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Kohane knew that perfectionism was only going to drive her into the ground. Something done was better than something abandoned out of fear of failure, and doing things imperfectly was the only path to improvement. No, perfection wasn’t a realistic or helpful goal, as much as her mind liked to drag her down that spiral night after night. She was fine with singing imperfectly, dancing imperfectly, studying imperfectly. She’d long learned to improve, to push past frustration.
Practicing and studying, however, were regular occurrences. Iterations to be built upon. She didn’t lose anything there—not even her worst performances had set her back far. A once in a lifetime occasion, though? A single chance to set the course of her most important relationship? A vital make-or-break, ride-or-die, life-or-death impression? Perfection, as far away from attainable as always, felt like the only acceptable benchmark. She laid on her bed, her stomach buzzing as if filled with hornets, each stinging at the prospect of delivering anything short of the best.
Kohane’s phone buzzed from her desk, just out of arm’s reach from where she was currently curled up under her blanket, paralyzed and sleepless. Tentatively, she uncoiled, wincing at the tense complaints of her muscles. She shuffled over just enough to grab her phone and accidentally knock her glasses to the ground. She followed up by promptly flashbanging herself with a blurry lockscreen of her team as soon as her phone was in her hand, causing her to both flinch and drop her phone to the ground along with her glasses and whatever sense of tranquility she’d been trying to foster. …Well, she wasn’t sleeping well to begin with. She sat up and tucked her legs beneath her. Her glasses and phone seemed unscathed, lying on the ground just a bit away, complacent witnesses to her lack of coordination.
She picked up both with a sigh, successfully retreating to her sheets. She put on her glasses, and opened her phone again, only wincing slightly at the light this time. She hastily turned down the brightness until it was bearable. She swiped past a reminder of the late hour—had it really gotten past midnight already?—and the lockscreen of her and the rest of Vivid BAD SQUAD to check the notification she’d gotten.
A message from An, to be exact. The very centre spiral of the storm of her current worries. Her one and only partner, her closest confidant, her everything…
u exited for tomorrow?! An’s untimely message read.
…In less than 24 hours, An would also be her first date. Or she’d be her first girlfriend? Kohane still wasn’t sure whether asking what was going on between them was rude. Particularly considering how frantic and confusing An’s method of asking her out had been, Kohane had only managed to catch the date, time, and intention before she had fled the scene to spare them the continued embarrassment of more discussion.
*excited , An corrected over text with another buzz of Kohane’s phone. Kohane just stared at the message, fingers tensing around her phone. She could ask right now, what they were. Would it come across as creepy?
No, she wouldn’t ask. They were partners, she could figure this out. Shouldn’t she be showing off how well she knew An? She had to get this perfect. If An didn’t need clarification, then she could figure it out too? Probably? Or maybe An secretly hated her for not asking more questions. Or maybe she was only texting because she wanted to break up their date. Or she wanted to break up their partnership, because Kohane had already made some invisible fumble. …No, that didn’t seem right.
Still. She had to win An over. She would show up, make sure she had fun at—someplace? Wherever they were going? Which she didn’t remember. That had to be an unequivocal mistake. Her stomach coiled in on itself painfully.
- Where are we going tomorrow? Kohane asked over text. Then she realized that she’d never responded to An’s first message, and she really should have asked that question about location yesterday, and she was already messing up so so so bad. She slammed her phone into the soft cushion of her bed in favour of burying her face in her pillow and cringing. She still hadn’t responded to An’s question, though, so she unearthed her eyes briefly to reclaim her phone and respond to her with a sticker of a hamster giving a thumbs up. Maybe An would give her bonus points for using a sticker pack she liked? No, she was definitely overthinking this. An’s typing indicator flashed to life, and Kohane’s heart suddenly felt as if it was racing against an EDM track. She trusted An unconditionally on stage, yet the very idea of her responding poorly over a date she’d been the one to ask Kohane out on was petrifying. Why couldn’t she just push this back like stage fright?
thouhgt i told u it was a surprise lol, An texted back, icon as expressionless as ever. Just the same picture of her and a concerningly large planter of mint, completely unreadable to Kohane’s frantic mind. At the very least, she now wasn’t at fault for knowing where they were going?
so leave allll the naviation stuff to me! dw about it! An followed up. Kohane subconsciously nodded in agreement at her screen, before catching herself and cringing. An was still typing, Kohane locked in place as a spectator. Even despite An’s quick reassurance to not worry.
How could she not worry, when this was her only chance for a first date with An? It was her only chance to make that perfect impression, reassure her partner that she didn’t make a mistake taking that step with her.
Maybe she should just see it as a performance, after all. Performance anxiety was becoming a familiar beast to fight back. All she needed to do was assure An beyond a doubt that she would be a perfect girlfriend in addition to partner while making absolutely no stupid mistakes and then An wouldn’t break it off or take things back or laugh in her face or just stand there pitying her or anything. Perfection was far from a foolproof plan, but was the only plan that quelled the vague nausea in her stomach and throat. And it was still a goal that was so far off from performing or singing in any way as to be inapplicable.
oh
btw
forgot to mention
bring a swimsuit! dont want to give away the suprise tho
i prolly should have led with that lol
Kohane stared at An’s messages blankly.
…That was fine. She could figure this out. She’d focus on performing well, and try to ignore the idea of anything else. Yup. She couldn’t let herself get thrown off. Or flustered to death. Or think about An… at all.
She gave An another thumbs up sticker in response before carefully tossing her phone as far as possible across her bed and rolling in the opposite direction. She buried her face in her pillow again, curled up as small as possible, bottled up a nervous scream, and hoped it'd be enough to hide herself from her worries.
