holding hands
Makoto never wanted to let go of Ami's hands. They were small and soft, a pair of hands that belonged to a proud, gentle scholar. A pair of hands that were never damaged from ice or fighting, they remained smooth and composed in even the toughest of situations. After the battle with Queen Beryl and Metallia, the girls wondered how Ami would take Zoisite's end. He was turned into his natural element, never to return as an umbrella-holding gentleman or even as a bitter ex-member of Pandemic Four. But there were no tears shed or words spoken about him. Nothing.
And Ami didn't have to say anything, but Makoto could already figure out the genius's logic. Zoi and she were only a minor sidestory in the bigger picture of Usagi's and Mamoru's tragic love story. If Zoisite was killed not once, but twice, and not given a third chance like the rest of them, then the love wasn't meant to be. It was foolish to think of romance. She couldn't even hold his hand without a handkerchief without passing out. So following that Ami logic, Ami cleared her head and threw out most of her dating advice, books, and even the fragrance dating app.
She was lonely. After the Dark Kingdom battle, she often visited Makoto at her apartment. Sometimes they were together, watching dramas and baking cookies, enjoying the common hobbies that teenage girls shared. Most of the time, though, Ami just used Makoto and her apartment for some quiet companionship, burying her head in a stack of books to study or to distract herself from the rest of the world. When she distanced herself, Makoto gave her the space she needed, only disturbing her when it was time for meals. But it was hard to see her friend so distressed under her barrier of silence. The Ami that Makoto knew deserved to feel genuinely vibrant and happy instead of being forced to do so.
During the nights her depression was much more visible in her sleep. Worry lines creased over her forehead, cheeks rosied with embarrassment or frustration, lips tainted with whimpering…it made Makoto sad for her. All the brunette could do was hold her hands in silence as she knelt beside the bed. Who knew if it was actually a comfort to her, but Makoto hoped so. Even if Ami chose to open her heart to the others, it would still take time to heal her wounds. One day she would learn to finally move on instead of blocking the problem, and when that day came, Makoto would help her cope. Together they'd say farewell to their loved ones, and if they moved past friends, Makoto would be okay with that. Or even if they remained as close friends, she would be content. Ami's happiness was her happiness.
The brunette raised Ami's hands to her lips and kissed them. One day she'd begin to dream about Einstein or some old-man physicist again, easing her anxieties in sleep. Makoto remained hopeful.
(Original notes: Short.)
Originally written February 12th, 2014 on tumblr for femslash february. It's still too short.