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Ten weeks.
It had been exactly ten weeks since their fight.
She should have been used to it by now: walking back from another endless day of medical school, navigating the crowded paths of the evening rush, stopping by the convenience store to restock on her preferred brand of canned coffee. But as the familiar shape of her building loomed closer and the idle chatter of the crowds faded, the heavy thumping of her own pulse in her ears drowned out everything else.
For the better part of four years, she had shared this apartment with her girlfriend. Until ten weeks ago, it was her sole refuge from the overwhelming expectations of her civilian life.
At least it had gotten better.
After the first three weeks, Makoto began coexisting in the same room as Ami, still refusing to talk or acknowledge her presence. Then, two weeks ago, she resumed cooking for both of them. Makoto maintained the silent treatment, but it felt like a miracle to finally taste her homemade meals again instead of the bland convenience store food.
Ami missed her cooking. She missed her.
The aching thought caused her to stop in her tracks, halfway down the walkway to their door.
She couldn’t blame her. What she said was horrible; inexcusable even.
It had happened during one of their occasional discussions about Ami’s parents. Makoto just would not let the subject drop, and it was stressing Ami out to no end. Though Ami tried her best to ignore the prodding, her resolve was short-lived. Their mutual frustration fueled what should have only been a minor disagreement into a full-blown fight.
It was their worst fight by far. They rarely ever argued, but something about that night had pushed Ami to react like a cornered animal.
“What could you possibly want me to say about that?! Uh, Mako?”
Before Makoto could even attempt to get a word in, Ami forged ahead.
“I’m sorry that I refuse to condemn the people I care about just to, somehow, make you feel better about yourself. They moved on. I moved on. The only one who hasn’t moved on is you!
Because you’re so preoccupied with flaunting your idealized, high-and-mighty standards of parenthood that your brain simply refuses to entertain the possibility that you're helping nobody but yourself.”
By this point, Ami’s face was flushed red from the overwhelming swell of emotions she was no longer able to contain.
"Flaunting? You got some serious fucking nerve, you know that, Ami.”
“How dare you spin this,” Makoto snarled, her own face burning with a matching rage. “Claiming that I’m making this about me, when you know damn well what the real problem is!”
“No! There’s no problem! You’re b—”
“Oh, so now there’s no problem at all?!”
“Do not interrupt me!” Ami barked, taking a decisive step forward and thrusting a scolding finger directly into Makoto's face.
“You don’t interrupt me, Makoto. You know I will not tolerate that behavior,” Ami hissed, her voice dropping to a grave silence. She paused, forcing a long, controlled exhale to steady her shaking frame.
The action only seemed to anger Makoto further. She leaned back against the counter, tapping her heel incessantly and biting her lip as she glared at the floor. Then, she let out an uncharacteristically bitter scoff.
“Fine! You win then,” she breathed quickly while throwing her hands in the air in mock defeat before dropping them heavily against the edge of the countertop.
“Everything’s perfect. I’ll let you go on living your perfect life, with your perfect childhood and perfect parents. I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill the role of the perfect girlfriend for you, Ami. I guess I’m just a fucking idiot for caring about this repressed crap you will just forever refuse to address.”
“I am not trying to win anything, Makoto!” Ami countered, her voice tightening in the attempt to mask her rising panic. “And I never stated things were perfect. I never stated my parents were perfect. Why are you being like this?”
“What have you stated, Ami?!” Makoto fired back, taking a heavy step forward, intentionally leaning into her girlfriend's clinical wording. “Because every single time I even try to talk to you about this, all you do is run and make excuses! I'll tell you what you've stated: nothing! That’s what you've stated!”
Makoto closed the distance between them, her eyes piercing. “But I saw. I heard. And I know enough. I know the damage and the hurt that their incompetence and willful negligence caused you. I don’t give a fuck about the circumstances, Ami. You can’t force me to overlook the fact that they failed you!”
She pressed closer, refusing to let Ami hide behind her walls any longer. “That your mother and father did not protect, love, or care for their daughter the way good parents are supposed to do!”
“WHAT WOULD YOU EVEN KNOW?!”
The air stilled the moment those words escaped Ami’s mouth, before she could do anything to stop them. By pure reflex, her hands flew up to cover her lips in horror.
The seconds that followed were agonizing.
Makoto froze, an incredulous look locking onto her features. It was as if her entire body and mind had been stunned, trying to process if what she had just heard was even real.
Then, a wave of raw emotion fractured across Makoto’s features, shifting faster than anything Ami had ever seen her experience. Moving automatically into damage-control mode, Ami tried to reach out, her voice a desperate blur of a hundred apologies mixed into one. But the movement only caused Makoto to flinch away from her touch. Disbelief and sorrow instantly twisted into pure, unfiltered rage, betrayed only by the visible tears threatening to spill over.
Ami's heart shattered as Makoto pressed her quivering lips tightly together, sharply averting her gaze as she took several steps back.
Her shaky breaths, raised arms, and tight fists told Ami that she was trying with all her might to contain an outburst; a brief glimpse of the old anger Makoto had fought so hard to leave behind. Instead of breaking, Makoto turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the front door behind her.
Ami knew that nothing could ever push Makoto to harm her. Not once in their years together had she felt even remotely unsafe or intimidated in her presence; quite the opposite. Makoto's tall, strong frame had always provided Ami with an ever-present sense of safety and stability.
However, Makoto had confessed early on about her struggles with overwhelming fits of anger. The worst of those past outbursts had led her to damage and break a few things in her old apartment, and she had once completely wrecked her aunt's old telephone stand back when they lived together.
