Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

iii. stranger

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The void of space is such a vast expanse. She, an organic lifeform floating in all of its emptiness, wonders for a second that if, just if, she turned off all signals and every other emergency device installed in her suit, would anyone find her?

Does anyone even care?

To be honest, she does not mind dying out here. There is no difference from dying back at the academy. 

At least out here, she can enjoy the sight of the stars. The little flickering spots that stretch beyond what the human eye can see, and she is but a mere atom amongst this universe—it’s kind of poetic, if she thinks about it. So, perhaps in death, she can imagine herself to join these little spots of light. Perhaps even become one herself?

Ah, what is she going on at this point? Miorine isn’t usually so delusional. Something is wrong with her. Is this a sign of her impending doom? She checks her oxygen. 

2.4%. 

Well, that probably explains the mindless rambling in her head. She’s running out of air. It’s best she conserves what little life she has left and pray that she didn’t pay for some scammer. How funny would that be? That she, Miorine Rembran, the daughter of Benerit Group’s CEO, has succumbed to suffocation in space because she paid for a fake smuggling organization. 

The thought of it makes her chuckle. 

That would embarrass the hell out of her lousy father. 

Miorine takes one last deep breath. One more, and she will close her eyes. Close her eyes and accept that this may very well be the end. That—

Beep beep. Beep beep.

A faint sound. It comes from her own suit. A signal of an approaching object?

She opens her eyes. It takes her a moment; she may not even be in the correct orientation, but she had long turned off that function to conserve energy. From a distance, she sees the same river of flickering stars—up until she focuses a bit harder and sees that… no, there’s a blue light—a blinking blue light that is approaching, coming her way.

The smugglers? She thinks hopefully. 

Only, when it is close enough, she sees that it is a mobile suit. 

Oh, no. 

She is caught in the suit’s hands, held—trapped. She tries to flail about, tries to tell the pilot that no, you got this wrong! But she hasn’t turned on her radio, and she’s pulled into the cockpit and—

“Are… are you okay?” A girl’s voice. “Hello? Can you—”

Miorine grits her teeth. She raises her head right up, hitting her rescuer in the face—

A pained squeal. 

“Don’t interfere!” Miorine exclaims, opening up her helmet. “I was almost able to make my escape! Because of you, it was all for nothing!” She goes on, not giving her rescuer a break because oh, she is pissed— “You’ll take responsibility for this!”

And the girl, shocked and undoubtedly terrified of her remarks, just stares at her, dumbfounded. Or, well, not before agreeing without complaints, “... Okay.”

They are ushered back to the shuttle. Conveniently, it’s one that’s on its way to Asticassia. 

Miorine rolls her eyes. Wonderful. Just… wonderful. What are the freaking chances? Is she being screwed over by some kind of greater being out there? Is the universe itself telling her no, you’re not in charge of your own fate. Is it funny that she has to come back to this hell hole? 

She exits the mobile suit as soon as they are docked, not even bothering to listen to another word from her rescuer. But as she floats away, making a beeline towards the exit of the hangar, Miorine takes one glance at her, just as she is removing her helmet. 

For a second, they make eye-contact. Even from afar, Miorine sees a brilliant aqua hue within cobalt. Or is it cerulean?

But, you know what? Who cares.

She huffs. She shakes away this strange, uncanny strain in her heart and brushes it off as mere frustration.

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Yes, it is frustration. It has to be, for this rescuer of hers is so annoying. The audacity of her to just say those words in front of everyone in class!

“I-I’ll take responsibility!”

So out of context, too! What is she, an idiot?! As Miorine stares into those stupidly blue eyes of hers that she swears she’s seen somewhere, she clings onto the thought of how she wishes this girl can just leave her alone. Stay away, stay away, stay away—

Stay with me.

Huh?

Miorine isn’t giving the time to understand. The alarms blare. The entirety of the outdoor scheme changes. She grunts, feeling herself tense up and looks up at the large texts projected on the screens—

Guel Jeturk vs. Parker Eastcott.

Stupid. Such a stupid system.

Her fiance’s signature pink Dilanza rolls out, immediately pushing a generic Kapell-Kuu through the battlefield. It’s nothing new to have these pointless things interrupt classes, but Miorine thinks that she definitely did something wrong in her previous life to have to deal with this first-hand. 

She can tell, Guel is totally trying to show off, especially when he so aggressively pushes the challenger towards her way, right off the boundaries. She’s about to run, head for cover. The rest of the students are already doing it, but that girl—her annoying rescuer!—is awestruck or something. What is she, glued to the ground? Miorine doesn’t think twice. She runs to her.

Protect her.

What the hell—shut up, head!

Miorine grabs her hand, “You idiot! Do you want to get crushed? Run!” She starts running, and it frightens her so that the commotion is merely inches behind them even as they sprint away. A loud slash, something falls—a large, heavy object—crashing onto the ground, shaking perhaps the whole of Front Sector 73 and the two of them lose their balance.

She isn’t very athletic, Miorine knows, but some instinctive part of her—a rather powerful one, might she add—knows to throw the girl ahead. And then, somehow, she finds the need to shield the girl with her own body, however measly it may seem. 

It doesn’t even occur to her that her heart is pounding, thundering away in her chest. She’s positive that it’s not because of all the running, however. It’s unexplainable. It’s an intrinsic worry. A concern that forces her to look down, to ensure that the girl is safe. So, as the smoke and the dust clears up, as she sees curious blue eyes searching deep into her silver ones, Miorine ascertains that she is unharmed. It is only then she is able to let out a sigh of relief. 

But the very moment that she does, she feels dumb. Because, again, why does she care? 

Miorine stands, this time not bothering to acknowledge the fact that all the commotion is directly linked to her future.

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But the girl is annoying. She’s so, so, so annoying. 

Suletta Mercury. 

Miorine knows from the bottom of her heart that this girl means well, and, to be frank, she is an innocent student who accidentally got caught up in all this mess. If Miorine were to be honest, she really, really does not mind the girl sitting outside the greenhouse (as long as she remains quiet). Anyone else? Nah, get out of here.

