ᴅɪssᴇɴsɪᴏɴ
[REBELS AGAINST GOD]
She denied it as she walked home that night under the dying streetlights.
She's not gone.
That's what Luka kept repeating to herself, a broken bell that chimed continuously inside her own head.
She's still here.
Because she could clearly feel Miku's shoulder brush ever so slightly against hers as they would walk down the sidewalk and around the corner to Luka's apartment, like they did in the past hundreds of times. She could clearly feel Miku's breath on her neck, tickling her cheek, warm and soothing against the chilling autumn air. She could clearly feel the smaller girl's fingers in the spaces between her own, entangled in a hold that neither of them would ever let go of. She heard the turquoise-haired girl's laugh, soft and sunny, like spring right when all the snow finished melting.
She denied it as she twisted the key like she's done thousands of times before and stepped inside, feeling the walls for the light switch.
She's right here.
She could undoubtedly feel a pleasant impact against her body as Miku ran up, arms wrapped around her—"I missed you, Luka"—just like every night when she came home. And she would chuckle and say, "I've only been gone for a bit." But she could undoubtedly see Miku fail miserably at hiding an adorable smile as she blushed and kissed Luka's cheek as softly as a snowflake dancing down from the sky or butterfly wings. She could undoubtedly feel those butterflies in her stomach, the ones she grew to love so much.
She denied it as she washed up and got ready for bed and stared at her dark, lonely reflection in the brightly lit vanity mirror.
She's right beside me, don't you see?
Luka would laugh, truly laugh for once, as she and Miku would dance through the open doors and fall down in a tangled mess of giggles and rosy cheeks and tousled hair on her bed. For once, Luka would be pinned down on the bottom and Miku would loom over her, eyes laughing and lips curved up into a smile she couldn't wipe away. They'd whisper "forever and always" in hushed tones only they could hear to each other because that was how long they'd stay. Luka's eyelids would flutter close and she would feel her skin grow hot as she felt Miku's kisses, as gentle as February and as fiery and passionate as March, on her lips, on her neck, on her chest, on her legs, tracing down her smooth skin in a trail of sparks and everything beautiful.
She denied it as she surrendered and let sleep take over, because Miku was right there, curled up next to her, the warmth radiating from her petite body and the smile Luka knew was there even though she couldn't see it, as the younger girl buried her face into Luka's neck, breaths coming steady and delicate and content.
They would sneak up on the flat rooftops of the houses around their neighborhood late at night, when the only things not asleep were the moon and stars and crickets that serenaded their imperfect summers. Luka would help Miku up and sit down with her legs out and Miku would lay with her head in her lap and Luka would play with her long, smooth, perfect hair and say she was braiding it but she just couldn't forget the feeling of the silky turquoise tresses in her fingers. And there would be fireflies, just like that time at the edge of the woods behind Miku's old house when they brought jars and said they would catch those lightning bugs and free them after. They never did. They watched them as they flickered on and off and were lifted away into the midnight sky. Luka's hand found Miku's and a head slowly rested on her shoulder and they were drowning in the lightning bugs' light, they were drowning so deep they almost got lost forever. It would be so comfortably peaceful and the only other noise was the occasional car that sped down the quiet road on the other side of the trees, flashing its headlights through the branches, reminding Luka of her car that she used to drive with Miku sitting right beside her and they would close their eyes and still know where to go, because the dashes on the streets led them far away from judgmental eyes and all those people who didn't believe them. Luka loved that the car smelt faintly of Miku, sweet and cozy and cold and snug all at the same time. Miku would fall asleep, her head dropping to one side and she'd mumble tomorrow's breakfast and Luka would smile and keep driving farther, farther, just the two of them going nowhere and everywhere.
Luka could feel Miku everywhere around her, all the bright colors of summer four years ago when they first met.
She's not dead.
She denied it still as she awoke from her dream, and she denied it as she leaned over to whisper "I love you" to her lover one more time, only to have her heart shattered and her hollow words dissipate into the cold, empty space beside her once again.
