Petit Fours
an anthology of four Tokyo Mew Mew short stories
by Cooking Spray
Disclaimer: Insert general disclaimer here. Or go read another Tokyo Mew Mew fan fiction's disclaimer.
Konnichiwa! Wow, I'm so grateful to everyone who reviewed! I didn't really expect this kind of response, but it was a nice surprise that I have so many new admirers! laughs In addition, most of you also remarked on the aspects you liked, which really helps me to establish a connection with my reviewers, I feel. Lurv to you all, minna! blows kisses Alas, I may have to disappoint those looking for another story in the same flavor as the first. . . This one is rather dark and deals with some heavy subject matter. Forgive me! I hope you'll enjoy it anyhow. . .
WARNING: This fan fiction contains shoujo-ai, or love between two girls, as well as slight sexual innuendo. If these concepts offends you, please do not proceed any further. You have been warned.
Morsel Two:
Only Bittersweet
I want to kick until my muscles ache, scream until my throat is raw, thrash and pound until I collapse. I want to sink into myself, into the inky black dark of my soul and escape, curl up and become nothing. I want to go find them and say soft, sharp words, to wrench and tug their long hair from their heads and bite and claw their perfect skin. Revenge is a drug and I'm wasted, intoxicated.
But instead, all I can do is lean my head against the wall and feel the anger rise as the tears trickle down my cheeks, leaving glistening trails in their wake. I am pathetic, I am helpless. I bite my lip hard in disgust with myself and taste the bitter blood oozing from my own self-inflicted wound. A pain I control, no one else. I run my tongue over the perfect cut, not caring about my outward appearance, oddly comforted. Still, it will take much more to summon the strength to stand again.
I curl up, hugging my knees tightly to my chest, and rock. I am broken inside, the pieces stab into me with every movement. Words, shoves, and whispers follow me in droves, acidic. I walk with my head down to the ground, I haven't cut my bangs for months. Good, the less of the world I see, the better. I walk with my arms shoved into my sides, fists clenched. I feel nothing. I try to dissolve into the wind, become transparent and fade away, lose myself entirely.
Because of her.
Yes, the pronoun is feminine. Already you leer, your tongue becomes forked, you yearn to hate what you do not understand. But please, listen once to my story, I implore you. I am desperate. Maybe, just maybe, if you knew all of what happened, you might not treat me so. . .
Come, sit. Not even close if you don't want, I don't blame you. And listen, listen. . .
I sighed at the constant buzz that surrounded me, sipping deeply from my teacup but receiving little warmth from the beverage. Irritated, I listened for the hundredth time to Ichigo's overreacted screeching, followed by the unsurprising clatter of dishes as they met their doom on the hard floor below. Sure, they had become my friends, and I cared for them intensely, but today I had little tolerance for their exasperating antics. I straightened the apron of my ridiculously frilly maid costume and awaited with little eagerness what was certainly bound to happen any second. One, two, three. . .
"Mint-chan!" Ichigo shouted in her incredibly loud and annoying way, hands on her hips. "Why aren't you helping us? Lettuce-chan-"
"Broke a dish again, I'm always sitting here sipping tea and doing nothing to earn my paycheck, you demand that I help you and pull my weight around the cafe like everyone else does. Yes, yes, I know." I yawned, delicately placing a hand over my mouth, knowing the gesture would only further incense her but not really caring.
Her brow furrowed deeper yet in disapproval, and her voice carried a tone that was too leadership-ish and 'I Know Best' for me to bear listening to at the moment. "If you know, then why don't you do something about it? We need your help, you know today's the busiest-!"
My patience was wearing thin. "Sorry, but I just don't feel up to it today. I showed up at least, you should be grateful." I knew I was being rude, but I couldn't help myself. I just wanted to be alone today. . . I did feel the slightest bit guilty about being so "snobby" to my friends, however, so I mustered up a smile for them. "You know how I am sometimes and how moody I can be. It's one of those days, alright?"