It was a behavior Makoto was extremely ashamed of. Though it had drastically improved since meeting the others, and especially after moving in with Ami, the raw edge of that temperament was something she still had to confront on rare, painful occasions.
Ami didn’t see Makoto for a week after that. The only thing keeping her from frantically searching for her was Minako’s reassurance that she was safe, though Minako flatly refused to disclose where their friend was staying. Because Makoto had left her cell phone behind, a habit born from her fear of accidentally short-circuiting her electronics as Jupiter, Ami had no way of reaching out.
She just needed space.
And space Ami gave her.
Maybe that week would be enough.
That hope, however, rapidly dissipated the moment Makoto finally returned. She had brushed past Ami at the entrance without throwing a single glance her way, proceeding straight to their bedroom and locking the door. For the next two weeks, she only emerged when required by her busy work demands or basic needs. Ami made only a few desperate attempts to break her girlfriend from the spell, but all were unsuccessful.
But again, she couldn’t blame her.
Rei and Usagi were sympathetic, offering some guidance and words of encouragement, though Ami didn’t believe she deserved them. Seeing Usagi’s sincere heartbreak as Ami recounted the horrible things she had said stung worse than a slap to the face. Still, her friends managed to partially ease her anxiety, assuring her that Makoto wouldn't break up with her.
Following their advice, Ami had resorted to sleeping on the couch and providing her own meals, opting to give Makoto the physical space she needed to eventually reach out first.
That night was over two months ago.
It had been ten grueling, distressing weeks of pure regret; of wishing she hadn't acted so impulsively and allowed herself to hurt the person closest to her. Worse still was having to survive every single day without the comfort of her voice, her laugh, her smile, her touch...
She missed her so much.
Ami was terrified of coming home one day to find Makoto sitting on the couch, ready to tell her they needed to take time apart, or worse.
The mere thought made her feel sick to her stomach. Swallowing the fear, she placed her hand on the doorknob and took a moment to focus on her 4-7-8 breathing.
She sighed. Makoto was right.
Stepping inside, Ami felt the crushing weight partly lift from her gut the moment she saw the empty sofa. Then came the distant, comforting sound of sizzling oil. The savory aroma of what she guessed was a chicken or pork stir-fry quickly greeted her senses.
“Good evening,” Ami called out politely, though she didn't expect a reply. None came.
Still, as she stepped out of her penny loafers and neatly arranged them by the entrance, she caught a full glimpse of her girlfriend's features.
Makoto looked… tense.
Although Makoto had worn little more than a neutral expression with slightly furrowed brows for weeks, she had seemed a little more at ease over the past few days.Today, however, something was clearly troubling her more than usual.
Ami tried to suppress the returning knot in her stomach with a heavy, inaudible exhale. She crossed the room toward the refrigerator to store her fresh supply of caffeine, making herself as small as possible so as not to bump into or disturb the busy cook in the cramped kitchen.
Preoccupied with shuffling her drinks onto the top shelf, Ami failed to notice the movement behind her. Makoto turned off the gas stove and slid the sizzling pan to an adjacent burner, causing the loud sputter to gradually soften into a static hiss before fading altogether. As Ami steadied the last of her cans and stepped back to close the fridge door, she suddenly became aware of the silent figure standing right behind her.
The abrupt presence sent a small jolt through Ami as she turned face-to-face with the taller woman.
Their gazes met for the first time in months.
The look Makoto was giving her, though entirely unexpected, was unmistakable. It was an expression Ami had grown deeply acquainted with throughout the six years of their relationship.
Ami stilled, a completely different sensation slowly emerging from deep within her belly.
“Mako?”
Before she could start registering what was happening, Makoto moved to close the gap between them and crashed her lips hard against Ami’s. Perhaps too hard. Recognizing it immediately, Makoto softened the kiss, giving Ami the chance to pull away if she wanted.
Such resolve promptly faded as she felt Ami’s arms reach over her shoulders and clutch at the fabric of her black sweater in a desperate attempt to deepen their kiss.
With that, Makoto let her impulses take control. She pulled her girlfriend close as she pressed her body against Ami, pushing her hips against the nearby counter. After what felt like an eternity, Makoto responded to Ami’s silent pleas, opening her mouth to allow their kiss to deepen further. One hand roughly caressing Ami’s side as her right hand made its way to her breast without hesitation. Kneading the soft mound through the fabric of her off-white button-up.
Ami wasn’t sure what she was feeling at that moment.
While they were no strangers to spontaneous sex, this didn’t feel like anything Ami was used to experiencing with the taller woman. Makoto rarely handled her with force, let alone to this degree. Even in the moments where Makoto took charge, her touch always remained gentle and disciplined. Right now, her approach seemed uncharacteristically possessive. Ami knew Makoto would never hurt her, and as she felt her lover’s strong hands ravage her still-clothed body, the burning need for Makoto to tip her past the edge remained the one anchored thought in the tempestuous flow of her disheveled mind.
A pair of soft lips moving away from her mouth and down her throat quickly broke Ami from her thoughts. The hand previously squeezing her backside had traveled upward and was now awkwardly working the buttons of her top. Assuming that Makoto needed help, she lowered a hand to her chest, but was abruptly stopped by a tight grip around her wrist.
Makoto said nothing. She simply kept hungrily kissing and licking the side of Ami’s throat while holding an iron grasp over her hand, finally undoing the last of the buttons.
With her shirt now open, Ami gasped as Makoto seized her other hand and forcefully spun her to face the counter. Makoto pressed Ami’s palms flat against the cold surface, then slid her hands back up Ami’s arms, teasingly dragging her short nails through the fabric of her sleeves. She lingered at the base of her neck, lightly scratching to brush her short hair and collar out of the way.
