
But Natsuki didn’t move, and they had certainly been staring at one another in silence too long for it to pass as normal. Yuri hastily cleared her throat, forcing herself to step back. Natsuki did the same, as if she’d also sensed the uncanny shift in atmosphere.
“S-so…” Yuri silently cursed her stammer, placing a hand on the doorknob beside her. Hopefully it was not visibly shaking. “Shall we?”
“Mhm.” Natsuki nodded once, her lips pressed in a tight line. There was nothing relaxed about her bearing now. Yuri hoped that the aftereffects of…whatever had transpired would wear off quickly. Today had been so wonderfully easy until now.
As she opened her bedroom door and let Natsuki enter first, she considered the fact that Nat had not appeared puzzled, or anything of the sort. Only tense and quiet, like Yuri herself. Her cautiously optimistic side made itself known again, wondering if Nat just might have been doing the same thing—waiting for Yuri to reach out first.
2… The Future Just Before Me
“...it was obvious that she was simply self-conscious. Yuri’s expression was something akin to sadness.”
Tonight had to be some kind of prolonged dream. Yuri’s mind could not proffer any other explanation. In what paradisal reality would Natsuki have taken her hand and led her through a wintry landscape lit by hundreds of string lights and a full moon, to another rare moment of her life in which she managed a task despite her stomach knotting at the thought of it (in this case, ordering food)? Certainly not a reality she deserved to be living in. Yet it seemed she was.
The hand that had been wrapped around Natsuki’s on the walk to the food trucks had been flexing involuntarily on the way back to their blanket, missing the feeling of Nat’s fingers laced between her own. But Nat had not taken her hand a second time, and Yuri had been far too nervous to do it herself. She still wasn’t sure what to make of the first time.
Now they settled upon the lone blue blanket—luckily the commotion of the festivities had maintained a considerate distance from their spot—with the large bags of cotton candy they’d acquired from a vendor. Pink vanilla for Nat, maple for Yuri. Natsuki stretched out beside her, leaning back on her hands. She cast her gaze to the nearly starless sky as Yuri tried to get comfortable, too. But it was difficult to relax when the ground and air were chilly enough to feel Natsuki’s warmth a mere foot or two away. Yuri longed to slide closer, to the place she would truly be comfortable.
“I’m super proud of you, by the way,” said Natsuki. “For ordering on your own. I know that type of thing is nerve-wracking for you.”
Though she knew Nat was not being condescending, Yuri inwardly winced with embarrassment. Yes, it was nerve-wracking for her to have a basic, ten-second interaction that millions of other people, Natsuki included, never batted an eye about. How commendable. With a small smile that didn’t touch her eyes, she absently twirled one of her dark violet tresses with the hand that wasn’t propping her up.
“It’s rather pathetic. That ordering my own food is a considerable accomplishment.” She hated to rain on this contented moment, but she felt so ridiculous and defective. Not that such a feeling was anything new.
And yet Natsuki didn’t miss a beat. She straightened her posture to look directly at Yuri. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that at all,” she protested gently. “It’s not pathetic, Yuri—it’s the opposite, actually. You chose to do something that your anxiety never lets you do, and you got through it just fine.”
Yuri dropped the hand in her hair and averted her gaze to the blanket, overcome by Nat’s guilelessly bright eyes, the earnest tone of her voice as she said words Yuri had never been told. Words with the power to mend the wounds of lifelong insecurity and self-contempt, if only she allowed herself to believe them.
“That makes you pretty strong,” Natsuki went on. Yuri could hear her smile. “Stronger than you were just a few minutes ago. And I really am proud of you, you know.”
Much like the rest of this day, all her words felt too good to be true. Yuri managed to meet her eyes again. Some stubborn little part of her expected to catch something in Nat’s countenance, some suspicion of insincerity that would nullify everything else. She didn’t know why—the rest of her knew that Natsuki was not a liar, was in fact honest to a fault. And right now, Yuri couldn’t find a fraction of deceit in those eyes if she tried.
