a/n: what's this? more kumirei? complaining about global warming through anime lesbians? that's how i roll. please it has been so hot here i just want to wear coats again
Kumiko missed the snow.
It was a long summer, she told Natsuki one night over the phone, spilling into fall and telling her of a warm winter. She missed covering her arms, breathing in that sharp winter smell.
Of course, really, all she was trying to say was that she missed Reina, and that as much as she was happy for her - music scholarships abroad are nothing to scoff at, after all, especially fresh out of the second year of high school - she'd clench her chest whenever she passed by Mt. Daikichi.
"We call a lot," she said, as if to set the scene to some invisible audience. Natsuki gave a non-committal mrm-hrm in response.
"Every day?"
"When we can."
"Alright."
"She's coming back in a few weeks. It's, uh, it's just a short program."
"Right, right."
"You're not being very supportive here," Kumiko deadpanned. She could practically hear Natsuki shrugging over the phone.
"Call it taking a page out of Asuka-senpai's book. I can't be the badass lesbian mentor all the time." The sound of flopping over on a mattress. "I've got stuff, too."
"It's still really warm out here." Kumiko rubbed her exposed arms to make a point before remembering that Natsuki couldn't see her. The cell phone felt slippery in her palm. "Kinda gross, really."
"Yeah, I get that."
"It's forty degrees where you are!"
"That's steaming compared to what I'm used to."
"You're unbelievable."
"Listen, Kumiko, you two are gonna be fine. Believe me on that, alright?"
"I'll try."
'"Glad to hear it."' The phone hung up with a click, and Kumiko rolled over and groaned. Winter Break was written in bold on the cat calendar hanging above her bed.
Kumiko: reina?
Kumiko: are you asleep?
She probably was, but Kumiko figured it was worth a try. She wasn't expecting her heart to nearly give out when she read the reply.
Reina: No.
Reina: The rest of the . . . group is having some kind of party in the hotel room next door.
Reina: I /wish/ I could sleep.
Kumiko sighed, thinking of Reina bundled alone in some creaky hotel bed.
Kumiko: is there anything on tv?
Kumiko: you could
Kumiko: i dunno
Kumiko: try and drown it out or something idk
Reina: That's not a bad idea.
Reina: I'm turning it on right now.
The stream of messages stopped for a moment - undoubtably due to Reina finding the remote and turning on the television - and Kumiko settled against the headboard of her bed.
Reina: It's mostly just bad sitcoms and interviews with politicians.
Kumiko: bleh
Reina: There's a movie on, though.
Reina: It looks . . . interesting enough.
Kumiko: what's it about?
Reina: High school, I think.
Reina: None of these characters seem to be having a very good time.
A pause.
Reina: They're singing now.
Kumiko: reina i swear to god if this is high school musical i'm going to cry
Reina: God, no.
Reina: It's something older, I think.
Reina: I don't know.
Reina: It's nice background noise, at least.
Kumiko: i miss you
She wasn't quite sure what had prompted her to say that, but it was true. Nothing would have made her happier, right there in that moment, then to have been able to reach through the phone and hold Reina tight, so that she wouldn't have to be alone in that hotel room and Kumiko wouldn't have to be alone in her own bed.
Reina: I miss you, too.
Reina: We can call each other tomorrow.
Reina: I promise.
They didn't call.
It wasn't intentional on either of their parts, obviously, but Reina's peers had dragged her along to a show in the park and Kumiko had found herself swamped with homework and soon both of them were asleep and without each other's voices for another day.
Reina: We'll call tomorrow, then.
Reina: One day isn't a problem.
Except it was, because then Kumiko came down with the flu, and Reina had to prepare for a performance, and all the while winter break grew closer and closer.
"Natsuki?"
"Yeah?"
"I dunno if we can keep this up for much longer."
"What, you and Kousaka?"
"Who else?"
"You can't break up." Natsuki made an indistinguishable noise into the phone's speaker - some cross between a cough and a sniffle and a whimper. "I mean . . . you can't."