A sharp shiver ran down Ami’s spine. She yelped and arched toward her lover, who was already leaning down to claim her newly exposed nape and shoulder.
Makoto’s hands slipped around to Ami's chest. Through the padded rose-beige bra, her index fingers began tracing tight, vigorous circles around Ami’s nipples, her remaining fingers pulling the fabric taut against the sensitive nubs.
Ami couldn’t get a hold of her breathing. Makoto's total withdrawal from their daily routine had caused Ami’s demanding libido to build into a quiet, simmering frustration. Though she always kept her urges from interfering with her professional life, the lack of release was a problem she could no longer easily ignore.
Every action from her girlfriend seemed to automatically seize her motor functions. Makoto knew exactly where she was sensitive. While she normally worked her way slowly around those areas so as to not overwhelm the small genius, right now she was directly targeting them. It wasn't something Ami prohibited; rather, it wasn’t Makoto’s preferred approach, given how easily overstimulation could turn Ami off.
Sensing her girlfriend’s near-panicked state, Makoto halted her advances. Although she didn’t fully break away, leaving a gap between their bodies just big enough to reduce their contact to a minimum.
"Is this too much?”
Hearing the slightly raspy, warm sound of Makoto’s voice felt surreal. It was so overwhelming that Ami couldn’t fully register what her lover was asking, the swelling of pure joy overtaking everything else.
Makoto had never felt Ami shake so much outside a climax. She was uttering soft whimpers and moans in response to Makoto’s touch, but their mismatched timings, her ragged breathing, and her tightly closed eyes revealed the truth: Ami was hyper-focused on trying to control her own senses.
So she stopped.
Their often inconvenient height difference proved useful this time, as it allowed her to lean over her girlfriend’s barely bent figure without keeping full contact between their bodies. She placed her relaxed, closed fists next to each of Ami’s open hands, which were desperately grasping at the marble below in an attempt to ground herself.
The repeated sound of Makoto’s voice snapped Ami back to reality.
“Hm!”
“What? I’m sorry, Mako, I missed what you said,” Ami shyly mumbled, still trying to get her racing mind back in the moment.
“Is this—” Makoto took a moment to clear her throat and reformulate her sentence. “Do you want me to slow down?”
Her tone made it clear she was still mad, but she couldn’t hide her concern even through her dry, stoic mask.
Once she managed to get most of her thoughts back in order, Ami turned her face just barely to the side to peek at the woman hovering over her left shoulder. Makoto’s eyes were fixated on the surface of the countertop, looking at nothing in particular. Her expression matched the flat, relaxed look Ami had gotten used to over the last several days.
As if afraid of testing the tension, Ami averted her gaze as well, joining in her lover’s fixation on the cold, immaculate dark surface. After taking a second to swallow the lump in her throat, she replied nervously.
“No. Th-this is fine.”
…
“You’re shaking,”
“Oh.” Ami paused, trying to steady herself as she unknowingly forced a nervous smile. “I’m-I’m okay. Don’t worry. I just… I guess I was taken by surprise. I think my body just took a moment to catch up with what was happening. But I would like to continue. If you wish to as well, of course.”
By the end of her sentence, Ami was fully aware of the intense blush overtaking her whole face and ears.
The palpable fluster, tension, and awkwardness the couple emitted through their quiet, nervous tones closely resembled what they had shared when they made love for the first time.
Somehow, this experience made twenty-three-year-old Ami Mizuno feel like a high schooler all over again.
She found herself blushing at the mere proximity of the girl of her dreams, whom she had managed to ask out in a remarkable strike of boldness and conviction. It was a period of her life where meeting casual glances, holding her hand, sharing the briefest kiss, or even getting a chance to be alone with her felt like the most intense and purest shot of happiness delivered straight to her heart. Every moment spent together was akin to a blessing, and every moment apart was spent counting down the minutes until they could be with each other once again.
How could she ever have taken this for granted? How could she ever have taken her for granted?
She had been such an idiot.
The two spent a short while in silence. Neither of them seemed to mind.
In fact, it felt nice. They relished their almost contactless embrace.
Taken completely off guard, Ami felt Makoto’s thumb gently brushing against the back of her hand with an almost scared touch. She instinctively shifted her palm toward the comforting caress.
They could have stayed like that for hours. To Ami, this felt so wonderful. She loved Makoto for so many reasons, but it was small moments like this that never failed to simply floor her. Just how far this woman went to always make sure she felt safe, comfortable, and loved. She made it look so effortless, but Ami knew the truth.
Taking a breath because it was now or never, Ami spoke. “Mako, I’m so—”
“Don’t.” The words came out of Makoto too quiet for anyone but Ami to hear. She wasn’t looking to cover Ami’s voice; the hushed tone felt more like a shy request than a demand. “Let’s talk about it later.”
“Okay.” Ami agreed, wishing to respect her lover’s honesty.
As Makoto continued softly stroking Ami’s hand, she delicately rolled it over so she could move her gentle touch to the inside of her palm. “You would tell me if you want me to stop, right?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
At the sound of the fragile whisper, Ami felt Makoto’s face inch forward, seeking out her gaze. Ami shifted slightly, careful not to let the frame of her glasses tangle in Makoto's thick hair. Seeing the absolute sincerity and vulnerability reflected in Makoto's green eyes, she assured her lover in a serious tone.
“I promise.”
Makoto let go of the heavy breath she felt like she had been holding for hours as she returned her attention back to the marble top, much to Ami's dismay. With a strike of boldness, Ami reached to carefully hold the finger that was caressing the inside of her own palm, which hastily halted its movements.