Kohane leaned against the wall a distance outside of WEEKEND GARAGE, the bricks against her back dimly warm from the rising sun. The air still held a damp coolness, and Vivid Street tended to fall into a natural lull as the night’s musicians packed up. She wound the strap of her tote bag around her wrist, the tension of it attempting to unwind vaguely mimicking the unease in her stomach. An had said she’d meet her here, said she didn’t need to pack anything special, just a swimsuit and her day clothes and ‘her usual cute self’. Kohane had therefore extrapolated the need to therefore bring a towel, and sunscreen, and maybe an extra sunhat and sunglasses, and before she’d realized it she’d crammed her limited edition PXL bag far past its intended capacity and only had time to run out the door two hours early. And An wasn’t here. Sure, it had only been a few minutes of her waiting, and she’d arrived ridiculously early, but she couldn’t arrive late, no way. She’d considered taking more time to prepare instead of leaving so early, considered maybe trying out the limited makeup skills she’d learned, or looking up how to act on a first date, but in a fleeting bout of confidence she’d decided that she could figure it out as she went. Her outfit was probably okay enough, a combination of a jacket she’d picked up with An, a random shirt, her old black and white cap, and a pink skirt, all over top of her swimsuit. Her confidence had flickered slowly but surely out on the train ride to Vivid Street.
Yes, she knew that technically An was responsible for the date. She shouldn’t worry about logistics she was in the dark about. Yes, she knew An had promised to love her forever in whatever way things panned out. She wasn’t going to outright reject Kohane as a person. Yes, she knew it was statistically improbable An would ghost her when their meeting place was essentially her home. Impossible, even, if she considered An as a person. Especially since she’d asked her out.
Because she’d asked her out. The reminder felt like an IV of straight espresso, setting Kohane’s heartbeat frantic and her senses altogether too bright. Without thinking, she rewound the memory of An pulling her aside, eyes averted, stumbling over times and schedules in the back of a live house before even remembering to tell her it was a date. A romantic one, something apart from the ambiguous outings just toeing that line that had long become regular for them. An had seemed so fragile under the refracted neon lights, holding her breath for an answer. And Kohane wouldn’t have said anything other than yes. The way An had lit up as she agreed had washed out the sounds of the music and crowd in comparison, leaving Kohane only able to focus on the brightness of her partner’s grin. No doubt, Kohane had looked equally giddy, but in comparison to An, everything dimmed. She could outshine the stars, Kohane felt, if only she was put on an equally high stage.
Kohane’s only regret was immediately scuttling away in the following silence of An fishing for a verbal response. Though, An had continued texting her normally afterwards, so maybe she hadn’t messed up anything by running off. Hopefully.
She sighed, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. An had said she looked cute once with them on, so she’d thrown the pair she usually only wore at home on right as she’d left. For some reason, no matter how she adjusted the positioning of her glasses, everything seemed out of focus, and she was starting to get a headache. The buildings across the street blurred. Kohane just shut her eyes instead.
The bell above the door to the cafe chimed a few metres away. Kohane flinched to attention, turning and seeing a figure smudged with various shades of blue and teal step out into the street. She fumbled to squint at who the person was for a blind moment, her bag dangling from its strap clutched tighter to her chest. Until the girl started humming, reaching out towards the door again with a familiar spin in her step. Warmth washed over Kohane. She uncurled from the wall and quietly stepped over to her, ignoring how her bag bumped against her leg as it hastily unwound itself from her wrist. As always, she found herself smiling out of habit when spotting An. Maybe that was how she got this far beyond her fears at all, surviving off of An’s presence like she was an emotional antidote.
An seemed still lost in her humming as Kohane carefully approached, her features coming more into focus with the shortening distance. She didn’t seem dressed up to go out as she was, sporting a bright teal shirt several sizes too large for her and basketball shorts Kohane hadn’t seen her wear outside of the occasional squad sleepover. She held a chalk pen, writing something on a sign hanging just below the standard open sign, currently flipped to closed. Kohane cursed whatever force had seemingly ruined her prescription overnight, as she still couldn’t make out the words without having to lean over An’s shoulder.
An stopped writing momentarily, bringing the chalk to rest against her lip. She seemed lost in thought, and her humming stilled to a single note as she stared down the sign. Kohane inched a little closer, An still not noticing her, to read the sign. Her bag knocked against An’s leg. Kohane flinched.
Before Kohane could get out a ‘good morning’ or a ‘sorry I’m so early’ or literally any other greeting to justify her presence, An screeched and startled with all the grace and velocity of a panicked lizard. The chalk pen clattered to the ground. An whipped around to face Kohane, eyes wide with a combination of confusion and panic and some fog of recognition that slowly began to cloud out the other emotions.
“Um, I got here early,” Kohane explained, sheepishly holding the offending bag behind her back. An just blinked, still processing. Kohane stepped back, training her eyes on the nearby wall. “I-I’m sorry for startling you.”
Her partner seemed to fluster at that. “No, no, it’s totally fine, Kohane! I just was distracted, that’s all!” An said, waving her hands out before stepping back, stumbling on the pen she’d dropped, and catching herself on the cafe’s door handle with a yelp. Kohane held back a laugh as An immediately tried to adjust to a more intentional position than just clinging for life. An shot her an embarrassed glare, face burning. “You didn’t see anything, okay? This was totally cool. And scripted.”
Kohane giggled, the tension somewhat dissipating from her body. “Alright, An.”
An seemed the same as ever. Maybe she didn’t have to overthink this.
Her eyes caught on the sign, now close enough to read. A note from An that she would be out of town today, that she had something important going on, ended with a simple drawing of a smiling face. Her throat felt tight again. They’d both be out of town and out of practice for the day. As much as An was still by her side, she was going on a date. One with actual romantic intent. The weight of it, the weight of her fear of failing, pressed heavy on her chest. Her laughter caught in her throat.
“Hey, you look a little tense. Want me to get you something to drink?” An asked, now leaning against the door in a much more casual manner. “We’re technically closed still, but we still have all the supplies. It’s on the house.”
Kohane nodded, and An stepped back to pull the door open for them with another light chime of the bell.
“Here! I still need to go get ready, but that should tide you over, alright?”
An leaned across the counter with a grin, pushing towards Kohane a drink with a frankly embarrassing amount of toppings. She would have been somewhat slighted by the apparent caricaturization of her drink order, if it didn’t look really good. She took a sip. The coffee was sweet enough she could forget it had a bitter taste at all, just the way she usually prepared it.
They’d forgone turning the majority of the overhead lights on, just enough of the lights for them to see and for An to prepare food. The cafe felt smaller and larger at once, with only the counter and the stool Kohane was sitting at illuminated. The darkened booths and stage simply faded into the morning silence. Kohane’s bag lay at her feet. An’s pen rested on the counter, her hands tucked under her chin as she watched Kohane fondly.
