Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All rights to respective owners.
A/N: IT. IS. FINALLY. HERE.
Last chapter of Checkmate! It's been a crazy ride! This story has been in my deck for such a long time and now I can finally close it, properly. I'll thank everyone at the end too but before you dive right in, I have the biggest thank you to everyone that has read Checkmate and has supported me through reviews, faves, asks on Tumblr, freaking fanart?
I love you guys and this ending has been a long time coming so enjoy!
Chapter Twelve
She couldn't breathe - couldn't process what was actually happening.
Months of talking, waiting, falling ….
And he didn't want anything to do with her?
Any words that dared to form were caught in her throat.
How did they get here? She thought they'd... talked it out, the mess they'd made. She thought they'd come to an understanding. Her hands had been in his, their breaths already mingling…..and within a matter of seconds it had all slipped from her fingers.
What was she supposed to say — what was she supposed to do?
She couldn't form the words for a while, and stood there gaping. Her eyes kept losing focus as she tried to process everything. And finally— "I don't understand."
The whiz of passing cars filled the silence with some of the headlights illuminating the shop and the shadows on his face. He sighed, glanced away from her and over the tables where the chairs had been tipped back, and she could see his eyes had landed on their table — the chess board. "You were talking to this person that you had created and imagined in your mind."
She shook her head, eyebrows furrowed. "I was talking to you. I wasn't imagining anything."
"Never meeting face to face, you unknowingly build up expectations. Hopes," he explained, so straightforward and unfair. "This experience, only through our words and our phones — you build and build on that feeling. Without knowing it, you expected so much."
She just stared, confused and unwilling to give up because she never expected anything besides a chance.
He breathed out, a little shaky. His eyes moved around untethered. "And you have those expectations even when you find out," he continued, suddenly so much more quiet. "Now that it's real, the experience is different. It's not the same because there's so much more to consider, so many things that could go wrong. It's different."
"I still feel the same," she countered, arms at her sides lifting up slightly. "It's not different for me."
"Usagi—-"
"I still want the same things. I still want to talk to you, to know you, to be with you—-"
"Usagi," he breathed out, "I knew that this wasn't going to end with something happening—-us happening. I knew it wouldn't—- It's not going to be like that."
"What if it could be like that?" she whispered, daring a step towards him.
He let out an exasperated sigh, closing his eyes. "It's not."
She took a few more brave steps forward. "What if I want that too?"
"You don't."
"I do."
"You do…with Chess Boy," he admitted, quietly. "Not me."
She started again frustrated and confused. "What do you mean?"
He threaded his hands through his inky black hair. "Usagi—-"
"Please tell me why you're so against this?" she begged.
He let go of his hair, his eyes panicked and disheartened like it hurt him to say what was next. "Because Chess Boy is an idea!"
She stopped and frowned, so confused. It built up behind her eyes, the tears of frustration, anger, annoyance. She felt stuck in the mess of it all because she felt like she was losing something—- like something was being taken away from her.
He breathed in and out, long and full, closing his eyes and popping them back open. "Chess Boy isn't me. He was someone you could project everything on, the perfect image. But he could never be real. He was just an idea, and I told you that once you knew who Chess Boy was, that image would be gone."
She shook her head, glared at him. "What? Do you think you accidentally catfished me?"
He snorted, low and grim, and opened his mouth but closed it shut when he caught her bitter glare.
"That I wouldn't like you because you weren't what I was expecting or something? Is that why you never told me—- Why you never told me who you were?"
"I never told you because I knew the second you knew, everything would go away. It would be different, the whole mystery and feeling you got from 'Chess Boy' would disappear because you would know. You didn't like me, you liked the idea of me—-"
"I wasn't expecting anything but what I told you!" she cried out, a small breathy laugh following her words. "All I wanted was to meet you and talk to you in person. I wasn't expecting anything other than that, Mamoru!"
"Usagi, I just wanted us to forget about this. I want for you to move on and find something better, something that works. Someone who won't hurt you or avoid you—-"
Then she realized. "Oh my god," she whispered. Tonight, he was going to….