She recognized that Makoto wasn't feeling comfortable enough to fully share in the affection for the time being; the action was meant more as a sign of reassurance and connection. She briefly worried she might have overstepped Makoto's boundaries. However, a delicate, almost imperceptible tug around her hand, followed by the soft touch resuming, quickly washed that anxiety away.
Makoto stepped closer, her feet framing Ami’s as their bodies merged once again. The sensation of Makoto's full chest pressing firmly against her back, the faint thumping of her heartbeat, and her warm breath tickling the delicate skin of Ami's ear made her throat tight. God, she had missed her.
“May I?” Makoto whispered.
“Please.” Ami's breathless reply came without a moment of hesitation.
A soft, tentative press of lips against the corner of her mouth was Makoto's silent invitation. Ami swiftly accepted, tilting her head to lock their lips together once more.
Despite mentally preparing herself, Ami let out a sharp, muted gasp as Makoto grabbed her breasts once more, her skilled fingers vigorously flicking and pinching the sensitive peaks.
While Makoto focused on her chest, her hips began a sensual, grinding pressure against Ami's backside. Ami arched back against the movement, lifting her heels slightly off the ground to maximize the friction as she gave her all to match Makoto's frantic rhythm.
Breaking the kiss, Makoto trailed her mouth over to Ami's ear, lifting a hand to cautiously remove her girlfriend's glasses and setting them aside out of the way.
Ami moaned deeply as Makoto fully cupped her breasts from underneath the cloth, lifting the bra in a smooth, swooping motion until it rested atop her now uncovered chest. Makoto briefly withdrew her fingers, coating them with a thin layer of warm saliva before returning to her rough touch to spare Ami's delicate skin.
A mix of the heightened pleasure from the direct stimulation and the frantic friction between their bodies was quickly causing Ami to lose her footing.
Seeing how Ami repositioned to grip the edge of the counter as her feet began to stagger, Makoto slowed her movements to a stop and went to unbuckle the woman’s trousers instead. With a bit of help from Ami, the dark green pants and panties dropped to the floor with a soft thump. Makoto brought her right hand to her lips to gather some spit before pressing her fingers down into Ami's heat.
“Mako…” Ami groaned her name as the long fingers continued their crucial torment for a solid minute before Makoto used her own foot to guide Ami’s legs farther apart, eagerly slipping two fingers inside the opening.
The deliberate pace of their passionate moment filled the open living area. Through the shades, the last traces of dusk finally surrendered to the sea of darkness, replaced by the scattered, faint glows of the city's nightlife.
Ami's deep moans grew heavier and heavier, alerting Makoto of her girlfriend's rapidly approaching climax. Without breaking her pace, the brunette shifted her fingers to press against the upper wall in search of that special spot. Once she found it, she gave it all her attention, brushing her fingers against it hard, over and over. She pushed deeper into the opening, allowing her palm to drive against the writhing woman's clit with every thrust.
Ami’s clutch over the edge of the countertop tightened as she felt her legs begin to give way. Makoto’s incessant rhythm was ruthless. Ami held her breath against the surging waves of ecstasy building inside her, but she still couldn't quite break through the edge.
”Breathe,” Makoto whispered in a soft yet demanding tone.
As the smaller woman allowed herself to deeply exhale, it was like the wall finally came down. Ami arched and suddenly stilled, before her legs shook uncontrollably as she let out a soft wail.
Ami’s inner muscles tightened in a sudden, violent sequence of spasms, pinning Makoto’s fingers and forcing her to slow down, though she continued grinding her palm against the sensitive clit.
“No, please… please,” Ami let out a pleading cry. Her quivering hand reached down, desperately clutching at Makoto's arm. “Don’t stop. Please, Mako. Don’t stop.”
Her hips rocked frantically against Makoto's hand to prolong the heightened stimulation, her body bending flat against the countertop as she let out countless pants and whines of need.
Overriding her initial surprise, Makoto avidly gave in to her lover's request. Bracing her feet wider, she hooked her hand under the back of Ami’s thigh and lifted her leg. The new position opened Ami up completely, allowing Makoto to thrust deep and hard without resistance, her palm driving relentlessly against her clit.
“Mako!”
The result was instant as stifled, trembling hums filled the silent air once again. Makoto’s name rolled off Ami’s lips faster and faster, driven by the quicker, harder pace. The sound of her ongoing release was unmistakable as it coated and spilled over Makoto's hand.
Ami felt utterly powerless, able to do nothing but call out her lover’s name in ecstasy as wave after wave crashed over her. It was too much, yet not nearly enough; she could no longer tell where one climax ended and the next began.
Her whole body flushed hot, she tucked her arms tightly beneath her and pressed her forehead against the cold surface. Clasping her hands with a white-knuckled grip, the desperate need for Makoto to keep her past the edge overpowered every other sense. Surrendering all control, she let her mind and body fully indulge in every second of the paralyzing euphoria her lover was giving her.
Makoto was solely focused on her girlfriend’s pleasure.
She had pushed Ami to multiple orgasms before, but this time felt different. Seeing Ami beg her to keep going, completely relying on her stamina to sustain that high, transfixed her.
Feeling Ami peak again and again flooded Makoto with a deep sense of gratification and pride; hearing her name roll off Ami’s lips was utterly addictive.
Despite her best efforts, Makoto’s wrist began to go numb from the awkward angle. Feeling herself approaching the brink of exhaustion, she drove deep into the opening one last time and curled her fingers. She scraped against the sensitive spot to draw out one final climax, letting out a labored grunt from the sheer exertion.