“...Would you want some of my drink?” Kohane asked. An perked up with some amount of surprise.
“Thanks for offering, but…” An grimaced. “No offense, that drink would probably be a headache in a cup for me.” She laughed, her expression softening into a smile. “I don’t get how you can even drink stuff that sweet and caffeinated in the morning.”
“Oh, I guess it is kind of early.” Kohane’s eyes flicked around the room for a clock, to double check, instead of trying to fish her phone out of her overstuffed bag. “I didn’t expect not to get held up on my way here,” Kohane admitted.
“Huh?” An’s eyes widened. “It’s, like, two hours earlier than we were going to meet up. How early did you even leave?”
“Only around five. Or maybe it was four fourty-five?” Kohane’s brow furrowed in thought and she tapped on the glass of her drink. She’d gotten up at four and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, but she’d taken some time to get ready, so she’d probably left closer to the five AM time than she remembered. She looked back up at An to see an incredulous look on her face.
“Kohane, I literally just got up, and I’m still tired. How are you even alive?” Kohane opened her mouth to protest, but An cut her off by grabbing her pen off the counter and tapping her on the forehead with it. Kohane made a small squeak in response. “Date cancelled. You’re taking a nap with me instead.”
“But you just gave me coffee,” Kohane argued, using her cup to hide a nervous grin. Technically, were they already on a date? Should she be watching her words now? Was An put off by her terrible sleep habits, or was she happier that she’d shown up?
“I guess we just have to go then,” An proclaimed with a dramatic sigh and an arc of her pen-holding hand, oblivious to Kohane’s fretting. Which was for the better. Kohane didn’t need An worrying over her like they were back at the start of their partnership. They were equals, rivals and partners now. Her headache was probably just her messed up glasses, and the nausea was probably just the coffee. She closed her eyes again to shut out the smudged anxiety in her vision. She took another sip of her drink, getting a mouthful of whipped cream.
“Were you listening? Is everything alright?” An asked, the frown in her voice evident.
“...My glasses are kind of weird today,” Kohane half-admitted. “They’re all blurry for some reason, and I can’t seem to fix them.”
Her partner hummed. “Can I try something stupid, then?”
Kohane nodded and opened her eyes, just in time for An to snatch her glasses off her face and place them on the counter. Her vision immediately focused back to her normal prescription. She blinked in surprise before the pieces clicked.
“I put both my contacts and my glasses on.” She didn’t even consider checking whether that was the issue. In the whole half hour trip to An’s place, she didn’t once try to take her glasses off. She groaned and buried her burning face in her hands. Of all the things she’d overthought, she didn’t even consider the most obvious solution to her vision issues. She looked like an idiot. “Sorry, An…”
“It’s totally fine,” she replied, clearly just amused. “I looked up whether you can wear contacts swimming, and you’re not supposed to, so, well, I was probably going to ask you to take them off anyway if it’s alright…” she trailed off. “Besides, I still need to change out of my pajamas, so you’ve got time, alright?”
An finally pushed herself up from the counter with a groan, stretching out. Kohane kept her eyes on her drink, through the gaps between her fingers.
“I’ll be back down in a bit, so don’t worry, okay?” An spun Kohane’s cap around to pull the brim over her face, and she sputtered. Before long, An had disappeared, presumably up to her room on the second level to get changed.
Don’t worry. Easier said than done. Kohane took another sip of her drink, and let out a shuddering breath.
Maybe her early arrival was a blessing in disguise, Kohane considered, as the pleasantly vacant train departed from the station. An had their route details saved to her phone and had even paid Kohane’s fare, and the two managed to snag seats next to each other in a train car with only a few other people; a group of older women calmly chatted a few seats away, and a man scrolled through his phone while his daughter slept on his shoulder on the opposite side of the car. The rumble of the rails and the gradual disappearance of the cityscape in favour of rural fields nearly put Kohane to sleep as well, if not for the girl beside her. Light from the rising sun streamed in from the window behind the two, casting long, soft shadows on the rest of the car. Kohane’s bag, now significantly lighter thanks to an intervention from An, rested in her lap. She’d decided to forgo her contacts in favour of bringing only her glasses, to avoid losing them at the beach as opposed to An’s place. Her eyesight thanked that decision.
An’s head thumped down on Kohane’s shoulder. Not unusual behaviour from her, and usually Kohane wouldn’t give it a second thought; An had always been incredibly physically affectionate. But the fact that their trip was supposed to be romantic made her overly tense, unable to stop thinking about how this wasn’t just An being affectionate but a romantic Public Display of Affection (even if the other passengers wouldn’t read it as such). The pleasant warmth mixed with her uncertainty and the familiarity felt diluted by the unknowns of the situation. She wanted to just lean back into her touch as usual, doze off until she woke up inevitably as they were arriving, and shake An awake to dash off at the next stop to their next gig or practice.
But it was morning, and practice was securely postponed. An mumbled something, pressing closer to Kohane. Her hair was put up for the most part, but strands of it still draped across Kohane’s shoulder. A pair of sunglasses rested on her forehead, and she’d dressed lighter than Kohane, with just a band tee and shorts. Her leg was pressed up against Kohane’s, which wasn’t unusual either, but she wasn’t quite sure how to think about it now without immediately spiralling.
“You anxious?” An asked quietly. Kohane nodded.
“A bit,” she whispered back. An hummed in response.
“Missing the two extra sunhats that bad?”
Kohane stilled. “What?” She racked her memory for what An could possibly mean by that, before An gestured to the bag at her feet.
“In your bag. You had two. And you’re already wearing a hat.”
“Oh. Yeah. I must have forgotten.” Just like she forgot to take her contacts out before putting her glasses on. Just like she forgot to bring a water bottle, bringing two bottles of sunscreen instead. Just like she forgot how to think like a normal person around An. Her hands tightly gripped the fabric of her skirt, and she stared directly out the window opposite her.
An huffed out a quiet laugh, shifting her weight off of Kohane’s shoulder again and leaning back in her seat. “It’s totally fine. If you’re nervous. Or anything.”