There was humor in them now, though, as Nat said, “And hey, now you have a big bag of maple cotton candy. That’s a pretty sweet reward. No pun intended,” she added after a beat.
Yuri couldn’t help but giggle. “Unintended but appreciated.” She made herself turn back to seriousness—funny, it was usually the other way around. “But truly…thank you, Natsuki. I’ve grown accustomed to people feeling that my incompetence is a burden. I’m not sure I’ve ever been told I was strong for trying to get better.” Her mouth curved into a timorous smile. “So you saying that means more than you know.”
Natsuki gazed back, fond and knowing. “Yuri,” she said firmly. The simple sound of that name from those lips tugged at Yuri’s heart. “You are not incompetent. You’re capable of anything you put your mind to. And you’ve never been a burden. Some jerks might make you out to be, but you’re not.”
This reminded Yuri of the advice Nat had given her hours before, in her bedroom. “You can’t let them get into your head and make you think things that aren’t true,” she repeated, half to herself. It was sound advice; she hoped she would remember it for years to come.
“Exactly,” Natsuki said with satisfaction. There was still a glow of pride in her eyes, and it still mesmerized Yuri. Here was someone who was proud of her for the things she herself thought to be insignificant. Who believed fiercely and ceaselessly in even the worst parts of her, when she herself hardly had faith in the best parts.
What would I do without you?
It took a moment to realize she’d spoken the thought aloud, under her breath. She didn’t know whether Natsuki had heard it, but she had no reason to be afraid. The point of the evening, after all, was to let Nat know exactly how much she meant to her. Although she would rather that be on purpose than by accident…
The sound of a deep breath pulled her from her mind; she glanced up. Natsuki was preparing to speak, but she appeared oddly uneasy. Instantly, all of Yuri’s attention was on her.
“Yuri,” began Nat, “I—”
“Attention, festivalgoers!” She was immediately interrupted by a man’s bright voice crackling through several loudspeakers scattered about the park. The girls and the nearby crowds glanced around in surprise. “We would like to thank you all for coming tonight and let you know that the fireworks will be starting in an hour and forty-five minutes. That is all. Enjoy yourselves!” As the speakers fell silent, the exuberant noise of the festival rose once more.
“Well,” said Yuri, a bit awkwardly—she felt bad that her friend had been cut off despite it not being her fault at all. “It sounds like you were right about the fireworks starting at midnight…” When she looked over, Natsuki was still frozen, her lips parted, her face paler than it was a moment ago. Yuri frowned to herself. She thought about Nat’s slow inhale, her worried expression as she started to speak. Yuri, I…
“You were saying?” she offered, suddenly dying to know what Natsuki had been about to tell her.
“Um—I—” The girl looked almost lost, as if her thoughts had been erased by the announcer’s interruption. She stared at Yuri, blinking, and then reached for her bag of pink vanilla, no longer looking Yuri in the eye. “I was just going to say I'm opening my cotton candy now.”
She was almost certain Natsuki was lying for some reason or another, but she decided not to press the matter and possibly make things worse. She merely said, “Ah, alright,” and hoped she did not sound as suspicious as she felt. What was she really going to say, and why won’t she say it now…?
The minute of silence between them forced her mind to move on. While Natsuki focused on opening the bag, Yuri allowed herself to stare for a moment or two at the magnificent girl just before her, the one who was capable of occupying her entire mindspace with one look. Whether she was Yuri’s future or simply the author of it, she had a frightening amount of power over her all the same, without even knowing it. She had no idea that the trajectory of Yuri’s life was in her hands tonight.
1… Illuminate
“...she had no idea how or why their idle conversation about fireworks had turned into a serious philosophical discussion.”
It’s time. Yuri could almost hear a knell in her mind as those two words crept into her thoughts.