Ichigo's gaze held me for a few moments more, as if looking to see if the missing part of the story would somehow appear on my forehead. Finally, she let it drop and gave a reluctant sigh. "Fine, but you're making up for it tomorrow!"
I waited until she had disappeared beyond the doorway to slump against the table, supporting my face in my hands. Why was I like this today? My sass and wit had gone, leaving me grumpy and brooding. And lately I had noticed, this only happened when she wasn't around. . . What was it with she? Why would she never leave my thoughts?
"Is it tea time already, Mint-san?"
I jumped as I felt a hand on my shoulder, brought sharply back to reality. Whirling around, I saw it was only Akasaka-san, and let my thumping heart relax a little. He smiled in his innocent and content way, something I've always thought awe-inspiring for a man who had seen so much turmoil in his life. What an optimist.
He walked over to the other side of the small table I occupied, pulling back a chair. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. Do you mind if I sit?"
I shook my head, and he took the invite and settled himself opposite of me, looking at me with concern. "Is something troubling you, Mint-san? Is there anything I could do to help?"
Something was troubling me, I realized. But I couldn't tell him that. Then again, if I told someone like Akasaka-san, he'd respect my confidentiality and might actually be able to give some advice. . . I stared down into my teacup, the liquid having grown cold during my musings. "Well, actually, I. . . I've been. . ."
His eyes softened a bit. "This is about Zakuro-san, isn't it?"
A flush spread unbidden across my face, shock written in my features. "Wha. . .What?" I blinked, disbelieving. Were my feelings really that transparent?
He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Forgive me for giving you such a shock. But I couldn't help but notice the strange way you've been acting around her. Is this not what you were going to tell me?"
I was dumbstruck. Akasaka-san was too observant. . . But my embarrassment had faded. "Y-yes." I looked up at him, and I knew my eyes were filled with the desperation to know his opinion. The quintessential question was on the tip of my tongue. "Is it. . . wrong?" I almost whispered. "Is it wrong to be having these feelings?"
"It depends on how you think about it," the older man answered seriously. "But, if you want to know my opinion. . . love is love, no matter any of the classifications placed on the people who share it. Others may not be accepting, but the most important thing is to follow your heart." He smiled briefly, as if dismissing himself. "Disregard the cliche. But. . . how deep are your feelings for Zakuro-san? Are they enough to make a commitment against all the odds?"
My head was whirling. I'd never thought of my reaction to Zakuro in such a way before. . . the revelation frightened me, to say the least. However, I had to acknowledge that there was some truth in it. But why? How had she gone from my idol to something much more? I couldn't answer. It was too much. . .
Akasaka-san pushed back his chair, rising up and flashing me his trademark carefree smile as if the previous serious discussion had never taken place. "Think about it," he advised as he left, leaving me to stare after him long after he had disappeared from sight.
I couldn't stay, I felt suffocated. I needed time to digest the large amount of shocking information that had been presented to me. The others wouldn't like my early departure, but I would go insane if I stayed there a moment longer. Hopefully Akasaka-san would make an intervention on my part. Quickly shedding my maid uniform and putting on my normal clothes, I dashed out the door, not slowing my pace as I raced for home.
Why did I have to be this way, onee-sama? Why do I have to be in love with. . . you?
It made such perfect sense I was nauseated. There was nothing wrong with these feelings, and yet I didn't want to have them, to be. . . different. And yet, they were there, and I had to deal with them. As well, although I didn't want to permanently make a decision on my sexuality yet, it occurred to me that I did want Zakuro. But was it only her? If I had never met her, would I have eventually liked other girls? So many things needed to be considered, and yet in my state of denial, I could not consider or settle any of them.