“I know,” Kohane responded, biting her lip. “It’s just…” She couldn’t think of what to say. The early morning silence crept in again. She should say something. She made An laugh all the time, it wasn’t hard considering her sense of humour was rather indiscriminate. Not hard. She didn’t need An fretting over her, not when this was her one chance to win her over.
An was staring at her now, head tilted to the side with a curious look as she watched Kohane fish around for words.
“Um, the hats… they… were…” Kohane started, and then stopped. That wasn’t going anywhere. It was just a stupid mistake she made, no way to spin it into a joke. She scowled. It didn’t seem the rest of the train car was paying attention to her and An at all, but she still felt a little cowed by the openness of her mistakes.
An’s eyebrows raised slightly. She continued to watch Kohane stop and start sentences.
“...Sorry,” Kohane admitted in defeat, turning away from An. “I don’t know where I was going with that,” she whined.
“It’s not a problem,” An said, as if it really wasn’t anything embarrassing. She closed her eyes and folded her arms back behind her head, a dramatic grin spreading across her face. “The only problem that we’re going to have today is having too much fun, right?”
“R-right.” Kohane’s response came out much stiffer than she intended, and she winced at herself. An sighed loudly, and Kohane felt her whole body shut down in panic-failure mode for a moment before An pried one of her hands off of the death grip she had on her skirt, instead holding that hand in her own. Immediately after, she dropped her head back onto Kohane’s shoulder.
“Relax, it’s fine.” An’s grip on Kohane’s hand tightened. “Seriously, I’m not doing something to set you off, am I?” she asked, an unsteady tone creeping into her voice.
“No, no, you’re not!” Kohane assured, a little too quickly. “It’s good!”
“Okay then, then everything’s still good!” An replied, the words still somewhat wavering but much more upbeat. The conversation fell quiet once more. An remained leaning against Kohane, and as much as the poor conversation weighed on Kohane’s mind, she found herself calmed by the familiar weight and warmth against her side. Her hand felt almost cold compared to An’s, the same temperature difference as always. If she focused on just that temperature difference, the rest of her thoughts dimmed.
She was with An. Things would be fine.
The only problem they’d have would be too much fun.
“Behold!” An gestured broadly at the glittering body of water behind her. A beach of greyish, speckled sand spread down from where Kohane was standing until it disappeared beneath white splashes of waves. The beach overall seemed relatively calm, with a fair amount of visitors sitting around, walking, or setting up other activities. Kohane felt a little giddy at the sight. How long had it been since she’d last gotten to spend a whole day out like this, let alone in the ocean, let alone with An?
“This is so cool!” Kohane clapped her hands together, still taking in the whole scene. The backdrop of waves and sea-salted air was an excellent switch of pace from the hour-long train ride. The sky was just shaking off the last colourful hues of sunrise, and the water refracted the lingering colours in a way that had Kohane itching for her camera. And the shore wasn’t too busy, either!
“According to what I remember from the map, there’s spots to change over on that side,” An said, fishing her phone out of her pockets to verify. “It’s a little ways away, and your legs are probably asleep from the train, huh?”
Kohane blinked. “Oh. I can walk fine…?”
An, finally with phone in hand, ignored her partner for a moment to seemingly double-check locations, cheering under her breath as Kohane assumed she must have correctly guessed the location of the beach utilities. She looked back up at Kohane with a determined grin.
“No, I mean. Can I do something?” An’s eyes practically glittered, parallel to the blue waves behind her.
Kohane nodded, albeit confused. An stepped towards her, stopping to gesture at her bag before she was presumably going to do whatever she’d just asked permission to do. Kohane tugged open the bag more, and An dropped her phone into it, before dusting her hands together and stepping back as if she was about to start a fight. Or end it? Kohane wasn’t sure.
Then with only a hum from An as warning, Kohane found herself scooped up from the sand into her arms. She yelped as An stumbled back a step to adjust her hold on her legs and back, her bag carefully clutched to her chest. A dizzy laugh bubbled from her chest as An suddenly set her down again. Her heart seemed to have shut down her thoughts, racing too quickly for logical function as she stumbled to regain her balance.
“Hm, actually…” An stepped back, eyes sweeping over Kohane. “I could probably carry you on my back better?”
“Eh?” Kohane blinked again, still dazed.
“Y’know! Carrying someone’s supposed to be all, uh, cool and…” An trailed off, waving a hand and looking away sheepishly. “...Romantic. I guess?”
A seagull cawed in the distance as Kohane’s thoughts started to snowball into pandemonium. Over both the suggestion itself and the reminder that she was still on a date and she needed to watch herself better. A cloud passed over the sun, dimming the sand beneath her feet.
“...You still there, Kohane?” An asked, smiling with a visible undercurrent of concern. “I didn’t push it too far, did I?”
She shook her head quickly in response.
“No, no, I just got distracted! It’s fine!” Kohane said, stumbling through her words, ignoring the anxious twisting of her stomach and heat in her face. “I’m fine with it! I just get—got startled?” She wrapped the strap of her bag back around her wrist again until the skin started going pale from the compression. “If you want to, I’m fine with…” her voice suddenly seemed to deflate a few decibels quieter as she continued, “...being carried?”
An lit back up. The clouds passed, casting sunlight at her feet.
“Cool! Maybe it’d work better if I…”
Kohane was well aware An was strong: between her filling in on her school’s basketball team and her helping with manual work around Weekend Garage, she’d quietly noticed as much. She was still surprised that An seemed to have no issue carrying her on her back after almost five minutes of walking. She knew she wasn’t exactly the tallest or heaviest person, considering she hadn’t really grown much past middle school, but she was still almost the same size as her partner and she’d barely even so much as paused on their trek to the changing area.
She felt a little useless now, clinging to An’s back and resting her cheek on her hair. The giddiness of being carried had worn off and given way to embarrassment as she realized that their destination was actually several minutes away. Granted, An had initially offered to run there (somehow? Kohane didn’t doubt she could manage it at this point), but she’d nearly fallen off in surprise at her attempt to take off sprinting.
It was a nice gesture. The view was nice. She was comfortable, other than a slight soreness in her arms from clinging too hard. She really shouldn’t think too hard about it if she wanted to keep her sanity.