"You were going to stand me up again, tonight," she hissed, her voice full of accusation, anger, rage. She narrowed her eyes hard, glared at him, and he glared right back without missing a beat.
"Yes."
The anger flared up even more in her chest despite herself. "Why?!"
"Because I'm trying to stop a mistake."
"What mistake! What are you so scared of?!" she nearly shouted out of complete frustration, sharp irritation.
"This!" he shouted back, hands raised up and between them. "To stop pretending that this could actually work!"
"Why do you think it can't?!"
He paced, running his hands down the length of his face and she noticed how his eyes went to linger on the chess board. He moved towards it then in careful steps, crossed the room and towered over the table.
"You never liked me before," he said slowly but firm as he traced the edge of the game board. "Notes and texts weren't going to translate well into real life. I was never going to be what you wanted, the person you wanted—-"
She sputtered, interrupting him with her eyebrows furrowed harder. "And isn't it my choice to decide that?"
He sighed. "We know that you seem to be attracted to guys who aren't good for you."
She took a breath in too hard and too harsh, the tears coming to the corners of her eyes. "That's not fair," she choked out.
"Okay," he said, suddenly too calm.
"Where was I?" he asked, too composed and too gentle —- as if he already knew the answer.
She blinked, a tear finally slipping down. "What?"
He sighed, licked his lips, a look full of anguish on his face. "On your suspect list."
She shuddered out a breath. It shot to her heart, twisted it and squeezed it hard because she knew he already knew her answer. She closed her eyes. "Mamoru…"
"Where was I on your suspect list?" he croaked out. Softer this time —- almost as if he was scared of what she might say.
Usagi opened her mouth but his look made her swallow any words back down her throat.
"Did you ever think that I was…" he trailed off, "You never thought for a second that…."
"I-I…."
He had wondered why she had texted out of nowhere, but never thought it was because she was there in the backroom, desperately trying to find out his identity.
For the shortest second, he thought maybe she had snuck in to find his phone because maybe —-just maybe—- she thought it could be him, and his heart had lifted. However, the thought was squashed before it could even flourish in his mind.
She had two cellphones in her hands.
His phone was in his pocket, he knew because it was vibrating with her most recent text. Just mere minutes ago, it had sent a thrill down his spine the second he felt it.
And a locker (not his own) was ajar. It was Wasu's.
She'd thought….that it was Wasu?
Of all people she thought it was him.
It crushed him. Made his heart fall to his feet.
But he didn't react, kept to himself, went along with her plea to not give her location to his co-workers.
He left her in there, threw out a few words for her benefit.
And later, when she stood there in the middle of the chaos accusing Wasu, he knew that it was over. That they couldn't go back to what they had.
He attempted. Had texted her again, but she wouldn't respond besides saying she wanted to meet him, see him.
It was over. That's when he'd known.
He shook his head. "No, I wasn't really that impressive of an option, really…" he trailed off, let his eyes close, defeated.
"No, it wasn't that," she protested, loud and defensive.
"Then why didn't you recognize me?"
It all boiled over for her.
"I DON'T KNOW!" she screamed, frustrated and desperately trying to find out herself why she hadn't. "I-I'm bad with faces?! Maybe I blocked you out because of what was happening during the time and I don't like thinking about itl!"
What was it? "Maybe-maybe I'm just—-I'm stupid, I don't know!"
"Usagi, I'm not blaming you," he said softly.
Her breath was harsh and she held her forehead in her hand. "I don't know," she whispered.
His side burned from where Yuko jabbed him, so he amended his words because he had to know why she was still here, still hoping even after everything that had happened.
"I mean why are you so invested in it? The guy doesn't seem to be the best if he can't even look you in the eye in person. Why do you care?"
Usagi shrugged, her blue eyes looking right at him but not seeing him. He felt his heart beating harder and faster. "I don't know. But he moved that first piece for a reason, he started talking to me—-he started all of this and I want to know why. There's a reason."
