Title: the daily grind
Prompt: A ghost in the house
A/N: Well, this is blaahhhh, but I've run out of time to write it and WILL ONE DAY AVENGE MYSELF.
Summary: Michiru liked Haruka best when she was sleeping.
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Michiru liked Haruka best when she was sleeping.
No, that would be a lie. She loved her best in the early morning, her hair disheveled as she sleepily turned to face the alarm clock. It was always half an hour too late, no matter how early she set her alarm the night before.
"You're going to be late again," Michiru commented, examining the clock. It was almost a miracle how it never worked as desired.
A loud honk outside remind them of her ride and Haruka swore. She tumbled out of bed, half putting on her clothes as she brushed her teeth and ran a hand through her hair. It would have to be good enough, there was barely enough time to grab a bite to eat before Mina started her usual fanfare.
"Haruukkkaaaa," a sing song voice drifted through the window, a prelude to what was to come. Haruka stuck her head through the window.
"Give me a god damn minute, I'm coming!"
"Oh, my, how indecent," Mina gasped and Haruka looked down to see her shirt only half buttoned up.
"Shut up!" She turned red and hastily finished buttoning. Michiru clicked her tongue, she quite enjoyed the view.
"I'm not the one flashing the neighbours!" Minako cheerfully yelled back up as Haruka retreated into her room.
"Not yet," Haruka grumbled as she stumbled into the kitchen.
"How discrete," Michiru scoffed and turned her eyes away from the window, back to Haruka as she grabbed a handful of cereal and stuffed her mouth. She looked almost like a squirrel as she struggled to put on her shoes.
"You should have heard Lita last night," Minako drawled, her voice loud enough to reach the third floor. "She's tough, but when you bite her ear just so—"
Haruka almost choked. Michiru resisted the urge to sigh—Mina's laundry list of flings was as vulgar as ever.
"MINA, SHUT UP," Haruka hollered out the window before turning around and rushing through the door. It was too late, the neighbours had heard as they always did.
Michiru frowned as she slammed the door shut. It was already worn down, it wouldn't take much to break it. Returning to the window, she watched as a completely red and livid Haruka emerged from the building.
"I almost got evicted the last time you did that!"
Mina shrugged. "It's not my fault they're jealous of my sex life."
Haruka climbed into the broken down jeep, a piece of junk they both had pooled together to buy. "Where do you even find the time for all those people?"
"Well," Mina replied, her voice getting faint as they pulled away from the building, "That's easy…"
-x-
If the mornings were hectic, the evenings were drained. Haruka trudged in, her shoulders slumped, her fingers a pitch black from grease and oil. The cars never cleaned themselves and her cheeks were covered in grimy splotches, her hair streaked from countless finger combing.
In her hands were a few letters and Michiru knew without looking their contents. Red letters marking just how much was owed. Haruka dropped them on top of the others already on the kitchen table. Tomorrow was pay day and maybe one of them could be removed then.
But Michiru knew better by now—the money from a small auto shop was not enough to make ends meet.
Haruka sighed and sat on the kitchen chair, one of a set of mismatched furniture stolen off people's lawns on garbage day. Sinking into herself, she held her head and closed her eyes.
A hard day, then. On the better days, Haruka would collapse on the couch instead, too tired to do anything other than turn on the TV and watch a car race.
Still, it was better than those times she came home dead drunk, Mina dragging her to her bed before they'd collapse in it together.
Michiru disproved of it, of course, but that made no difference. It never did.
"I'll figure it out tomorrow," Haruka suddenly said, shaking herself out of her stupor. "I can do it."
You can't, Michiru didn't say. Not like this.
-x-
A correction, then. Michiru loved Haruka best in the mornings, missed her in the afternoons, and understood her in the evenings.
But it was at night that she enjoyed the most.
Night was when Haruka would sprawl face first in the bed, too tired to properly cover herself. Too tired to do anything but fall into a deep sleep, her quiet snores the only noise in the room.
There was no Minako here, no autoshop. The bills remained in the kitchen, outside of this private domain.
No, this was when Haruka was Michiru's and only Michiru's. Her fingers traced the blonde's face lightly. There was a frown on her face, her brow furrowed as the problems of the day didn't depart at night. Was it a happy life Haruka lived?
Michiru wouldn't know. Outside the confines of this apartment, the world didn't exist. All she had were the tidbits of Haruka's life here, the repetitive mornings, the mounting bills, the exhaustion.
There was little else. Could it even be called living? Michiru might be the ghost, but Haruka seemed to be a living one.
Her fingers slipped through Haruka's skin and she grumbled softly in her sleep.
There couldn't be much holding her here. If anything, there was more pushing her away.
"Haruka," Michiru tested the words, the sound, the taste of it. What would it sound like to hear her own name from those lips?
With the moon as a witness, she dipped her hand into Haruka's chest. It wouldn't take much, really, for there to be two ghosts in the house.
