"Kumiko."
Reina is aware of her effect.
Kumiko's not good at hiding her emotions—at least, not in front of her. The facade of passiveness, the nonchalant, almost apathetic reactions Kumiko typically presents to everyone else, that's not the case when she's with Reina. Kumiko's carefully placed mask of a good girl trembles and slips away when she is in front of the trumpet player.
At first, Reina suspects Kumiko was unwilling to show herself—her true self - to her. She reckons that the euphonium player was at a loss at first, frustrated that she couldn't help but act the way she did or say the words she said in front of Reina. However, Reina is aware that Kumiko now anticipates it and yearns for Reina to caress her cheeks, tracing the edges of her poor excuse of a disguise. Kumiko craves for her to rip it all off.
There's no better way to describe why this happens than the fact that there is a pure attraction, an unstoppable gravitational force that pulls them together. That tug gets stronger every day, and sometimes, Reina feels her pinky finger twitch in a direction she's quite sure ends with Kumiko.
It's as if the universe planned for their meeting to happen—as if it was simply a natural occurrence that must flow through according to the laws of physics. It may sound strange and very overdramatic, but Reina doesn't question it, of course. After all, she's always been a sucker for grand words and loud actions herself. She wants to embrace this feeling, a fated adolescent but profound romance, and proclaim it.
When Reina sees Kumiko side-eye her on their train rides back home, auburn hair glowing as the sun sets behind them, she believes Kumiko doesn't question "why," doesn't care for the logistics or the science behind it either.
After all, she just knows.
Reina knows she's not in love, not with Kumiko, not just yet.
But she's smart enough to know that this relationship with Kumiko, whatever it may be now, will escalate much further than simple friendship or accompaniment. Once she lets her finger graze the bottle, pressing enough to let it tip over, she is sure there will be motion.
Reina's in no rush to push forward, though. She rather likes how things are with Kumiko at the moment.
Reina is aware of the many types of interactions that pass between them, some varying from platonic to some being so passionate, so raw that Reina shivers at the prospect of being devoured by the other girl. It's so pleasurable and while Reina may be young, may not physically know what it means to be bonded with someone else, she is intimately tied to Kumiko. She thinks Kumiko can't ever offend her, can't ever make her feel deeply cut.
Both of them are brutally honest, and to a typical person, the things they say to each other would usually hurt.
Yet, Reina takes immense satisfaction hearing the truth being spilled from Kumiko's trembling lips, relishes in the way she stumbles over her words afterward, slapping a thin hand over her mouth in embarrassment (but never regret, Reina supposes… since Kumiko has never quite apologized for the things she has said).
It makes her laugh when she thinks about it.
Because it doesn't take much of a genius to know that Kumiko is quite a sadist in her way. In the best way possible, Kumiko is an awful person, and Reina believes that she is the only one in the band, if not the world, that can accept that part of the euphonium player and embrace it, even genuinely praise it.
The real Kumiko has no restraint on her words, the real Kumiko is darker, harsher than what is perceived by the naked eye. The real Kumiko doesn't care for petty drama, polite speech, and irrelevance…and the real Kumiko cannot deny what she feels for Reina.
Reina loves that about Kumiko. Loves Kumiko in a way that transcends…
…
This was her confession of love.