AN: Happy Halloweenie! Hope you guys have/had a good one, wherever you are (if you even celebrate it in the first place; if you don't, I hope you had a good day). This story holds a special place in my heart, and while writing this I felt the need to cry multiple times because it was hitting me in a personal spot, aha. Lowkey based on true experiences in my own life and own my own thoughts and feelings, I hope I managed to make this as believable as I could with these two. I really tried my best to make Dia seem like an introvert based on how I feel. I hope I accomplished that, to my fellow introverts out there.

I hope that you guys enjoy. My friend dragged me on this ship, and I have no way to get out.

Ciao. c:

Dia took a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of cold air burning her lungs. It wasn't the kind of burn that hurt, however (if that made any kind of sense in the first place). It was one of those burns that was actually pleasant to the senses, the one that made Dia want more and more gulps of air, only to exhale them in momentary puffs of white clouds. After being cooped up in a muggy house filled with the scent of sweaty bodies, alcohol, and smoke, Dia welcomed the fresh air with open arms.

As she exhaled, she let out an inaudible sigh, one that was drawn out until all the air in her lungs had dissipated in front of her. Fatigue was beginning to settle into her body, weighing heavily, but the pounding bass behind her forbade rest. It demanded for action, for energy, for excitement, as Mari had put it before dragging her along, but Dia wanted none of that. She wanted to be alone, to be resting, to be anywhere but here, but Mari wanted none of that.

"You have to live your college life while you're still young!" Mari had said while applying her make-up in the car. "I don't want you to be a hermit all your life, Dia. Maybe you'll find someone to talk to, you know?"

And as good as Mari's intentions were, Dia never felt more isolated.

"Maybe I can sneak out and go back home," she mumbled to herself, but when her words reached her ears, she remembered that she couldn't just leave.

She was Mari's ride home.

Now effectively trapped at a party she never wanted to go to, Dia ultimately decided that the best course of action was to simply wait outside and count down the long minutes it took for Mari to either be satisfied or piss-drunk in order for the both of them to leave. It would be a long and trying ordeal, but Dia liked to think on the brighter side of things. She looked up to see a half-moon surrounded with the dimmest of stars staring down at her.

"At least they'll keep me company," she said significantly louder. After all, she was the only one outside, so—

"Who'll keep you company?"

An unknown voice beside her startled Dia, and she let out a horrifying screech that echoed through the empty yard. She slapped a hand over her mouth and her cheeks were splattered burgundy, the color of embarrassment and shame.

She really wanted to go home.

"Ah, sorry," the voice said, adding an apologetic laugh at the end. "I didn't mean to scare you—Dia?"

At the mention of her name, Dia turned to face the stranger who, in fact, wasn't a stranger at all. With her glimmering purple eyes and her hair tied back in its usual messy ponytail, Matsuura Kanan gave Dia that charismatic smile of hers, the one that made everyone swoon.

"Kanan?" Dia pried her hand away from her mouth when she realized it muffled her speech. "What're you doing here?"

"Well, you know," she gestured over her shoulder, towards the sound of booming basses.

"A-ah, right," Dia muttered, feeling herself burn up at her stupidity. It wasn't those good burns either; it was the one of those burns that hurt Dia so much she felt it in the core of her soul.

"But," Kanan began, "what're you doing here? You don't strike me as the…partying type."

Dia felt a little sting in her chest despite knowing that the truth she wasn't—and never will be—a partyer. There was always a little more impact whenever someone else assured something you already believed, especially if it happened to come from someone like Kanan: well-known, liked by almost everyone, intelligent—she was practically the living and walking definition of perfection.

Maybe that's what made Dia feel a little uncomfortable whenever she stood next to Kanan.

"Didn't come here willingly," Dia found herself admitting.

"Someone dragged you here?"

"Mari needed a driver."

"Ah," Kanan laughed and shook her head, ponytail dancing with the movement. "Sounds a lot like her, actually."