Tell her. He could tell her right there and she could know the reason. He could answer all of her deep questions right here.
The words formed on the tip of his tongue, but never came out. Instead, he continued to tip-toe the line. "What if he doesn't want to meet you because he's scared? The person might not be the guy of your dreams you know."
I'm not who you want.
"No he is. The guy of my dreams has nothing to do with looks."
He wanted to go right up to her, tell her he was right there and so very willing, but so terrified of what would happen. So very badly, he wanted her to recognize him, to see him, to know it was him.
He knew better.
"I hope you do find him, Usagi," Yuko said.
Knew it was better to let it go, not say anything. "Me too."
"You never thought of me at all…" he breathed out, sounding defeated.
She closed her eyes, breathed in. "I'm sorry—-"
"Please, don't," he cut in softly. "It's not your fault, I understand. I shouldn't have hoped—-I should have never started this…"
She let her hand run down her face, felt a few hot tears run down her cheek.
"You suspected everyone but me," he started again, quiet and considering. "I know that this is all my fault, I never wanted it to get here. I never wanted this to happen."
He breathed in and out, avoiding her eyes. "You had an idea of who you wanted it to be and I didn't fit it, and that's okay."
She really couldn't say anything, any combination of words were stuck in the back of her throat as she stared at him.
"You fell for 'Chess Boy'," Mamoru whispered. "You didn't sign up for me, or this, and I don't expect you to."
The situation, the realization, the falling - it started to all pound into her heart hard. She knew she wanted this, she did, she knew she did! Or was she really forcing all of it and this connection was only possible on paper?
The words were a whisper, but they carried a loud weight through the dead silence. "Maybe you should leave."
Something tore in her, maybe her heart. But it took everything in her not to collapse into a chair and just let the tears cascade down.
Her voice broke and she nodded, small and quick. "Okay."
All of her next movements were just reflex.
As the door came into view, her heart dropped lower and faster. But just before she reached the exit, she heard footsteps behind her.
Whirling around with relief and tears at the ready, her body prepared to jump into his arms, she started when suddenly the whole environment was immersed in darkness.
His expression was unreadable from what she could see of his face painted in the shadows and moonlight, his hand pulling away from the light switch panel. He breezed right past her, reaching the door first.
The hinges groaned as they were pulled open and she could barely swallow down her own whimper at the sight of him holding the door open for her, kicking her out of there, and out of his life.
His eyes fluttered helplessly as the city bus made its large halts at the appropriate designated stops along the busy street. Having done this for years, it was a wonder why he suddenly felt like complete trash riding the bus with his bloodshot eyes and ragged appearance.
Last night was everything that he had been building towards. He had at last confessed, but it hadn't been worth it. Years of unrequited love and adoring from a distance had to lead to heartbreak ultimately.
She didn't feel the same and somehow a piece of him had always been aware of that. The guy she fell for wasn't him, it was an alter ego he manifested out of panic and foolishness. What had he been thinking?
It made his stomach knot and twist excruciatingly, his hand gripping the railing above more tightly, his knuckles turning sheet white.
He wasn't good enough.
He never was and this whole experience made that statement perfectly clear. How much he put her through, how stupid he was to do this in the first place, only to end up with a heart more broken than before.
Somehow in his slew of painful thoughts, he had made it to work on time, threw on the apron, and was currently punching in orders at the register. Mamoru went through the motions, numbly taking the requests from customer after customer, feeling as if he was a zombie of some sorts.
All he could think about was her. What was she doing? Was she thinking about what happened? Was he finally in her thoughts?
The next person came up. "Hi, what would you like?"
"To talk to you."
His eyes flew to her red-rimmed ones. It took him aback, seeing her so soon. He froze at her pleading look.
"Please, can we just talk?" she begged.
"If you're not gonna order anything please get out of the line," he stated firmly.
"Mamoru—"
"I said everything that I had to say," he admitted. "You deserve someone better. Someone who can actually talk to you."