When Makoto stopped her steady thrusting and drew out Ami's final wave, it was as if all the pleasure caught up to her body at once. Finally reacting after being paralyzed for so long, Ami’s entire frame shook as she released a sustained sob. The ecstasy surged through her intermittently, causing her body to submit to the powerful muscle spasms. Her legs were now totally useless, and she relied fully on Makoto’s hold and the countertop she was lying on to keep upright.
Makoto breathlessly guided Ami’s leg to the ground and shifted her arm to support her by the waist, leaning into the countertop to regain her breath. Both women’s hearts raced as they had just run a marathon. Beads of sweat rolled down their flushed faces, the sound of heavy panting resonating through the lust-filled air.
Unlike her inner walls, which still tightened in spasms around Makoto’s fingers, Ami's legs and hips softened into a relaxed stance, twitching only occasionally as she slowly made her way down from her high. Ami's breathing steadily settled into a regular pace, though her heart kept hammering in her chest.
By the time the internal pulses had quietly subsided, she let out a soft, surprised whimper when those fingers shifted deep inside her before sliding out completely, leaving a few more warm streaks to trace their way down her thighs.
The world drifted back into focus as she heard the distinct, eager sound of Makoto licking her fingers clean. Pulling her fingers from her mouth, Makoto tasted her own lips before shifting her attention back to the woman beneath her.
“Can you stand?” she asked, releasing the tight grip on Ami's hips and propping her hands forward for her girlfriend to lean on.
Ami braced herself on her forearms and pushed her body off the cold surface. “I think so.” Her legs were still a little shaky, so she gratefully accepted the support as she took a short moment to regain her balance. “Thank you.”
Once Makoto felt confident Ami could keep upright on her own, she let go of her hands and made her way to retrieve a clean kitchen towel. Ami’s face turned beet red the moment she noticed the significant dark spill staining the front of Makoto’s apron.
“Here,” Makoto said, handing Ami the towel before bending down to hold the damp clothing pooled at her feet. “You can step out.”
“Oh! Thank you,” Ami murmured, snapping out of her trance. Pressing the cloth low to catch the trailing moisture, she carefully maneuvered along the edge of the counter. While Ami quietly patted dry the soft hair of her intimacy and the delicate skin of her inner thighs, Makoto untied the strings of her apron and tossed it atop the growing pile of laundry.
Ami stood awkwardly in place, watching Makoto wash her hands and turn back to collect the mess. Noticing that Ami hadn't moved, Makoto looked up. "Do you want me to take those, too?”
Although her voice still rang hollow, Ami knew her well enough to tell the coldness was forced, at least to some degree.
“Ah. Yes… Thank you.” Ami stripped off her remaining garments and handed them over. She found herself feeling unexpectedly vulnerable as her timid, naked form stood in front of Makoto. A level of intimacy that would otherwise feel natural and comforting now left Ami exposed and fragile, as the heavy silence echoed their inner turmoil.
Despite the sudden physical reconnection, the two had not locked eyes since their last shared promises, both quickly averting their gazes the second they happened to accidentally meet.
She was being too greedy. She knew she was, but she truly couldn't help it.
As Makoto turned to move, she was halted by the sound of Ami’s urgent, trembling voice. “I—um. Thank you, Mako. For… for doing that.” Ami swallowed hard, casting her eyes downward, too anxious to meet her gaze as her fingers nervously picked at her fingernails. “It felt really good.”
With those last hushed words, Ami gathered all her courage and forced herself to look up into Makoto’s eyes, ignoring the hot flush spreading across her cheeks. The tight line of her lips gave away her inner tension.
Makoto’s flat, weary mask cracked. A subtle tug at the corner of her lip gave way to a brief half-smile. Faint, but a smile nonetheless. It made Ami’s heart flutter.
“You’re welcome,” Makoto murmured.
She dropped her focus back to the damp clothes clutched against her front, unconsciously biting the inside of her cheek. A fleeting inner conflict crossed her features, but it was quickly quelled as she shifted the bundle over to one hand. She reached out with the other, her fingers weaving through Ami's soft hair, caressing her scalp as she pressed her lips against her temple in a prolonged, meaningful kiss.
The gesture eased Ami into a pure, unadulterated tranquility.
For as much as the couple valued the importance of sexual intimacy, sharing quiet moments of comfort and affection following each encounter was equally crucial. Normally, this transition was spontaneous for them, flowing naturally from their nurturing and devoted dispositions. A mutual need so deeply woven into their bond that standing there without it left Ami unfulfilled, wordlessly praying for Makoto to grant her this final plea of affirmation.
Makoto broke away from her warm brow. “You should go freshen up now. It won’t be long until dinner.” She allowed her hand to linger in the soothing massage for a few moments longer before finally pulling away. Ami nodded and turned towards the bathroom, feeling Makoto’s gaze heavy on her naked form until she stepped around the corner of the hallway and out of sight.
Even after the sound of the shower echoed down the hall, Makoto found herself fixated on the empty spot where her girlfriend had just stood, unable to look away. She placed a calming hand over her chest as she braced against the vigorous thumping resonating throughout her whole body.
Her eyes dropped to the bundle nestled in her arm. The sight of the small white towel sitting right on top caused her mouth to suddenly run dry. With a final, cautious glance toward the empty hallway, she lifted the cloth Ami had just surrendered, pressing it against her lips and nose. Breathing her in, the intoxicating mix of their sudden intimacy and Ami’s familiar scent filled her senses, grounding her in a deep, lulling comfort that made her lingering anger wash away completely; even if just for a brief moment.
