Neon City

Michiru felt the air stream pulling on her clothes. Her skirt went up, revealing a glimpse of her thigh. The fine hairs on her arms stood up, stroking the inside fabric of her jacket. Streetlights transformed into a neon stream, floating around her. Her grip on Haruka's waist got tighter. She closed her eyes, zoning out.

"Are you ok?" Haruka had stopped her motorbike at a traffic light and turned around to her companion. The violinist opened up her eyes and moved her head, looking back at the driver.

"Yes. But where are we going?" She felt the chuckle of Haruka in her embrace.

"Still a secret. But we are there in a few minutes." The light went green and Haruka let the motor roar. Michiru leaned closer with a deep sigh. Her tired eyes closed again.

The clicking cameras brought her back from her daydream. Cold lights burned in her eyes. A headache formed behind her forehead. This impersonal conference room filled with hectically journalist was nightmare fuel for her. They beat monsters, Galaxia and crowds of wild teenage fans. But there were still situations that gave the violinist the creeps. Sitting in the headlights of a panel discussion were one of this unfortunate things in the life of a famous person, she couldn't get used to. Haruka next to her smiled her typically bold smile down to the mob of flashing lights. The racer was raised in this world. But when Michiru gazed over to the well-manicured fingers of her partner, she saw the nervous rubbing of her thumb against the back of her hand. For a short moment, she felt the urge to stretch out her arm to rest her hand on Haruka's. The feeling faded with an upward glance back to the journalists. A moment later, the racer's manager stepped up to them and mumbled something into her client's ear. The smile on her face disappeared. With a nod, she dismissed her manager and straightened in her chair. The serious expression on her face let Michiru's guts tighten.

Michiru shook her hair out as soon as she took her helmet off. Her view wandered slowly over the moving advertisement monitors above her. With narrowed eyes, she tilted her head. Haruka placed her helmet on the seat of her motorbike. A warm smile formed on the racer's lips.

"Shibuya Crossing?" Haruka nodded and closed the space between them. The air played with Michiru's turquoise locks. She had to put them behind her ear as she turned around to the taller woman. The neon lights drew colorful shadows over the blonde's skin. With a smirk, her gaze moved down. Her pupils widened as they met Michiru's.

Many faces passed by while they stood there. It was loud and hectic. Not the best environment for the introverted artist. She let her view drop to her shoes. Suddenly, Haruka's hand sneaked in hers.

"We just have to wait some more moments." Michiru took a deep breath and stepped closer to her girlfriend.

"Alright." Haruka smiled and laid her arm around the waist of the smaller woman. Michiru leaned into the embrace, enjoying the shared body heat.

She was not sure if she felt a light touch of Haruka's fingertips on her thigh. With a hard glare, her face turned to the audience full of journalists. The flickering lights made her nervous. Her eye twitched. Next to her, she felt the calm presence of the racer. The hard sole of her shoes stamped on the wooden floor as she steadied her seating position. The conference started.

Haruka was always confident at such events. She talked with the press and made some jokes, as if they were old friends. Some questions were directly addressed to Michiru, the other answered Haruka. All this fuzz for some joint concerts. But for the audience it was new and special. They were fascinated by the many talents the two brought to the world. But there was something that stung like a thorn in Michiru's heart.

"Miss Kaiou, how good is our multitalented Haruka in your eyes. Or are you not so strict with your best friend." The violinist eyelids fluttered. She felt the intense urge to correct the man. Then she felt the hand of the other woman on her thigh again. Her grip hardened. A lump formed in Michiru's throat.

"I don't have to be strict. She is very talented and an inspiring musician. Always disciplined. One of the best pianists I worked with, so far." Her stone-cold face turned to Haruka, who couldn't stand her glance. Heat rose in Michiru's chest, while the racer brushed away the subject, like it was nothing. The jovial laugh, the little blink she gave the lady in the front row. Michiru ground her teeth.

"Any more questions?" The manager of Haruka leaned over the racer's shoulder to speak into the microphone. More pictures were taken, but no one gave a signal with their hand. Haruka dismissed the audience and stood up. Her manager waved Michiru over. They posed for some more pictures, inches apart. No skin was touching the fabric of the other's clothes.

"Can you get a bit closer?"

"Lay your arm around her!"

Michiru gulped. The brush of Haruka's hand that stroked over her arm let her flinch her limp away. With a surprised expression, the racer looked down at her companion.

Carefully, Michiru took her hand over Haruka's fingers. The grip around her waist got tighter. Leather and wood. She would recognize this perfume in a sea of odors. Inhale. Exhale. Haruka looked at her watch.

"Just a few more seconds. Look up. Do you see those two screens?" Michiru nodded. The commercials on the display changed every fifteen seconds. TV shows. Instant noodles. Car insurances. In deep concentration, she watched the flickering lights.

"Now." The words of her girlfriend were barely audible. For a split-second, the screens went black. Then the lights turned back on.

