Cherished Darkness
“Kirika, I’m going out tonight, so I guess you’re on your own for
dinner.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flashed across the younger girl’s features, but
when she turned the unmoving neutral expression was already back in
place. “Where are you going?” The question came out shakily, her
voice betraying her where her appearance did not.
Fortunately, Mireille had also turned to gather some clothes, and she
kept her back to Kirika. “Some restaurant. I made a date.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be in the shower. Answer the phone if it rings.”
“Mmm.”
* * * * *
Mireille emerged nearly an hour later, glancing nervously at the
clock. She wore a light pink dress that seemed strangely mismatched
to Kirika’s eyes. It wasn’t the sort of outfit her partner typically
dressed in. It made her look… innocent. Still, Kirika resisted the
urge to say something, redirecting her attention to the television.
The blonde hurriedly pulled on her stockings and slipped on her shoes.
“I’m going to need some help here. I’m going to be late.” She
settled herself in front of the dresser and opened her makeup case
with one hand while the other began passing a brush through her hair.
Kirika shut off the television and sighed. Slowly, she pulled herself
off the couch and wandered over to where Mireille was frantically
trying to do too many things at the same time. Without a word, she
took the hairbrush from the blonde’s hands and set about arranging the
long golden locks.
Her small hands played through the blonde hair, but her eyes stayed
glued to the mirror, where Mireille was carefully applying eye shadow
and powder. She’d seen her partner go through this ritual hundreds of
times, but today it hurt her to watch. Unconsciously, her hands
faltered as Mireille started on her lashes. Blue eyes looked up to
meet brown ones in the mirror.
“What is it?”
Kirika blinked, suddenly focusing on a spot on the top of Mireille’s
head. “Nothing. Your hair’s done.”
“Good. Hand me those earrings?”
The hairbrush dropped unceremoniously to the dresser as the Japanese
girl scooped up the tiny diamond earrings and passed them to Mireille.
As the blonde began fiddling with her ears, Kirika picked a lipstick
from the several Mireille had laid out. Deliberately, she uncapped it
and pushed out the tip, examining the end critically before turning
towards her partner. Mireille silently acquiesced the choice of
colour and stuck out her lips obediently.
Kirika had never used lipstick before, excepting the time Mireille had
showed her how to, but she tried her best, careful not to mar the work
the blonde had already done. She lost herself in her task. Slowly,
she applied a coat of scarlet velvet to Mireille’s lips, the colour
gently tracing over the edges of the blonde’s mouth. She didn’t
notice that Mireille had stopped moving, that Mireille was watching
her. All she saw was the cylinder gliding over full lips, and she
wished it was her fingers instead.
The sound of a buzzer shook those thoughts away. They both looked up,
as if suddenly realizing how close they were leaning.
“That would be my date.” Mireille observed as she quickly closed the
clasp on her necklace “Could you get my coat?”
Kirika held the coat out for Mireille as the blonde threw a sweater
over her shoulders and grabbed her purse.
“How do I look?”
“Perfect.”
She slipped into the long coat and hugged the younger girl briefly.
“Thanks. I’ll see you tonight. Don’t wait up for me.”
Kirika could only nod.
From the window, she watched them leave. The smartly dressed man came
around to open the door for Mireille and help her into the car. And
then, just like that, they were gone.
Kirika stood by the window for a long time, staring out into street.
Gradually, the light overhead changed from golden to fiery, fiery to
fuchsia, until it dimmed into the shadows of twilight. She sighed,
tore herself away from the window. She looked towards the kitchen,
but she didn’t feel particularly hungry. Instead, she wandered back
into the bedroom and pulled open the drawer with all her clothes in
it. Carefully, she removed the rose and chocolates she had stashed at
the back last night. A single tear pushed its way out the corner of
her eye as she held the red heart-shaped box in her hands. The fading
light of dusk glinted off the flowing silvery script on the cover.
“Mireille”, it said.
She let the flower fall softly to the floor as she sat on the bed,
clutching the box of chocolates to her chest. All she could think of
was the all the time she had wasted conjuring up the courage to do
this. All she could think of was all the effort she had wasted trying
to make this special. Kirika shivered, suddenly cold. A single sob
escaped her, but she refused to the give the tears free reign.
Mercilessly, she ground her teeth together until the urge to cry
passed.