Being the sort of person she was, she had planned a smooth, relatively inconspicuous way to approach this inherently blunt subject. On the physical plane, she and Natsuki were discussing their favorite kinds of fireworks as they waited for the festival’s midnight show. On the mental plane, Yuri was recalling and reviewing the speech-of-sorts she had prepared long before New Year’s Eve had actually arrived. She felt a little more sick to her stomach with each second that rushed by, but her nerves must not have shown on her face—Natsuki was engrossed in their current conversation, none the wiser.
When she sensed a lapse in the firework discussion, Yuri steeled herself and then stumbled into her speech. It began, “I…I read something recently about the nature of fireworks.”
Natsuki had been glancing idly around the cloudy night sky, but when she noticed the shift in Yuri’s demeanor, she stilled, looking nowhere else but at her. Yuri’s heart skipped a couple of beats, a sharp and harsh pain in her chest. This is really happening, her mind cried, as hopeful as it was despairing. I can’t turn back.
She continued slowly, the words tasting like metal as she forced them to pass her lips. Her hands formed white fists in her lap so Natsuki would not see them shaking. “It said the complexion of them is very similar to that of fame, especially the sort of fame that celebrities seek. Fireworks are short-lived. They are magnificent and breathtaking while in action, but a few seconds later, they fade away, with nothing but a faint silhouette of smoke to prove that they were there at all.
“And that made me think,” she murmured. “As lovely as fireworks are to watch, I don’t like the nature of them at all. I don’t want the things in my life to be bright and wonderful for one moment, then disappear in the next. They wouldn't be worth it. I want them to last, so I can treasure every precious moment I get to have them.”
Okay. That part came out smoothly, somehow. She dared to peek up at Natsuki, whom she feared had not even blinked since she began speaking. “D-Do you agree?” she ventured.
Nat smiled genuinely, though Yuri could read the bewilderment in her eyes. “Of course,” she said softly.
That was it, that was all Yuri needed. There was nothing left now but the confession itself. She had no more walls to hide behind, no space left between the river and the waterfall to keep swimming against the current. And she knew she would never again be brave enough to take what was the biggest leap of faith in her life. It was now or never. She took one final, deep breath in…
“Of course I agree,” repeated Natsuki, making her freeze. “And that’s…” The girl let out a shallow sigh. “Yuri, that’s why I need to tell you something.”
“O-Oh.” She was so wired in this moment, her love for Nat on the tip of her tongue like a rollercoaster at the top of its track. But suddenly Natsuki sounded serious too, and even now, concern for her friend outweighed everything else. If Nat needed to speak, she would let her. “Okay. Go ahead.”
First, Natsuki repositioned herself to face Yuri directly. And there was that uneasy, color-drained expression again, the one she had worn when the festival announcer had cut her off. And Yuri had thought she was about to say something very important…
“I’m just gonna be straight with you,” said Nat, hurried and unusually faltering. Two seconds of silence passed like slow motion, when moments before they had gone too quickly. Yuri stared at her with wide, imploring eyes, never so desperate to know what a person was going to say.
That was when Natsuki said, “I…I like you. As more than a friend, I mean.”
Her gaze immediately dropped to the blanket, so she couldn’t see the utter shock Yuri knew was flooding her face. It couldn’t be. It was as impossible as every celestial body in the Milky Way aligning at once, yet it was happening right before her eyes.
Nat continued to talk, her voice shaking. “And I-I know you probably don't feel the same—I mean, I don't know if you're even into girls—but I just really had to tell you because I've been feeling this way for a long time…”
Every word further melted the months’ worth of tension within Yuri, a stress so persistent that it had been just another part of her. But it was gone now, washed away by waves of relief and exhilaration and love. God, she loved this girl. It was far too soon to say it aloud, but she would say it over and over in her head every day, smiling to herself as it echoed freely. And that would become part of her, the greatest part. She was allowed to love Natsuki—in silence right now, and one day, loud and proud enough for all the world to know.
“...and you're so beautiful and kind, and empathetic, and the smartest person I've ever known, and—and I'm rambling like an idiot,” Natsuki laughed weakly. Drumming her fingers on her knees, chewing her bottom lip, she finally peeked up at Yuri. Her expression conveyed a painfully familiar feeling: fear that she had just ruined everything, that she was about to lose something precious and it would be her own fault.