An started humming a vaguely familiar song under her breath. Belatedly, Kohane realized she’d been completely silent. Which wasn’t normally a bad thing between the two of them, but she really shouldn’t leave An hanging on an actual date, no. Even if nothing was coming to mind to say. As much as the two of them tended to talk about nothing or the same things, she could probably find something insightful or impressive if she just thought about it.
Unfortunately, An’s presence seemed to be scrambling her focus and her nerves. The girl in question kept humming, and Kohane could pick out the song as some variation of ‘Forward’.
Should she talk about something familiar, or something deeper, or something more geared towards a date? Or somehow try to flirt? She didn’t even know how to, other than through books and manga she’d read with Minori. And Minori was hardly a romantic role model. She still hadn’t said anything at all; the sun seemed to glare at her disapprovingly as it climbed the sky.
Kohane ended up just staring at the ocean and taking the worst possible option. “...Did you know the world’s biggest mountain is in the Pacific Ocean?”
She really should not be using fun facts as a conversation starter past elementary school.
An stopped humming. “Huh? I thought that Mount Everest was the tallest mountain,” she said, confused.
Kohane took a deep breath, staring at the ocean. “Mauna Kea is taller from base to peak. But it’s submerged.”
An went silent. Her hold on Kohane remained steady. After a moment, she replied, “I guess that makes sense?”
The conversation went dead again. Kohane tried to hide her face, but the only option was to pretty much hide behind An, and the result of her groaning into the back of An’s head was just her laughing.
“Hey, I thought that was a little interesting, y’know. Don’t beat yourself up.” …Kohane had been caught. “You can keep talking. I like hearing what you have to say.”
In response, Kohane tried to dig up anything else she hadn’t already told An about. A task that wasn’t exactly straightforward, considering how long she and An had been partners for.
“Did you know that sea snakes have more paddle-like tails than land snakes?” Kohane meekly continued. “To help with swimming.” A stupidly obvious fact, but defaulting to her childhood book of snake facts was a fifty-fifty chance of being better than nothing.
“...There are sea snakes?” An asked, tensing up. “Like, snakes in the ocean?”
“Yeah, there’s just under seventy identified species.” Kohane found herself perking up a little. “They live in the Pacific and Indian oceans.”
“That’s… cool. Uh, do they do anything else?” For some reason, An started walking faster.
“They give live birth underwater?”
An froze, and Kohane felt a wave of instant, horrific regret. An couldn’t handle Count Pearl doing anything other than existing. An got squeamish at the slightest mention of anything beyond the biological pale. Why was she bringing this up. Why did she immediately pick the worst fact to say in front of her partner. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”
Slowly, An started walking again. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” she said in a strained tone of voice. “If you want to talk about it, I want to hear it.”
Kohane held her tongue, choosing to just stare ahead over An’s shoulder. The silence quickly became unbearable.
“Are you sure you want me to keep talking?” she asked.
“Yeah, obviously!” An’s cheerful tone still sounded tense. “It’s fine! I’m not scared! And it’s something that you like, so I want to know about it.”
Kohane bit her lip. “Um, sea snakes have salt-removing glands in their body, and some can grow to almost three metres…”
Kohane shifted her feet in the sand as she waited for An to finish changing. She’d just worn her swimsuit under her clothes, and when they’d finally gotten to the changing area after an awkward one-sided snake trivia info dump, she’d rushed to get out of her day clothes and get out without making things somehow weirder. She’d just worn her regular swimsuit, a simple one-piece that she’d gotten with her parents. It wasn’t like it was particularly embarrassing, but her nerves still crept up on her—she’d never been swimming with An, she’d never had An see her in a swimsuit, she’d never been swimming on a date, she’d never been on a date to begin with. She adjusted her hat on her head; she’d take it off and put it with her bag when she got to the water, but for now it was pretty much just emotional support.
Something tackled her from behind. She startled with a shriek, before An’s familiar laugh brought her back to her senses and she registered her arms wrapped around her waist.
“Hey, hey, do I look cool?” An asked, peeling herself off of Kohane and pacing over to face her. She’d finished changing, her day clothes tucked under her arm, sunglasses pulled down over her eyes, and her swimsuit on—one with two pieces that reminded Kohane a little of An’s usual performance outfit in colour.
She looked away quickly. Granted An’s style, and the fact they were swimming, of course she’d wear something more revealing, and it was normal and expected for Kohane to still look at her. Yet, some irrational anxiety crept up that An would find her creepy for just looking, that she secretly knew about and judged Kohane for thinking this much about it in the first place. Which logically wouldn’t be a problem because An was the one who came up with this idea, An was the one who’d asked her out, An was the one who liked her back that way, and she probably wanted Kohane to not discard her reciprocated feelings.
So, by no logic should she need to run away now. She turned back to An, determined to answer her, only to get ambushed by her partner grabbing and shaking her by the shoulders.
“You look adorable!” An squealed, with her eyes no doubt literally sparkling behind the sunglasses. Kohane felt her skin burn up. She stuttered back a compliment, much too distracted by trying not to seem distracted by An.
“Ah, I knew it was kinda selfish of me to bring you here specifically, but seriously, you look really nice,” An added with a touch more self-awareness. “And… are you alright?”
Kohane startled the moment she let go of her, looking anywhere but at An until her mind stopped setting itself at a rolling boil at the thought of interacting with her.
“Um, never better?” She winced.
“...Don’t let me overdo it, alright?” An said carefully, her previous enthusiasm muted. “Let’s just head down.”
An took Kohane’s wrist much more delicately than she’d expected from her tone. She started walking down towards the water, Kohane trailing behind her while staring at the sand. Interspersed between the grains were pebbles, smaller stones, and the occasional weather-beaten rock or branch; the insignificant landmarks of the ground slipped from her attention easily compared to An’s gentle grip on her wrist leading her forward.
Before long, the sand became saturated with water beneath their feet, and An let go of Kohane.
“You don’t have to swim with me if you’re too anxious,” An murmured. “I can leave you for a bit if you want? You can go put your stuff down.”
