lights which guide

[dazedream]

Series: Tokyo Babylon, X, xxxHolic
Pairing: Kotori/Himawari
Rating: T
Summary: First date at a karaoke bar.
Notes: Written for the three words prompt day of the CLAMP Femslash Fest. My words were sea, moth and poker.

There is a sudden hush in the karaoke bar as the woman on the stage finishes her song, and then polite applause scatters throughout the room. The woman dips her head in an awkward bow, moth-brown hair curling out of the stiff, elaborate updo  it had been painstakingly styled into. “She had a very sweet voice,” Kotori whispers, leaning in so Himawari can hear her voice clearly. Himawari is placed close enough to her friend to be able to share commentary on the singers without having to move closer together, but she would never complain at the proximity. Kotori’s hair is brushing over her shoulder, silken and fragrant against the bare skin there, and it’s all Himawari can do not to shiver. A little too late, she “mmm’s” back an agreement.

Himawari can’t even remember what song the lady was singing.

A young, tawny-haired man leaps up eagerly to take her place and the music starts again. His voice is huskier than the woman who sung before, but still pleasant. Himawari leans back a little, letting the sound wash over her, her eyes slitting from happiness. She hadn’t expected everyone who sang tonight to be ear-bleeding awful (although some were), but the proportion of people who are actually decent singers tonight surprise her. None of them have anything on Oruha or Karyoubinga, but it’s enjoyable to listen to them. Her company doesn’t do anything to make the evening worse, either.

Eyes as blue as the sea, a curving red mouth that is all too tempting, bright hair that brushes here and there against soft, creamy skin – Himawari has to look away before it becomes obvious that she is staring. Don’t look, why are you looking, she chastises herself. You know this is something you can never have, so why bother making things even more difficult for the both of you?

She knows why. She has been slack lately, since she started working at the nightclub. She doesn’t act as distant as she should be. It started with Karen, their somewhat-enigmatic but well-meaning, almost maternal boss, and then Oruha, the club’s star singer. She got friendly with a few of the other singers, too, preparing them refreshing drinks during their brief breaks and offering words of encouragement. It’s what any co-worker would do, she told herself firmly, and got no closer to them.

But then there was two of the bouncers, an inseparable duo if there ever was one, no matter how much one of them protested. She is so fond of those two. The mere thought of them, Watanuki and his earnest kindness, Doumeki and his solid reliability, brings a smile to her face. Watanuki likes to lavish her with handmade chocolates and sweets, and every time he presents her with a new concoction it makes her warm inside. She does her best to never let them see when she is having a bad day, for no matter how much she likes them she cannot let them get too close, but she knows that if ever she is feeling worse than usual, there’ll be a small wrapped package sitting in her locker in the staff breakroom. Somehow, Watanuki can always tell.

And Doumeki, for all his stoic silence, is always there, always keeping an eye on them both. They are the first (and best) real friends she has ever had. It has been such a long while since Himawari has felt so protected.

And then Kotori. Sweet, kind Kotori. So charming, so amiable, so damn nice to everyone she meets. Why does Kotori like me so much in turn, she asks herself daily (often more), what could she possibly see?

“It’s nothing to wonder at that you and Kotori-chan are such good friends, Himawari-chan!” Watanuki has gushed on more than one occasion. “You’re both so absolutely wonderful! Beautiful and kind and always smiling!”

“Hn,” Doumeki says, which Himawari took as agreement.

Beautiful, Watanuki said, but that’s no word big enough to describe Kotori, in all the wonderful ways she simply is; golden waves cascading freely down her back, smooth, supple limbs as perfect and unblemished as a field of fresh-fallen snow, kind caring hands, azure eyes that only have to flit in her direction and Himawari is breathless.

The harm she could cause to them all is an icy, crushing fist clenching tighter and tighter around her chest. For a moment, she can’t breathe, and for an entirely different reason.

“Himawari-chan, are you all right?”

Himawari does her best to banish the turbulent unforgiving sea of self-hatred (more like self-terror) that comes with her everywhere she goes (trapped in her ribcage, lashing out at her small cracked heart; caged in her stomach, churning up nausea every time she smiles at someone for too long; and always, always in the back of her head, a small insidious voice that curls up, snakelike, at the base of her skull, sometimes stretching out along her spine, influencing her every move, word and thought with its mocking, laughing voice).

“Perfectly so, Kotori-chan. I just think this drink is a little strong for me. You don’t mind if I switch to iced tea, do you?”

This is nothing but an innocent night out with a casual friend, a co-worker. She can let her eyes linger (but never for too long) and smile and laugh, and maybe entertain half-notions of what this night could be if she wasn’t a walking curse. For what can ever come of dreaming?

