All was quiet in the port city of East Palm Beach. Dusk colored the horizon orange and shrouded in darkness the peaks of downtown skyscrapers. In the shadow of urban civilization, the city's inhabitants eked out frugal lives hidden from the watchful eye of the government. The locals did little to challenge the iniquity that had taken root amongst society's well heeled, so the dogs of the police force did little to keep tabs on what went down inside rundown apartment buildings or low-income bars operated by the BTC.
This was the lawless zone. The perfect place for two fugitives, both targets of a number of shady organizations, to slip under the radar. After beaching their boat on a rubble-littered shore, the two ducked through a broken window and found refuge inside an abandoned hotel. They would not have much food for the night, but at least they had a place to sleep.
And here, they would take the first step forward in their relationship forged by circumstance.
Blanc settled awkwardly against the sheets. Her back to the mattress and her arms over her head, her position was compromising, leaving her so vulnerable that her first instinct was to struggle and escape. But she forced herself to reason, taking deep breaths and closing her eyes. Reminding herself that she wasn't in any real danger. Trying not to think about the girl pinning her down.
Neptune hovered only inches above her head. Her bangs hung down like lavender tassels, brushing against Blanc's face. Her hands closed easily around the writer's thin wrists. One knee in between Blanc's legs. She leaned in ever so near, shortening the precious distance between them. Vanilla, Blanc thought as she got a scent of her partner's shampoo.
"Why're you so nervous?" the girl on top asked, a devious smile moving across her lips. Then she whispered, aside, "Isn't this what you wanted in the first place, Blanny?"
"N-no! I mean, in a way it is, but..."
"But... what?" Neptune moved closer again. Her purple eyes blinked then narrowed into slits, the seductive kind of which Blanc had never been subject to before. Her words were slow and sultry and syrupy.
"If you don't want to tell me, then I'll just ask... politely."
Abruptly closing the gap, Neptune touched her lips to Blanc's own. Like lightning, the tingling sensation lasted a split second. Startling, sudden, electrifying. The brunette gasped and felt a lapse of control over her body, as if on Neptune's lips was a body-seizing drug. Hesitation gripped her for a second. Was it really okay to do this?
But what worried her even more than the consequences of what they were about to do was the desire coursing through her for more of that intoxicating taste.
Neptune ducked her head again, only this time—
"Ah!"
Blanc couldn't hold back a cry of surprise when her lover started to suck the area between her shoulder and neck. "Neptune, what are you doing?! St... stop—" Taken off guard, she panicked and attempted in vain to push her partner off. Yet Neptune would not budge, determined to make Blanc hers.
Trembling and squirming, Blanc grit her teeth and shut her eyes tight. A sweet sound was building up in her throat and it threatened to escape, but she would rather die before she let this purple-haired idiot hear it. This was so intimate, so embarrassing, so... exhilarating.
Vanilla, she thought again as she got a face full of tousled, sweet-scented hair.
A long minute later, the purple-haired girl lifted her head. She was breathing heavily, her face dusted red, and she wore the content smirk of a vampire done feasting.
"My life belongs to you," she whispered, touching her forehead to Blanc's. "And your life belongs to me. So..." A shiver darted up Blanc's spine as Neptune's fingers traced the exposed skin on her collar and her neck.
"Can I show you just how much I actually like you?"
Petrified and knowing her voice wouldn't function properly, Blanc gave her approval with a nod. Neptune smiled and dipped down to give her partner another kiss. And this time, their lip lock lasted well over a second. Another jolt went up Blanc's back as she hungrily pressed her lips upwards into Neptune's.
For a moment, she surrendered completely to her lover's advances. Her will to resist gone completely, replaced by a wave of pure enjoyment. She wanted more. She wanted Neptune. She wanted this.
A hand grasped the collar of her uniform and pulled down—
"C-c-cut, cut, cut! Sorry, I can't! I can't sit through this!"
Tamsoft's stutter rang through the room, slicing through the mood like a warm knife through butter. Neptune flinched and fell forwards, smacking her head against Blanc and losing her grip on the girl's wrists.
In her haste to excuse herself, Tamsoft tripped over the camera and knocked it over. She ripped open the door and flew into the hallway—crash!—and from the sound of it, ran into several people on her way out.
