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Smooth flowing emerald strokes gilded their way across the page as skillfully as a dancer, dashing in fluid curves and lines punctuating the pristine paper.
The ink shone of rare jewels, treasures the toughest of dragons would be guarding. The promise of such a gem would lure the seeker traversing through the damp cave to their goal. The handwriting enticed its reader, all the same, a rope to yank them into its inescapable clasp.
Except, this was no fictitious fairytale, and the neatly folded paper sitting in her hands was not of as much importance as an ancient, telling scroll. Inked writing bounced to meet the violet eyes that scanned them with brimming interest. No treasures. Or prized and uncut jewels had been nestled in the folds. Instead, it read artificial. Not that the matter lay in whether it was fake shimmer for display or otherwise. The most notable thing about it was not the dark ink, but the words inscribed with it.
The girl wished with her sinning soul to memorize the exact pattern of the letters written. To scorch the elegant sentences and affirming words into her brain until she could recite them from memory, to hold the letter in her despairing, dying hands until the paper withered away into dust alongside her. Such a simple letter she grasped so dear, a bitter laugh would have escaped herself. Instead, she bit her cheek, deciding her critical mind would be aside for now.
All addressed to her, the third letter by now. She spared a glance at the two envelopes sharing an identical signature that had been tossed upon her nightstand, scattered on top of stacks of study guides. A student council signup sheet she'd been offered weeks ago laid there collecting dust, never bothering to fill it out. In the time she had received the precious letters, Aoi would admire them for hours on end. She had gone through the exact motions situated on her bed, running her hands lightly across the lines and flitting her eyes to take in the shimmer of the writing. Never in her 17 years of life would she have ever thought the gesture of back and forth writing would be the catalyst to release the floodgates of genuine emotion to pour over her layered barriers.
A burning sensation ruminates itself to curl like a cat’s tail around her heart, residing to sear acid through her vital organs until she is but rendered to an ashy crisp. In reaction, she stomps it down, clutching at her chest and cramming the feeling down to the tips of her toes, until the only thing left in her was the ragged breaths she drew in. Intaking a large sigh of air, her grip loosened on her ruffled nightgown, hand dropping to her side.
Aoi was never used to things like this. Maybe, one day, she would be.
Used to adoration and care? She had been the recipient of many love letters in her days throughout middle and high school. From incredibly coy, or proud students strutting up to her with their chest puffed out, who approached her with them. She took the love confessions with a graceful flourish of a hand with her face rested into her signature dainty smile. No matter the person that came and went, they were all blank and faceless in the end.
None of them stuck out to her or given a second thought. It wouldn't be best to think of people who so carelessly give up their hearts to perfect strangers. Unopened, heart-stamped envelopes crumpled into a ball as soon as she arrived home, stuffed in the darkest corner of her closet to be forgotten until her mother came around to clean. Did she ever feel an ounce of guilt? Well, she knew the answer to that already. Hope all she wanted to change, there would remain a part of her that was stagnant in their ways.
Because Akane Aoi was dirtied. She was no angel without sin, her wings blown away with the weight of her misdeeds and trickery. Saccharine waves and smiles she bore were nothing but lies sprouting from years of practice, in a continuous state of having her devil-horned head stuck looking down on her peers. Her long-term bitterness manifested too soon until it grew big and poisoned. Pity amounted to those around her, who would never truly know the devil of a woman she was. A shame. Nobody deserved to have to deal with the person she was.
Nanamine Sakura, the mysterious and tranquil person who haunted their voice across the broadcasting system and echoed their daunting rumors in the halls during their time at Kamome Gakuen, a constant comfort within her trainwreck of a mind.
With them, Aoi no longer looked down. For the first time, she felt level. A safe between the two of them.
How curious, so unnaturally drawn to the forces of the supernatural, to be so attached to people like her somewhat dreary, rumor-loving friend, Nene, and the analytical, strangely knowledgeable Sakura. The neon-haired person had encouraged Aoi to break out of her oppressive shell she built around herself, and as much as Aoi wanted to fulfill their promise to someday do so. It had been two years since then. Slight progress made, which might as well have been nothing.
Disapprovement filled the silence with a click of her tongue. She couldn't dwell.
Tucking the letter back into its envelope, Aoi placed it with the rest without looking back. Resentment bubbled up inside of her, frustration apparent in her tense hands and scrunched expression. Thinking of such thoughts while admiring Sakura’s writing felt wrong, disgracing them. Aoi knew in the back of her mind she’d be met with a saddened look if they knew what was on her mind, coupled with a clink of a teacup resting beside her hand.
“A cup of tea goes along with your troubles well, doesn’t it?” Their familiar voice was imprinted into Aoi’s brain, every single last drop of their silken words they addressed Aoi with etched into her skull. She recalled their sentences, knew their actions and mature mannerisms like the back of her hand. Aoi hadn’t realized how warm her face had become until she raised one to rest on her cheek, comparably hotter than the rising temperature in Aoi’s lighted lamp that provided her vision in the gloomy night.