"You are that someone," she breathed, leaning forward. "You are. Why can't you give it a chance—-"
"Please, Usagi," he pleaded with the ceiling.
Behind them, the next person in line cleared their throat loudly. The rest of the line was getting visibly restless.
She stood there for a while, stared at him with those blue eyes and felt them burn into his chest, his face, everywhere. Trying to grab his attention, but he didn't look and eventually she did take her leave once the line made their frustration even more. He did look up then even if just to torture himself, and watched as she left.
He wondered if he really was doing the right thing.
It was all a cosmic joke on her.
Having to go through the worst night ever, to be rejected, cry in your bed for losing something you never really had, just to continue on the next morning and get rejected all over again. And somehow, she still had to go on with this day, to function and act like everything was right with her life at that moment.
It wasn't. Nothing was right.
"Back to my unanswered question from our session yesterday," Professor Shiro started, adjusting in his chair. "What is it that you want from life Tsukino?"
She blinked hard, trying to find the appropriate answer in the sea of thoughts she was having instead.
What she wanted had slipped through her fingers just last night. She didn't even know what she wanted in life most of the time, it was always so spontaneous with her, never knowing what to do. Short-term instead of long-term because nothing ever panned out for her.
All of her friends had their lives and ideas for the future, while she had been struggling and searching for the same thing. She had gone back and forth on majors, let alone if she even wanted to go to school after the mess that was high school, but she always knew that she could talk to people, help them, and how much she wanted to help them.
"I want a purpose."
Professor Shiro made a gesture for her to continue further.
"For most of my life I was always pretty easy-going," Usagi explained, voice slightly shaky. "I loved hanging out with friends, I was outgoing, I was loud, spontaneous, I wasn't really good at school and I didn't know what to do after I finished. I knew I liked to help and fight for what I believe so I wanted to fight for those who don't get help."
She had tried to fight yesterday, and again this morning. It had fallen through the cracks and she didn't know what to do, so was this even the right road for her? Perhaps Professor Shiro had been right to always be critical of her, always questioning her for good reason. Maybe, she wasn't cut out for it.
She heard a clearing of a throat and seemed to have spaced off as she found her teacher's concentrated eyes on her. "Tsukino, I always found you to be difficult. You were late to class, and when you were in class, you slept. Your assignments were sloppily written and late as well…."
His words pressed down on her, heavy, disappointed—- rejected again. She shouldn't have shown up, should have taken the fail and redo the term with some pride at least.
"And yet every assignment you handed in, I could see pride, respect and passion for the subjects and materials."
She frowned. "What?"
"You care, Tsukino," he explained. "That is all I can ask from people who take my course. That they care to do the right thing even when it is difficult. In social work of any kind, it's not easy to make choices, and people lose their will to do the good work."
He eased the glasses off the bridge of his nose. "I think you wouldn't."
She imagined her face was full of surprise, and she didn't bother to hide it. "You do?"
"Yes, I just want to know that this is truly what you want to do," he asked.
She sat up again, the excitement and thrill of her work coming into her. "Professor Shiro, I wouldn't want to do anything else more than to help people, especially ones who feel like they've lost everything, who feel like they don't have anyone and who don't know their own purpose."
"And why would you fight for them?"
"Because when you want something, you fight for it….you stay. And you don't act like it never happened, like it never meant anything to you."
She always did, she always fought harder to keep what she believed in. She stayed and fought for it until she couldn't. She always did.
"Are you okay, Tsukino?"
"Yes," she affirmed. "Professor Shiro, I want to do this. I want to help and I want to be someone that helps people—kids who don't know what to believe or feel. I fight for what I believe in, and I believe in this."
The first genuine smile she had seen from him appeared on his stern lips, and a part of her heart lifted up. And while her professor rambled on about other last minute things she had to do before the end of the term, she finally realized what she wanted and what she needed to do.
When it started, Mamoru didn't know how to react.
It was after a long day of work and too many worries in his head, and he had never been happier to see his apartment building.