Kohane shook her head aggressively—she wasn’t about to ditch her partner out of nerves. “Sorry, I just got overwhelmed,” she said, steeling herself and finally looking directly at An again; only to immediately fluster. “I’ve never seen you, um. Dressed like this.”
“Eh?” An paused to process. “So you’re all worked up just ‘cause I’m wearing a swimsuit? Huh…” Kohane stepped back as An suddenly stepped forward, grinning. “So you like me that much?”
Kohane decided to bolt back to the sand before An decided to kill her with some sort of affection, shouting over her shoulder that she was just going to drop off her bag and hat. An shouted that she’d join her, following at a peaceful distance. Kohane set down her bag, tucking her hat away inside and stifling a laugh at An coming up beside her just to put away the sunglasses she’d only worn properly for a few minutes.
“They look cool, but it’s annoying to wear them,” An reasoned. She took off towards the water again with a wave. “Come back when you’re done! I promise I won’t bite!”
Kohane waved back, some of the An-centric anxiety dissipating. An was still her partner, the same sap who didn’t think about the consequences of her fashion, who still thought Kohane was the brightest thing next to the sun for some reason. Just because she looked good and dressed differently didn’t mean she needed to revert to some terrified hamster form, as An would put it.
She wasn’t even acting like the perfect date partner she’d wanted to be—she was just acting weird, dodgy and unstable. It was just a swimsuit. She was the one making it all a big deal for no reason, and what if that actually made her creepy, or a loser, or made An hate her and then she lost everything she’d built with her, despite how horribly impossible she knew that was? She should just be normal; An liked her normal. She was her partner first, after all, and she managed to falter in that category too. She shook her head again, hoping it’d somehow shake off her torrent of thoughts, and when that failed, she decided to break into a brisk walk. To outrun her thoughts, or at least put the nervous energy to some sort of use, she vaguely reasoned.
An waited in the water ahead, wading a fair distance away. Her expression seemed off, eyes wide and listless as she stared at the ripples around her. Her arms rested at her sides, limp and submerged in water up to her elbows.
Concern corroded insecurity, and Kohane started running. An looked up as Kohane tried to hastily shove through the waves, her partner startling into a smile that didn’t manage to reach her eyes.
“Hey, everything good? You’re scowling,” she shouted. Kohane blinked, relaxing her expression. Before she could get a word out in response, An cut her off with a shaky declaration of “here, I’ll come over there.”
She pushed her way towards Kohane with a strange sort of urgency, eyes flicking back to the water behind her every so often. “You feeling better?”
“Huh?” Kohane’s mind pulled a blank, distracted by An’s uneasiness. She frowned, staring down at the sand and pebbles faintly beneath the water. “Sorry, I just—”
Kohane looked up to catch a split second of An freezing in terror.
Her partner’s eyes flicked down. Any hint of a smile dropped as the colour drained from her face. She took another step, froze again, and screamed. She jolted away from where she was. She only held her balance for a moment before she stumbled back into the water. Flailing until her head was back above water, she immediately exploded into a mad dash of splashing water and panic towards the shore.
“An!”
Kohane felt horrifically slow, her rapid pulse held back by the resistance of the water. All the adrenaline in the world wasn’t making her move fast enough, and the water where she was was too shallow to swim and An was still so far out even coming back in Kohane’s direction. An locked eyes with Kohane as she approached, her stare glazed over with fear. And for some reason, she immediately diverted course away from Kohane, charging off to the left.
Kohane shouted her name again, An completely unresponsive to her cry. Kohane’s mouth went dry, in contrast to the water spraying in her face as she desperately tried to catch up to An. The ocean became more like a glue trap, holding her back as An eventually struggled her way over to the sand. Before she reached the shore, she stumbled again, fully disappearing into the waves for a paralyzing moment. And still before Kohane could even get within a few metres of her, An scrambled to her feet and staggered the last distance to the shore.
A sizeable piece of seaweed was wrapped around An’s ankle, Kohane noticed, still frantically wading over. An stared down at it, her panic subsiding into a much more blank and unreadable expression. She bent over, pulled the weed off of her leg, and just looked at it.
“An? Are you alright?” Kohane shouted, her voice competing for the air in her lungs with her panic. Her knees were above water now, and she broke into a sprint, ignoring the occasional rock stabbing into her foot. An glanced up from the plant in her hand, eyes unfocused in Kohane’s general direction. Then, she began walking over, diverting her gaze to the sand next to her.
Kohane’s heart sank as she noticed An wince with her next step, switching her weight over to her right foot and stopping.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” An said hollowly, dropping the seaweed. “Just got spooked.”
Kohane finally reached her, and embarrassment be damned, she had to make sure An was okay. Anything paled in comparison to her partner getting injured.
“What happened?” Kohane asked, taking one of An’s arms to drape over her shoulder for support. Her nerves felt burnt out from panic, too useless to react to An leaning a significant proportion of her weight onto Kohane. The girl still remained silent.
Kohane hesitantly started walking them over to their stuff left on the beach, inevitably glancing down at An’s gait. She didn’t seem grievously injured; if something genuinely life-threatening had happened to An, Kohane doubted she would be able to remain neutral the way she was now. But she’d still been hurt, obvious in the way she flinched at putting any weight on her left foot, forcing her mouth into a neutral line. She didn’t offer any explanation to her frenzied retreat from the water other than a guilty expression. Kohane just helped her walk.
It was only when Kohane had gotten her to sit down and dry off that An started speaking.
“I kinda don’t wanna say what happened because it’s stupid, but I really don’t want you thinking it was something serious, y’know?” she said, clutching the pink towel wrapped around herself and leaning her head on Kohane’s shoulder.
“I’m just worried.” Kohane had retrieved and replaced her shirt, An being too rattled to go back in the water. An chose to just wrap herself in a towel instead. The reality of the situation had ground Kohane’s confliction over the stupid swimsuit thing into a useless paste. She couldn’t spare the energy to worry about that, not when An was injured in part because of it.
An sighed, glancing up at the grey clouds beginning to swarm above.
“It’s fine, I swear, but I keep worrying you’re going to just blame yourself, and I don’t want you feeling guilty for no reason,” she said. Kohane remained silent.