When she looked up again, it was full night and faint starlight
splashed across the walls. Without thinking, she undid the ribbons on
the box and opened it. Twelve heart-shaped chocolates stared
defiantly back at her. She ran her fingers lightly over them, feeling
the stickiness where her body heat had warmed them enough to melt.
She paused as she touched the last one, and hesitantly took it in her
fingers.
It smelled rich and perfumed, the fragrance of the scented box
clinging to it. It tasted tangy and sickeningly sweet, the syrupy
cherry center running over her tongue. The cloying candy flavour
burst through her quickly enough to make her gag. The chocolates were
horrible. Mireille wouldn’t have like them.
Kirika flung the box away, scattering the sweets across the room.
Tears leaked out against her will. Suddenly weary, she collapsed
backwards onto the bed, wrapping the covers tightly around herself.
She stayed motionless, watching the shadows dance across the ceiling.
And although the hours trickled by, she didn’t sleep.
It was near midnight when sounds in the apartment finally caused her
to stir, the closing of the apartment door and the soft padding of
feet toward the bedroom. Mireille was back. Kirika closed her eyes
and covered her face with her arms.
The footsteps drew closer, pausing in the doorway. Kirika kept her
breathing shallow and even. Thankfully, the lights stayed off. There
was only the crinkly sound of paper as something was placed on the
dresser, and then the quiet rustle of Mireille moving about the room,
undoubtedly gathering her things for a shower. The footsteps were
receding towards the door again when there was a sudden stumble and a
sharp intake of breath. Kirika cringed, and again when the small lamp
at the head of the bed was flicked on. She squeezed her eyes shut,
but remained otherwise immobile, trying to ignore the presence so near
her.
The mattress beneath her moved as someone sat down on the bed, and a
gentle touch trailed across the arm that was hiding her eyes. A voice
whispered in her ear, soft and kind. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.” Reluctantly, Kirika pulled her arms from her face and tried to
call forth the blank mask of composure, but somehow failed to find it.
She hoped the dim light hid her pained expression.
Mireille held a damaged rose in her hands, the stem bent and the
petals crushed. “I stepped on your flower. I’m sorry.”
Kirika focused on the dresser, atop of which lay a dazzling bouquet of
crimson blooms. “It doesn’t matter. You already got flowers.”
“It was for me?”
The dark-haired girl nodded, and for an instant, she dared look back
into the blue eyes questioning her. They were warm, and inviting,
almost… unguarded. She wanted to keep looking, to understand what was
behind those orbs of sapphire, but Mireille broke the gaze, blinking
several times in rapid succession.
Kirika was about to say something, but she held her tongue as the
blonde slid down to lie next to her, their shoulders touching lightly.
For a long moment, they lay there, silently staring up at the ceiling,
listening to each other’s quiet breathing.
“Were the chocolates for me also?” It was whispered so softly Kirika
could barely make it out.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
Kirika felt a warm hand cover hers and squeeze gently. Her heart
fluttered in her chest. For several minutes, she savoured the
sensation of the contact, her thumb sliding tentatively over
Mireille’s fingers.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?”
“What?”
“How my date went?”
“I’m scared.” That earned her another reassuring squeeze.
“We went to a small restaurant in the old part of town, and it was
very nice. It was pleasant, if not overly romantic. The food was
exquisite, but I guess I wasn’t in the mood. Afterwards, we went
dancing, and I realized what had been bothering me since dinner.”
Mireille paused, and let out her breath slowly before continuing.
“Everywhere I looked, there were couples. Everywhere I looked, there
were people holding hands, whispering together, and sharing meaningful
looks. Everyone around me was happy and smiling; everyone around me
was having fun, and I wasn’t. I didn’t want to be there.”
Another pause, much longer this time. Kirika waited, patiently giving
Mireille the time she needed to finish. When no words were
forthcoming, Kirika sat up cross-legged, never letting go of the
blonde’s hand. It was Mireille’s turn to look away.
Undeterred, the dark-haired girl reached over and shut off the light,
once more bathing the room in shadows. The darkness did not instill
the courage she had hoped for. Hesitantly, she lay down again, this
time resting her head lightly on Mireille’s shoulder. Kirika felt the
blonde swallow as her cheek grazed the skin of Mireille’s neck.
Dreamily, she breathed in the scent of her partner, and suddenly she
was giving voice to the thoughts that had plagued her for so long.
“I used to like it here, in the darkness, in this concealing comfort
where I have no face but the one in my mind, where I have no name but
the one I give myself. But now… now I don’t know anymore. All I know
is that I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone anymore.