Why she thinks that way, though, she cannot explain it. 

But every time Suletta tries to look inside, just, peeks a bit in, Miorine yells at her— “Don’t come in!” 

“I-I’m sorry!” The girl squeaks. 

It’s a contradiction. Miorine is such a hypocrite. She doesn’t care. She tells herself she shouldn’t care, but in her own subtle way, she glances outside. The sight of the girl still sitting out there, just… being present, it eases her. It’s small, but Miorine feels a tiny bit of warmth lingering, flickering like an ember—fighting to stay lit—deep in her heart. Being as meticulous as she is, Miorine would assess the situation, why she feels such a way, but when she hears the girl’s stomach grumbling, she just can’t help it. At once, she takes out one of the specially-bred tomatoes, wraps it neatly in a napkin and gives it to her. 

What, oh, what is she doing?

“It’s delicious!”

Why does she feel the need to talk to this girl?

And, once they are interrupted by Guel’s rather obnoxious and aggressive intrusion, the girl, just as confusingly—

“D-didn’t your mother ever teach you?”

—finds the need to get involved. Does she even know what she’s gotten herself into? No, of course she doesn’t. She is a mere transfer student. This is literally her first day of school and she’s already challenged the Holder of all people to a freaking duel. 

That’s… no, Miorine can’t have that. This is her fight. She can’t have anyone else get hurt because of her. 

I don’t want you hurt.

Stop. Stop it, seriously. 

So Miorine boards her rescuer’s mobile suit. It looks nothing at all like the other mechs she has seen, with its rather unusual design. Even the interface and the operating system are strange. In the heat of the moment, she is warned that there is an incoming scooter headed her way. Being not so adept at handling the functions of this strange machine, the intruder—or, more like, the owner of this mobile suit—barges in. 

“Let me take responsibility by defeating him!” She demands. 

Weird as it may be, in that split second, Miorine knows that it’s right to place her trust in this girl. This future of hers, in that little moment, is clasped in the hands of this stranger, and Miorine knows to allow it. 

And she is right to do so, because Suletta, unsurprisingly, prevails. She takes the name of the Holder. White, gold, and black pilot suit donned, Miorine must admit, she feels much better that this girl is wearing these colours over Guel.

Over anyone else. 

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So she will do her best to protect this right. 

If anyone tries to take Suletta—ah, er—as in, her title away from her, Miorine will beat them up. Well, figuratively, at least. She abandons her chance to run away once and for all. She stands up to her father, challenging his hypocritical, self-indulgent ass to a duel; she does whatever possible to give Suletta back everything she owns, everything the girl rightfully deserves. 

Suletta, perhaps feeling obliged to perform well since Miorine is trying so hard, wins. She does not disappoint Miorine and takes the victory from Guel, perhaps more important to the Dueling Committee, fairly.

“I won! Ms. Miorine, I-I won!” She comes out of the cockpit, waving with such an ecstatic energy that Miorine can’t help but to smile back. 

This calls for a celebration, does it not? Miorine isn’t one to speak up about this kind of stuff, but because she did indirectly put Suletta into this mess, she thinks that it is appropriate to offer it. “Suletta,” she calls to her.

“Yes?” The girl turns. 

Miorine freezes. In this tiny corridor, metallic and colourless, she finds solace in looking into Suletta’s eyes. The shade of the sky as seen on earth, the hue of the ocean that reflects its colour—all embodied in this girl’s curious gaze. But as Miorine looks, as she searches for whatever it may be, she… for the first time in her life, is tongue-tied. There are simply no words. 

“Ms. Miorine? I-is there…”

She snaps herself out of her trance. A weird, dream-like state. 

“... something wrong?”

Miorine considers. She thinks of all the possible answers she can give to this girl. Yes, she wants to say. There are many things wrong, but she doesn’t know what. No matter the case, she chooses to be quiet. Miorine’s bothered her enough. This girl clearly has no intention to marry her, and it isn’t like she herself plans to go through with her father’s stupid system, anyway. So it—it’s fine. It’s whatever. There’s no point for Miorine to get close to her. 

Shouldn’t get close. 

Don’t.

A twitch in her eye. She brushes off the discomfort. “... Nothing. Nevermind,” she says, walking past the girl. “Thanks for your help.” 

And with that, Miorine shouldn’t have to dabble in that stranger’s affairs any longer. At least, not unless someone challenges Suletta. 

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As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, she is her father’s daughter, which means just like him, she is a hypocrite. 

Although she says that she does not want to care, she can’t help it but to do so. She steps right up, telling—no, demanding to Suletta that she will be both her spotter and mechanic for her upcoming exam. She does this in a more aggressive manner than she wants to. It’s all involuntary as she pulls Suletta away from Elan Ceres, making up some dumb excuse—

Excuse?

—of how the Peil House is out for her hand, just like the Jeturk’s and the Grassley’s. 

“I couldn’t care less.” The ice-prince says in his usual, dumb, monotonous voice. 

She’s offended, of course, but some part of her just… ugh, she doesn’t know how to explain it. She just doesn’t want to see Suletta with another person, okay?! 

“Come with me.” She tells the girl, and she is glad that Suletta so willingly obeys. 

Miorine takes her to her room, or what used to be the chairman’s room. Not that it matters. Her father barely cares for the affairs that go on at the academy. He can spare one or two of his offices. In confidence, Miorine tells Suletta that she has everything down—all the information, the procedure, the rules. It’s basic stuff, nothing at all like the more complicated and technical ordinances that go on in the Management Strategy faculty. 

But the girl isn’t used to taking in so much information all at once. She studies and studies; Miorine herself helps her out—though she doesn’t know why she’s putting in so much effort. Just because she’s this girl’s bride and everything.

W-what the? She’s never ever thought of any of the Holders in such a way. Hell, she’d never referred to herself with such a term before. 