She missed them, but when did she not?
Aoi was now in her third year, it was quite somber to her previous ones. Students were more concerned about their upcoming graduation and grades, as opposed to the social standing of those before them. Major disruptions occurred seldom. For this, Aoi was grateful. Still, she continued to be asked out by people who had mustered the courage to confess in their last year. Her rejections lacked the honey-soaked sweetness she exhibited before, brief and lost within grudging emotion. One thing that stayed consistent through the years, in any case, she turned them down with a smile and a puppy-like tilt of her head.
Sakura.
They were different. An aura with an enchantment so incomparable and captivating she couldn’t point out the sole reason why they were different. Aoi didn’t know whether she loved it, or hated it, and the problem arose when she ran out of time to figure it out with them by her side. The two had met in her first year in the high school division. The same year they met, the same year Sakura left.
Ghostly in the halls, they couldn’t ever be spotted dawdling in a crowd, on the prowl for an idyllic place at all times. In these instances, Aoi often caught them behind the school, resting against a wall or bench, a chaptered book resting in their lap. It was strange. Aoi wasn’t expected to be so distant from the lively, bounding social circles she was caught up in regularly. That would have been improper. Even so, she couldn’t help but be enamored with the discreet person. Like a magnetic pull, sinking her in until she was helpless.
Seeking out enough time, Aoi would slip away from whoever had decided to strike up some trivial conversation with her that day. With a brisk, unassuming pace, she wandered behind the school, sitting on a giant, mossy rock just a length away from the pretty stranger. The thought of being considered stalkerish or creepy crossed her mind, so Aoi offered a polite wave in their direction. In return, there was always a slight nod, before they shifted their attention back to the page they flipped with their slender fingers.
The short interaction left her breathless, putting a hand to her mouth and feeling the warm air hit her palm. It was as though her heart leaped into her throat, dropping back down to thud in her chest in rapid succession she thought she might implode. Aoi was unable to display these crashing thoughts on the outside, thankfully. Her expression was far from flustered or excited as her insides raced to be, instead, a lake-still calm fell light on her features.
Her walls weren’t as thick as she thought, and Sakura scanned every last bit of it with jaded, unassuming eyes from afar. The visits and small greetings lasted for a couple of weeks before they exchanged words with each other.
“Why come to me, Akane-san?” Sakura had questioned with a soft tone. “I do nothing but sit and read, surely you need something to visit so often without a word?”
The words came as a shock to the shiny, amethyst-haired girl with her hands busied and entangled in flower stems, braiding them together. This was the first time she was approached by Sakura, she wished to relive it again and savor the moment.
“I- It’s just very peaceful here.” Aoi forced out quickly, careful not to stumble on her words, “A break from the noise is nice… I’m sure you’d agree, Nanamine-senpai?”
“I do.” They slid their book into the pocket of their school uniform dress before directing their attention back to her. Their intimidating gaze caused a shiver to crawl down Aoi’s spine. “Call me Sakura. We’re equals here, aren’t we?” Their tone was laced with something Aoi couldn’t pinpoint, it was pleasant. Aoi opened her mouth to reply. Instead, they filled the silence reserved for her.
“I’ve always wanted to speak to you, anyways.” Extending a hand, their porcelain skin brushed against Aoi’s. Oh.
Oh.
Aoi gulped audibly, not noted by the other. Sakura expressed tenderness with the delicacy of a sakura flower petal floating down from a tree branch rising high above a lake, landing to drift beyond the surface. Fuck. How could somebody be so perfect and approach someone as imperfect and flawed as Aoi? It was almost cruel.
From that day forward, they still hung behind the school in their free time during school hours in routine, but instead, sat beside each other, hushed whispers emitting from them both in a fluid conversation. Conversation topics transitioned into rather abstract concepts that made Aoi’s head spin, but Sakura enjoyed them, so she learned to understand the explanations and opinions articulated towards her. When she couldn’t grasp the words falling out of their mouth, she focused on the way the sun beamed down onto Sakura’s hair, shining a bright, golden halo onto the crown of their head. The way they stared off into the distance as they spoke gently, kind enough not to disturb the birds that nestled in the tree they were under.
“You’re a nice person, Akane-san.”
“I’m really not.” That should be obvious by now.
“If that’s what you think,” They hummed, dismissing the comment with a wave of a hand. Aoi felt a piece of her die at the gesture, but it held some truth to them she couldn’t deny. The candle burning in her soul still flared on.
Sakura had often invited Aoi to the broadcasting room, boiling water to accompany their conversations with their aroma tea. Most of their conversations were light, other times Sakura raved on about supernatural rumors, sometimes they rummaged into Aoi’s and Sakura’s brains until there was nothing left but their raw selves.
And on those days, Aoi says things she regrets. Aoi says things that she should have never said.
“I like you more than I should.” Aoi blurts out, screwing her eyes shut as she tugged at the hem of her dress. Desperateness edged her voice, she despised the way it cracked under the pressure. Fucking desperate.