Neptune pulled away to rub her head and groaned in pain, leaving Blanc lying on the mattress gasping for air, winded and flushed. She fixed her outfit—Blanc could hazily remember undoing those buttons—and sat on the edge of the bed. A stupid grin appeared on her face.
"Uh, hahaha... Wow. You, er, got a little frisky there Blanc, don't ya think?"
She laughed sheepishly and broke eye contact to adjust the hem of her uniform, her words sounding composed but her fierce blush giving the game away. Blanc sat up and hastily fixed her clothes. Her hand brushed the spot on her shoulder that Neptune had kissed, and her face erupted. It's still wet...
And before they had any time to collect themselves, the rest of the Film Club poured into the room, sans Tamsoft and a few others who were too embarrassed to show their faces. The group of girls gathered around the set loudly, unintentionally crowding the two actors as they tried to catch their breath.
Vert was the first to address the girls directly in a clear voice. Her face glowed as if she had been the one to kiss someone, her unchecked imagination no doubt running laps.
"My, you two! From the way poor Tamsoft ran out of here, I can only imagine what you both did to... yourselves." The blonde giggled at the two actors' flustered response. Blanc cleared her throat and chose not to say anything in return.
"Sis, you were so cool!" Nepgear ran up to her sister and took her hand, eyes sparkling. "I could feel your passion from all the way out in the hallway. You were amazing!"
"Aww, thanks Nep Junior! It was fun being top," Neptune said offhandedly. She winked at Nepgear, then at Blanc. Her goal was clearly to tease Blanc even more than she already had, but the writer cleared her throat and refused to give her a single ounce.
Plutia, who had been soaking in all the banter without saying a word, approached the two, her lazy eyes having settled on the only physical proof of the deed.
"Heeey," she said, getting the attention of everyone nearby. "Blanny, what's that bruise for? Neppy... Did you hit her?"
Everyone stopped talking and followed Plutia's line of sight to the love bite on Blanc's neck. The girl hastily tugged on her collar, but it was too late. Already there were winces and murmurs among the club members. Plutia was practically phased out by the rest of the girls, her head tilted in what could be innocence. Whether or not she knew what she had started, no one couldn't tell.
Two of the girls, both founders of their own clubs, spoke quickly in undertones. "This is where rumors come from, Dengekiko," the orange-haired Famitsu said. She rubbed her gloved hands and gave her counterpart a sharp look. "For Blanc's sake, we have to be sure this doesn't get out."
For once, the mousy reporter was in agreement with her rival. "You're right. The movie isn't done, so someone could misinterpret and this could turn into a student scandal!"
Neptune's eyes went comically wide when she saw the reddening bruise on Blanc's collarbone. "Whoa my god," she gasped. "I didn't think it would leave that kind of mark!"
"Wha—you didn't even know what you were doing?! You, you just... Gah..."
Ever the good actor, Neptune smiled naively. "I just what?"
"You just—Hey, all of you quit talking already!"
The room quieted instantly. More than a dozen eyes on her, the brunette reached for her hat and placed it neatly on her hand. Deep breath, in... and out, she told herself as she fought to control her racing heartbeat. But the one thing she couldn't regulate was the blush setting fire to her cheeks.
Uni broke the silence. She stepped forward bravely and offered, "I can get you a turtleneck sweater. Noire has so many outfits, and I get most of my clothes from her. She probably wouldn't even recognize it if she saw it. I'll get it for you later today."
Blanc nodded her gratitude. Uni did a good job of improving upon her sister's arrogant personality. Noire would have made some sort of smart comment and left it at that.
"Speaking of that, is she even here right now?" the raven-haired freshman asked, her eyes scanning the room. Her older analog had been present during the meeting before the recording, but now she was nowhere to be found.
In the student council pyramid, Noire was only slightly less important than Vert, the ASB president. Regardless, Vert weighed her vice's input very highly. As such, they could typically be found as a pair both during meetings and out of them. So it was likely that Vert knew what had happened to the missing noirette. Blanc looked to her and lifted an eyebrow, wordlessly asking the question.
"Noire started muttering something about having errands to run while we were all waiting outside," the blonde reporter. "I'll check the hallway, but I doubt she's still around."