I sat on my bed, enormous in every sense of the word, curled into a tight ball and engulfed by satiny throw pillows, sinking deep into my feather-down mattress. I had not moved for an hour. Whenever such an intense revelation as mine occurs in your life, you cannot help but stumble back, a bit confused and uncomprehending. But this was tearing me apart in a way I had never thought imaginable. I needed to find the solution, and I thought this with such determination that I rolled over and forced myself to think some more. More important than my happiness or the reactions I would get was that I needed to be sure of what I felt myself.
My thoughts shifted back to my school days. I had attended an all-girls private academy, but had that had anything to do with it? To my memory, I had never felt anything beyond friendship towards my peers. And it wasn't like I had spent my life in isolation from the opposite sex. Out of school and at sporting events my friends and I, as most young girls do, enjoyed flirting with and teasing the other boys. So why this, now? It was beyond all my reasoning, but it was there. . .
There are some things, I suppose, that happen in spite of the circumstances, that don't care about anything else. Against all better judgment, they transpire. . . It doesn't matter who, or what, or when, or where. They just are. You have to accept them. And that was what I would do, I decided. Though the chances were slim that Zakuro would ever feel the same way about me, I had to face this, one way or the other. And after whatever resulted. . . at least I couldn't call myself a coward. She had started out as my idol, everything I wanted to be, not unlike any other girl my age. . . and why this changed, I cannot describe, or even point out an exact date as to when it started. All I know is that it did, and now I had to deal with it.
Tomorrow, I told myself resolutely, pushing away the uncertainty and nervousness. Tomorrow, I will get you alone, and I will tell you everything that I know I feel. . . and then, come what may.
"Onee-sama? Could you meet me in the back of the cafe, after work? There's something important I have to tell you."
It took all of my strength to say those words without stuttering, without blushing, with preciseness. I read her, waiting for an answer, holding my breath. She was drying a dish, seemingly unaware that I had spoken. But I knew she had heard me, and some part of her apparently sensed my urgency, the seriousness in my voice.
"I will be there." Her eyes never left the plate she was holding. She placed it on the stack and reaches for another. Lettuce glanced at us with curiosity from the sink, but returned to her dish-washing. I knew it was my time to leave.
"Thank you," I replied, and left the room as quickly as I could. Everything was set. She would know my true feelings today. . . Even though I had rehearsed many times, I was panicking about what to say. My heart thumped as the moment approached, and Ichigo scolded me for not working quickly enough, although I barely heard her. Every ticking and tocking from the clock seemed to reverberate throughout my very soul. . .
And then, suddenly, time had fast forwarded, and Ichigo and Pudding were hanging up their work clothes, while Shirogane and Akasaka-san were drawing curtains and clearing counters. I found myself in my school uniform again, face to face with Zakuro, who was looking at me expectantly.
I nodded, feeling my stomach flutter, and we both walked out the door and around to the well-concealed back of Cafe Mew Mew. Her eyes were still affixed to me, and then I was sure she knew what it is I wished to tell her. Under her penetrating gaze, in the heat of the situation, I had begun to blush, and to have stared into those wonderful eyes of hers would've only made me lose my nerve. And so, knowing I had to do this, knowing I would be even more miserable if it went unsaid, I started to voice my feelings.
"Onee-sama. . . onee-sama. . . I. . ." I clenched my teeth, frustrated with myself. I sounded like every other girl from every other cheap romance novel. The only problem was, Zakuro was not a handsome prince. She was a princess.
I stuttered some more, growing more infuriated with myself at every feeble utterance. Her eyes were cutting into me. At that moment, I realized there was no way I could put my emotions into words. Impulsively, in an act of desperation, I ran forward and seized her shoulders.
Standing on tiptoe, I captured her lips.
It is an odd thing, kissing another girl. Not that I've ever kissed a boy, but from the accounts of my friends, I could tell this was quite a different experience. Even though she did not return it, her lips were so soft and smooth, moistened with a sweet-tasting balm. . . My face was burning, there were tears in the corners of my eyes. I had exposed everything to her. I could tell she wanted to hate me. But, as I pulled away, there was almost somewhat of a struggle in her eyes, a confusion. . .