Strange.

“O-oh my, it’s already this late,” Suletta says.. “I-I’m so sorry I took so much of your time, Ms. Miorine.” She stands, wobbles a little probably because she’s been kneeling for the past, what, five hours? “I’ll be going—”

“Stay with me.”

Stay with me.

Suletta freezes. As does Miorine. 

The latter, feeling a rush of emotions that she can’t quite define, only stares at the girl in shock. It’s not so much because of what she said out loud. It’s more like… ah, what is that voice? This isn’t the first time. It isn’t. She’s been hearing it more frequently. Could it be fatigue? Dealing with the duel, with her father, and now helping Suletta cram—it has to be the stress, right?

Suletta, equally as confused, looks at her, eyes wide. She doesn’t stare at Miorine in shock—not exactly, but she does look dazed. “M-Ms. Miorine, I… d-did we—“

She blinks herself back to reality. Or, at least, she tries to. With each blink, her eyes become more blurred. With each blink, her head throbs. A silhouette, a murky figure that doubles Suletta’s, it appears in her vision. 

Miorine looks down, looks away from that vision, only to realize that she’s holding onto the hem of Suletta’s loose sleeve. 

Lapels of a white peacoat.

Oh, how very strange indeed. 

“Stay here,” she starts, unconsciously refusing to let go, unconsciously urging herself to push, push, just do it— “... w-with me. Only if you want, that is.”

“I do.” No hesitation. Suletta agrees in a heartbeat with a smile. “I-I want to.”

Miorine, on her part, finds herself smiling as well. Because it eases her, if only just a bit, to have this girl in her presence. It feels nice. She would never admit to anyone that she’s lonely—no, never. But with Suletta by her side, Miorine is starting to think that she never has to.

Even as her head continues to throb, even as the corner of her eye continues to twitch in discomfort, Miorine is content to see the girl sleeping on the futon laid out for her, next to her bed. 

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It is quite an adventure, then, isn’t it? With Suletta, things never get boring. Like, how dare she decide to go on a date with that ice-prince?!

“Don’t you go all Romeo and Juliet on me, Suletta!” 

What is she even saying? Why is she being so dramatic? This isn’t like her. She shouldn’t care. Suletta should be allowed to live her life. The poor girl did mention that she wants to meet new friends, to go on dates like any other student. Who is Miorine to stop her? 

Yeah, it pisses her off to see Suletta with someone else, but more than anything, she wants her happy. The continuous pounding in her head, the uncontrollable pain that claws in her heart asserts that Suletta deserves better. She’s gone through so much suffering and pain and… god, Miorine doesn’t know where all these ideas are coming from, but there is an inherent need to give Suletta the best. If anything, maybe it’s better that Suletta finds someone she can genuinely love—find someone who can love her back the same way. If the person is Elan Ceres, then so be it. Miorine should wish the very best for her.

It’s just… she barely knows the girl, barely knows who she is, and yet she’s trying so hard for her. Miorine comes up with a myriad of excuses. She tells herself that she has to because she’s an understanding bride, a-and she’s Suletta’s friend. 

That’s what they are. Yeah. That’s all they are.

So, on the day of Suletta and Elan’s date, Miorine escorts the girl to their supposed meeting spot. Is it her nosy side, or is it just her being unnecessarily protective? God, she will never admit either trait, but the audacity of that guy!

Ten o’clock. Eleven o’clock. Twelve o’clock.

Suletta sits there for the entire day—up until it darkens. Miorine comes back, riding her scooter and bringing a bento box along. 

“You’ve gone way past your curfew,” she tries to sound harsh, but it’s involuntary—seeing the vulnerable Suletta sitting on her own has turned her soft. 

Suletta’s eyes are red, but she smiles, grins widely at her. 

Miorine clenches her teeth but doesn’t let her sadness show. She doesn’t let it show that she can feel what Suletta is feeling. In silence, she gives the girl the bento box, and sits down next to her. Miorine scoots close, close enough so that their thighs would touch. Suletta, meanwhile, just clutches onto that bento box with both hands, as though it is her lifeline. 

There is nobody around them. Just a lamp post that’s emitting a warm light next to their bench. Nobody will see, nobody will know. Miorine brushes away all inhibitions and rests her head on the taller girl’s shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” She hears herself ask.

A-are you… are you okay?

Yet again. A throb in her head, a twitch in her eye. And this voice—it echoes in her head. Miorine can hear it. Strange, because it doesn’t belong to her. But, oh, it sounds so familiar. So warm.

“I-I’m fine,” Suletta eventually answers, sniffling. 

The longer this drags on, the more that strain in her heart grows. It’s unbearable, discomforting. What other option does she have than to stay quiet? She thinks to let the moment pass by, to wait it out. But some part of her knows that this isn’t what Suletta wants. This isn’t what the girl needs. Miorine tells herself—if she’s going to do this, she’s going to do this right.

She turns, shifting to lean her body into Suletta’s. Miorine wraps her arms around the girl’s waist in this awkward, sideways-hug, pulling Suletta into her shoulder. It’s not comfortable by any means, making the girl bend like this, but then, Suletta returns the embrace. She breathes lightly next to her ear, and it’s ticklish, but Miorine ignores it. She ignores the heat that is rising up to her cheeks and pays all her attention in stroking Suletta’s neck, brushing down to her nape. Miorine does this gentle, scratching motion, feeling the tiny hairs as she does, until Suletta at last relaxes, falling into her arms that reminds her of… of some distant memory. 

A fluffy grey scarf. A darker one as a mask. 

It really is strange. 

And in this memory, there is a burst of affection, translated into a compassion that Miorine does not know she possesses, all blending together with the purpose to protect this girl. 

If she stops and thinks about it for a bit longer, these images become clearer—of Suletta and herself, just the two of them, smiling, laughing. Such events have never happened, yet Miorine can see them so clearly. It really is as though she’s lived through them. And the more she lingers to look into these images, the harder her head pounds. 