An laughed, “I really did just get spooked though. I kept thinking there was stuff in the water, like, y’know…” An paused, before continuing meekly, “I, ah, kept thinking there was snakes in the water. And the seaweed freaked me out, and…. yeah.”
“I’m an idiot,” Kohane whispered, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Of course talking about venomous marine life near the ocean, near An, was a terrible idea. She wanted to bury her head in the sand, if only not for the fact it would distress An. Screw just acting off, she’d managed to injure her partner on a first date. Of course.
“Hey, don’t say that.” An sat up, staring her down with conviction. “You didn’t do anything wrong, alright? I’m the idiot, if anyone. It’ll be fine.” She glanced around at the damp sand. “Hey, uh, we could build a sand castle or something? I haven’t done that in a while.” She grinned at Kohane weakly. “C’mon. I don’t want to make this whole thing a downer. Not if it’s with you.”
A cold wind brushed past, the sun flickering for a moment behind thickening clouds. Kohane smiled back. “That sounds fun.”
“This thing looks really ugly.”
An scowled at the lump of grey sand and stones in front of her, hand on her chin. Kohane paused her attempts to pack more sand on it, and groaned. An was right; the ‘castle’ looked more like an anthill made of ground-up cement than any sort of structure. Despite their attempts over the last half-hour, the sand didn’t seem to be capable of holding any sort of form, regardless of how wet or dry it was. Kohane shook her hands out, wincing as grains of wet sand landed on her shirt.
“I’m sorry,” she said. An sighed.
“It’s not like it’s your fault.” An turned away, looking at the ocean. Kohane understood her frustration; An had never been one for sitting still, and it was obvious that she had wanted to go swimming before the incident.
“Maybe we could get some stuff for it? Decorations?” Kohane offered. She doubted there was anything on the beach worth decorating with, but, anything might be better. An brightened up.
“Are you finally going to let me walk around again?”
Kohane withered. “Um, it’s probably not for the best.”
An flopped back onto the sand with a dramatic whine. “C’mooooooon.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, twisting away from Kohane with a sigh. “I can’t believe you’re wounding me like this! I’m being trapped!”
Kohane laughed. “You keep getting up anyway…” For how much An seemed to not want to walk, she seemed to equally hate sitting down; hence the situation of Kohane trying to play the role of reason. Not unlike An’s usual behaviour, except this time she was wrangling her to not injure her ankle further instead of getting better grades or focus.
“If you get up, I’m following you. You’re the only good thing happening here.” An pointed at the ‘castle’ just as it collapsed even more on itself in a clumsy avalanche of sand.
“You probably shouldn’t be walking around until the inflammation goes down, though.”
“So?” An pushed herself back up, a familiar look of challenge in her eyes. “How are you going to stop me?”
The realistic answer would be to just say that she couldn’t. An was a surprisingly easy pushover.
She instead decided to pick up what was left of their sand mistake and pack it down onto An’s ankle. “You’re trapped now…?” she explained, cringing as her voice pitched up.
An snorted. “Well. I guess that works.”
Still, she seemed a little happier than before, despite everything.
Kohane got up and wandered off, face burning. “I’ll be back, I guess?”
She only got a few metres before remembering they didn’t even have anything to decorate anymore. Instead, she just looked back at An, who was looking up at the sky for some reason, dutifully keeping her leg still as if it was really trapped.
Kohane looked up too, and a drop of rain hit her. The clouds above glowered dark grey.
She walked back to An.
“I guess that didn’t last long,” An said, still staring upwards. Her expression was neutral, one that didn’t suit her nature at all. A pang of guilt settled in Kohane’s stomach. She knelt down and brushed the unseemly sand off of An.
“We should get going.”
Kohane knew she’d made a massive misstep somewhere. Walking in silence, with the only conversation being the occasional hiss of pain from An or concerned question from Kohane, now stressed her out in a way she didn’t realize she could experience around An.
Wasn’t this the worst case scenario, after all?
For now, they were sheltering under the overhang of the nearest store they could locate, Kohane looking up the nearest train route home as rain thundered down around her. An unprecedented storm, her phone’s weather app chimed as she pulled up maps and schedules. An was oddly silent, she noted, and when she looked over to where her partner once was, all she saw was her own discarded bag.
For a brief, terrible moment, Kohane wondered if An had completely ditched her. She curled up her legs to her chest, her shirt damp with rain over her already wet swimsuit, and shivered. Pressing her forehead against her knees, tears pooled in her eyes. An had left, that’s how badly she’d failed, it seemed. A heavy dread settled in her lungs as the thought of ruining things between them, ruining her most important partnership.
A bell chimed behind her. Kohane looked up, still trembling, to see An peering out of the doorway of the shop they’d been sheltering by, holding two small cups with spoons sticking out. An caught her eye and smiled slightly; Kohane felt an immediate wave of relief at the sight of her. An settled down next to Kohane carefully, holding out a cup with a more crestfallen expression.
“I wasn’t sure what to get, but hopefully it’s alright,” she said. Kohane took the cup, and peered down at it to see a few scoops of pastel green ice cream within it. “Place was overpriced, but what can you do.”
“Thank you,” Kohane replied, but the answer came out flat. Her appetite was somewhat upturned from crying, and she just stared while waiting for her stomach to settle. An, on the other hand, took a few bites before pausing.
The air felt tense from the humidity and silence. An glanced over at Kohane’s uneaten ice cream in her still-shaking hands.
“Are you upset with me?” An asked, setting her own cup down beside her. An almost relaxed smile rested on her face, her shoulders tense. She stared off into the distance and gripped her arms as if hugging herself.
“Why would I be?” Kohane replied, her voice cracking slightly. She shifted the cup in her hands, watching droplets of green pool at the bottom.
An closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “You don’t have to lie if you’re uncomfortable. I know you’ve been jumpy all day, and I’m sorry for setting you on edge.” Kohane went stiff. Where was An going with this? “I know it’s weird that I wanted to go out with you. And I don’t want you feeling obligated to just because we’re partners.” An slouched a little more, nails digging into her arm even as she visibly fought to keep her expression light. “If you want to just forget this happened, you can say the word, okay? And I won’t be upset.”