Minutes passed with our silence, save for my racing heart. I was barely thinking, anticipating the worst. And then, she regarded me a second time.
"This. . . this is what you wished to tell me earlier?"
I nodded, not knowing what else to say.
"I don't go for girls." My heart sank. I knew it would happen like this. . . "However, your bravery in confessing your feelings, even knowing they might not have been returned and that they were forbidden. . . that is admirable to me." Her expression was unreadable, but in a matter of seconds my heart had gone from being filled with despair to being filled with hope.
"You are sure of what you feel?"
Another nod, this one with somewhat of a relieved and teary smile.
"Then. . . meet me at Cafe Eclair tomorrow. We will see what to do about this." She turned away without another word. But I didn't care about the brusque parting. Inside, my woes about my feelings had been obliterated, replaced with an overflowing joy.
Onee-sama and I are going on a. . . date. . .
Waiting on the sidewalk the next morning, I felt nervous, as is customary before a rendezvous of any sort if you really like the person who is going to be sharing it with you. But I also felt slightly ridiculous. Looking down at my carefully chosen outfit, I contemplated its suitability for what must've been the millionth time that morning. I had finally chosen to wear a frilly, just above knee-length skirt, not too dressy and not too casual, with a white silk blouse. I had left my hair down and secured it with a ribbon-covered band, and completed the look with white leather slippers. It didn't look like I was trying too hard, did it? Sickened by my oh-so-typical behavior, I shut the door on my thoughts and stood patiently until I spotted Zakuro.
She appeared only a few minutes later, looking elegant as ever, in a burgundy business jacket of crushed velvet, khaki capris, and high-heeled suede boots. Suddenly, I was the one feeling underdressed. While her presence banished my worries, it strengthened my nervousness. The color pink was one I was beginning to both loathe and love, especially when it inhabited my cheeks.
She made eye contact, always one to be straightforward, and offered instead of a greeting: "I had to clear my schedule to do this." I assumed that this was a big sacrifice on her effort, and that she wished for my gratitude. I nodded humbly, seeing how I seemed to lose my voice around her, and she seemed to accept my offering, turning away and leading us both inside the doors to the cafe.
It was a trendy, Italian-themed place, with a mellow atmosphere. Conversations were conducted in hushed voices in the dim lighting. It gave me some comfort that Zakuro would give us some privacy to. . . work things out, however she meant to go about doing it. Once seated, a waitress immediately sauntered over, armed with only her memory by which to store our order. Evidently, you came here knowing what you wanted.
"One swisse mocha and a strawberry croissant," Zakuro stated without hesitation.
It was my turn. "Ah. . . a cappuccino and a cheese danish," I stumbled, hoping I didn't sound foolish.
The waitress nodded mutely and vanished, leaving the two of us alone. Luckily, though, this time there was no uncomfortable silence to fill. Her azure eyes regarded me with a sort of musing air, as if appraising me. Well, if she was looking for signs that I was attracted to her, they were all too obvious. After a time, she parted her lips to speak.
"So, tell me the reasons why you are in love with me."
I blinked dumbly, thrown by the inquiry. She wasn't going to make this easy. . . then again, I hadn't expected it to be so. It occurred to me then that I really didn't know why I was in love with her, just that I certainly was. But once I spoke, the answers came with shocking fluidity.
"You. . . make me feel older. You listen to me and respect my opinion, you don't treat me like a child. And you don't let anything bother you, at least outwardly. You have confidence. . . and you're so smart. Not many people realize it, but you can be sweet too!" My voice had risen a bit with my urgency to express my feelings, and Zakuro's eyebrows raised. I lowered my eyes and intoned more softly, "And. . . even though this is the least of things, and it's probably the only reason some people say they're in love with you. . . you're so beautiful, and elegant. In anything."