And like the gorgeous, unrivaled person Sakura was, they always came to rescue Aoi from her miserable daze. Although not good at comfort, they were a help in solving her internal conflict.
“Are you ashamed of it?”
“... I’m ashamed to think it’d ever be okay to like someone like you.” Truthfully, that is all that tore her up inside, eating away at her gut like festering maggots in an unclean wound.
“Someone like me?” The owner of the cool tone shifted in their seat, placing their half-empty teacup to the side to observe the girl with piquing interest. “I don’t wish to prod around your conscience, but maybe, elaborate?”
Swallowing heavily, she darted her eyes around the table in the broadcasting room they sat at. Anxiety laid thick in the pit of her heart as the ticking of the wall clock next to them marked the seconds. “I’m no good. You had no reason to affiliate yourself with me, but you did, and now you have to bear the burden of my selfish desires.”
“I don’t view you as a burden, Akane-san.”
“But I am, and all this conversation and being in my presence has made you blind to my awful self!” She couldn’t have held her composure a second longer, her hands clutching at her reddened face as tears welled up in her eyes. “I should have never gone behind the school. I should’ve never met you. I’d be better for the both of us if I never existed!”
She wanted to tear at anything in sight. “Why did I ever have to meet you? I should have minded my own business and went along, but no. I was selfish and dirty again and wanted something more than what I could have as a mortal girl.” Her breathing sped up, chest heaving to get oxygen into her quickly expanding lungs.
That kind and warm hand reached out to Aoi once again. Her instincts betrayed her, slapping the hand away despite her insides screaming for a grounding touch to bring her back to earth. Well-- not earth-- she would have rather escaped to anywhere else. Anywhere Sakura was, she wanted to be. Yet, she couldn’t truly be, and that frustrated her to no end.
“Aoi?” The use of her given name snapped her out of her shaking, nonverbal state. “Aoi. I’m glad to have met you. It isn’t a matter of whether who deserves who or what you think you deserve. In reality, you’re not a cheerful, innocent girl, but that doesn’t make the real you as horrible as you think. You’re authentic as you are now.”
Without another word, Aoi felt an arms wrap around her shoulders in a gesture of comfort. Sakura wasn’t used to physical affection, but if it was to make her feel better, she would have to adapt. Bit by bit, the other had stopped trembling, but the tears that shone on the verge of spilling were still there.
Aoi melted into Sakura’s touch, pressing her cheek up to their heart to wet her tears on their uniform, zoning in on the rhythmic way their heartbeat in their chest. The two intertwined together perfectly, like the link of chains interconnecting with ease, the click of two unique puzzle pieces designed specifically for each other, nobody else to intercept their lock. Oxytocin bled through their skin, blooming warmth from the ends of their fingertips. The older hummed, running their hands through the plum hair that had become undone.
Fate is a cruel mistress, isn’t she?
Because so easily Sakura departed from her, without a proper goodbye. The college was too far to visit, and within the mountains of exams Aoi had to prepare for, she’d rather stay at home to distract herself. It didn’t stop the pang of loneliness in her bones, the vibrations of a phone call never to be picked up. The only thing left to tether her to reality was the wax-sealed envelopes delivered to her weekly. Sakura had no phone, according to the first letter, only a house phone used by their family. They couldn’t afford such luxury, so they sent out the ethereal letters Aoi would store away to reread over and over. This was a common exchange between the both of them, Sakura sending out a letter to ask about Aoi’s general wellbeing, and Aoi writing in detail the way Sakura would like to hear. Curiously for her, the way Sakura liked to hear, the more true the writing was to herself. Of all the things she liked about Nanamine Sakura, that was her favorite. They made her feel loved and valid in a way nobody else could achieve.
None of the three words Aoi longed to hear were scratched in ink along with the page, but the writings she received relayed the same message all the same. She hadn’t known anything other than her bitter resignation to resent everyone around her before Sakura. Now her heart bled of care and love, strange, but welcomed.
For a long time, she would sit at her desk basking in candlelight to not overheat her only lamp, pondering on how to respond to the letters. Nevertheless, it didn’t take long before she was spilling herself raw with blots of ink, managing to collect herself together to make it understandable.
Sometimes, Nene would come to visit Aoi in the Akane residence, and while she enjoyed her friend’s company, it wouldn’t compare to theirs.
“Aoi! Have you heard? Amane-kun asked me out to the movies this Sunday!” Nene would squeal into one of Aoi’s pillows, kicking her feet up in delight. “I’m so excited! This is our first anniversary together!”
“That’s great! I’m so happy for you, he seems like such a great guy~” Aoi tapped the other girl on the nose. “You’re finally becoming a big kid now! It’s like yesterday you were fawning over Minamoto-senpai.”
Nene shot up with the bed in indignation, springs creaking under her, “H- hey! That’s in the past!”
It was better than being completely alone, Aoi decided.
For now, the mailing had to suffice. She would have to be satisfied without the warmth of her beloved until fate would bring the two back together again. They did it once, what’s another in a year's time?
Aoi sealed the letter once more.