No one else seemed to be concerned about Noire's disappearance, Neptune included. The purple-haired student stood up and stretched back, putting both hands above and behind her head. The hem of her shirt rose ever so slightly, drawing Blanc's eyes. Neptune's exposed waistline was slim, as if she exercised regularly. But with her dietary habits, how did she maintain such a good figure?
"Well, whatever about her. She'll turn up," Neptune announced to the idle club members. "I guess that's a wrap!" She tilted her head and gave her fellow actor a flirtatious look. "You think we have enough footage, Blanc? If you don't think it's enough, we can totally shoot the scene again."
The writer realized with terror that she had been watching Neptune stretch. Even during gym classes, she never paid any particular attention to Neptune. But filming the scene, her distracted mind kept wandering, picturing places that were—
"Hey, um, Blanc? My eyes are up here."
Blanc's head snapped up. Neptune made a coy face and pulled her shirt down.
"You know, they say you haven't experienced the full thing until you've been behind the scenes. How 'bout it, you and I? We can just meet up after class and..."
It was a joke. Blanc knew that. But she could only gape. Behind the scenes? That's...
Seconds after the words left Neptune's mouth, the room exploded into voices. The joke had gone a little too far, it seemed, as now all of the Film Club was in an uproar. Nepgear's excitement got the better of her, and a tiny squeal slipped out.
"Big Sis, you're so bold!"
"Oh my. I'm almost jealous of you two." Vert, back from checking the hallways, hid her mouth behind the back of her hand. "A real relationship born on the stage, how romantic!"
"Dude, Nepsy... You swing that way?"
Blanc ignored all the frivolous voices surrounding her. Film Club or not, every person here was still a schoolgirl at heart. There were plenty of things she wanted to say to Neptune right now: that she was a pain in the neck, she was an idiot, and above all, yes.
There were a lot of things she was going to say to her—but not in front of this many people. Abandoning patience, she balled her fingers and slammed her hand down on the bed as if she were holding a hammer.
"I thought I told you all to shut up!" she roared at the girls, jumping to her feet with a clenched fist. "We're done for today. Get out!"
Everyone clambered for the door. Sticking around against Blanc's will and their better judgement would only be inviting trauma. In no more than half a minute, the club room was empty save for the two people who had been there from the start.
"Neptune. Didn't I just tell everyone to get out?"
"Oh. You meant me too?" Neptune laughed dismissively. "I sorta figured you were talking at them, not me. Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me?"
Blanc locked eyes with Neptune. This was still a situation she wanted to approach calmly. Her first mistake was raising her voice and making it seem as if she were mad. In truth, she was furious. But Neptune probably knew that already.
She took a deep breath and said, "You're right. But if you think I'm gonna let you get away with saying all those stupid things out loud..."
"Stupid things? Oh, you mean the 'my life belongs to you' line? Okay, I agree that that was a little cheesy, but it just popped into my head and I thought—"
"Quit joking. You know what I'm talking about. Are you purposely trying to give people the wrong idea?"
Finally, Neptune's dorky smile faded. Her face twisted into a vaguely mystified expression.
"The wrong idea? Aren't you the one who's raising flags here? You're the one who wrote the script. I was following your orders."
"What are you saying? I'm doing my job as film director, so you should be coming to me ahead of time if there's something wrong with the script."
"I wasn't saying that the script is bad, it's just that... I don't know if you care, but um, isn't there a line to what's reasonable? I didn't even know what we were doing until today, when you announced it in front of the entire club!"
There had been a huge ruckus among the club members when they met afterschool to begin production of their third movie. Blanc's idea for the initial scene had met with a dubious reception, but no one had openly disagreed with the reasoning she put behind it. Though, Neptune had been quiet for most of the meeting.
"It takes me all night to finish the script sometimes," Blanc crossed her arms. "By the time I'm done with it, I doubt any of you are usually still awake."
Brows knitted, Neptune paused as if collecting her thoughts.
"Whatever it is," she began, "I'm not so sure about all of your late-night ideas sometimes. Are you sure you don't want help? I wouldn't want you to—"
"Help?" Blanc stopped her. As soon as the word had passed Neptune's lips, the scriptmaker knew where this conversation was headed. "Alright, Neptune, I get what you mean now. If you think the script needs beta reading or something, you could have just told me."