Every time I see you, Mireille, I wish I could touch you, I wish…”
Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on Mireille’s hand. “Am I
asking for too much?”
“No.” A hand moved up to stroke Kirika’s hair and face. To the
blonde’s surprise, it came away wet. Her own eyes filled with tears,
but she held them back, determined to finish what she had started. “I
asked David to bring me home. I told him I wasn’t feeling well. It
was close enough to the truth. I just wanted to be here. I wanted to
be home. I wanted to be with you.”
Kirika shuddered, not from the cold. Her skin felt all sensitive and
tingly. Her free arm wrapped itself around Mireille’s body, soaking
up the heat through the thin pink dress. Mireille’s arms shifted to
encircle her, and she relaxed willingly into their embrace. She
smiled as a soft kiss was placed on her forehead.
She felt drained, but happy. She wanted very much to say something,
but couldn’t find any words to accurately describe the wonderful
feeling suffusing her body. Her eyelids drooped against her will as
the tension of the day caught up to her.
“Go to sleep,” Mireille whispered, “I promise we’ll talk in the
morning.”
Kirika obediently allowed her eyes to drift closed, and as the
pleasant haze of sleep surrounded her, a single phrase managed to
pierce her clouded consciousness.
“I love you.”
* * * * *
Kirika woke with a smile on her face, surfacing from the depths of a
most pleasant dream only to find she wasn’t dreaming. A contented
sigh escaped her lips as she snuggled closer to her partner and
breathed in deeply. The comforting weight of the hand tangled in her
dark hair shifted lazily down to her cheek, fingers trailing past her
half-open mouth.
She lifted her head slightly, guiltily eyeing the wet stain of saliva
on the shoulder of Mireille’s rumpled gown. “I ruined your dress.”
A single blue eye opened, considered her gravely. “I never liked this
dress much anyway. And it was probably my sleeping in it that ruined
it.” Mireille smiled lightly, stretching out on the bed before
putting her arms around Kirika again. “I don’t want to get up.”
Emboldened, Kirika climbed up so that she was on top of the blonde,
face to face. “Me neither.”
Mireille pulled the girl to her, crushing the small frame against
herself. Kirika thought she would pass out from the delicious
contact. Hesitantly, her hands found their way to Mireille’s sides,
but as soon as she touched her, the blonde rolled them both over,
pinning Kirika to the bed. “I’ll have to point out, however, that I
desperately need to shower and brush my teeth, seeing as I didn’t do
either last night.”
A sad look crossed Kirika’s face without her even realizing it, and
Mireille’s features immediately softened, the air of amusement giving
way to seriousness. “Why don’t you get breakfast started? I’ll be
right out.” She suggested, placing a gentle kiss on the open lips
below her.
Kirika closed her eyes reflexively as they connected, her voice
catching in her throat as soft lips touched hers. And although the
contact lasted less than a second, she lay there blissfully for many
minutes, until the sound of running water disrupted her reverie.
She’d been vaguely aware of Mireille disappearing into the bathroom at
some point, but she’d been too lost in her own whirlwind of sensation
to do anything more than note it.
Eventually, when her heart calmed and her mind began working again,
Kirika pulled herself off the bed and surveyed the room. Hastily, she
swept up the chocolates littering the floor, depositing them in the
trashcan. Her hands lingered as she retrieved the slightly dented
box. She couldn’t make herself throw it away. Besides, one of the
chocolate hearts had survived. It was still resting in the open box.
Carefully, she gathered up the ribbon and repackaged the almost empty
box, tying a neat bow just below Mireille’s name. She smiled lightly
to herself as she set about making the bed. Then she left the box by
the pillow and drifted into the kitchen.
When Mireille found her, she was standing in front of the stove. The
dark-haired girl quickly put down the kettle as a pair of arms
surrounded her and a warm chin rested on her shoulder. The smell of
shampoo and chocolate teased her nose. She turned away, embarrassed,
but unsure why.
“Thanks for the chocolates.”
“There was only one.”
“I saved you half.” Mireille’s fingers brushed Kirika’s lips. She
was indeed holding half a chocolate heart.
Kirika shook her head, disconcerted by the way the heart looked
broken, with the red cherry center spilling out. “I don’t want it. I
tried one last night.”
Mireille shrugged, ate it herself. “Were you angry at me?
Yesterday?”