(Oh, how Yuuko would laugh and laugh if she ever heard her say that.)

Kotori gives her the go-ahead, and Himawari signals a waitress who zooms over enthusiastically, the overhead lights glinting of her short dark hair and the white teeth revealed by her cheerful smile. Himawari is pretty sure they don’t allow pets in this bar, but she’s sure the glimpse of fluffy fur she sees disappearing behind the girls legs was a dog.

Both girls both place their orders – Kotori reluctantly changing to iced tea too, knowledgeable of her low tolerance for alcohol. The waitress speeds back to the bar, exchanging words with the bored bespectacled girl behind it. Himawari watches them with fond eyes. She suspects part of the reason Kotori suggested they come here tonight was so that they could be in a bar and listen to music but not be the ones serving everybody their drinks and snacks. Himawari had been just slightly dubious of accepting the invitation, seeing as she works at a bar with live music, but it’s far more relaxing here than at Clover, even if the singers aren’t as good and the alcohol poor.

Kotori interrupts her reverie to once again declare how lovely the voice is of the boy just finished singing, and Himawari nods in dutiful agreement. Kotori has done this unfailingly for every single person on the karaoke stage, and Himawari suspects she truly believes what she’s saying. She’s so boldly, purely sweethearted that it’s like a vice clamping around her lungs, cutting off her oxygen. How can Kotori be here, sitting across the little table from her? Her striking eyes and fine features, her warm smile, it is seemingly all for Himawari tonight. She’s fucking unreal, too good to be true, and Himawari wants to wrap her arms around her, give her what’s left of her tattered heart and try to protect her from the dangers of the world.

Of course, Himawari herself is the biggest danger at the moment, and, well the other things she wants to do to Kotori don’t bear thinking about if she wants to keep this platonic.

But that doesn’t mean she has to sit here like an unresponsive doll for the rest of the evening.

Himawari taps her index finger against her chin thoughtfully. “You see, Kotori-chan,” she says, pursing her lips together in that mischievous smile, tilting her head back so Kotori can see the playful gleam in her eyes, “they all have very sweet voices, true, but none are so sweet as you.”

Kotori blushes and Himawari laughs delightedly, the sound bubbling up out of her. It’s been a while (goodness, she can’t even remember the last time) since she’s flirted like this, and she’s never done it with a heart so light, so free. Never enjoyed it this much. With a sudden jolt, she realises what the bubbles of laughter mean; she’s having fun.

Himawari takes a careful breath, trying to supress some of her delight. Grinning like a loon is hardly attractive, after all. She constructs a perfectly blank mask, covering up all her emotions, though she can’t quite fully iron out that teasing tone when she says, “indeed, the only thing that would make this whole situation even sweeter would be if – ”

“Your iced-tea!” The dark-haired waitress appears seemingly out of thin air, plunking down two tall glasses dripping with condensation.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Kotori gasps after taking a sip. “Just what I needed, and just how I like it!”

“Thank you! I’ll be sure to tell the bartender,” the girl beams. “Satsuki refuses to believe any drink she makes is like liquid heaven. Enjoy your date!”

“Oh, we’re not on a date,” Himawari laughs, still caught up in her good mood, and makes the mistake of turning to face her companion, who has gone very still.

“I – oh!” Kotori is completely flustered. Himawari’s perfect poker-face cracks down the middle and cold shock bleeds through, leaving her features a wasteland of astonishment.

“You asked me here on a date?”

“Yes.” Kotori’s voice is very small. “I’m sorry if I have offended you.”

“I’m not offended.” Himawari’s voice is distant and abstract even to her own ears. “It’s just… why didn’t you say anything?”

Kotori looks thoroughly miserable and the tight cold fist is back, squeezing around her heart. “Onii-chan was there when I asked you, and while I’m sure he likes you very much and would never hurt you, well…”

“He’s ridiculously overprotective of you,” Himawari recalls, the surprise from Kotori’s confession still jarring unforgivingly through her body. Some of their first conversations, in the lulls between rushes at the club, were Kotori not quite complaining about the overzealous attempts of her brother and her almost-brother-in-law to keep her safe. She wasn’t suspicious, because she was too sweet and innocent to ever suspect someone of ulterior motives, but she has wondered aloud at her brother quitting his job and becoming a bouncer at the same club where she worked. And at the way their shifts matched up almost perfectly. And on the rare days that they aren’t working at the same time, the brother’s best friend comes in and sits at the bar. He’s quiet and unobtrusive, and Karen likes him well enough, and Kotori enjoys his presence too much to question the coincidence.

Himawari doesn’t criticise those boys. They love Kotori and (mostly) stay out of her business, and it never hurts to have someone to walk home with at night.