Neptune frowned and shook her head. "That's not what I mean," she argued. "I just think, maybe you need... a break or something. Instead of writing the whole script alone, you and I can—"
"Neptune, I don't need a break. We literally just started making the third movie, and I'm not going to die of overwork on the first day."
"Blanc, can you stop interrupting me? There's something I'm trying to tell you, but I get the feeling that I'm not getting through that head of yours."
"You aren't! I already know what you're trying to tell me, but you sound like you're still trying to skirt around it."
Having hit a wall, Neptune gave a frustrated sigh. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, fiddled with her bangs, before opening them and giving the writer a hard stare.
"Maybe I am skirting around the problem. Fine then. Blanc, I have a problem with your script."
Caught off guard by the sudden change in tone, Blanc pulled back in surprise.
"Wh-what? But you just said that wasn't the case!"
"Well, I just changed my mind. If you want to keep writing the script, then I want to see it before you show any of it to the others."
Stunned, the command rendered Blanc speechless for a couple of seconds. Did Neptune have a problem with the writing or did she not? This girl was impossible to figure out. Out of the blue, she put her foot down about being the first person to see the script.
But Blanc's confusion quickly turned to indignation, and her voice started to rise. "Why do you suddenly have to be so involved in the writing? Until now, you were letting me take it wherever I wanted!"
"I'm the president of the club, I'm supposed to get involved! So if you want to make this movie, from now on I'm gonna take a look at what you write before we record it. Capiche?"
What's her deal? Blanc narrowed her gaze at the girl across from her. Nothing Neptune was saying made any sense. Why the sudden interest in checking the script? Maybe she was mad about the scene they had just shot. Maybe she was trying to say something without actually saying it. Maybe Blanc was a little too confrontational for her own good.
"No," she said flatly. "I'm in charge of directing and writing. I'm just doing my job. That's what we agreed to, and if you renege on that then I won't work with you!"
"Aghh, alright, whatever! You aren't the director or the writer anymore! I'm at least trying to work with you, but you're being so stubborn. Why can't we just talk this out?"
Neptune's next words staggered Blanc and chilled her to the very core.
"Actually, why don't you just"—the girl pointed a finger towards the door—"leave, right now?"
"But Neptune, I'm..." She faltered. The writer, she wanted to finish. Doing my best for the movie, she wished she could say. But what had she been doing this whole time?
"Rude? Inconsiderate? Yeah." Neptune crossed her arms. "You sure are. If you aren't going to tell me something I want to hear, then just get out."
The intensity of the girl's glare stopped Blanc before she could say a word. She must have pushed every one of Neptune's buttons. Nothing the brunette knew to say could defuse the situation; she had never been subject to such cold hostility before, let alone from Neptune. All she could do was exactly what Neptune had commanded: leave.
A pair of purple eyes drilled into the back of her head until she exited the room. Even after the ex-director was out of sight, those unfriendly eyes burned into her mind followed her all the way to her room in the west dormitory wing. Blanc unlocked the door and slipped inside. Then, checking the hallway to be sure that she was alone, she slammed the door shut with enough power to put a crack in the wooden frame.
She took her shoes off. She unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it at a hook on the wall, revealing a plain white undershirt neatly tucked in her skirt. She didn't bother turning on the lights, opting instead to close the blinds and dim the room.
Not in the mood to do anything at all, she stopped in front of her writing desk, still covered with pages of the unfinished script. Blanc had been sure to write down every single idea: characters and roles, past developments, a to-do list of things she had planned for the future of the story. But they no longer meant anything. Every idea, every word, was worthless.
Fucking hell. Shoving her chair out of the way, the writer leaned over her workspace and swept all the papers off her desk. She tore down every sheet pinned to her wall, crumpled them into balls, and threw them at the floor. Hours upon hours of work, undone in seconds. Now her prized script was nothing more than a pile of shredded paper. Broken pieces of a dream. Blanc shoved it into the forgotten corner between her desk and the wall before collapsing onto her bed.
Whether or not it was her own stubborn fault that all of this had happened, the reality of everything came crashing down on her in that instant.
Damn it. I'm a fucking idiot.