"You know Mari?"

"Who doesn't?"

For the first time that night, Dia actually laughed. "True."

"I've actually known her since we were kids."

"Really? I bet she was rowdy as a kid, huh."

Kanan chuckled lowly. "Some things never change."

Although Dia said nothing, she wholeheartedly agreed—she was still the same introverted and, although it had gotten better over the years, shy child of the Kurosawa family. Her parents often made the joke that those traits were passed down to her younger sister, Ruby, but Dia always wondered if there was a certain truth to their jest. If there was, she wouldn't be surprised at all.

"But, you know," Kanan began, smoothly continuing the conversation, "Mari didn't really like parties as a kid."

Now that was a surprise to hear. "Really?" Dia said.

"Yeah, and neither did I. We always felt uncomfortable whenever we were in a big crowd, so we always did our own thing. We went to our classmates' parties and stuff, but we never really found our place in them, you know?"

"Yeah," Dia muttered quietly, "I really do."

Kanan's smile grew just a bit. "But as time went on, the both of us grew to enjoy the company of other people. It was gradual, but we did, and eventually the product of that is the Mari we know and love today."

Dia stopped a laugh short in her throat. "Well, I don't know about love…."

Kanan laughed too, but this one rang in the air, soaring high above the commotion surrounding the both of them. Dia thought that if she wasn't careful, she would drift off alongside Kanan's laugh. "She does need some getting used to," Kanan began, smiling all the while, "but she's not a bad person."

"She really isn't," Dia agreed, thinking back to all the times Mari dragged her out of her apartment to experiment with something new. Though most of their escapades involved parties, there were a select few that didn't—those were the ones that Dia didn't mind as much.

"But, you know, it took me a longer time to get used to going out compared to Mari; she shed her shell off so easily, it's hard to believe that she once didn't like crowds."

"Did she drag you out too?"

"Oh, you bet she did," Kanan shook her head as she chuckled. "She said she—"

"Didn't want you to be a hermit all your life?"

Kanan's laugh was louder this time. "She uses that old excuse with you, too?"

"All the time."

"Ah, man, some things really don't change," Kanan mumbled, speaking more to herself than to Dia. It was around this point that Kanan's speech at times reminded the brunette of an old man, one who was often reminiscent of the past. "We're both stubborn, you know—whenever she said yes, I said no; whenever she said come, I said no; and whenever she said let's go, I still said no. It's a wonder we haven't ripped each other apart yet," she paused to sigh. "But as much as I love going out to parties and the like with Mari, being alone is something that will always hold a special place in my heart."

Something tickled at Dia's chest, and for a moment, she found it difficult to speak. "Really?" was all Dia managed to croak out.

"Really," Kanan assured quietly.

"…Why's that?"

"Look up," Kanan said as she arched her neck up ever so slightly. Dia did the same. "Isn't it beautiful?"

The moon had shifted its position more to the west, but was still the same as it was before, and more stars had, somewhere along their conversation, joined. It was a simple sight, one that many people—including Dia—would overlook.

"I…suppose," Dia decided to say.

Kanan laughed again. "It's not much now, but if you go somewhere away from, well, all this," she gestured at the house and their vicinity with a wide motion of her arm, "everything becomes a lot clearer, and a lot more magical."

"Really?" Dia asked, fully intrigued.

"Yes," Kanan said with a grin, "really."

"I would like to see something like that soon, then," Dia found herself saying, her thoughts slipping past her lips.

"Let's go, then."

"W-wait, what?"

"I said let's go. Let's go watch the stars together, you and me."

Dia blinked. This was something she hadn't anticipated. Her rationale told her to decline, to play it safe and just wait, but that same something that resided her chest was acting up again. It demanded for action, for energy, for excitement.

And for once, Dia had the audacity to think: to hell with it, just—

"Take me away from here."