"H-hey, I never said we were breaking up!"
"Yeah, but long distance is a douche and my mind tends to jump to the worst possible conclusion."
"We're not breaking up."
"Opening a conversation with 'I dunno if we can keep this up for much longer' doesn't help your case, Kumiko."
"We're not."
"What're ya going to do about it, then?"
"I d-don't . . . I don't know." The sound of Natsuki clicking her tongue made its way over the line.
"You'd better figure out a way soon, then."
"I will."
"Good answer."
Showing up to spontaneously visit, as she'd first come up with, would not work. She knew that, at least. Reina was busy, she wouldn't want the distraction. That, by extension, also took out her second idea - holding an old boombox outside her window.
Winter break still loomed, far away, and Kumiko realized that what she had to do was much less glamorous than chasing down a taxicab or rushing through an airport.
She would have to wait.
Kumiko: hey reina!
Kumiko: it's almost december
Kumiko: just a little while until winter break
Reina: You're right.
Reina: I've been working hard to improve.
Reina: I'll have to show you some of the pieces I've learned, when we see each other again.
Kumiko: why not now?
Reina: What?
Kumiko: i mean
Kumiko: my laptop's charged and stuff
Kumiko: we could do a call
Kumiko: unless you're busy or something!
Kumiko: i get it if you're busy
Reina: It's alright.
Reina: I'll get my computer from my bag, it might not be working, though.
Reina: I've hardly had any time to use it.
Kumiko: that's okay!
A few minutes passed, Kumiko twiddled her thumbs nervously in front of her laptop's dusty screen, and soon Reina's face popped up. She was blurry, movements choppy and unnatural - Kumiko blamed the wifi for that - but everything about her was so wonderfully familiar that Kumiko felt a great weight lifted off her chest, like she'd tied up her heart and now finally could let it breathe again.
"Kumiko?"
"Y-yeah?"
"You spaced out for a moment there. You can see me, right?"
"Yep, I can see you." Kumiko gave her a thumbs-up, as if to confirm this. "Your room looks really nice."
"It is. The beds here are so soft, you need to come and try one of them out sometime."
"I'd love to." Reina dipped out of the frame for a moment, rummaging around for something, until she came back up with that ever-familiar silver trumpet in her hands.
"Would you like to hear the piece I've been working on?"
"I'd love to," Kumiko repeated, mentally slapping herself for sounding like such an idiot. Reina didn't seem to notice, simply lifting the trumpet to her lips and beginning a melody that made Kumiko's heart thump just listening to it. Kumiko had never been an expert on trumpet technique, but even she knew that Reina had improved dramatically. Without me, she thought for a moment, but banished the thought as quickly as it had come.
"What did you think?"
"I-it was . . . it was amazing, Reina."
"You think so?"
"I know it. You've, uh, gotten a lot better since the last time I saw you. Not that you weren't amazing before! You're just even better now."
"You're just flattering me." Reina set down her trumpet, leaning in a little closer to the screen.
"I'm not!" Kumiko looked up to the ceiling for a moment. "It's probably even better live."
"It's just two weeks. I'll see you then."
"I miss you." Kumiko gripped her sheets, nearly subconsciously, but Reina wouldn't have been able to see that.
"I miss you too." They both waved, and the screen went black.
One week.
It was a mantra, of sorts, keeping Kumiko grounded. Just one week - seven days, just seven days - and she'd see Reina again. She had to hold onto that.
Six days.
She called Reina daily, even when there was nothing to talk about, just to hear her voice and see her face.
Five days.
Kumiko: i've been listening to our song
Reina: Crescent Moon Dance?
Kumiko: that too
Kumiko: but i meant
Kumiko: erm
Kumiko: the songs that make me think of you
Reina: You're a dork.
Kumiko: you're a nerd
Four days.
It became nearly too much to bear, the minutes stretching out into hours, but still she waited.
Three days.
So this is what young love is, huh? Kumiko thought one afternoon, kicking her legs off the side of her bed like a picturesque teenager in a movie. Those bad novels at least got the pining part of it right.
