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Look, it’s not like Natsuki doesn’t love Yuri. What’s going on with them isn’t that type of story. She might not talk about it like Yuri does, all proud of herself for getting over her shyness so she can shower Natsuki with affection, but she cares about Yuri just as much as Yuri cares about her. She’d wanted to kiss her almost the moment she saw her. She’d wanted to spend their lives together after that moment on the stairs, not at all the confession Natsuki had pictured herself going for but somehow all the more intimate in its childishness.
She could let Yuri see her like that. No one else, but Yuri…Natsuki could trust Yuri.
And she still does. She shouldn’t, she knows that, even Monika’s getting worried and that’s Monika talking, whose “relationship” with Sayori is its own can of worms that Natsuki’s been avoiding opening or thinking about as much as she can. But how can she do anything but trust Yuri?
Yuri, who saw her doing something so pathetic as having a panic attack and admitted she’d had some experience with it as though they hadn’t been at each other’s throats less than a week prior? Yuri, who sat with her, and spent the weekend with her, and shared her writing with Natsuki and who’d gone as pink as Natsuki’s hair when Natsuki had finally done the same? A little…quirkiness isn’t worth throwing all that away.
Quirky isn’t the word I’d use to describe stalking, Natsuki. That’s what Monika would say if Natsuki asked her about it, or if she didn’t keep dodging her at lunch to avoid hearing it. Yuri’s been a big help with that, walking up to Natsuki right after her class and asking to eat together. Natsuki’s old friends had scoffed, but it’s not like Natsuki cares what they think anymore. She’d said yes and they’d gone back to their old spot on the stairs, even though it wasn’t under renovation anymore. People stayed clear of it, anyway, letting Yuri read in peace and giving Natsuki a chance to eat.
Yuri always buys her things from the vending machine now. Natsuki assumes it’s out of pity but will let it slide so long as she can’t see it in Yuri’s eyes, just the affection she’s come to crave like nothing else. Her taste is good, too, not just the teas that Yuri likes but the sweet, sugar-packed things that Natsuki’s old friends always said would rot her teeth. She’d stopped drinking them and ignored how the caffeine of what her friends recommended instead made her headaches worse.
She likes when Yuri gets her the things she likes, too. Natsuki always likes getting a look inside her girlfriend’s head. She tells her so if only to see Yuri’s fingers shake when she turns the next page.
Sometimes she asks Yuri to tell her about her books. They’re still not really for Natsuki, even if Yuri’s made it her mission to find a fantasy novel Natsuki genuinely loves, but that’s fine, because it’s exactly the same but flipped for manga. Natsuki always thinks she’s found something Yuri will love, and Yuri will read the whole thing and take notes, the nerd, and end by saying that while she appreciates all the work Natsuki went to, she still prefers her novels.
Natsuki still doesn’t care for fantasy, but she loves them because Yuri does. She thinks Yuri feels the same about her manga if the way she snaps at Monika getting too close to their closet is any indication. (Okay, the classroom’s closet, but it feels like theirs, ever since that one time Yuri pulled her in and just looked at her, so clearly thrilled to look at Natsuki that Natsuki’d forgotten to be ashamed in her own skin for once. She’d thought it was some sort of less-than-covert hookup at first, but that…well, they’ve done that too, actually, so. Double-theirs, if anything. Intimate in both meanings of the word, how’s that for creative use of language?)
It makes sense you excel at entendre, actually, Yuri would say, cheeks tomato-red, and then would kiss her breathless until she forgot if that was meant as flirtation or criticism.
Yuri walks her home every day. Natsuki hasn’t seen Yuri’s place yet and is pretty sure it’s because she’s ashamed of her…habit, the one they don’t talk about just like they don’t talk about Natsuki’s dad and why she’s always so hungry. It’s not like Yuri doesn’t know Natsuki knows, she all but told her with a poem and her sleeves rode up a time or two when they were more wrapped up in each other than their anxieties. It’s not like Yuri doesn’t know everything there is to know about Natsuki now, anyway.
Even if Natsuki didn’t tell her in her own poems, too, there’s the cameras to contend with.