“Yes. I… I mean, no. I…”
Gently, the blonde turned her around. “Tell me.” Their eyes met
briefly, but Kirika looked away again. “Please?” Mireille prodded.
The younger girl adopted a thoughtful expression, chewed her lip, but
just as quickly, her face steeled itself again. And when she finally
spoke, it was in low hushed tones. “I wasn’t angry. I just didn’t
know you were going out.”
Gingerly, Mireille reached out and touched the other girl’s face. “I
didn’t think you knew about Valentine’s Day.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“If I’d known, I never would’ve gone.”
“I was scared.” She was always scared, afraid of doing the wrong
thing, saying the wrong thing, afraid of… not being allowed to love.
“I was scared too.”
Kirika finally looked up, her lips trembling. It was touching,
knowing that Mireille felt the same way she did, knowing that her
worldly partner was just as insecure. The hands on her cheeks moved
abruptly, brushing the dark hair away from her face. She smiled
timidly as Mireille pressed their foreheads together. Terrified, but
unrelenting, Kirika leaned closer so that she could kiss the blonde.
She was met halfway, Mireille’s mouth melting into hers. The kiss was
dizzying to Kirika, even more so than the first, but she clung to it
nevertheless. There was no hesitation this time as she locked her
arms around her partner. And when she tried to move away, Mireille
followed, unwilling to relinquish her advantage until, finally, the
hands around her waist pushed outwards, and they broke apart panting.
“I love you.” Mireille whispered, her hand skittering up the other
girl’s back to play in the tousled hair. “I love you.” She repeated,
wanting to hear herself say it just as much as Kirika.
The Japanese girl buried her face in Mireille’s neck, hiding her face
from the blonde. “I don’t know how to love.”
Long fingers drifted down from her hair to her chin, pulling her away
so that Mireille could look at her. “Of course you do.”
Kirika sniffled, blinking in an attempt to drive back the tears. It
meant so much to her, the fact that Mireille trusted her, the fact
that Mireille believed in her. She didn’t want to cry, but the look
of care and concern on Mireille’s face coaxed the watery beads from
her eyes.
Gentle fingers were there right away, tenderly smoothing away the
tears. Her eyes closed as a kiss was placed on her forehead. She
felt a hand trace its way down her cheek, chasing an elusive tear. A
finger passed near the corner of her mouth, and as it paused there,
Kirika touched her lips to it, tasting the salt of her tears and the
remnants of chocolate. Of its own volition, her tongue swirled out
and drew the finger into her mouth. Mireille pressed closer,
shivering suddenly. Then, without warning, the finger was gone,
replaced with the wet warmth of Mireille’s tongue.
They played together for a long time, Kirika with her eyes held firmly
shut for fear of waking from this wonderful dream.
* * * * *
When she finally did look around again, they had somehow managed to
sit themselves on the floor. The kitchen tiles were cold and hard,
not at all comfortable. And yet, Kirika didn’t care. She was nestled
in Mireille’s lap, her thin sleepwear allowing her to be tantalizingly
close to her partner, and she wanted only to stay right there for the
rest of the day.
Mireille smiled at her knowingly, kissed her once more quickly, then
lifted the both of them off the floor. “So how’s breakfast coming
along?”
“I… umm… just need to make the toast.” Kirika stuttered, barely
coherent and not yet fully back in her mind. As she turned to the
toaster, a hand closed over hers, bringing her to face Mireille again.
“Let’s pretend yesterday never happened. Let’s pretend today is
Valentine’s Day.”
“I don’t have any more gifts for you.”
“I don’t mind.” Mireille’s hand feathered up Kirika’s arm, caressing
her bare shoulder. “We’ll go shopping later, you need a dress
anyway.”
“Why?”
“So I can take you out tonight.”
Kirika blushed, looked up shyly at her partner. And all of a sudden,
all the doubts, all the fears she had hidden, were erased by the sight
of those compelling blue depths. Was she even allowed to feel this
way? She felt clumsy, inadequate, as though her muscles wouldn’t obey
properly, and yet despite that, there was an electric tingle in her
limbs and a pleasant tightness in her chest. Her eyes fluttered
closed as agile fingers skirted the strap of her top. She’d meant to
ask something else, but could no longer remember the question.
Instead, she pressed herself against the comforting warmth of
Mireille’s body. “I love you, Mireiyu.” And somehow, saying it out
loud made it seem possible.
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