Remember when I moved in you

The holy dark was moving too

And every breath we drew was hallelujah

Hallelujah

-

Momo stared helplessly after Izuru as he walked away. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Izuru of all people was in love with her? It didn't make sense! Never in their decades of friendship had there ever been a hint or betrayal of his feelings to be seen in his actions or words.

Maybe Izuru was that good at pretending. Or maybe Momo was even more blind and foolish than she first thought.

Momo hugged her knees to her chest as tears came to her eyes. Now she wanted Izuru's gentle, protective embrace around her. She wanted him to whisper kind words into her soft, black hair. Momo wanted that now more than she had ever wanted before.

Maybe she was a fool.

Maybe she had hurt him so terribly with her ignorance.

Maybe that was all the world existed for: to hurt everyone.

And with that thought, Momo wept.

-

A few nights later, Izuru heard a rap on his door, very small, but very bold. His gut twisted in spite of himself and he tripped over his own feet, knowing who was behind that door.

As he slid the rice-paper portal open, Izuru's eyes fell pityingly on the slender form before him. Momo was panting and disheveled, obviously having run here.

"I'm sorry," Izuru lamented, feeling oddly familiar. "Maybe you weren't ready to hear all the things I said to you."

"Maybe it's time I stopped pretending that I'm so weak I'll never move on," the dark haired girl spoke through breaths "Maybe that won't hurt."

"Maybe," Izuru slid his hands into his pockets, biting his lip guiltily.

"And maybe I'm holding you back," Momo reached out to touch his face.

"Maybe," Izuru said again, smiling sadly. She understood how much he pined for her forgiveness, and how much he pined for her.

It was nice to be understood.

"I forgive you, Izuru," Momo whispered, her face inches from his.

Izuru closed his eyes and gave a long sigh. He had never expected those words to feel so bittersweet. His circle was complete. He was free from whatever guilt had shackled him to Momo. But maybe he liked be shackled to Momo.

Maybe he felt utterly and unbearably alone without that bond.

"A-and I'm sorry too," she stuttered as tears began to run down her face. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for being so stupid.

Izuru enfolded her very suddenly into his arms. Momo gasped slightly as she stumbled into his embrace.

"You have nothing to apologize to me for," Izuru murmured softly into her hair, "but even if you did, I'd forgive you. You know that, right?" He pulled his face away to look down tenderly at her. "You know that's how much I love you."

Momo buried her head into his chest, nodding as tears stained his shirtfront. Her fingertips dug desperately into the dark fabric.

Izuru placed a long, elegant hand on her waist as his other hand drew across her face, tilting her chin upwards. Momo stared at him, her face still masked with tears, wide-eyed and nubile. Izuru smiled sadly once again.

He bent down gently, tenderly and lightly slanting his mouth against hers. Momo's touch was shy, but she didn't draw away from him. Her hands tentatively lay on his chest as Izuru pressed her softly against him with a hand splayed across the small of her back. Her fingers slid quietly up his neck, twining with his smooth, cornsilk hair.

Gently kneading her lips with his own, Izuru took a slight step backwards, drawing her into the darkened building and out of the moonlight. Sliding the door closed, he swirled his thumbs tenderly on the skin of where her shirt had hiked up. Momo tightened her arms around his neck, suddenly fearful that she would be pushed away from this warm comfort. Her kiss grew deeper and more urgent, but, as he darkened the lantern sitting on a table, he pulled back and allowed her to see how dark his eyes were.

And Momo knew: Izuru would not push her away tonight.