Natsuki really doesn’t know if it was supposed to be a secret or not. Yuri’s pretty bad at lying at the best of times, but she also sometimes lets herself get “caught” when she can’t bring herself to talk about it. That’s how Natsuki had found the knife that first time, just left behind at Yuri’s desk. She thinks that Yuri’s handkerchief being left in Natsuki’s room, a place Natsuki had never once invited her, had been the same. It was right next to the camera, too, right next to the doll-like figure that Natsuki knew she hadn’t had before and whose eyes gleamed like lenses, not painted beads.
It was a nice choice as hidden cameras go, Natsuki has to admit. If Natsuki were the type to hide a camera in a girlfriend’s room, she’d go with the teddy bear nannycam. This was both finer and cuter, clearly very intricate and intentional work but also not out of line with Natsuki’s own cutesier style.
She didn’t talk to herself — to the doll, obviously, it’s not like she’s crazy — like she might have if she were home alone. But she’d made sure to stay places in her room where it could see her, curled up towards it when she lay down for the night.
Yuri’d been so nervous the next day until Natsuki greeted her with a kiss to each of her cheeks, a sweet gesture that had made Sayori awww. It’s not the type of way Natsuki normally greets Yuri, since neither of them are that big on PDA. But the doll had these marks kind of like lipstick kisses on its cheeks, and it felt like a good way of saying she knew and that she was fine with it. If anything, she likes it when Yuri watches her. It feels like being cared for.
There’s been other gifts since then, some with cameras, a couple with trackers. Natsuki had almost laughed at that last one, even as she tied the ribbon in her hair with a style that would guarantee it wouldn’t come loose. After all, where does she go that isn’t with Yuri? Yuri’d been the one who told her that she didn’t have to do things alone if she didn’t want to, and she never wants to.
She’s always hated being alone. Now she’s not, even when she’s by herself in her bedroom. Yuri’s there, in a way. It shouldn’t be reassuring, she knows that, but since it is, isn’t it a good thing she and Yuri found each other? A perfect match, someone patient and attentive and someone who needs patience and attention so badly she aches with it.
Yuri relaxes more as Natsuki accepts these gifts, even daring to hold her hand in the literature club room without bothering to hide it behind their desks. The first time, Sayori had said aw again, but with a little less certainty this time, exchanging a look with Monika. Monika hadn’t looked thrilled at all, and Natsuki had braced to defend Yuri and/or deny everything when their president had forced a smile and said, “Okay, everyone! Time to share poems!”
Natsuki shares her poem with Yuri first, obviously. Yuri’s grown to appreciate Natsuki’s writing a little more, and she doesn’t think that’s just her heart talking. Sure, Natsuki has taken into account some of Yuri’s advice about language, but Natsuki also thinks it’s started to click that Natsuki’s style doesn’t take away from her point.
It helps that a good deal of them are love poems. Not every one, it’s not like she’s not obsessed or desperate or anything like that! But at least once a week, because Yuri always gets so bashful and shy she can’t even talk, just shoving her own poem at Natsuki until she takes it to read it. Yuri’s poems are about a lot. Her love for Natsuki, her love of knives, one that was a very thinly-veiled narrative from her latest novel. Natsuki appreciates Yuri’s writing more now that she’s gotten to know the girl behind it. The style’s still nothing that she wants to go for herself, but it suits Yuri, her beautiful girl whose head always swims with words she struggles to let out. Who is she to judge if those words come out a little dramatic?
Yuri walks her home again that day, fingers tangled with Natsuki’s. Natsuki’s telling her all about the latest issue of Pavlova Girls, a far-inferior ripoff of Parfait Girls that she only got out of morbid curiosity and has been absolutely disgusted with the whole way through. Yuri knows all this already, of course, but she likes listening to Natsuki, and Natsuki likes telling her.
They come to a stop a few houses down from Natsuki’s, the way they always do. Yuri hates that — Natsuki can tell from the little furrow between her eyebrows every time they stop — but it’s the smart thing to do. Natsuki’s dad didn’t even let her old, shitty friends come over; there’s no way he’d be cool with Yuri, who wouldn’t be able to hide her disdain for him. Still, Yuri presses a quick to the back of Natsuki’s hand, like the old-fashioned romantic she is. Natsuki bites the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot at her.