She isn’t into superstitions, but if this is some kind of sign given to her by a greater being, then maybe she should listen. Maybe it’s telling her to look away? Look away, otherwise someone will get hurt. She might hurt Suletta.

But just… just give her a bit longer. 

Let Miorine hold her for a little longer.

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Some naive part of her thinks that she can defy whatever this greater power is. Yes, perhaps she can just ignore it. Maybe she can stand to protect this girl.

There’s no wrong in trying, right?

Still, as much as she tries, there is a gnawing fear that she won’t be good enough, in that she will fail—fail in protecting this girl, fail in keeping her safe—fail, ultimately losing her. And this fear becomes all the more prominent during the Incubation Party. Seeing her groom on stage, terrified, helpless, Miorine steps out. She thinks fast, declaring herself CEO of an impromptu company, because if she doesn’t do something, Suletta will get hurt.

She can’t have that.

Not again.

In the events that follow, as she heads back to her room with Suletta following closely behind, she hears the girl call to her—

“Ms. Miorine.” 

“What is it?” She asks, still walking. Or, more like, limping.

“Your feet,” Suletta says, “Do they hurt?”

Miorine pauses, stopping in her tracks. She tries wiggling her toes in her heels, shifts her weight on both feet, and then she answers, “Just a little. Running bare-feet wasn’t exactly comfortable.”

It’s not a gradual thing. Suletta’s expression just falls. A combination of a frown and concern, she takes a step forward. Miorine is suddenly self-conscious, suddenly overcome with the thought that she herself is tiny in comparison to this girl—that, somehow, being towered by her like this makes her feel safe.

“Suletta?” She says her name in a whisper.

And the girl, being the klutz that she is, has this gentle and soft side to her. As it seems, this gentleness is only showcased to certain people. Not to the Earth House, not to Chuchu or Nika—perhaps just to her mother and now, if Miorine may, to herself. The way Suletta reaches for Miorine’s hand, the way she cradles it so gently in her own, how she intertwines their fingers together—Miorine is able to feel the soft bumps of her blisters, and at the thought of the girl gripping onto the controls in Aerial’s cockpit, fighting for Miorine’s future—it creates this newfound void in her heart.

“I’m sorry I keep causing you trouble, Ms. Miorine.”

She breathes out. “What are you talking about?”

“I…” Suletta shakes her head, “... Every single time. I only—I make you sad.”

“I’m not sad, Suletta. What are you—”

“I don’t want to do that to you anymore.”

Anymore?

A ring in her ear. A throb in her head. Miorine’s eyes widen.

“So I’ll be better. I’ll keep on trying.”

Even if you don’t want me to.

At that, the pre-existing void opens up. Where, normally, she would scold Suletta, yell at her for saying such ridiculous things, nothing comes out.

“Do… do you understand what I am trying to tell you?”

She does. She does, but she doesn’t want to. Suppressed memories and the unwillingness to remember, because a larger part of her begs her not to delve any deeper. It’s just…  she can’t fight this gravitational pull that brings her closer towards Suletta. 

She likes being closer. She can’t be closer. 

The spiralling contradictions become stronger day by day, and against better judgement, against all greater will, Miorine takes one step—one more step, and rests her head on the girl’s bare shoulder. 

It’s not just a mere feeling at this point. Miorine knows she’s experienced it somewhere. The sound of… what is it, train tracks? The sight of a faint, silver moon, blocked behind gossamer curtains. And then comes the echoing beep beep beep of what Miorine knows to be a warning of the doors closing, the sound of her own voice, asking—

“Why do you keep coming here, assassin?”

Ah, her head. I-it’s spinning.

“Ms. Miorine?”

She responds by wrapping her arms around the girl.

And Suletta, trembling now, reciprocates, holding Miorine back with a careful strength. She does so as she goes on, “Does your head hurt too?” 

“Yeah.” Miorine gathers everything she has to say the next words, because some part of her doesn’t want her to say it. Doesn’t think it’s right, “But I don’t care. I just… I-I want…”

“... want?”

She holds her more tightly. “Stay here. Stay with me.”

Suletta swallows. A soft noise. It’s as quiet as their synchronized heartbeats— 

“Okay,”

—echoing the gentle flicker of the stars that stretch beyond their universe.

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It would be wonderful, then, if she could capture these stars in a bottle and ask them of the infinite. The piling questions that only seem to build with each passing moment she shares with Suletta. Because Miorine is starting to believe that this is what she wants. Of all her time being alone, the intrusion of this girl, however abrupt, has turned her life around. Being introduced to the Earth House, becoming the CEO of this growing company, and, well, being her bride. They’re all precious to her—undeniably happier memories that she’s made thus far. 

All made possible because of Suletta. 

That’s why you’re wrong, Suletta. You’re wrong when you say things like—

“They don’t need me at all.”

—that’s not true, you big dummy.

“I need you.” Miorine whispers to herself, just outside of the washroom door as she overhears the girl. 

“I’m scared.”

Ah, her heart. It’s always this feeling. Miorine presses a hand on her chest, rests her forehead against the door and prepares herself. She can’t have Suletta feel that way. No, that’s not what she wants. It pisses her off that she’s made the girl feel so insecure. 

Her whole purpose is to protect her. Now it’s just…

Miorine grits her teeth. She bangs on the door. She chases after her when she slips out—they float through the anti-gravity chambers, and Miorine is only able to catch up because Suletta is far too kind. By surprise, she wraps her arms around the girl, holding her tight, holding her close. 

Some part of her refuses to let go. Some part of her believes that it is safe to tell Suletta everything. All her fears, her worries, and what she truly, truly wants. 

And, of course, Suletta listens. She accepts Miorine for what she is, but then a new form of pain—guilt?—forms. It carves into her heart, leaves deep scars behind; it tells her she’s taking advantage of Suletta’s innocence, of her kindness. And it’s wrong—Miorine doesn’t deserve this.

Doesn’t deserve Suletta.

Like before.