I couldn't believe that I had actually confessed all of that. . . I looked to Zakuro with a flicker of hope burning in my chest. To my surprise, there was the strange expression of struggle on her face again, and her eyes were in her lap, where her hands were folded. I waited, heart palpitating wildly again, and when her eyes met mine at last, they looked almost. . . sorrowful. I was shocked.
"No one has ever said that about me before," she confessed quietly. My eyes widened. "And. . . normally, I would turn you away. However, I can see that you honestly are in love with me." She said the words as if she were surprised to hear herself say them, as if testing them out. "If you are willing. . . we can try this." It seemed to take an effort to say it on her part, but the tiny wry smile she offered afterwards was more than compensation.
"I am!" I burst excitedly, rising from my side of the booth in my joy, eyes aglow and cheeks flushed. The tortured thoughts from two days ago were dispersed for good, and I reveled in how her smile grew ever so slightly, even though there was still uncertainty in her eyes. But I would fix that. Sitting down, I basked in my blooming ecstasy, unable to stop smiling. I can't believe this is happening! It may have been cliche, but I was too far gone to care.
The waitress returned, ignoring our change in mood politely if she even noticed it at all. Reciting our orders back to us, she lay the food and beverages on the polished cherry table before us, leaving again as quietly as she had come.
My food tasted ten times better than it ever had before, each bite a scrumptious piece of heaven. The cream cheese was rich and the pastry flaky and toasted to perfection, the icing slightly warm and deliciously sweet. Zakuro and I tasted a bit of each other's confections, her sudden warmth giving me more courage. I knew she didn't love me yet, but I would try my hardest to convince her.
Unfortunately, my rapture was clouding my perception.
Unbeknownst to Zakuro and I, a pair of viridian eyes had been studying us from across the room. Their owner, whom we would soon become acquainted with so well, was surveying us amusedly, a quirk to her lips. For a journalist who was struggling to pitch a front-page story, spotting Japan's top model on an apparent date with a young teenage girl seemed ideal bait to further her failing career. And, as it so happened, her assumptions were not far from hitting the nail on the head.
Obliviously sipping our coffee, the two of us continued on, unknowing of the rude awakening we would be faced with the next morning.
It began ordinarily enough. The morning air was cool and moist, and the clouds had a gray cast, most likely signaling rain for later that day. Still very much in an upbeat mood, I hummed a lilting melody as I swept the entrance to the cafe, not caring about the weather. It was not until Ichigo burst outside to join me with a worried expression did my outlook change.
"Mint-chan!" Burgundy locks swishing and ribbons trailing, she clattered out towards me, giving me the slightest twinge of annoyance at interrupting my bliss. But when I noticed her expression and the newspaper she had clutched in her hand, I discarded my broom and wiped my hands on my apron, leaning over her shoulder to see what had upset her so much.
"Mint-chan. . . this isn't true, is it?" Her expressive chocolate eyes begged for an answer. When my eyes found the front page, I gasped in shock. Emblazoned on the cover was an excellently (and stealthily) rendered photograph of myself holding out a delicate sliver of danish for Zakuro to sample, my eyes bright and cheeks rosy and she with an uncharacteristically warm smile. The headline read, "Notoriously Famous Fujiwara Zakuro Finds Love in Some Strange Places". I began to tremble. The article, written by a woman named Kawamoto Yukiko, went on to explain about Zakuro's reputation for staying single, contemplating that this was just to keep under wraps that she wasn't interested in men. . . I couldn't read further. She must've been at the cafe. . . why were we so careless not to notice? This wasn't how things were supposed to happen at all.
"Mint-chan. . . Mint-chan?" Ichigo asked worriedly. "What does this mean. . ." Her voice was soft and tentative, almost frightened.
Regaining my senses, I lowered my head. "What you and everyone in Tokyo thinks it does," I answered bitterly. I knew this would have had to happen sometime, but so soon. . .