It was Kanan who blinked this time. She tilted her head to the side, eyes showcasing unheard surprise. Her mask was hard to read, and Dia thought that she said something wrong. But then, Kanan broke into a grin that held the blinding radiance of the sun, and held out her hand to Dia.

Dia took it with no hesitation.

Together, the both of them jogged down the yard of the house. Dia was never good at physical activity, but with adrenaline as her fuel and Kanan pulling her along, she didn't care. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not when Kanan was leading her away like this. Butterflies were flapping their wings against her stomach. It was a sensation she was all too familiar with, but these weren't the butterflies that came from a chrysalis of anxiety and nerves. These came from anticipation and excitement, and their wings began beating even faster when she realized she was going to witness something special with someone.

And that someone just had to be Kanan, a charismatic beauty of a woman that seemed so different compared to Dia, but was, at the same time, so similar.

The thought alone made Dia grip Kanan's hand even harder, and Dia couldn't tell if the reverberation in her chest was coming from her sprinting heart or the butterflies in her gut. She was never good at handling her nerves, especially when it came to people, but she didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered, not when they were making their way through the dark together, holding hands and laughing as they stumbled their way to wherever their destination was.

Then, the smell of pine invaded Dia's nose, and she knew that they were in the nearby park, quite a distance from where the house was. They slowed their pace from a jog to a comfortable stroll, and with cold, yet clammy hands, a panting Dia followed close behind Kanan.

"Here," Kanan breathed out, stopping suddenly in her tracks. She let go of Dia's hand, and for a split second, Dia became so aware of how cold it really was without Kanan's warmth before the blue-haired woman grabbed her hand again. "Lie down," Kanan said, tugging softly. Dia complied.

She couldn't hold her gasp when she saw the sky.

The dark canvas of the night was littered with countless gleaming dots of blue and white. The faint names of constellations she forgot she knew came to mind as she saw their outlines in the sky. They surrounded the moon, a gleaming slice of white that was brighter than before. The sight of it all made the butterflies in her stomach churn and flap even harder, and the beauty of something that was once so ordinary made Dia's breath fall short.

She now understood why Kanan liked being alone.

Something like this could only be appreciated in solitude.

"You should see the look on your face," she heard Kanan say beside her. "You're completely awestruck."

"Who wouldn't be?" Dia asked, her voice just above a whisper.

"…Guessing you like the sight then, huh?"

"Should that even be a question?"

"Fair enough." Dia could hear the smile in Kanan's voice.

There was a beat of silence the brunette broke it, shifting on her side so that she could look at Kanan. The blue-haired woman turned her head in response and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you always do this?" Dia muttered, feeling that anything louder would break the beauty above them and the sky would come crumbling down.

Kanan replied the same way. "When I have the chance to."

"…Why though?"

"Well, I told you that I liked being alone, right?"

"Right."

"And that it took me a lot longer for me to get out of my shell compared to Mari?"

"Yeah."

Kanan took a deep breath, her chest heaving as she inhaled and lowered as she exhaled. In the back of her mind, Dia wondered if Kanan felt that pleasurable burn in her lungs. "I grew up near the ocean, away from the city. My grandfather taught me how to appreciate nature, especially the sea and all of its wonders."

"Is that why you take marine biology?" Dia asked, remembering the first time she saw Kanan in her class.

Kanan nodded. "He would take me swimming in the ocean whenever he could. But when it was too cold or too dangerous for that, he would take me on hikes in the mountains in the area. And there was this particular spot that we would stop at. It was kind of like a platform of some sorts that kind of jutted out from the side of the mountain, and there was an old, worn-out bench there. Gramps and I would just sit and stare up at the sky. And, God," she paused and shook her head, a smile of nostalgia pulling on her lips, "it was so beautiful."

Dia didn't know what to say; there was something about Kanan's voice that threw her off. It was something delicate, something fragile, and it gave Dia the impression that Kanan was holding back tears. So, without words, she reached out for Kanan's hand, which was surprisingly still warm, and squeezed. The sparkling purple of Kanan's eyes dulled a bit as she squeezed back.

