Mirrored Reflections - Δ
Haruka stood a good distance away from her in the dimly lit corridor. It was dark. Most of the lights in the building had been turned off. The offices were empty and closed. Almost everyone had gone home. It was quiet. It was the perfect setting for them to be alone. However, it was not enough for them to be alone. She wanted them to both be free, honest and happy.
She slowly walked towards Masaki in an inconsistent pace, the sudden thunder and crash of rain drowning out the pitter patter against the porcelain tiles of the floor, slowing down in apprehension. Still, she went unnoticed despite a trail of echoes following her steps.
Haruka chuckled to herself as the darkness kept her hidden like a thief in the night. It was like the shadows were actively keeping her from being discovered before the time was right. She boldly took a stride forward as if to challenge its protection. The shadows were unmoving but no one was paying attention.
She had waited a long time for this chance and it was not at like what she had imagined: she was far less confident. However, at the very least, it was how she had intended, that the two of them were all alone.
Her brain tried to organize her thoughts in fashion that she could easily remember and communicate. It seemed like an endless barrage of ideas in consonance and contradiction all at once.
She had been contemplating and was contemplating still, constantly reminding herself of the reason why she even thought of doing this—fighting her tendency to deny her feelings. Her resolve was getting stronger by the minute, just by the fact that Masaki was still there despite having to wait a long, long time.
She was now dead set on making tonight happen that her apprehensions faded from memory, any protests in her mind reduced to white noise. She didn’t care whether her steps could be heard. They were steady beats to her battle song.
Haruka crossed the point of no return, standing so close, almost touching her. While she was determined, she couldn’t help feeling nervous. Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked her to come. Perhaps their last goodbye really was supposed to be their last goodbye. When she stopped giving a damn and reached around Masaki’s shoulders, pulling her close, Haruka’s hand resting on the warm, familiar shoulder. It’s begun.
Masaki pressed her body hard against hers, reaching up and holding Haruka’s hand on her shoulder. Their fingers entwined on their own. Haruka leaned in, kissing her behind her ear, on the cheek, making a trail to the crook of her neck. She felt Masaki’s hand cup her cheek, pulling her in. She kept her eyes closed as she let herself be led, only to have them pop open when she felt Masaki’s lips on her own. Her eyes then fluttered to a close as Haruka deepened the kiss. As Masaki’s guiding hand fell to the side, Haruka took it in her own. As if telepathically linked, they pulled away from the kiss at the same time, both of them gasping for air. They held on to each other, without moving for a few minutes.
In this position, they were like two adjoining puzzle pieces finding each other and locking in together. Their seven-centimeter difference in height was just right. Everything about them was just right. It all made sense—all the ways that they were the same and all the ways they were different. They were like music. They, together, were music.
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