“I have something else for you,” Yuri says before letting go of Natsuki’s hand. She digs in her bag for a bit until she pulls out a pair of what look like salt-and-pepper shakers. Natsuki’s heart sinks even as she takes them. “They’re for sanding sugar and powdered sugar,” Yuri adds, sounding very proud of herself for remembering those little details.
“They’re so cute,” Natsuki says, mind racing. She hasn’t had to turn down a gift from Yuri before. “I — I can’t accept this.”
Yuri goes still. “Why not?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to!” Natsuki says, wishing she could take Yuri’s hands, but her own are full. “Really, I love them! But, um, I can’t take anything I can’t keep in my room. My dad might notice.”
“Oh,” Yuri says. “Will he mind?”
Natsuki scoffs. “He minds everything. He barely lets me keep the stuff to bake cupcakes, and even then, I had to point out I make them for club events sometimes.”
Yuri hums, an unhappy sound that Natsuki wants to kiss away. “I don’t want you to have to hide them.”
“I wish I didn’t have to,” Natsuki says quietly. “You know I like all your gifts.” I like everything you do, she doesn’t say. She might write it, couched in metaphor so that she could deny if it she panics when pressed, but Yuri knows. She has to know. “And I’m sure you’d like to see the kitchen, too.”
Yuri coughs, ducking Natsukis’s gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Right,” Natsuki says. “Well…I wish I could have you over. So we could bake together. And other things. That’s all I meant.”
Yuri smiles at her, gentle. “Of course.”
“Of course,” Natsuki repeats, smiling back. “I mean it, though. I wish I could spend every minute with you. And I know there’s…” She trails off, unsure how to delicately phrase it. “Your presents. But I always wish you were there. I always look forward to when I’m back with you.”
Yuri kisses her almost before she’s done speaking. “I do, too,” Yuri says, voice taking that almost-fanatical edge it gets sometimes. “I do. More than anything, Natsuki.”
“Good,” Natsuki says, kissing her on the tip of her nose just to see it scrunch up. “I…really care about you, you know.”
Yuri’s shoulders slump a bit, but her eyes soften enough that Natsuki knows she isn’t mad at her for her inability to say what they both know. “I adore you,” Yuri says. “So much.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Natsuki says, even though it feels like such a bad response to Yuri’s easy affection.
“Yes,” Yuri says, and watches Natsuki as she leaves. It’s as much a comfort as the cameras are.
Yuri keeps close the next few weeks. Closer than normal, Natsuki means. She doesn’t mind. She didn’t realize they could spend even more time together, honestly! But she’s enjoying every second of it. Sayori keeps shooting Natsuki these concerned looks, as if she has any idea what’s good for Natsuki. She doesn’t even know what’s good for herself, between that childhood friend she won’t shut up about who couldn’t even be assed to come back to a single meeting after the cupcakes and whatever weird whispered conversations she’s been having with Monika.
That’s mean. Natsuki doesn’t like to be mean. It reminds her of how she felt around all her old friends, defensive and under attack. She just…Yuri makes her happy, okay?! What business is it of Sayori’s or Monika’s?
She’s ranting about it to Yuri later while resting her head in Yuri’s lap. Normally Yuri does still use these breaks to read, wouldn’t be the girl Natsuki fell in love with if she didn’t, but she’s fine with letting Natsuki vent if she needs it. She keeps humming in agreement whenever Natsuki pauses for breath, too, which is super encouraging. She was kind of worried she was being crazy.
Well. She knows she’s being crazy. But crazy in a way that Yuri’s right alongside her with is fine; crazy that Yuri would think is too much wouldn’t be.
“They should focus on their own relationship rather than butting into ours,” Yuri adds when Natsuki’s done.
“Exactly!” Natsuki says, gesticulating wildly, careful not to accidentally smack Yuri. (Last time she had, it had gone in a direction that a public school area is, um, not really the place for.) “That’s what I’m saying!”
“I know,” Yuri says. “I agree.”
“I know,” Natsuki echoes. “I just…ugh, it pisses me off. I know it shouldn’t, I know all that matters is how we feel about it, I just wish I didn’t have to deal with anyone else thinking about it.”
