a/n: thank you to tumblr user intardistellar for the prompt - a kumirei fic based on the song "amelia" by skott. i don't know why this was the scenario that presented itself to me when i listened to the song, but it was, so...yeah.


The apartment was cold.

Usually, it was warm, filled with life. Reina would put on some song to play her trumpet along with, and Kumiko would sing along with it. On rare days, she'd even dig out her euphonium and they'd play a duet. The blankets on the couch were always askew, light seeped in through the windows, and even on winter days Kumiko would just make second-rate hot chocolate for them to share under piles and piles of blankets until they forgot they'd been freezing at all.

Today, though, it was cold.

"Reina?" Kumiko whispered softly, like she was approaching a small, timid animal. Reina looked up at her, still clenching the papers tight in her left fist. "You know, it's not the end of the world. Y-you'll get better."

"How long, though?" The cast looked like it was made of paper-mâché. "How long until things are back to normal? Even then, it won't be the same. You know that, Kumiko."

"You'll get better," Kumiko repeated, a broken record with the needle impaling it. Reina was curled up on the couch, as she'd been since she got home. "It could've been a lot worse."

"I might not be able to play again," Reina rasped, and she looked so small, so very small. "Do you know what that feels like? To lose everything?"

"You still have m-" Kumiko stumbled backwards as Reina stood up to shaky feet, sweater hanging limply off her frame, her eyes dim.

"How am I special, Kumiko, can you answer that?"

"What, d-do you think that I want to keep looking after you with this whole pity-party thing you're digging yourself into? Reina, you're not just your trumpet."

"I'm not special." Reina's gaze was nothing short of terrifying, upsetting, and although Kumiko wanted to run over and hug her, she knew that she couldn't. She wouldn't. "What else do I have?"

"What about me?" Kumiko nearly yelled, trembling now, tears threatening to spill, as Reina started for the door. She knew it sounded selfish, she knew, but she didn't care and she didn't know why she wasn't stopping Reina from turning that knob and running out into the snowstorm that awaited her downstairs. "You think your specialness was what drew me to you, Reina? Your trumpet? You think that I fell in love with you because you were good at playing an instrument?"

"Does it matter?" Reina looked like she was frozen to the floor, weeds springing up around her feet, or so Kumiko imagined. A tipped-over cup of coffee sat on the floor, dripping onto the hardwood. "Do you think that I'm going to just be fine? I don't get why you can't understand that-"

"Geez, Reina, I love you! T-trumpet or no trumpet, specialness or none, I'm here."

"It doesn't matter," Reina answered her own question, turning her back.

"I-is that all I was, then?" Kumiko dug her nails into her palm until she was sure they'd leave a mark, but she, too, didn't move from her spot. "Someone to help you on this p-path to becoming special or whatever it is?" Her voice was going hoarse, her stutter returning. Reina didn't say anything, just opened the door silently. "It's cold out there."

"I know," Reina retorted. Kumiko couldn't see her face, but she could hear her footsteps shuffling out, could see the way she tightened her scarf and then, without another word, shut the door.

"F-fine, then." Kumiko didn't realize that she was trembling until she saw her fingers shaking, and it was at that moment she fell to the floor. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was grateful that she'd worn pants that day - otherwise, her knees would've scraped against the carpet and she'd have been left with a painful rug burn. She could feel her heart threaten to break the ribs holding it in place.


An hour passed, then two, and soon the clock on the wall read 11:00 as Kumiko just sat on the floor.

"One car accident, huh? T-that's all it took?" She didn't know who she was talking to - the empty room, the row of cacti that lined the windowsill and gave off a sort of ethereal glow in the moonlight, maybe some unseeable God, she wasn't sure, but it helped to give words to her thoughts, at least. "Six years, and s-suddenly she can't bear to be in the same room as me. Fine."

The silence of the apartment deafened her.

"It's fine, okay? If she doesn't come back, that's her choice. M-maybe I don't even want her here right now, how's that?" Even as she said it, Kumiko knew it was a lie, and so she stood with wobbly legs. A framed photo of herself and Reina, holding the golden Nationals trophy, stared down at her.

"I'm - god." Kumiko grabbed the door and swung it open, feeling like she must've looked like something out a a bad romance movie when she ran down the hall, smacking against the wall in her hurry. Her feet seemed to carry her along until she got outside, the cold winter air hitting her lungs. Yellow flowers flew up like sparks beneath her feet as she kept running, and it was in that moment that she saw Reina, at the foot of the steps, just as out-of-breath as she was.

It was a funny scenario, when she thought about it - standing on stone stairs above Reina, when years and years ago on a mountaintop they'd been in reverse. Kumiko doubted she looked quite as ethereal as Reina had in that white dress, but she couldn't help but make the comparison in her mind anyway.

"You came back," they both said, at the same time. Reina started to laugh, still carefully holding her arm in its sling.

"I don't think I've ever seen you that angry," she breathed. Little puffs of air appeared and disappeared as she spoke.

"Y-yeah, I guess I was, huh?" Kumiko could feel the winter winds hitting her cheeks, but she hardly noticed. "I'm here, Reina." Her voice had turned soft - it'd have been a wonder if it carried at all.

"I know." She stepped closer, boots leaving imprints in the snow. Kumiko reached out a hand, shaky, and Reina looked up again. "I'm here too, Kumiko."

They grabbed hold of each other's hands, and it was so wonderfully warm.


a/n: don't let me write angst