Except a small, square piece of folded up paper was laying on his door mat when he arrived at his apartment door.
"If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life."
I know quotes too.
- Odango Atama
His heart jumped way too excitedly, too hard against his chest, and his fingers traced over the note way too many times before he finally unlocked his door and hurried inside. He should have gone straight to the trash, thrown it away to put it out of mind, to stop it from going further.
Instead, it took up place on the small cabinet in his genkan.
The next day came with another note. This time with a single red rose accompanying it, laid purposefully right on top of it.
"The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses."
This reminded me of you. Guess who wrote this?
Hint, not Oscar Wilde.
- Blondie
The thrill rippled through him, the heat rising in his face with his heart thumping—beating so hard. The note, with the rose, joined the other on the cabinet.
It was gifts, tokens, more notes. Quotes left for him would greet him almost every day, and his heart would beat against his chest even when he tried so hard not to react, tried to deny how much he looked forward to seeing what was left at his door.
He figured she was turning it around on him. Trying to do what he had done to her. Woo him, maybe.
He also wondered how she found his address, but turns out Motoki had folded on her as quickly as he had folded on Mamoru when he gave Usagi his address.
His dear friend, also, did kindly remind him that he was an idiot and needed to get his head out of his ass.
He continued getting notes, filled and filled with quotes and teasing questions, signed in different ways with her name or nicknames and even sometimes little drawings of bunnies, her go to.
"I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying."
I feel like I could relate a lot to this one.
- Odango
"Hearts are made to be broken."
But I believe they can be mended. What do you think?
(That one had been signed with the bunny drawing.)
It was quote after quote.
"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."
"The very essence of romance is uncertainty."
"To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance."
Some hit him more than others.
"If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life."
I will.
- Usagi
And sometimes it was worse when the notes weren't there.
Coming around the corner of the hallway on what was the fifth day in a row, ready to see what note would greet him this time, he froze, stuck to the floor as his heart flew into his throat at the sight.
Endless pigtails, leaning against his door, playing on her phone until her eyes snapped up and spotted him.
She shrugged her shoulders, a half smile. "Guess who's the stalker now?"
He swallowed hard, walked on unsteady legs to his door and stopped right in front of her. Neither of them said anything, they just stared at each other, waiting for the other to say something.
Any type of noise he could make wouldn't morph into a sentence.
She took the chance from him anyway.
"Tell me to stop," she whispered, serious and challenging, but seemed to keep all the softness in her eyes as she stared so intensely at him, waiting for some answer. "Tell me and I'll never bother you again."
Please stop. It was the easiest answer. Two words and it would go back to normal. His mind begged him to utter the words, to end it. Right there.
And yet it only remained within his mind and never made it past his lips.
She came in person three more times after that. Stood on his doorstep waiting. A new, silent routine, filled with confused and hopeful staring.
However, it always ended the same way.
He would leave her out there, in the hallway, with nothing but silence and a conflicted look in his eyes.
It was after a while that it all came to a head. When he couldn't take it anymore.
After his Saturday morning shift, he was dragging his feet to his building and up to his apartment unit.
It was a day she was there, waiting at his door.
Except it didn't go like usual.
He went straight to his door, didn't look at her. Just unlocked his door quickly and slipped inside.
The door was left wide open.
Took off his shoes in his genkan and threw his keys on the table, hearing the slight crash and rustle they caused when they landed on her notes and items he had been stockpiling for the last two weeks.
The door was still open, even as he walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water.
After taking a few sips, he still felt the shake in his limbs after trying to calm down, the traitorous heart thumping against his chest.
And in some way, it beat even harder when he heard the soft footsteps and the door shut close. She was inside, he could hear the faint sound of her sandals falling to his floor. Then she started moving from the genkan to his living room, scanning his alphabetized bookcases, appearing to read down the hard and worn spines of his books, and he could hear his heartbeat thunder in his ears. He studied how she walked around the furniture and settled at his desk, fingers just brushing the countless papers, his closed laptop.