Before. Again with this ‘before’ crap.

So annoying. Shut up. Please, just shut up. She’s aware of the fact that she failed in a distant past. God, Miorine knows that, and she wishes she can figure out what she did wrong. She channels her frustrations to her punches, hitting Suletta in the stomach again and again because… because this girl is the root of her problems, is she not? This annoying growing fondness she has for her, this annoying need to protect her, and the annoying throbbing that just won’t stop whenever they share moments like these. And yes—yes, Miorine knows and agrees that she does not deserve Suletta, but a stubborn, more selfish side of her doesn’t want to admit it. 

This girl… she’s—god, she likes her. She likes her a lot. She’s liked her for a long time.

“I’ll stay by your side forever.”

This love that she has for this girl grows ever stronger when Suletta says things like that. Why would anyone agree to those ridiculous demands?! Miorine knows she is a princess. Clingy and needy and a pain in the ass. 

But still, Suletta stays. She stays for her. Every time—every lifetime—she stays with her. 

Stay with me.

Suletta’s voice is gentle and soft, mirroring the person that she is. She calls to her despite being hit, despite Miorine’s clinginess. She sniffles, still refusing to pull away from the girl’s embrace, partly because it feels nice being held by her. Another reason is, well, she’s scared of letting go. It has to be an irrational fear, right? To think that the moment she does, she will never be able to hold her again. If she lets go, some part of Miorine thinks that the girl will slip away—forever.

Don’t.

Miorine holds her tighter. “Don’t let go.”

Because of me—

She ignores the voices. Squeezes Suletta in her arms. “Please, don’t let go.”

—you’ll be hurt.

The tears come again. She tries to block out the images. Block out the voices that tell her again and again, that this is wrong. Stains of redness upon snow. A streak of redness on the floor. A body in a pool of redness and—

“I’m happy I got to meet you, Ms. Miorine.”

Yet again, the throbbing intensifies. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.

Protect her.

“Suletta.” At last, she pulls away to look up. Tear-stained eyes, droplets floating around them. It is as though time in itself has frozen. For them, the universe stands still. Miorine grips onto the girl’s shirt, digs her nails into her shoulders, “I—”

“May I kiss you?”

For a brief moment in time, Miorine sees everything highlighted in a silver light. Lights of artificial stars, the light of the moon, and now, as she blinks herself back to reality, just behind Suletta are the lights of real, actual stars that flicker outside of Plant Quetta. They glitter, bright and hopeful, reflecting the subtle flecks of glow in Suletta’s blue orbs. They’re so beautiful, and… and Suletta is as well.

She ignores warnings. She ignores the signs.

Miorine wraps her arms around the girl’s neck and closes their distance. 

.
.

From the bottom of her heart, Miorine wants her father to know that she’s found someone she actually likes. His stupid system of having her betrothed to the Holder and such—she doesn’t hate it anymore, not if the Holder is Suletta. Miorine has every intention to get her lousy father help, have him treated, and once he recovers, she will tell him that for once, yes, she’s okay with his rules.

But as Suletta approaches, smiling, confident, and covered in blood, Miorine once again thinks that it may have been a mistake. 

“I’ve come to save you, Ms. Miorine.” Suletta reaches out a bloodied hand to her.

She doesn’t know what to say—how to respond. Cold sweat upon her body, the only semblance of warmth is splattered on her cheek—the blood of that mangled corpse. Miorine’s breath catches in her throat. She trembles, consumed by fear, and backs up. To get away from this… this girl, who’s—

You’ve never killed before.

—become a murderer. For her.

“Stay away!” She gasps, clenching her eyes shut. But when she does, all she sees are more, more images of Suletta. Her with a knife, in a mask, on top of her. Suletta with multiple stab wounds in her stomach, on the ground, in her arms. “I-I don’t want this!”

I don’t want this!

“I-I don’t want you to—”

She can’t finish.

Suletta has come in, planting a kiss upon Miorine’s lips. It isn’t rushed, isn’t forced. The touch is as gentle as it is chaste. And despite the sight of blood floating in the space, despite the thick stench of it surrounding them, burning into her senses, Miorine finds solace. Her trembling form soothed, calmed by the presence that is Suletta. The ringing in her ears, the pounding in her heart, all softened by Suletta’s bloodstained embrace. 

But this isn’t right. It isn’t. As she has been warned, time after time, by the greater being, by the universe itself, Miorine should know better at this point. If wanting to be with Suletta will transform her into a murderer, a monster, then no, she doesn’t want it. 

She won’t allow it.

And so, she swallows it down—the need to vomit, the burning sensation, the pain, “... We can’t do this.” Miorine pushes against the taller girl. “I-I should’ve listened. I should’ve seen all the signs. We… we’re not meant to do this. Every time, Suletta, I—I end up hurting you.”

Suletta responds by holding her more tightly. “I don’t care,” Suletta tells her. “I don’t care at this point, Ms. Miorine. I don’t want to let go. Not again.”

“Suletta…” she shuts her eyes. More than anything, Miorine wants to pull her back in. Fall into her embrace, forget the world, forget the rules written by fate. But she fights it—she has to. “... You told me,” Miorine continues, “... you don’t want me to be sad, right?”

The girl stays quiet.

Miorine opens her eyes, knows that droplets of tears—both hers and Suletta’s—are floating with the blood. “Then let go of me.”

Suletta’s expression falls. 

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she knows to do it with a smile, “Please, let go.”

If there is one thing that Miorine likes about Suletta, it’s the fact that she listens—obedient to a fault. This time, however, just as she says those words, a more selfish, hypocritical part of her wishes that Suletta doesn’t.

Miorine wishes that Suletta would ignore her words and pull her back in for that hug she so desperately wants from her. 

.
.

They don’t talk for the next several months. They pretend as if their conversation has never happened. They go by their days as normal. As promised, Suletta continues to send her messages, continues to win duels, doing everything as she typically would. It’s almost as if the girl is falling into a routine, all just to distract herself.