Her eyes widened and she recoiled in surprise. "You mean. . ."
I needed to find Zakuro, to see what to do about this. . . My heart ached. "Excuse me."
I rushed back through the Cafe Mew Mew doors, hoping against hope that she'd come to work today. Please don't give up on me. . .
Ichigo stood and watched me retreat with a stricken expression painted on her face, just as the first raindrops began to fall.
I found her stacking trays in the kitchen, and if she had read the paper that morning, her expression concealed it. Timidly I approached her, alerting her of my presence with a light touch on the wrist. At once her attention was mine, breathtaking lupine orbs asking, "What?".
I swallowed. "Did. . . did you see it?" I didn't need to specify. She nodded, a slender hand stretching out to cusp my face in it. Our gazes were locked, and all of my strength rushed out of me.
"I would say this is your fault," she began, voice the barest of whispers. "But that would be unfair, because I chose to encourage you." I could do nothing but wait for the next sentence. She closed her eyes. "I do not know whether this will hurt or help my career, but I came into this with you knowing that, as did you. The question is. . . are you willing to love me even if we can never go out without later finding ourselves on the evening news, even knowing the animosity you'll have to face?"
Even if these things did bother me, I was too in love at this point to care. It didn't matter if the whole city hated me if I had Zakuro. Needing comfort, I rushed forward to wrap my arms around her middle, burying myself in her apron. I knew she would not turn me away.
"Nothing could ever stop me from loving you," I answered in a voice laden with passion, my hold around her tight.
She gave me another rare grin, respect in her eyes, and bent down over me, stroking my hair. And that small display of affection was enough to give me the endurance to transcend the hurricane that lie ahead.
The weeks that followed were the hardest of my life.
Stares cut like knives, venomous whispers followed my every footstep. I lived through those days in a torrent of tears, flowing in the privacy of the girls' room between classes. Everything that had made me myself had been shattered by one goddamn news reporter. My life was a nightmare that bled together, each day an continuing horror.
The only thing that made it bearable was Zakuro.
Several times I contemplated suicide, but the memory of her face always made me lower the knife. It was ridiculous that this was being so thrown out of proportion, but it was nevertheless. I had bludgeoned the reporter who had made my life into this living hell with so many curses in my mind, not that it did any good. My own family was shocked, angry, disappointed. But at least they weren't as bad as the rest. As long as no one made the connection and my sexual preferences didn't affect our income, they tolerated my being with Zakuro. I could tell that I'd let them down, but I couldn't explain my love to anyone. All I knew was that I wanted to spend and share everything with my beautiful lover, and that hardly anything could stop me from doing so.
As for the object of my affection. . . well, her career has suffered a few blows, as well. I could see the regret and bitterness in her eyes when a show was canceled or a designer sponsor decided to stop providing her with their fashions. I couldn't help but feel a little guilty, even though I knew it was just as much my fault as her own. And every time she saw me, she opened up to my adoration more. . . her first unprompted kisses gave me courage, as well as the lust that sometimes glittered in her eyes afterwards. . . She seemed confused by it, startled a bit. But she never stopped, and it empowered me to go just a little further, to make her realize. . .
This is the only light in these awful days. My lifeblood. . .
And there you have it. My own sad, twisted story. Do you hate me still? It wouldn't be anything I'm not accustomed to. The few sympathetic glances of other girls like myself in school never did anything for me either. They never tried to stand up for me, just watched me crumple day after day. . .
I hear the creak of door hinges, and I give a reflexive jolt. In my room it is so dark; my mood does not permit any light. But through the shadows I see the ethereal glow of her. . . Zakuro's. . . aquamarine eyes. They are full of sorrow; I know she has also felt the pain, but also of concern, and I love her for it. I sit up, relaxing under her presence, and watch as her perfect form emerges, standing in the doorway with uncertain hesitation.
"Mint." Her voice sounds ordinary, but I can detect the choked emotion beneath it. It still delights me when she calls me by my name.