He didn't really know what to say, what to start with, or if she was even expecting him to say something first.
He started with the most inconsequential thing on his mind at the time. "E.E. Cummings."
She froze, her wide eyes rising up from his desk to meet his gaze. "What?"
He licked his lips. "Uh, the note with the rose," he elaborated, voice soft but his heart racing. "The quote was from E.E. Cummings."
The realization drew on her face and she nodded. "Oh."
She looked down again. "I'm sorry if the notes and stuff got old or corny. I-I just thought…."
Usagi stopped then, and carefully turned around. He traced her gaze to the genkan. "You kept them," she said.
He didn't say anything since it sounded more of an observation than a question directed towards him.
"I did the same thing," she revealed, a small smile playing on her lips.
He sighed, took a step out of the kitchen, a step closer to her. "Why are you here?"
She turned towards him fully, her eyes trained on him steady and wide, a look full of belief and confidence in her eyes that he envied. "I came to talk."
She wasn't going to screw up this time. This was her time. The time when she would get everything out in the open.
She steeled herself, let her bravery build up one more time.
"Whenever we talked," she started, careful and slowly, "how did you feel?"
His eyes dropped down to his floor. "What exactly do you mean?"
"Was it real?" she asked, instead, and watched him so, so closely. Her heart beat fast, faster than before, waiting for his response. To hear if what she had felt these months was real or all pretend.
He licked his lips and looked up to her then, stared at her with those deep blue eyes. "Yes, it was. It was real to me."
Breathing out, she started moving again. His eyes grew more with each step she took closer to him.
"Do you regret it?"
"No. And yes," he choked out.
She wanted to ask him what he meant, but simply nodded instead. She had to keep going.
"You said that I only knew Chess Boy, that he was just an idea in my mind," she pointed out. "That I didn't really know him."
He didn't react, stayed stoic, unreadable under her eyes.
"You're wrong, though," she admitted. "I did know him, and I loved every single thing I knew about him."
Seeing him swallow hard fueled her on.
"It was real to me too," she confessed, breathless and fearless. "I was talking to somebody who made me smile and laugh. Even when he made mistakes, sent me into so many different directions and made me cry, somehow I still thought about him and everything he said to me."
She took a step, and this time there was no step back from him. "A guy who made me run in circles, avoided me. Turns out it was the same guy who would say the sweetest things and help me with studying. Who told me all about himself and I loved hearing every single thing."
"I know him. His favorite subjects are math and science because he likes logic and solving problems. That's why he likes chess, because it makes him think. He's sweet but hates being social because he never knows what to say in person, and he's not good at 'peopling'. I know this because I know him."
She stopped right in front of him. Until she could see the guarded, conflicted emotion spiraling in his dark eyes.
"I know you," her voice was quieter now that she was closer to him, "And I want to know more of you."
It was all she wanted. To keep talking to him until she knew every last thing about him. She wanted to have a chance to start over. Have a chance to see.
"But," she paused, "I miss talking to you."
And then she just kept going, rambling, trying to fill the silence because he was just looking at her with those eyes, lips parting. She needed to keep talking to not explode. "I miss talking about anything, I miss being happy, I miss you."
"I miss the emojis, I miss your perfect spelling, I miss getting butterflies when my phone went off because it would mean that you texted. I miss how obnoxious you are. You're weird, and I'm even more weird honestly," she quipped, a breathy laugh and now a little wet. When had the tears started to well up?
She couldn't stop, the way his face changed from shock, surprise, confusion-it made her keep going and going. "I miss knowing you! That can't change! Because you're still you! I still feel it. I feel it right now! I still have butterflies, I still feel the exact same way when I'm standing right here with you. Worse, really."
He tried to speak for the first time. "Usagi-"
"I want you," she cut in, voice soft, eyes shining.
He stood still, only stared. Confused and panicked and like he didn't know what to say or do.
Shutting his eyes, he opened them again after a while.