Who is Miorine to judge? She’s doing the same. Just occupying herself with meeting after meeting, doing everything possible to avoid going back to school. Avoid seeing Suletta. 

Except, as with all things, it’s inevitable. No matter what, Miorine has to go back. She can’t keep on running. Good thing, too, for she returns just in time to break out a fight between the entire Earth House and some goons, the latter of whom accusing her groom of being a murderer. 

Which is just… i-it isn’t true.

Miorine threatens to report the students, holding a video of their assault as evidence. It clears things up easily, of course, but then comes the hard part—she must confront Suletta after such a long time of absence. 

“I want you to come look at the greenhouse,” says the girl.

More than that, she wants to talk to her, Miorine supposes Suletta wants to say. 

“Fine,” she answers. 

They walk to the greenhouse in silence. Even when they arrive, they do not speak, not until Suletta says to her softly, timidly—

“D-did you get my messages?”

“I did,” Miorine tells her. “Three times a day.”

Suletta goes on, hopeful, “I didn’t lose any matches.”

“I can tell by your uniform.” Oh, how she wants to say more. How she wants to tell her that she is happy that she is still her Holder.

But then—

“Are you mad at me, Ms. Miorine?”

She can’t bring herself to face her. “How could I be?” Miorine answers while gritting her teeth. It’s not Suletta that she’s mad at. It’s not even herself. Problem is, Miorine doesn’t know what to be mad at, but it all becomes clear when Suletta goes on—

“It’s just as mother has said,”

What?

How can she smile like that? How can she still smile even after taking another’s life?! 

“... she said that you will eventually understand.”

Stop. Stop this.

Miorine interrupts her. “You would do everything as your mother says? Even if she tells you to give up on your dreams?!”

“Yes,” Suletta is still smiling. “I would. If my mother tells me to.”

Oh, god. I-is she too late? Or is it because she didn’t try hard enough? Miorine thinks and thinks. All this time, trying to avoid her, to distance herself from Suletta—she had thought she was protecting the girl, but in turn, she just… she enabled this transformation—of a twisted, sick, and mindless monster. 

She didn’t do anything. She can’t do anything right.

So she runs. Miorine runs to what she believes will make up for her mistakes—

“Prospera!” She yells at the woman who claims herself to be a mother, “What have you done to her?!”

There is no point in asking; it’s redundant. Miorine knows that Prospera doesn’t care for Suletta’s well-being—that the girl is, as it seems, expendable. If her own mother will not protect her, then Miorine will. 

Even if it means that it would break her heart. 

.
.

The terms have been set. She and Guel are in agreement. 

What a strange turn of events, to be partnering with her ex-fiance. But as their interests align, Miorine sees no better option to see this through. They will have this duel to free Suletta of the violence—of the need to pilot Gundams. Miorine will rid Suletta of her need to fight, to take part in the pointless duels. She will have Suletta stop fighting for her. 

Miorine will, once and for all, cut all ties she has with Suletta. Only this way, the girl will be away from harm. Only this way can she be stopped from being used by her own mother.

That night, Miorine lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her heart weighs heavy, and every fibre of her body singes with discomfort. It’s like she is slowly crumbling away. Is she being preemptively punished for what she’s about to do? She tries to close her eyes, begging herself to fall asleep, but every time she is consumed in darkness, she sees a light—a blue, blinking light that comes in the form of an approaching mobile suit in the void of space. As it nears, the image becomes clearer, and MIorine sees eyes belonging to Suletta—

Knock knock knock

She sits up. Miorine knows she shouldn’t, but she does anyway. She already knows who it is; she can very well pretend that she’s asleep, but that heavy weight in her—that crumbling piece inside—strains to open the door. 

Suletta stands at the threshold, holding a cute little dessert—strawberry shortcake?—on a plate. As always, she is smiling that radiant, beautiful smile. 

A smile that Miorine knows she doesn’t deserve—that she knows she has seen one too many times the last of in the distant past. 

“Happy birthday to you,” 

Miorine’s heart drops.

“Happy birthday to you,” 

She shifts, darting her eyes away from the taller girl, because she knows that if she looks too long, she will start crying.

“Happy birthday dear Ms. Miorine,”

She puts all her attention on the cake, on the flickering candle that, oh dear, reminds her of a dying ember, of the distant, twinkling stars that constantly surround them. 

“Happy birthday to you!” Suletta’s smile becomes a grin. “Blow out the candle! O-oh, make a wish first!”

Miorine can very well ignore this. She can make up some excuse, tell the girl that it’s late, she’s tired, and that they have to get ready for the duel tomorrow, but… ah, she’s so selfish.

So, so, so selfish.

I wish for you to be happy, Suletta. 

She blows out the candle and inadvertently lets the girl in. They head upstairs to her room. Suletta places the cake on the coffee table—where she often gets tutored, where they used to spend much of their time together months ago, and pushes it towards Miorine. 

“I can’t finish all of that on my own," She tells her softly. 

Out of nowhere, Suletta whips out two forks. In a rather adorably charming way, she wiggles her eyebrows and answers almost smugly, “Don’t worry, I came prepared.” 

It makes her chuckle. Maybe just for a bit, Miorine can forget the bigger problems. For a bit, she will indulge in this selfishness. 

Just for tonight.

Suletta cuts up two, perfect slices. The girl ensures to give Miorine the bigger slice and, very carefully, gives her own piece of strawberry to her. 

She’s so kind and, just, “... so sweet.”

“Is it?” Suletta takes a bite. “G-goodness, I… I’m sorry, Ms. Miorine. I didn’t know that this was too sweet. I should’ve tried it first. I-I actually didn’t know where to buy it. Ms. Lilique told me I should’ve baked it myself, but if I did, I-I was pretty sure that I would’ve set something on fire, and—”

“Suletta.”

“Y-yes!”

In a moment of weakness, Miorine’s heart swells. The cold front that she’s put up, the walls that she’s built, the desperate need to distance herself—they can all come down for now. Just… please, just let her—

“Will you let me kiss you?”

