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It’s not strange for them to spend the night together when they have to make a new song. Sometimes it’s hard to piece a melody and lyrics together when they’re not written side by side, and with how many songs they’ve been putting out lately, Umi knows they’re more than a little burnt out by the process and need to take their time.
Maki doesn’t say anything, but Umi can see it in her eyes. Her violet eyes almost seem to reflect the exhaustion in Umi’s own amber ones, all dark circles and red edges, drooping and falling closed every few seconds before jerking wide open again. The sight might’ve been considered cute under different circumstances, but Umi is too busy keeping herself from faceplanting onto the table to enjoy it.
At least, she thinks to herself with a wry grin, the table seems like it would be less painful than the piano where Maki is currently situated.
“What’s so funny?” Maki quietly grumbles, glaring. Umi’s grin grows wider.
“Nothing,” she quietly quips. “That you would find amusing, anyways.”
“Hmph,” the redhead flips her hair in silent irritation, turning back to the sheets of paper on the piano. They’ve been at this the whole day, taking breaks only when Umi’s alarms go off to remind them to eat (eating at proper time intervals is important to keep fit and healthy, after all), and Umi is sure if they had been anybody besides Umi and Maki, they would have goofed off hours ago.
As it is, even people as focused as they are need to take a step back and rest their minds. With that logic in mind, Umi slowly stands, stretching her arms above her head, before she takes a stealthy step and moves for the piano. Maki, eyes now closed, hasn’t noticed her actions at all.
Creeping up is no challenge even in her tired state since Maki is more gone than she is, and when she reaches her, some small part of her is amused when Maki jumps to her gentle touch on the shoulder. She’s cold, which comes as no surprise considering the chill of the evening, so Umi takes off her school blazer and drapes it over Maki’s shoulders.
“J-Jeez! Umi, what are you doing?” the pianist squeaks, tightening up, fingers pulling away from the white piano keys.
“You seemed cold,” Umi responds, head tilting. She’s only doing the logical thing to warm her up, right? Although judging by the way Maki is stiffening up, perhaps not so much. Eyebrows scrunching together, she tries to remember the last time she washed her blazer. She did her laundry only a few days ago, didn’t she? “I’m sorry, does it smell bad?” she asks.
When Maki turns her head to face her, Umi is surprised to see the red tinge to her cheeks. “No…” the redhead slowly murmurs. “That’s…”
A lightbulb goes off in Umi’s brain, and one hand of hers reaches forward. “Maki, do you have a fever?” she hurriedly questions, feeling her friend’s forehead and searching for traces of abnormal heat. Maki doesn’t feel warm… but to her surprise, the girl’s cheeks grow redder and redder to match the scarlet shade of her hair.
“No, I-I’m fine!” Maki all but shouts, standing from the piano bench, knocking Umi’s hands off, and stalking away, movements stiff. Umi can only blink after her. “I’m… going to get the bath ready,” Maki says at the doorway before she steps out, red hair flying from the force of her steps.
Umi continues to blink.
Finally, to the empty room, she replies, “…Alright then.”
…
When Maki comes back ten minutes later, she finds Umi sprawled on top of the table, eyes closed, bangs covering her forearm where her forehead is propped up against, her papers spread out and her pencil teetering towards the floor. The second year is uncharacteristically messy, and the fact that she passed out at all is strange in and of itself.
She has to hold back her laughter at the adorable sight.
Soon, though, her amusement changes to quiet, appreciative observation.
Umi is always stern faced even when she is being kind, a sight which is comforting despite the usual negative connotations that go with being stern (and since Honoka and Rin are the ones who receive most of the scolding anyways, Maki’s never minded), so to see her relaxed expression is a rare treat.
Maki can’t help but indulge herself.
Quietly, she pads over to Umi’s side for a closer look. There she finds that she can take in the details of her strong jaw and the curves of muscle on the side of her neck, and then her eyes trail to the blue strands of hair cascading over sturdy shoulders, strands that have a soft, silky quality–
She immediately retracts her hand once she realizes what she’s doing. Flushing to the tips of her ears and swallowing the lump in her throat, Maki leans away, squeezes her eyes shut and counts to ten.
Once ten comes, she’s gone from embarrassed to emboldened. Somewhere in those ten seconds, an insane impulse took a hold of her mind, one whispering hard truths to sway her, telling her this is her only chance to be close with Umi, normally so distant, attached at the hips to her childhood friends, who she only had eyes for…
It’s bitterness, not affection, that moves her forward, and when she presses her lips to that soft blue hair right above the ear, inhaling the soothing scent of morning dew on wood, only then does she realize the mistake she’s made.