It had only been supposed to be a talk.
A simple conversation where Makoto would allow Ami the chance to apologize, and offer an apology of her own, with the clear understanding that she still needed more time. More time for things to return to how they were, for them to fully reconnect on an emotional level, and especially on a physical one. Yet, her carefully laid plans, her hard-earned composure, and her simmering anger had all so easily collapsed the second she saw the woman’s body stretch as she reached for the top shelf. The tucked-in shirt stretched taut across her waist, pulling tight against her skin as she staggered slightly on the balls of her feet… was that really all it took?
The sharp tinge of shame brought her back to the present, realizing she was still heavily indulging in the sweet scent of her girlfriend’s arousal. She hastily pulled it away and tossed the bundle into the rest of the laundry pile on the floor. She sighed heavily. Perhaps the chores ahead would suppress her mind’s effort to linger on about her private surrender, and ease the profound yearning she was helpless to stop feeling for the woman in the next room.
As Ami stepped out of the shower and swiftly began towel-drying her short hair, her eyes idled on her reflection peeking through the barely fogged mirror. She leaned in slightly to inspect her neck and shoulders, making sure her girlfriend hadn’t left any noticeable marks. For as much as Ami loved when Makoto put extra care into stimulating her throat, she had requested that she generally avoid biting or sucking on the sensitive skin, given how awkward and stressful the process of hiding the bruises had been in the past. A warm blush and a knowing smile caressed her features as she noted the skin was entirely clear.
She took a couple of steps back to briefly admire her figure, allowing herself to fully bask in her returning confidence. She was far from vain, and even though she took care of her body, Ami had never considered herself to be anything above average at best. Yet the way Makoto made her feel desired always led to a short, empowering spike in her self-image. Hormones, she figured. She let out a soft giggle as she caught herself musing over her own silliness, finally leaving the bathroom to dress and join Makoto for dinner.
They ate their meal in silence. Ami knew Makoto was not fond of heavy discussions taking place while she or her guests were eating. She still remembered her girlfriend’s exact words: a conversation should only serve to enhance the flavors of a good meal, never to ruin them.
As she ate, she occasionally glanced up at Makoto, noticing how often the latter was picking through her food while chewing with a not-so-subtle grimace. Ami restrained herself from voicing a sympathetic chuckle. Makoto hated the stir-fry. She was always a harsh judge of food, especially her own, but Ami couldn’t help but find a bit of humor in the situation.
This was the only meal Makoto had ever served that could be considered even remotely below excellent; the direct result of impromptu love-making. Makoto would probably not find it quite as funny.
With the plates cleared, Makoto got to her feet and gathered her dinnerware, heading toward the other side of the high counter that separated the kitchen from the open living area. Ami picked up on the silent invitation. She took a moment to focus on her breathing, then stood to carry her own set over to the sink.
Makoto hovered over the stainless steel basin, waiting for her girlfriend to join her.
“Thank you for the wonderful dinner, Mako. It was very good,” Ami said, settling her plate on top of the other.
She was caught by surprise when an honest snort escaped Makoto, as she failed to suppress a small laugh. “Was it?”
Seeing her smirk and snarky comeback eased Ami’s remaining anxiety, so much so that she allowed herself to play along with the comfortable teasing.
Flashing a light blush and a slight smirk of her own, Ami countered, “By my standards? A very solid stir-fry with an excellent flavor profile, only barely bogged down by a slightly overcooked texture. By your standards? A remarkably underwhelming meal falling ever so slightly below the line of mediocrity.”
Makoto let out an amused snicker. “That’s probably still too generous.”
The room settled back into a pregnant silence once again.
She was ready. Ami opened her mouth as she felt the confidence ru—
“I know you want to apologize,” Makoto said, her words cutting cleanly through Ami’s mental preparation. “But… before you do, I would like to speak first. If you’re okay with that.”
Ami's respectful silence and attentive, serious gaze were all the affirmation Makoto needed to resume. She let out a small sigh, closing her eyes for a mere moment to compose herself.
“I wanted to apologize for pushing you into a situation where you felt cornered and… scared to such a degree that it caused you to react that way.”
”No! Mako, you shouldn’t apologize for that. I should have neve—” Ami cut herself off when Makoto’s pensive gaze met hers, brows slightly furrowed. Catching the slip-up immediately, she excused her rude interruption with a wave of tangible embarrassment and shame. “Forgive me. I’ll be quiet and let you finish. Please continue.”
Her arms instinctively linked low in front of her, her feet drawn together as her chin rose slightly to maintain fixed eye contact with the taller woman. The guarded, yet respectful stance was a deeply ingrained habit stemming from the smaller woman’s polite nature. Despite her initial irritation over the interruption, Makoto couldn’t help but be secretly charmed by her girlfriend’s overtly formal recomposure. Yep, she thought, she's definitely still the polite, considerate Ami Mizuno I fell in love with all those years ago.
“I—I shouldn’t have kept up my insistence on the subject,” Makoto continued, her voice softening. “It was very clearly something that made you uncomfortable, and I knew it. It was never really my business to begin with, yet I kept inserting myself into the matter, time and time again. I guess…” An audible gulp broke through her shaky breath. “I was looking for ways to justify my anger. Seeing how you always skirted around directly blaming them for your problems… it made me feel as if my own feelings toward them weren’t validated.”
Makoto smoothed an invisible wrinkle on her long skirt. “So, I took it out on you. In the process, I blatantly disregarded your sensitivities and your boundaries. I took advantage of your patience and the regard you held for my own feelings, unabashedly insulting the people you obviously still cared about and loved deeply, despite their flaws.”