Michiru gasped as she saw what they showed at this moment. The commercials of Michiru's new record and one for the winter collection of Tenou Sportswear were displayed. On the left was Michiru turning her head slightly to the side to face the other screen. There was the profile of Haruka in a tracksuit, her eyes looking straight over to Michiru's screen. This montage had purpose.

"It is like…"

"Like we're looking each other in the eyes, yes." A tingling sensation filled Michiru's stomach.

"But why?" Haruka turned around, rubbing her neck. She pressed her lips together, avoiding the eye contact.

"It is an apology."

Slowly they walked the long, bright hallway down to the exit. The silence between them was loaded. Michiru was the first one, who broke it. She stopped in her tracks, facing the entrance door of the conference building. Her face was expressionless.

"Is this the way, we want to deal with this for the rest of our lives?" Haruka crossed and uncrossed her arms. Michiru folded her hands behind her body, turning around to lean against the hallway wall. The racer grimaced, without letting the entrance door out of her sight.

"After all the fights, the years and the cutbacks?" Haruka couldn't stand the hurtful undertone in the violinist voice. Michiru knew this in the way she avoided the eye contact. As she finally found the courage to look her girlfriend in the eyes, tears gleamed in the corners of her lids. Her mouth opened and closed, but she didn't find the right words. Michiru almost broke the silence. Seeing her in this distress, made her second guess her anger. But she had enough of this charade.

"I would show the world all my feelings for you, if it were ready." The mumble of the racer's voice was barely audible. She pressed her teeth together. Unimpressed, Michiru leaned her head back against the wall, observing the woman in front of her, who mirrored her posture. With crossed arms and sunken head, Haruka let the wall behind her stabilize her foothold.

"We can avert the apocalypse, but not the bigot best friend bullshit we are facing every day?" Haruka's upper lip twitched. She knew the lines were crossed, when the violinist started to curse. Impatient, the shorter girl pushed herself away from the wall. She was about to exit the building as the racer cleared her throat behind her.

"Maybe we can." Michiru turned her head over her shoulder. For a second, she was about to say something, but changed her mind and walked to the entrance door. She felt bad leaving the place without Haruka. But the racer didn't make a move to follow her. A tear ran down her cheek. They fought a lot in the first weeks of their acquaintances. As they got closer, the balance between them increased. However, there was one exception. And this argument wasn't the loudest, but it had the most impact. Seeing Michiru walking away, broke Haruka's heart. She had to do something.

Her hands caressed Haruka's sweaty skin, while she spread her legs wide, climaxing on carefully stroking fingers. A groan escaped her as she looked down through the hair that stuck to her wet face. Still towering the racer while the last wave of her orgasm faded, she let herself sink on the others' woman pelvis. The streetlights illuminated her body. An inspiring moment for her next painting, she thought with a smirk.

Haruka placed her hands on the cushion next to her head. The violinist could see how her hooded eyes scanned every inch of her. There was still a distance between them. Michiru wiped the hair away from her face, turning her gaze to the window. Tokyo was always a busy place. The neon lights that reached their flat had a calming effect on her; bathing everything in a cold glow.

Two weeks had passed since their argued after the press conference. Two hours ago, Haruka had shown her the advertisement screens with the longing applications of their own faces.

"An advertisement campaign", Michiru whispered in the tranquility of the room. Haruka shuffled underneath her, placing her hands on the thighs of the violinist. She doubted that the people would understand it.

"This is how we want to tell the world that we are together?" Her gaze wandered back to the woman underneath her. The frustration wasn't gone. She felt it rise instead. Her hands grabbed Haruka's fingers, putting them away from her body. A confused and hurtful expression manifested on the racer's face.

"We have to be careful. You know the people and their ugly minds." Michiru grimaced. Turquoise locks threw a shadow over her as she leaned forward. Her hands clenched around the racers' wrists.

"You are worrying that they're imagining us in their dirty fantasies. But isn't it like this? Didn't you fuck me in all the right ways, Haruka Tenou?" The grip around the racer's wrist tightened. The violinist pushed her nails into the soft flesh. But Haruka made no sound. A sad smile formed on her face.

"Yes. But I want to show them something else. I want to show them the core of our relationship." She got one hand free, patting it on the handle of the nightstand drawer. After she had opened it, she fished out a little box. Michiru's posture straightened. The streetlights illuminated her face again. The racer was able to see her surprised expression.

"I want to show them, that I love you." With a click, she opened up the box and presented her girlfriend a shining silvery ring. It was simple. It was simple as the fact, that they loved each other. No matter what.

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"Yes." Michiru let the other wrist of the racer go to bend down, framing Haruka's face with her hands and locks.

"Isn't it me, who has to say yes in this situation?" The racer brushed her lips over Michiru's. They could only assume the facial expression of one another. But she felt the smile of the violinist.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

The answer came without hesitation. After the words were spoken, they engaged into a longing kiss, closing up the distance between them.