I stand; my legs are trembling, my hair is in tangles, school uniform wrinkled and face tearstained. But I don't care. I rush to her and embrace her, engulf myself and hold her tight, escaping into the one person who can understand. I know that she's aware of how much I need her now, that she won't turn away. I clench the folds of her elegant modeling clothes and sob, and she strokes my back. No words are needed, we both understand this tough time we are enduring. We knew it would happen, we prepared ourselves, forgoing all for love, but it still hit us hard in spite of all.
I hug her protectively, like I never want to lose her, my warm tears ruining her silk blouse. But we are beyond worrying about appearance. "All I need is you. I don't care what they have to say. I love you and you're all I ever need." My voice is heavy, full of resolve I am not sure I can follow up.
She makes a small noise of comfort, moving her head closer to me so that her lips rest near my ear. I can feel her breath against my skin, and it gives my shivers. We cling to each other until my lamentation subsides. Zakuro, feeling a bit devious, presses her bosom briefly to my face as we part. I blush with a fervor, but do not dislike the sensation. She smiles at me, saying without words, 'It's okay.'. And all of a sudden, it is. My despair, as it always does when I'm with her, has momentarily taken leave of me.
We migrate over to the colossal mound of cushion I call my bed, and I snuggle againt her hip adoringly. I'm rewarded by another small smile, one that I've noticed is becoming more frequent. But something in her eyes seems serious, and I am curious about it. As well, she seems nervous. . .
"Onee-sama, I love you," I reiterate, trying to reassure her. I sigh the words contentedly, curling closer.
Her face seems overcome then, the expression of confusion and wonder, struggle even, that I have come to know so well seeping back into it. I am immediately concerned. "Onee-sama, what's wrong?" A thought then enters my head, and I panic. What if she's come to break up with me? It seems impossible, after everything, but then why would she be reacting this way. . . Please, no!
The look vanishes again, another smile taking its place. Her unusual warmth confuses me. "Onee-sama. . ." I questioned, still worried. My hand reached up to touch her face, and I was prepared to kiss her as well. I hated to see her troubled.
Even more astoundingly, the smile grows in volume, and she turns toward me. "Mint. . . you know I love you, right?"
My eyes widen, and I withdraw my hand in shock. Her nervousness, that look. . . My elation pours over me. She. . . she said it! Knowing what an effort it must've taken, even these words are more than everything I have hoped for. I want to show her how much. . . how much this means to me. . .
Without warning, I close my lips over her own for a happy but serious kiss. Our tongues explore for a bit, and I situate myself on top of her, thighs closing around her middle. Breaking away, I see that same expression of lust in her eyes, if only for a moment.
"Of course I do," I say softly in reply to her question. "And. . . you know I love you too. . . right? That I really mean it when I say it?" I plead for assent.
She smiles back, kissing me again, and that is answer enough. Stars explode behind my eyes, and I feel powerless. I am completely hers. A courage awakens in me greater than ever before. With her love, and now, in this moment, everything seems possible. .
And when we pull away and look into each other's eyes, I can tell we won't be going anywhere soon.
I'm really, really sorry! I haven't updated in forever. . . And to boot, you deserve much better that what this turned out to be. My eternal apologies! Even so, I hope this was worth the long wait. . .
Hmm. . . I'm not really a fan of this particular coupling, but I have to admit there is a potential for it to work if you really want it to. My personal viewpoint on Mint's adoration for Zakuro in the series is much different, but I tend to write pieces based on concept. I'm sorry if this wasn't to your tastes. . . I promise, the next two stories are much more traditional. And better quality. This turned out to be darker than I had intended. . .
Anyway, the next story has a rather interesting premise, a bit of an AU, with hints of Kish/Ichigo. Please bear with me! This one will be ready much sooner, I promise. I'm almost done writing it as we speak. . .
Don't forget to leave a review!