Letting out one final, heavy, trembling sigh, Makoto looked at Ami straight on. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel as if you had to choose between them or me. I promise you that was never my intention. I was just… stubborn, immature, and, well, patronizing. I’ll work to do better. Not just for you and for us, but for them, too. I’m sorry.”
With those final words, Makoto felt a massive weight lift from her heart. She really was sorry for the way she had treated Ami. Ami's endless patience had provided Makoto with the perfect leverage, allowing her own weakness, anger, and pride to push her past her limits. Ami’s words still hurt; she couldn’t kid herself about that fact. And while she couldn’t entirely absolve her girlfriend of blame, she had to recognize how her own actions contributed to pushing them to the brink of almost no return.
Ami’s rigid stance gradually relaxed, allowing her hands to melt from their formal clutch into a soft, relaxed clasp. Her right thumb absentmindedly rubbed against her palm.
”It’s okay,” Ami said, biting her lip lightly before continuing. “I should have also been more understanding of your feelings. I know I give Mom and Dad a lot of leeway, but part of me just wants to move on and forget the mistakes of the past. It blinds me to how those circumstances might have shaped some of the… less charitable aspects of my character.” At those last words, Ami let out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle.
Makoto’s eyes softened.
“I do believe that living with you has helped round those edges,” Ami continued, looking up. “Your efforts, your words and gestures. Just, everything you do, you always do with so much consideration for me. It makes it easy to forget my own shortcomings. The last two months… have done a lot to show me that.”
Ami closed her eyes, gathering her courage to be totally emotionally vulnerable and open with the woman she loved, much like Makoto had always done with her. Makoto was always the bravest of the two.
“The divorce was hard on me,” Ami confessed, tightening the clasped hands. “I don’t think I was ever fully able to grasp the extent of the impact that moment left on my mind as I grew up. I don’t know if I ever will; it’s honestly hard to tell. I recognize that there are a lot of things they both could have done better to help me work through and understand their decision. Just… them being there, being present, it would’ve helped.”
Makoto could tell by the way the smaller woman’s voice was breaking that Ami was giving it everything she had not to start crying. She rarely ever saw her girlfriend break down in tears; Ami never talked about it much, simply stating that she hated crying, but Makoto knew it was something much deeper than that. She understood her completely.
“Mom and Dad are getting old. I don’t want to hold onto a resentment that might cause me to further distance myself from them.” Her next words dropped to a barely audible whisper, but the kitchen was quiet enough for Makoto to catch every one. “I can’t waste any more years because… because I don’t know how many years I’ll have left with them. I don’t want their last memory of their daughter to be one of regret; a mistake. I would never forgive myself if that happened.”
She couldn’t stop the stream of warm tears from flowing as she felt Makoto wrap her arms around her in a secure, comforting hug. A strong hand rubbed Ami’s back reassuringly while Makoto's cheek rested atop her still-damp hair, making her feel safe and loved in her most vulnerable moment. A few minutes passed in silence. Makoto kept her firm yet gentle hold while Ami allowed herself to silently wind down within the arms of the woman she loved so much.
With a tap on Makoto's arms, Ami let her know she was ready to resume their talk. Makoto loosened her embrace, separating slightly, but kept her hands framing the smaller woman’s shoulders.
”We don’t have to continue this today. That was a lot for both of us,” Makoto murmured with a tired smile, well aware of the grueling effort the whole-hearted confession had taken out of her. “How about I make us some tea, and we can just relax for the rest of the evening, mmh?”
Ami shook her head with sudden determination, briefly preoccupied with wiping away the residual moisture from behind her glasses.
”No, it wouldn’t be fair,” Ami insisted with conviction, cutting off any further protest from her girlfriend. “To you, or to myself.”
The air chilled once again as Makoto's warm hands dropped from her shoulders, accompanied by a knowing, heavy sigh from the taller woman.
There was so much she could say; so much she should. But what if it sounded disingenuous because she was overthinking it? What if she missed something? It would be her fault. Only her fault. Organizing her scattered thoughts into a coherent, honest flow of words suddenly felt like a gargantuan task; impossible, even.
Her face paled as she felt herself slipping, teetering on the cold edge of panic. It was the same suffocating helplessness that used to trap her as a child, a desperate, self-sustaining loop.
No, no! This is too important for Makoto! she screamed at herself internally, unable to do anything else. Why? I was fine even a few seconds ago. Just… Why? Why am I like this?
“I’m right here, Ami. It’s okay,” Makoto’s gentle, calming voice resonated soundly amidst her mental spiral. “I won’t leave, I promise.”
Right. Right… Breathe. Her breathing.
With every deep intake of fresh oxygen, she felt the tension gradually, soothingly recede. Her disheveled thoughts began to collect, and the loud inner voices steadily settled as color pumped back into her features. It was all coming back together.
It didn’t need to be perfect. It would be okay.
“I—I don’t want to lie to you,” Ami whispered, her voice raw. “I want to be completely honest, no matter how horrible it makes me look, because it’s the truth.”
Ami’s head shook slowly in disbelief as her mind replayed the memories of their fight.
“When the discussion escalated, I felt scared. All I wanted was to leave—to just escape—but I couldn’t. So, I panicked. But I knew exactly what I was doing. I was so afraid of having to face my own insecurities, of facing those feelings again when it all came crashing down, that… that I chose to hurt you instead.”
Ami looked up to meet Makoto’s green eyes, the latter visibly restraining the swell of emotions surfacing to the top, her lips locked tight.