“You…wish we were a secret?”
Natsuki sits up so fast her head spins. “No! No, not at all, that’s not what I mean. I just…I like it best when it’s just the two of us sometimes, because I know we’re on the same page. You’re not…judging me, or pitying me, or whatever other bullshit because you think you know my feelings better than me.”
“Oh,” Yuri says. There’s a few moments of silence while she thinks that over; Natsuki’s relieved when she nods. “I see exactly what you mean. I feel the same way.”
“I thought you might,” Natsuki says, gently and affectionately bumping her shoulder against Yuri’s. “Ugh, I took up practically our whole lunch to yell about this, sorry.”
“You’re fine,” Yuri says. “You can keep talking if you want to.”
“No, you talk to me,” Natsuki says. “Tell me about your book. I’m sure you read more last night and are dying to.”
Yuri tucks a strand of hair behind her ears, which have gone ever-so-slightly pink. “Well, I was right that the guardian angel was serious about his desire to protect his charge, beyond what might be expected.”
“Oh, yeah? What happened?”
“The charge wouldn’t stop getting into accidents,” Yuri says with a frown. “The angel could misdirect most of them to those that were too focused on his charge or bear the brunt of it himself, but he was growing concerned that there would be something he would miss. Or…he thought that’s what it was. I believe he may be something of an unreliable narrator.”
“Right, you think the angel loves his charge, right?”
Yuri nods, eyes lighting up the more she talks about her book. “It’s very clear in how much he cares and how much he wants to be around him. It goes beyond his duty and beyond the familial relationship they shared when the angel was alive.”
Natsuki rests her head on Yuri’s shoulder, sighing in contentment when Yuri wraps an arm around her. “So what’d he do about all those accidents?”
“He decided to keep his charge safe from them,” Yuri says, and then…falls silent. Natsuki looks up at her face but can’t see much from this angle. She grabs Yuri’s hand and squeezes it. “Oh!”
“Sorry, did I scare you?”
“No, I just…” Yuri falls quiet again. “Are you sure you want to hear about it? I know you don’t really enjoy my more suspenseful novels.”
“I like hearing you talk about them,” Natsuki says. “And I kind of want to know more about this one. It sounded interesting.”
“Okay,” Yuri says, still sounding a little hesitant. “Well, um, the angel gave his charge something to help him sleep and then carried him away somewhere safe, where he would never be far from the angel’s reach again. There was this moment, when he brushed his charge’s hair out of his face, and I thought he might have kissed him. I was disappointed he didn’t.”
“That makes sense,” Natsuki says idly. “That’s really romantic.”
Yuri makes an odd noise, then. It kind of sounds like she’s choking. Natsuki pulls back in alarm, but Yuri’s hand around her shoulders tightens, keeping her close. “I’m fine! I’m okay!”
“You sure?” Natsuki asks, worried. “I thought you choked on your own spit!”
“No!” Yuri says, offended, and then adds, “Well, maybe. I just…I didn’t expect that you would feel that way.”
“What, because they used to be related? Pfft, some of the manga I’ve read—actually, nope, let’s not talk about those! That devotion beyond all reasonable boundaries…are you saying you don’t find it sweet?”
“No…” Yuri says. “But I’m not normal.”
Natsuki rolls her eyes. “Yuri, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s not like I’m all that normal, either.”
“You could be, if you wanted to be,” Yuri says, almost wistfully. “But you choose me. You always do.”
“Always will,” Natsuki says, easily. “I’ve done that whole fight to be normal thing. It’s exhausting. I hated it. If I could be carried away by a pretty angel with purple hair, I don’t think I’d fight it. I could do without the drugging thing, but, you know, whatever.”
“Huh,” Yuri says. When Natsuki next looks up at her, there’s a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, not unlike the one she wore after slapping her own cheek after Natsuki’s joke about it. “No matter how well I know you, you always surprise me.”
Natsuki’s heart pounds. “But in a good way. right?”
Yuri kisses the top of her head. Natsuki wonders if her mouth brushing one of the tracker-ribbons she’d gifted Natsuki was intentional. “Always.”