"When Gramps passed away, I didn't really know what to do," Kanan began. "It's always hard finding a way to cope with something like that, and I receded into a shell. I found it difficult to speak with people. Even getting a simple 'hello' out of me was too much."

"…I'm sorry."

Kanan shook her head as her smile faded. "It's okay, I'm a lot better now. But back then, instead of finding company with crowds and noise, I found it here," she used her other hand to gesture to the sky. "I found company in the moon and the stars. And I still do. Being alone out here feels more inclusive than a big crowd, sometimes."

And then, Dia felt it again. It was that feeling in her chest, but it was soothing this time, almost as if the burn she felt in her lungs whenever she took a deep breath traveled to the front, warming her heart. It hurt in the most comforting way possible, and Dia just had to wonder:

Was this what a connection with someone felt like?

"I get what you're saying," Dia whispered, scooting closer to Kanan's warmth when the cool air surrounding them became too much.

"I'm glad someone understands," Kanan said quietly. She smiled again, but this one was…different, Dia noticed. It looked much softer, it looked less practiced, and it looked more genuine than her previous ones.

Dia felt her heart leap, and she had the gall to wonder if this was what love at first sight felt like.

"How about you?" Kanan began, reaching out with her other hand to brush back a strand of brunette hair. "Do you like being alone?"

The first thought that came to mind was "Only if it's with you."

"I guess you can say that," Dia forced herself to say.

"Mind if I ask why?"

"I mean," Dia shifted herself so that she was on her back again, staring at the beautiful sky, but never took her hand away from Kanan's, "I've never really felt included in, well, anything. There wasn't a particular clique or group where I felt the need to stay. I always drifted here and there, and being with people for a long time is just…draining, you know? I just want time for myself, sometimes. And when I'm in a scene like a party or something, I just want to get away from all of that."

Kanan said nothing, but the light squeeze she gave Dia's hand confirmed she was listening attentively.

"But, you know, despite all that…the thought of being truly alone scares me." Dia's voice was quieter and shakier than she anticipated, and she cleared her throat, fighting through the knot that was forming.

"I get it," Kanan mumbled, "I feel the same way too, sometimes."

At this point, Dia's chest felt like it was on fire. She felt the overwhelming need to cry, but she couldn't tell if it was because the sensation inside of her was too much, or if it was because the night sky was so goddamn beautiful, or if it was because Kanan made her feel as if she belonged somewhere, belonged here.

Maybe it was a mix of all three.

She winced when she felt something warm brush against her cold cheek.

"You're crying," Kanan said softly, wiping away another tear.

Dia quickly wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "S-sorry," she apologized with a shaky laugh.

"Don't be."

The brunette sniffled and wiped away the last of her tears before turning to Kanan.

All the words that Dia prepared to say died in her mouth when she saw Kanan staring at her with all the tenderness in the entire universe.

"Is this enough company?" Kanan asked. Her voice was as gentle as the breeze that blew overhead, and her tone held subtle amusement. Even Dia had to smile.

"The perfect amount," Dia muttered.

Kanan exhaled a puff of amusement before moving even closer to Dia. She looked into Dia's eyes with an unspoken question, and with an unspoken response, Dia took the initiative to lean forward, touching their foreheads together. In the process, their noses barely grazed, and Dia could feel Kanan sharing the same breath as her. The thought was a strangely comforting one, she realized, and her smile grew even more.

Many said that a kiss was the most intimate form of connection with another person, but with the way the both of them were, basking underneath the light of a thousand stars, surrounded with the scent of pine, Dia begged to differ.

This was the closest she ever felt with another human being on so many levels.

And, God, it felt amazing, because for the first time in her life, Kurosawa Dia felt included.

And for the first time in her life, she finally, finally, understood what it meant to connect with someone else.

And for the first time in her life, Dia felt herself falling hopelessly in love with someone.