Iba rolled around in the sheets, grabbing onto anything she could, another nightmare to plague her and keep her from her peace. Yet somehow it was different this time.
In dream
She was walking down the streets of Tokyo, feeling something following her. Whatever it was it had the speed of a ghoul but the stealth and stink of a human. With every step, Iba moved closer to her destination, and the being moved closer towards her.
To keep herself from looking over her shoulder, she looked at the buildings, stores, and eventually as she got farther and farther in her trek, houses that surrounded her.
When she finally had enough of walking, she stopped, and the creature enveloped her in darkness, she writhed and shouted, screaming for help, but was eventually pinned to the ground.
It was over.
End dream.
Iba looked up at her aggressor, tears in the corners of her eyes.
"Ren…" Her voice was weak and she could no longer contain the fear that she had inside since she had arrived to Tokyo. As Yomo loosened his grip, Iba slid her arms around his neck, crying into his neck. The two were still sweaty from last night's escapade, but the contact was comforting non-the less.
The two lay back down onto the bed; Yomo stroked Iba's hair and began to do his best to repeat the lullaby that Iba's grandmother had sung to her.
Don't worry little butterfly,
Don't worry little one,
You may rest now,
Now that the pain is done,
I am here,
Do not fear,
I am here,
Eternally,
Let,
Oh let it be,
Although it was almost futile, Iba relaxed in his arms and eventually fell back to sleep. Yomo kept hold of her, his hand tangled in her long brown hair, it was something odd to think that this now grown woman was the same girl he had fallen for not 10 years ago.
Pressing a kiss into her hair, the white haired male inhaled her scent and remembered the first time they had admitted their feelings. It was so long, but such a fond memory that he had dwelled on over the passing years.
The two were sitting in Iba's grandmother's apartment, in front of the television, playing checkers. Back then Iba was the type to dress in all black, all the time, wear her hair down and be even more straightforward than now.
"You staying over tonight?" Iba moved her piece, hopping over 3 of Yomo's and moving them off to the side of the board.
"Only if I win this time," moving his last remaining piece into the trap she had set, he looked intently at the board.
"Too bad, I was really looking forward to drawing a mustache on your face," smirking, she hopped the piece and claimed her fifth victory. "Well, you want to stay for a bit longer? I could use the company."
Iba put the game back into its box, getting up and putting it away on the bookshelf. The two were quiet as she sat back down across from Yomo. The male leaned back on his palms, keeping his gaze fixed on the girl who was at least 4 years his junior.
"Creep, quit staring at me like that." They fought playfully often enough, but it didn't keep it from bothering him that what she said might be the way she actually thought.
"Am I really that 'creepy'?" The question was inevitable, and as soon as he asked, it was out there, never to be taken back.
"No," Iba looked at her fingers and mumbled a little apology tied to a comment she could never say to him with confidence.
"What?" Sitting up, he leaned in to hear her better and hopefully get her to repeat herself.
"N-nothing…" It was almost so terrifying, having to own up to feelings that you don't understand, especially at 15, and being a ghoul makes it worse, attachment can get you killed and can kill you.
"The fearless Iba stuttering? I never thought I'd see the day." The teasing went both ways, but it never stopped them from feeling guilty about the possibility of the other disliking them.
"Sh-shut up," letting her hair, fall in front of her face to hide the blotchy blush that was spreading across her face.
"No." This he said softly, putting a hand in her soft brown hair, and guiding it behind her ear. "What's wrong?"
"…Nothing… that's the problem…" As she said this, Iba felt her heart beat faster; surely he didn't want to be with someone so much younger, so ignorant to love and whom he treated kid sister rather than even a friend.
If he had the courage, Yomo would admit that he had been questioning her feelings, whether she would want to be with someone her own age, or if he was forever stuck in this infinite loop of emotional agony. The torture of wanting to know, but not wanting to be let down at the same time was making his heart race; he knew being so nervous, the girl in front of him would never make the first move and that was only if he was right.
"Iba, look at me." He said her name so rarely, but it sounded like he had practiced saying it a thousand times to himself in the mirror.
When she did look at him, she seemed on the verge of tears, her lips trembling and eyes still angled at the floor. However, it was his decision to change this. He put one hand through her hair, on the back of her neck, and the other on her hip, leaning in and engaging their lips in a fiery new experience.
Her reaction was to be expected, she went rigid at first, but slowly melted into it, putting her hands on his forearms and closing her eyes, then moving in the rhythm of the kiss. The motion was new, but so easy to follow, as well.
Although they had never said anything out loud, the kiss was an answer enough for both of them. The response was something wonderful, sweet and truly longed for.
Yomo began to drift off to sleep while thinking of how the two had spent the rest of the night in front of the television, under a heavy quilt that smelled like fresh ground coffee and laundry detergent.
(I would like to make a note to thank someone who told me that Sukoshi does not actually mean 'little' but instead means 'little bit'. Thank you AnoneGanbare on ArchiveofOurOwn for telling me the correct translation for Little Butterfly would be Chiisai Chō. Even if I'm not changing the title, I appreciate the correction and shall keep the note on all publications of this story.)