She smiled, adjusting her sitting position to face Kohane. She couldn’t breathe, heart frozen in place. An’s smile weakened, eyes glistening. “We can still be partners, right?”
…An was asking her to reject her. An thought she’d rejected her. She could breathe now, but she couldn’t stop; faintly, Kohane registered that she was hyperventilating, ice cream clutched to her chest.
“...Sorry,” An said, and regret hit Kohane like a bullet as her partner silently returned to eating her ice cream.
She’d failed, she’d failed. She’d left her partner thinking she was completely unwanted. Her voice refused to work, no matter how many times she tried to open her mouth and say anything.
All she did was take a bite of her own dessert. A wave of sourness hit her tongue, and Kohane involuntarily found herself scrunching her face up in disgust. The texture was good, the temperature was good, but why did it have to be the one kind of flavour she just couldn’t stand?
Why did today just have to be so terrible?
She stared down at the ice cream, swallowing the portion in her mouth. An usually had great taste, but it was just bad luck that she’d picked something Kohane didn’t like. The aftertaste was almost vinegary, along with a slight melon-like sweetness.
“Hey, what’s with the face?” An asked, her tone lighter despite her concern. “Is it that bad? I mean, I’ve never seen you react like that.” She laughed nervously. “I really just can’t stop messing this up, huh…”
Kohane blinked, and shied away. “It’s, um, not good, but it's just ice cream. I don’t mind.” An hadn’t been the one messing up, either, not in comparison to her; she hadn’t fumbled her actions so badly as to make her feel unloved.
“It’s just been the whole day, though,” An groaned, shutting her eyes tightly. “I keep being stupid.”
Kohane paused.
It was just one day, wasn’t it? Out of all the time they’ve been partners, out of all the time Kohane’s held affection for An, all the times they’ve messed around singing or spent time together alone, would it be so bad to just scrub one day out of the record? To build on her failed behaviour instead of letting it be the end-all be-all for something that hadn’t started yet?
She didn’t know how to reassure An. Not when it came to singing or their partnership, or when it came to this new juncture of their relationship. She shook herself out anyway, rubbed the tears out of her eyes. She couldn’t lose An. Not over one day out of the years she’d had with her. Not over one imperfect day. Not over nerves, or stress, or stupid misunderstandings. Not because she couldn't find another way to be honest with her, after coming so far alongside her.
“Can we just redo this? Another first date?” she asked, looking An level in the eye. An brightened up cautiously, the tarnished spark in her eyes flaring to life. Kohane sat up straighter. “I, I…” she trailed off, mulling over her words. “I don’t think it was the best day, but you’re still really important to me. Next time, if you want to go out again, I think it’d be better?”
“Next time?” An asked, cocking her head to the side, watching Kohane intensely, silently. Almost as if just looking was a weight to bear, too thickly woven with emotion for Kohane to really parse out in any way.
“I mean, it was just a suggestion,” Kohane backtracked. She shrank in on herself. “I kept worrying over doing things perfectly; I didn’t want you to think I was creepy or weird or pathetic, and it was the only thing I could think about for so long. I’m sorry I was jumpy, I didn’t mean to be scared. I don’t know how to stop worrying about these things, no matter how useless I know it is. No matter how much I want to.
“But I don’t want to lose you. I really, really, really… can’t lose you, An. I like you too much.”
Kohane took a deep breath, shaking from her confession. It felt like the wrong thing to admit, asking An to compromise on her pathetic account.
And yet. It seemed she’d said the right thing as An's expression finally lightened.
“That sounds good,” An said, wrapping Kohane in a strangely fragile hug. Kohane found herself relaxing into the gesture, An pressing her head into her shoulder as always, familiar and warm. Just partners, just a day out they could retry until they sorted things out.
Over An’s head, a gap appeared in the clouds, and a rainbow blossomed in the fading storm.
“I’m sorry for screwing so much up,” An said, leaning against Kohane as she walked back to the station, their hands intertwined. “I mean, it’s not like it was completely terrible, and I know you had a fun time in the end, but, I…”
Kohane looked over at her. An was staring at the ground, an uneasy smile settled on her face. She kept quiet, let An start and parse through the words she was trying to say until she eventually gave up. An settled on saying nothing, tightening her grip on Kohane’s hand.
“You wanted it to be perfect too,” Kohane supplied in a whisper. An nodded.
“Ahaha, you caught me. It’s just.” She waved a hand at the sky, the now visible setting sun briefly disappearing behind her hand. “I was worried too.
“I know we’ll stay singing partners forever, y’know? But that’s because I’m going to keep getting better with you. And I just, kinda wanted to prove I’m good enough outside of that too. That I’m worth being with. That you can rely on me.”
Kohane nodded, watching the sky reflected in An’s eyes. The earlier rainbow lingered faintly, coloured golden by her irises. An took a breath as if to continue, before scrunching her eyes closed and laughing, nearly knocking Kohane over as she wrapped her in a hug. Kohane yelped, adjusting to hold An’s weight.
“I’m kind of an idiot, huh?” An grinned, averting her eyes even as she faced Kohane. “I mean, if you were gonna leave, you’d have done it way earlier, right?”
“What made you think I was going to leave?!” Kohane sputtered. “I-I was just talking about how worried I was that I was the one making a bad impression!”
“Hey, you don’t have to pretend like I was some sort of saint!” An said, grabbing Kohane by the shoulders and staring at her with an overexaggerated intensity only broken up by her apparent inability to stop smiling. The light of the sunset cast her in a bright golden glow—watching An watch her, Kohane realized the light was probably illuminating her the same way.
An knocked her forehead lightly against Kohane’s while she was staring. “...Cat got your tongue, huh?”
“...Maybe.”
…Really, there was no need to talk about things going wrong. Not when it worked out like this, her worries placated and her partner smiling. Perfect paled in comparison, if she really thought about it—would it have been possible to cut out the insecurity she felt if everything had gone ‘right’?
“But, ah, we should get going and get your ankle looked at, alright?” she conceded.
An pulled away with a dramatic groan. “You’re really too responsible! I was having a moment, my health can wait…”
Kohane tugged her along with a giggle. “We have practice tomorrow, though. We can go on another date later once it’s healed.”
An smiled. “Yeah, yeah we can.”