She’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone care about you that much.

She has never accepted Watanuki’s offers to escort her home, though she knows he would never expect anything of her at the end of the walk like some men would. But she shudders to think what would happen to him if he was with her, away from everyone else, in the dark, even if Doumeki were to accompany them.

There have been a few times when it is very late, and she can’t catch a cab and there is no one to give her a lift, where Doumeki has insisted, in his own quiet way, that they both walk her home. Those times, Himawari does not decline, and those times, they cling close to her like guardian angels. She cannot fault them their kindness , though she occasionally wishes she could. It is because of dear people like them, who stubbornly continue to like her despite the distance she presses between them, that she has not yet managed to completely alienate herself from the world. (She can never decide whether that’s a good or a bad thing.)

It was something along those lines that swayed her to accept when Kotori mentioned a karaoke bar not too far from their workplace, and seeing as they have the same night off, wouldn’t it be nice to go together?

“I’m sorry,” Kotori apologises again, eyes downcast. “I never meant to make you upset –”

“No.” Himawari surprises them both with the firmness of her voice. “I’m sorry, if I have given you any reason to believe that I would be insulted by your attentions. I just… wasn’t expecting anything like that.”

The thought of how she would ruin this beautiful girl, smash her to shards and smear her in the dirt is one that hurts Himawari immensely, but it is true. And she can’t hide from the truth forever, even if she wishes for it with everything in her heart.

“I don’t believe a relationship between the two of us would work out,” she says slowly, carefully. “I am… not quite all I seem to be, and I would be especially unsuited to –”

“You would never hurt me.” Kotori is almost glowing with her conviction. Himawari looks at her sharply, but it is clear the other girl is only referring to the ways people normally hurt each other in relationships and hasn’t suddenly developed telepathy. Oh, if only. The act of starting a relationship with the beautiful girl across the table from her would only be the first of many, many hurts. It doesn’t matter that they’re unintended. It makes no difference, they happen anyway.

“I do my utmost never to hurt anybody,” Himawari says unsteadily, and hopes that Kotori doesn’t catch the traces of bitterness that weigh the words down like anchors.

“Don’t you trust me?” Kotori’s voice is soft and pleading. “I wouldn’t hurt you either.”

And isn’t that the crux of the matter? Himawari has never wanted to hurt anybody, least of all the friends she’s made at the nightclub, but hurting Kotori – Kotori, who she’s thus far managed to keep at enough of a distance to be safe – would cause such a hurt to herself she fears she would never recover.

And isn’t that a sign she is already in far too deep?

A hand covers hers, soft and almost unbearably gentle. She looks up into those cerulean eyes, so heart-breaking in their sincerity, and she realises she has been avoiding Kotori’s eyes for exactly that reason; the girl already owns her, can already command her heart. She doesn’t realise how much danger she has but herself in my opening herself up to Himawari. She tries to close off her ears (she has never quite been able to close off her heart) but she doesn’t need to hear the plea that Kotori utters; it is spoken far more loudly in the line of her mouth and the set of her brow. And oh, does Himawari want to accept this lovely girl’s offer, but such a thing could only happen in a world where protective older brothers would be the greatest of her concerns.

It is such a selfish thought to even entertain, but she can’t help it: it seems as if she is causing more pain to Kotori by turning her down than whatever catastrophe she would cause by entering into a relationship with her.

“If you would just work with me,” and how has Himawari overlooked this burning determination, this tower of strength? “We could make this work, Himawari, please. Can we give this a chance?”

Her voice is a long-dead thing in the back of her throat, and she senses she will not be able to resurrect it soon. She still tries however, to refuse, to say no, because hurting Kotori now would be far kinder that whatever will eventually happen once she gets too close.

Instead, her head dips in a trembling nod. All the breath seems to rush from Kotori’s lungs, and then there are arms flinging around her neck, whispered promises and thanks, and, though she is a numb shell barely registering what is going on, her hands move of their own accord to rest lightly on Kotori’s waist.

And then there is a mouth, warm soft lips pillowing against her own. She remembers a long-ago conversation with Watanuki, about how there is nothing so magical as the first kiss in a relationship, and how he had swung around to glare at Doumeki for a good minute before turning back to her and listing all the ways their first kiss should have been better. Himawari doesn’t think she’ll have to complain to her friends about this first kiss.

Gentle and clumsy and timid as a moth, hope bumps against her heart. Let me in, it seems to plead. You know you need me. You know you need her. And despite her many attempts to close herself off, she has never truly been able to banish her little moths of hope. They flutter to her and cluster around her heart as if it is made of light, and in this moment, she could swear it is.