"What do you want to do?" he croaked out.
"I want a coffee," she breathed out, relieved. "I want to get a coffee and I want another chance. Because who was I talking to? He meant a lot to me."
He inhaled a sharp breath.
"I'm hoping that I meant a lot to him too, and that he would want another chance as well."
"Just one chance, one chance if you want it, because I want it. I really want it."
Her heart beat was pulsing as she waited for a reaction. A look or a move to give her some idea of what he was thinking. But he just stood there, mouth popped open slightly and staring into her eyes.
And her heart nearly burst from her chest when he jolted, leaning down, and strong hands slipped against her jaw and cheek, and she whimpered against his mouth.
It was so different from their kisses before when it was her that started it, who pushed their lips together. Because for the first time, he was pushing, pulling, caressing, giving back and wanting it, like he had waited forever to do it. It was him who was overwhelming her senses now.
And he was sending her mind into absolute meltdown.
She ran her tongue against his lip, his teeth, and felt him shudder under her fingers almost immediately. He gave back in equal, letting no space be spared between them, kept up with her. His hands filled with her hair and his mouth full of her. And she could gasp into his mouth, touch his hands, his arms, and feel everything.
It wasn't an awkward or slow kiss, just fast, needed, relieved. It was so needed. The tension evaporated from the air, so did any doubts and nerves. But her heart was still beating just as fast for different reasons now.
"Are you sure?" he breathed right into her mouth a little later, hands cradling her face, looking in her eyes.
Her laugh was loud and a little wet. "I'm sure."
And she whimpered when he broke them apart again. "You sure you don't want a cooler boyfriend?"
Her hands slipped from his arms to his throat, traced up his jaw, and she stared into his eyes. "You're the coolest."
And his smile blossomed, the one she had been waiting for.
"But no more stupid nicknames."
He choked out a laugh and she yelped when his arms went around her waist instead and lifted her. "Deal...Usako."
She swallowed. New, different tears coming to her eyes. "Better," she whispered, heart jumping.
She pulled him back then, capturing his lips as fiercely as he had to her, kissed him even harder. Clutched at his arms tighter. She never wanted to let go anytime soon.
She still didn't want to let go even later, when he set her back on her feet and broke them apart again, gasping for air. "So coffee—"
"Later," she cut him off, smiling and shaking her head. "Please, just later."
And she pushed his head down again, moved her lips over his again and again.
Coffee could wait a little bit.
The End
And that's it on this crazy Coffee Shop AU mystery!
The hugest fucking thank you to FloraOne for being an absolute cheerleader in all of this, for helping me and looking over this chapter. This wouldn't have been finished so soon without you and you are one of the biggest gems of this fandom and seriously thank you so so so so so much. I wish I could give you all the heart emojis right now because you deserve them all.
Other HUGE thank yous is everyone who has reviewed, faved, followed, sent wonderful asks on Tumblr and has made me feel so so so much more confident in this story. HUGE thank you to everyone who has done freaking fanart for this fic? I never EVER thought I would be a fanfic author that got fanart for their fics. I didn't see my stories as fanart worthy fics and each fanart I did receive was literally the sweetest thing and made my day so many times.
Thank you to Bepears for fanart, Tina Century for the moodboard, FloraOne for the fanart, Sessediz for the fanart, CassieRaven for the fanart, and SailorGuardian314 for the fanart! You will never know how much I appreciate the support and the time to even consider making a fanart piece for Checkmate. THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO EVER MENTIONED OR MADE anything for Checkmate.
Thank you to UglyGreenJacket for looking over one of my chapters, and especially one of my longest chapters that I felt so bad about. I appreciate every minute that you took to look over it. I appreciate and love every person who took the time to read Checkmate.
Thank you everyone for your reviews I read every single one over and over again cuz I love how enthusiastic everyone was.
I'll leave this now and I would love to know what everyone thought! What was you favorite moment of Checkmate? What were your guesses?
I love you guys and see you on the next story! Reviews are the best, whenever you see this!