Suletta pauses, like she has been shocked, but not long afterwards, she softens up. Shoulders relaxing to respond with a simple, “Okay.”

Miorine doesn’t care to think. She scoots over, climbs to straddle the girl, throws her arms around her neck, and crushes their lips together. Suletta, about to lose her balance, supports both their weight by propping her hands behind herself. 

Unlike the previous kisses they’ve shared, it hurts this time. 

As Miorine parts her lips, granting Suletta entrance, the girl thrusts her tongue in, knocking the air out of her. Then, in an uncharacteristic, aggressive manner, Suletta sinks her teeth into Miorine’s bottom lip. She winces in response but doesn’t fight it. It hurts, but Miorine lets Suletta bite. She lets the girl’s soft hands come to slip under her nightwear. She lets them hike up the thin fabric, moving up her bare back—just brushing, stroking at her smooth skin and Miorine can’t—she can’t get any closer. 

Their shared moans fill the space around them as their kiss prolongs. It’s only when Miorine realizes that she needs to breathe that she pulls away. She hides in Suletta’s shoulder, burying herself in her neck, holding the girl tight. 

Suletta, meanwhile, stays still. Her hands still underneath Miorine’s shirt, she brushes away, stroking along her back. Up and down, up and down. It’s a constant, careful motion. 

It’s soothing, rhythmic, and it eases her so, so much. 

Time is irrelevant. They stay in each other’s grasp for what seems to be forever, but neither finds the will to move. Miorine, in particular, doesn’t want to move. She wants this to last. She wants this to be her forever.

And the thought of that brings her tears. 

“Ms. Miorine?”

Oh, she can’t speak now. Her voice will shake. S-she can’t let her know. Miorine just shifts in her embrace. 

“What did you wish for?”

Her breath catches in her throat. She doesn’t answer right away. Miorine gives herself several heartbeats to prepare, to respond, “... You’re not supposed to tell other people your wish, you idiot.”

“O-oh! You’re… not?”

“No,” she says. “Otherwise it won’t come true.”

Suletta nods. “I-I see. I’m sorry I asked, um. Please don’t tell me. I don’t want it to not come true.”

A smile cracks. “I don’t either.”

The girl sighs, perhaps of relief. She goes on stroking Miorine’s back—a constant motion. Once in a while, she’d snuggle closer, breathe in a bit more. Then, out of nowhere, she goes on, “After the duel tomorrow,”

Miorine strains.

“D-do you, um, do you want to go look at dresses?”

She doesn’t move.

“And, w-well, I was thinking, maybe we can go shopping for rings afterwards?” Suletta starts drawing random patterns on her back, just tracing her fingers here and there. A sign of nervousness, perhaps? “We…”

Don’t. 

“... never got to do this before.”

Miorine shuts her eyes. She wraps her arms tighter around the girl’s neck. S-she… god, she can’t hide her sobs anymore.

“Ms. Miorine?”

“Mmn.” She manages. A simple hum should suffice.

“I don’t want us to go through all that again. I-I don’t want to leave you behind this time.”

But this girl—this silly, stupid, foolish girl—she’s making it so hard. Miorine has long been trembling at this point, tears streaming down, soaking Suletta’s uniform. She should let go. She needs to let go. Her selfishness needs to end, lest she hurts this girl again, but…

“I want this lifetime to be the one.”

So does she. Oh, god, she wants it, too. “... Mmn.” 

“I…”

Don’t say it.

“Ms. Miorine, I should’ve told you. All this time, all those times, I… I’ve always lov—”

Don’t.

She moves up. She kisses her, stops her, shut up. 

No, she will not let this girl go through that again. Suletta won’t leave her, because—

.
.

“Goodbye, my Mercurian country bumpkin.”

—she won’t give her the chance to.

She will do it her own way.

Miorine will protect Suletta, no matter what. The girl has to stay far, far away from her, from all the conflict. If not, she won’t be able to live her life free from violence, from being manipulated by her own mother, from, god forbid, yet another ill-fated outcome.

The cry that follows tears her heart right in half. 

For the rest of her birthday, Miorine spends her time in isolation. She curls herself up in bed, eyes dry and out of tears. Soulless and empty, she stares up at the empty ceiling. Where, just hours prior, Suletta knocked on her door and came in with that cute surprise, Miorine knows that she will never experience such joy ever again. 

It’s not like she deserves it, anyway.

She closes her eyes and tells herself that she’s done the right thing, that Suletta will be safe—will be happy. This is for the best. It’s for the best. Suletta will be okay now. She’ll be okay.

But the more she tries to convince herself, the more her head pounds. It’s beyond the ordinary throbbing at this point. It’s a thunderous, quaking sensation—as though a sledgehammer has cracked her skull in half. Her ears ring in pain, her eyes are hot, and she… her breath keeps getting caught in her throat. 

It’s okay, though.

It’s okay.

Because Suletta is safe. The girl will be safe as long as she’s far away from her.

.
.

But has Miorine ever stopped to think that the world does not revolve around her alone? That Suletta, being a part of so many of their lifetimes, of having experienced so many times of failure together, is, in fact, intertwined in her universe, whether she likes it or not? 

The signs are there, they always have been, but no, no. Miorine ignored them. All along, she’s been ignoring everything because she was so focused on doing things her way. 

It scares her then, when Suletta shows up, claiming that it is her turn to bear the responsibilities. 

Miorine, on the other hand, is too frightened to move. She can’t help but to go on thinking that— 

“... I don’t want to make any more mistakes.”

—that if she lets Suletta in, they’ll just fall back into the same cycle. All the efforts of protecting the girl, keeping her away from harm’s way, it’ll all be for nothing. Miorine can’t have that. She can’t bear to see Suletta die in her arms again. Just…

“I only came this far because I met you,” Suletta tells her from outside the door. “It doesn’t matter what happens, Ms. Miorine. I told you—I’ll keep trying, even if you don’t want me to.”