Her throat goes dry.
Blinking, she leans away, looks to the white ceiling to blot out the overwhelming blue in her vision, and counts to ten with her lip between her teeth.
She clenches and unclenches her fists.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity in tense silence, she heaves a tired, weary sigh and decides that she’s doing nobody any favors by standing there and regretting the past. Might as well go use the bath she drew up and get ready to rest for another day of tortured songwriting in the same room as the one she holds feelings for.
Tomorrow will be another long, long day.
With one foot poised for the door, she pauses, unable to resist the temptation of one last look. Lucky that she does so, actually, since she would have otherwise missed the shiver of Umi’s back beneath the white wrinkles of her school uniform.
But if tomorrow is another long day, at least one of us should rest well, she thinks with a wry smile.
It’s affection then, not bitterness, that moves her to shrug Umi’s blazer, still draped around her like a protective cloak, off, settling the jacket gently back on its owner’s shoulders.
Her hands linger for a moment before she shakes her head and forces herself away.
She’ll come back after her bath and wake Umi up later, and with that, the door shuts closed behind her.
…
Umi waits a few seconds, then a few more, then a few minutes to be safe, before she raises her head off the table, pencil clattering to the floor and paper sheets shuffling around on wood. Cheeks burning holes into her face, she brings her hands up and cups them, alarmed at the feverish feeling running beneath her fingertips.
Oh, is all she can think. Oh, is all she has been thinking since Maki walked back into the room and didn’t say a single word. Oh, is all that went through her mind the entire time Maki hovered near her and then when she–
Her entire body erupts like a volcano.
Umi is no genius when it comes to things like this, but even she’s not dense enough to misinterpret everything that just happened.
She’s only lucky Maki hadn’t caught her staring when she was about to leave the room, although for a few horrifying seconds Umi thought she had been, but then Maki had merely returned her blazer, and well, that was that.
Except… except now what is she meant to do?!
With dread pooling in her heart, she wonders how long she can pretend she doesn’t know anything about anything, but…
But Umi is no liar and she cannot lie to herself: she knows she is a horrible actress.
Just the thought of seeing Maki again is sending her stomach into somersaults, and her body is so flushed at this point she feels like she’s permanently a shade of red.
At least Maki loves tomatoes, right?
Umi doesn’t know what’s worse: the fact that she’s now imagining herself in a giant tomato costume, or that a small part of her is actually kinda, sorta, really glad that she doesn’t need to be a tomato for Maki to love her.
Then Umi remembers they’re spending the night together.
Alone.
In Maki’s house.
Because Maki’s parents are gone for the weekend.
Normally not a problem, but now?
Now…
Umi faceplants right back into the desk and sends her papers flying everywhere, unconscious and dead to the world.
…
Maki, red hair slightly damp, quirks her eyebrows at the sheets spread all across the floor and the pencil right by her feet at the doorway.
…She decides not to think too much about how they got there and picks them up.
Setting them back down on the table, she goes to shake Umi awake.
The girl doesn’t even twitch, not one little bit, at the disturbance.
She shakes some more.
Nothing.
Humming to herself, she recalls the last time she saw Umi unceremoniously awakened, where the girl had returned to the living world as a demon hurling supersonic pillows, and ultimately determines that it’s not worth the risk.
Despite her fear at the time, the memory forms a smile on her lips. She shakes her head.
Her eyes fall over Umi’s slumbering form.
…Well…
If she’s this dead to the world, then…
She pats the sleeping girl gently on the head and contents herself with watching her sleep for a little while.
Even asleep, Umi has never looked more mesmerizing.
…
When the morning rays of light shine on Umi’s face and wake her from dreamless sleep, the sight of Maki slumbering just a few inches from her on the table nearly sends her into cardiac arrest. Her red hair spills beautifully onto the table, almost glowing under the morning sun, and the way it frames her slumbering visage only brings out the soft contours and edges of her face.
Umi forgets how to breathe.
Once her heartbeats stop thundering in her ears does she realize this is a rare chance to observe the redhead up close without interference.
It’s only then that she really recognizes it’s morning, and her thoughts from last night come rushing back to her head.
She can’t tell if she’s more mortified or disappointed that nothing happened.
Then she gets a whiff of herself off her sleeve and grimaces. Right, she never bathed.
Well, if it’s for memorizing the picturesque scene before her, she can put up with her stench for a few more minutes.
Just… a few more.