“You opened up to me about yourself, your parents, and your past. You trusted me, and I chose to shatter that trust, all because I’m a coward. You have always been the bravest, strongest person I know, Mako. And I used the vulnerability you were strong enough to show me as a weapon, because I was too weak to be vulnerable with you.”
She took a shaky breath, a somber sincerity exuding from her completely unguarded form.
“What I said… those were just the cruelest words I could hide behind. They were lies, and I knew it. I know how deeply your mother and father loved you. Not just from the beautiful, meaningful memories you trusted me with, but because of you.”
“You are the best example of just how good of parents they truly were. Your kindness, your strength, your capacity to love and protect everyone around you; it is all the living proof of their teachings and their influence. You grew up to be the most wonderful person I have ever met in my life.” Ami decisively swallowed any remaining uncertainty and fear before voicing her final words.
“I'm sorry for breaking your trust, and for breaking your heart, Mako. I really am.”
They stood quietly looking at each other for a moment before Makoto stepped forward to close the gap, reaching out to take Ami’s palms. Their hands loosely connected in a relaxed hold. Ami saw Makoto’s green eyes methodically searching for something while holding a wistful gaze. Realizing this, Ami allowed her full access, resting within the comfort of their connection.
Makoto already knew she was going to forgive Ami—she hadn’t doubted it for a single moment—but the raw intensity of Ami’s honest words struck a chord deep within her. It brought her back to a dark place she was unfortunately all too familiar with.
In the past, Makoto’s tendency to pour her whole heart and soul into a relationship had led to multiple partners taking advantage of her, some even abusing her. They had weaponized Makoto’s willingness to accept her personal boundaries being pushed for the sake of their happiness, telling her it was fine because she loved them and they loved her. Or so they said. Lie after lie after lie, the thread of her desperation running thinner and thinner until it finally snapped. And then, there was nothing. Never any accountability, never any acceptance of fault, never a shred of care or remorse. She was just a tool to be used and ditched, left entirely alone to pick up the pieces of the broken heart she chose to wear on her sleeve. She had forced smiles through unwanted touches, surrendered her body just to keep the peace, and convinced herself that sacrificing her own comfort was the price of being loved. But it was fine, she had told herself, because the next one would be the one.
For the longest time, she had simply blamed herself. That’s what she wanted. A hopeless romantic. A woman so desperate for love that she’d willingly debase herself to savor mere scraps. How truly pathetic.
Ami, however, had always been a dear friend. Since the beginning, she found herself gravitating toward the girl, cherishing her calming company, her subtle yet deeply caring and devoted personality, the always charming and endearing way she carried herself. Although even after over two years of their blooming friendship, she had never quite thought about Ami that way. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the girl’s general disinterest in dating, or maybe her always extremely stuffed schedule and high career ambitions, or even her rather ambiguous sexual orientation.
The last thing she ever expected was for her to show up one day and ask her out on a date. An actual date, not a friend-date. Why not? She had thought back then. She’s nice, she’s cute, she’s one of my best friends whom I trust with my life. It would be a fun experience, and even if it didn’t work out, she found solace in the idea that, this time, she wouldn’t be left alone to pick up the pieces. That Ami would be there.
Six years… how funny.
All of those years, she had spent chasing the embers, desperately tending to the dying glow, praying and clinging for the faintest spark, only to realize that the fire was never meant to be from the start. Yet, with Ami there was no ember, no deceptive glow. Just a place; a safe, comforting environment for them to slowly but surely create their own bonfire, piece by piece. She still remembered when she had seen the first faint glow of that realization. Euphoria. Maybe, just maybe, this could be it. Maybe, this could be the one. Hope turned to love as they sat by the fulfilling, sheltering warmth. It was what it truly felt like to be loved, a feeling she had almost allowed herself to forget.
Makoto saw love. Despite their hardships, despite their differences, despite their mistakes, there it was. Its glow was simple, clear, and comforting.
She tightened her grip around her girlfriend’s fingers reassuringly and cleared her throat, trying to anchor her voice.
“I forgive you, Ami. I mean it, but…” Makoto paused, a tremor suddenly breaking through her previous conviction. She tenderly dropped her gaze onto their joined hands; she felt her heart battling against her better judgment, desperately wishing to drop her guard and pull the woman she loved tight into her arms. But she refused. It was for their best.
She took a deep breath to ground herself in her final resolve; her soft, determined gaze met Ami’s once again. “But I still need a little more time. Some time to let things… settle a bit—for us. I’m not ready to move on completely and pretend that nothing happened. I really, really want us to be okay again, but I don’t want to rush it just because I miss being with you.” Her thumb lightly brushed against Ami’s fingers.
“It’s important to me that you know: I’m not trying to make this a punishment. This is simply to leave some room for our feelings to get sorted out without any… ‘distractions’ getting in the way.”
A light tint spread across Makoto’s cheeks when she voiced those final words. She felt a knowing, genuine smile grow as she saw the color of Ami’s cheeks mirror hers.
“I understand. You take all the time that you need, Mako.” Ami flashed a sincere smile that made Makoto’s heart flutter.
With a final heartfelt sigh, Makoto leaned in against her girlfriend. Their foreheads touched as they cherished the safe comfort of their shared moment.
“Ami.”
”Mh?” Ami’s eyes were closed as she was slowly nuzzling against the soothing, subtle weight of her girlfriend. The deep, stable serenity she had missed so much.
”You need to give your poor back a break. I don’t want you sleeping on the sofa anymore; there’s plenty of empty space on the bed.”
“Okay.”
The quiet of the room hung heavy with the weight of the words left unsaid.
But for now, it was a start.
.