All this time, they had been mirroring each other, feeling the same things and keeping them secret for the same fallacious reasons. Now Yuri could guess what reality she was living in: some cheesy romance novel’s sickeningly happy ending.
She couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the absurdity and the overwhelming joy of it all. Her face warmed in a blush as she grinned at the blanket, shoulders shaking.
“Natsuki.” She looked back up at her friend, who must have been quite alarmed by her reaction. She still looked scared, and Yuri battled the urge to simply lean forward and wrap her up in her arms. “Nat,” she whispered, her tone fond and finally fearless. “Do you know that I was getting ready to tell you the exact same thing?”
Nat blinked, staring back at her, fear slowly giving way to awe. “You—you were—what?”
Unbidden, Yuri laughed again at her stunned stammering. She calmed herself to shyly confess, “I…I have feelings for you, as well. And when we were talking about fireworks, I was going to tell you right then. But you beat me to it.”
“Oh my God.” Natsuki gaped, cherry pink eyes wide and face beautifully flushed. “You like me too?”
With a soft smile, Yuri tilted her head, watching her with unabashed affection. There was no need to look away and hide it, not anymore. “To be honest, I’m not sure ‘like’ covers it, but it’s far too soon for that,” she said with a coy edge to her voice. Twenty seconds ago, someone would have had to put a gun to her head for her to say such a thing, and perhaps she still wouldn’t have. But now, she felt safe in the knowledge that her feelings were reciprocal, and free to express those feelings and let them be received with open arms. Nobody but Nat made her feel that way. Safe and free.
“Were you really so certain that I didn’t feel the same way you do?” she asked, shaking her head in incredulity—as if she herself hadn’t carried the exact same certainty. The irony.
“Well…yeah.” Natsuki shrugged as if it was an obvious notion. “I’m completely out of your league. I didn’t think you’d ever wanna be with someone like me.”
Had Yuri ever heard something so outrageous? Words spilled from her mouth to shut that down as quickly as possible. “You mean someone intelligent, sweet, passionate, beautiful, and much more? Goodness, no.” Her tone was laced with playful sarcasm. “The very thought of it is dreadful.”
Nat snorted a laugh, taken aback by that rare facet of her humor. Her expression softened in uncertainty, cheeks only reddening further. “You really think all those things about me?” she mumbled, like she had no idea that she was all of those things. Yuri’s heart twisted.
“Of course I do,” she answered. “And they’re all true.” Slowly, still a bit nervous, she reached out to cover Natsuki’s hand with her own. Nat gazed steadily back at her, not tensing up or pulling away, and she let out the breath she’d been holding.
Minutes later, though, she was holding it again as she glanced at Natsuki’s mouth, deliberately this time, silently asking if it was alright to kiss her. There's nothing in this world I want more, she had whispered seconds ago, and when it came to this girl, she would always mean it.
All her life had delivered her to this one moment. The crowds around them were buzzing for the approaching fireworks, and her heart was racing, and shivers of anticipation were coursing through her, and it all stopped at once when Nat leaned in and their lips connected.
The kiss itself felt like the first firework of a show—so wonderfully astonishing that suddenly she could focus on nothing else. Natsuki’s lips were achingly soft as they moved gently with her own, silently speaking of everything they had both been holding back for months. In the dead of winter, there was warmth everywhere, inside and out, radiating as much from her skin as from her soul. Yuri soaked up every bit of it, distantly wondering if she might actually catch fire. If she did, then she would die illuminated by a blaze of ecstasy.
Sukitte junjou, went the song Natsuki had been singing. A pure-hearted devotion called love. That devotion rang out from within the two of them in perfect harmony, the truest emotion of all. And right then, Yuri simply knew that unlike the fireworks, this love would last, its golden sparks forever raining from the night sky.
Happy New Ye—I mean Happy Pride Month <3