Theme: Six - Clandestine
Genre: Romance/Mild Angst
Version: AU-ish
Rating: PG-13

There is a storm in the distance/ The wind breathing warning of its imminence/ There is a lighthouse five hundred yards down/ You and I will be safe there - "Lighthouse" by The Hush Sound

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Love Makes You A Liar
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The screen door creaked loudly under Ami's weight. The beach house is a snitch, Makoto decided as she held her breath. She could feel Ami's soft panting against her collar bone, and the soft hands that had been caressing the warm skin of her belly under her shirt had tensed against her hip bones. They both waited with wide eyes, illuminated by the fading light filtering into the back entryway.

In the sitting room, the easy creaking of a rocking chair stopped. Makoto could imagine Ami's mother as she had left her, feet hooked and a book sitting comfortably in her lap. It was a pose she'd seen Ami mimic a thousand times before, and now she couldn't help but imagine Ami's look of confusion, too, plastered over her mother's face as she realized both the girls were gone.

"Ami?" Mizuno-san had a soft voice, but it carried through the house effortlessly. "Are you going out?"

"Yes, Mama," replied Ami. Her eyes were cast down, as if anticipating the shame of the lie she was concocting.

"Is Kino-san going with you?" The chair shifted. "Should we go as a group?"

Makoto tried to pull away and make the scene less scandalous if they were about to be discovered, but Ami's hands dug into her sides, holding her in place with surprising strength.

"No," answered Ami. "Mako-chan is just loaning me her umbrella. I forgot mine at home, and it's drizzling a little. I just wanted to get some air."

"T-That's right," stuttered Makoto, forced by a sharp pinch. For once, she felt like the helpless partner, the fragile one. Ami's expression was calm in comparison, and her tone never faltered from being even and innocent.

"Tell her you'll be back in a moment," Ami whispered into Makoto's neck.

"It'll only be a moment," parroted Makoto.

"It's just hiding," added Ami loudly. Her eyes rolled slowly to the left, where three umbrellas sat openly against a large, wooden chest. They hadn't been moved since they had arrived three days earlier. "Ah. There it is."

The rocking chair began to creak slowly again, and Makoto let out the breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding. Ami relaxed, too, her hands slipping from Makoto's waist, and reaching for the large, green umbrella nearest to her.

"I feel bad," whispered Makoto, suddenly catching Ami by the elbow. "I feel bad lying to your mother. Sneaking around lik--"

"Shh," Ami interrupted. "Shh, Mako-chan. Please."

Her calm, clear voice was gone. Ami was Ami again, her hands shaking slightly from the effort of blatantly taking advantage of her mother's trust and generosity. When she had asked Makoto to come to the family beach house with her, it was supposed to be because it'd be a break. Lying to one, polite person was supposed to be easier than lying to three, snoopy teenagers. Maybe they'd feel less guilty. Maybe it'd hurt less: the lying.

It didn't, of course.

"Just five minutes," began Ami softly. Makoto had to lean in to hear her, their noses almost touching. "Just spend five minutes, and then tell her you're tired and you're going to go to bed. You can follow me, then, but take the front door. It's closer to your room, and doesn't make any noise."

"What if she checks on me?" Makoto asked. "It's a little early for bed."

"She won't," assured Ami. Her face went into shadow as she cast her eyes downward again. "She's too respectful."

Makoto wanted to be comforting, but there was a buzzing in her ears that refused to stop, and an adrenaline high that was beginning to work its way into her limbs. When she bent in for a kiss, it ended with a clacking of teeth and a type of frantic, demanding push that made the screen door squeal again.

Ami gasped. They broke apart.

"I'll be back! Don't worry!" called Ami, recovering faster than Makoto who had to catch herself against the doorframe.

In a second, Ami was out in the rain, her house slippers left crumpled in a heap, and her sandals slapping against the wet, wooden porch. Makoto watched her as long as it could be deemed appropriate. The crisp, whiteness of Ami's summer dress stood out like a fairy light as she walked along the beach, the green umbrella twirling behind her.

Slowly, it began fading into the descending darkness, and Makoto had to turn away.