Two days.
In a novel, though, the waiting would hurt like a knife or a sword or a magical alien raygun, instead of a stone in the pit of her stomach whispering doubts in her ears over and over again until she had to block it out. Remembering their first year didn't help. Things would have changed, Kumiko knew, but she kept the thoughts at bay and waited still.
One day.
It would be soon, so soon, and still the weather was so uncomfortably warm.
"Hey, Mom?" Kumiko called through the door to her room.
"Yeah?"
"I'm going out for a walk, okay? I j-just need to . . . uh . . . clear my head."
"Alright!"
The door closed with a click, and Kumiko looked out to the sky through the window with a barely-contained sigh. It was ugly, plain and simple - still warm, humid, but thick with gray clouds and air weighing down the whole world. Reina deserves a better return than this, she thought to herself. Despite the warmth, she'd taken a sweater with, and its fabric itched at her skin. She stepped outside and groaned.
"Bleh. This weather's gross."
"Kumiko?"
"Who's there?" Kumiko looked around, hands unconsciously balling into fists. Natsuki stood a few feet ahead of her, flashing her a pair of finger guns.
"Had a little bit of extra time, figured I'd go for a walk. Wasn't expectin' ya to show up here."
"This is my apartment building."
"Oh. Right." Natsuki tugged at the sleeves of her flannel. "Kousaka's coming back soon, isn't she?"
"Tomorrow."
"Why're you so gloomy, then?" Natsuki plopped down on a nearby bench, patting on it for Kumiko to join her. "You two didn't break up, did you?"
"N-no, we didn't." Kumiko folded her hands together, resting them in her lap. "It's just . . . ah, this sounds so dumb when I say it out loud."
"Say it." Natsuki leaned back, the very picture of relaxation. She seemed so carefree that it was almost easy to believe that she was putting up a front, but after Asuka, Kumiko had gotten better at reading people. Natsuki wasn't pretending. "I won't make fun of you."
"You will."
"Yeah, I probably will."
"It's just that . . . this weather's really been bad, hasn't it? It shouldn't be this warm. What if she comes back and she hates it? What if she comes back and she realizes that . . . that . . ."
"That what?"
"That she likes it better abroad." The words were nearly whispered, but Natsuki heard her all the same.
"I don't think you've got anything to worry about there. Kousaka loves ya, and you love her, and it's gross and sappy but it's built to last. Trust me on this, okay?"
"I'll try."
"That's my girl." Natsuki walked off, humming a tune to herself. "Call me whenever, alright? I'll be there."
"Got it."
Feeling just a little better, Kumiko walked back inside.
REINA KOUSAKA, the sign read in giant, hastily scrawled letters - for all her preparation, Kumiko had forgotten to make the sign until the last minute - and it remained clenched in her sweating palms, as it had for a few hours now due to the "unexpected delays" on Reina's flight.
"Waiting for someone?" an old man who looked to be somewhere in his early hundreds and probably shouldn't have been there without someone helping him asked. Kumiko nodded. "Me too."
"I hope your friend makes it off alright. There're some mighty fine blizzards coming around these parts, the planes have been taxiing for hours."
"Wait, did you say . . . blizzards?"
"Sure did." The old man gave her a toothless grin. "Nobody expected it with the warm spell we've had 'round here, but they started an hour ago. Damn near froze my bones." Kumiko wondered if it would seem weird to start tearing up, but she started running for the baggage claim anyway, pulled by her legs more than by her thoughts.
"Kumiko!" Reina stood on the other end of it, a little older and a little wiser as the saying went, but still Reina. "I came as fast as I could, but-" Kumiko cut her off with a kiss. Reina returned it in full force, letting her bags fall to her side and wrapping her hands in Kumiko's hair until the two of them might've looked like one person to a sleepy passerby.
"I have to show you the snow," Kumiko breathed, once she'd broken away. It was coming down in flurries outside, now, beautiful flakes falling down like powdered sugar. "It's incredible."
a/n: kumirei is my kryptonite