No. No more, Suletta, please. 

“And I don’t think that is a mistake,” she continues to tell her earnestly. “I don’t think it ever was in any of the previous times.”

And it is this sincerity, this tenderness that reminds Miorine of why, in every single lifetime, she ends up giving in. Because Suletta is far too kind, far too caring, that it makes Miorine fall in love with her, over and over and over.

So as she reaches out, hesitantly giving Suletta her hand, as she touches the warmth that she seeks, a bit of that void in her heart starts to mend itself. Suletta’s grip becomes firmer, more secure, and when Miorine looks up to find the bright blue eyes that are always so filled with life, with an affection for her, she steps forward. 

She throws her arms around the girl’s neck.

“I’m so sorry.” Miorine whispers.

Suletta wraps her strong arms around her waist. 

“I-I’m so sorry that I—” she swallows, trembling as she sobs away, “—I keep falling in love with you.”

The girl shakes her head. “Why would you say it like that?” She answers with a smile.

Miorine sobs harder. “Because being around me hurts you. A-and I… there’s nothing I can do. I try so hard. B-but I’m selfish and I—I can’t stop loving you.”

“But I don’t want you to stop,” Suletta tells her. “I… I want you to love me. And in the same way, I don’t want to stop loving you.”

Please don’t stop loving me.

Ah, yes. Words that she has once said—words that are converging with this moment. Something that has shaped them into what they are, and what they always will be.

“So I won’t stop, Ms. Miorine,” Suletta pulls away slightly. “Even if—”

Even if the universe stops me.

“—the universe stops me.”

Miorine stares at her. She just… just observes. She watches wordlessly, coming to terms that if this really is her fate, all this push and pull—tug-of-war—they are going through with their timelines, she should just cherish what’s given to her. “I’ll hurt you again.”

The girl’s response is the beautiful smile that she remembers seeing at the end of her world. 

A stab in her heart. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Suletta whispers, prolonging that smile, “If it means that I can be with you, I think it’s okay, Ms. Miorine.”

So stubborn. Suletta is so stubborn, so stupid, but Miorine loves her. She loves her so much, she nearly trips and falls backwards as she pulls her into the room, but Suletta reacts quickly, catching her by the waist. Miorine hangs on by the taller girl’s neck, inevitably coming in for a kiss that accumulates from all the moments from before.

No, not just from this lifetime. But from every single one.

She remembers the masked assassin. She remembers the innocent college student. She remembers many, many more Suletta’s—all of whom she would fall in love with. All of whom would reach a tragic end. 

But what matters now is this timeline. Just this one. 

Miorine tugs at Suletta’s tie, pulling down the zipper, and the latter accommodates, throwing her jacket off to leave herself in that orange tight suit. A sharp, piercing glow comes from her blue eyes, gleaming in a hint of aqua. It’s fierce, almost feral, and they are kissing again. She backs Miorine into the bathroom, guides her into the shower. Suletta pulls Miorine’s tank-top haphazardly over her head, pulls her shorts down and she is bare, completely exposed. 

Where normally, Miorine would be embarrassed—flustered by such… such shamelessness, as of this moment, she knows that this has never felt more right. Having this girl see her for what she is, to be completely vulnerable, it… it’s as it should be. “Suletta…”

Her crystal blue eyes are round, focused. 

Miorine backs herself up against the tiled walls, skin hitting the cold ceramic and she hisses. Without breaking eye contact with the girl, she reaches for the faucet and turns the shower on. The water hits them, steam filling the tiny space, and they are entwined, caught in a closed-dimension they have conjured for themselves. 

“Hurry,” she echoes words from the distant past, “Touch me.”

Suletta does as she is told, doing her very best to rid herself of the tight orange suit. That, too, is tossed on the ground, and what comes afterwards is a moment of contemplation. Suletta watches, observes, studying Miorine, eyes tracing the pale tone of the smaller girl’s skin, the pinkness of her nipples, and the curves of her body. Suletta keeps her hands against the wall, next to either side of Miorine’s head, as though she is afraid to touch. The water soaks into her red hair, streams down her body, and as it happens, Miorine doesn’t resist. She’s waited far, far too long. 

Far too many life times. 

She reaches out, trails her fingers along Suletta’s abdomen, follows the faint outlines, the firmness of her toned structure and as her hands hike up higher, stopping to cup the girl’s breasts, a moan escapes.

Suletta leans inwards, and Miorine circles an arm around her waist while her hand moves lower. She guides the pads of her fingers across the girl’s slit, already dripping in anticipation. The sharp gasps that huff next to her ear, the heaving of their chests, everything feels as it should be. Miorine runs small circles along the dip of Suletta’s back, massaging the area to urge her to come close—closer, close enough so that there is no space between them. 

“M-Miorine.”

The girl’s moan brings forth a suppressed whine from Miorine. It gives her the drive to go on, to make this last. She turns, enough so that she can kiss Suletta’s cheek, giving her soft whispers of reassurance before pushing two fingers in. 

Another moan follows, and Suletta’s inner muscles pull Miorine in, refusing to let go. The tiny little tremors from the taller girl’s body define her vulnerability and, more importantly, showcase how fragile she is. So to think that in every instance that they exist, in every timeline where they simply want to love, it kills her to see Suletta being the one to suffer. Now, in this very moment, the inexplicable force yet again intervenes, smashing in with the obnoxious truth.

Miorine shuts her eyes, leaning into Suletta’s shoulder as she pushes her fingers deeper, deeper—deep, enough to draw more high-pitched moans from the girl, enough so that she can make her feel good, so that she can love her, all the while ignoring the inevitable pain that waits for them at the end. Her fingers hook to stroke along Suletta’s frontal walls, caressing velvety muscles to draw out short gasps, heated breaths that brush at her ear. 

And when Suletta comes, Miorine isn’t sure whether the girl is the one to cry out. She isn’t given the time to think, for Suletta has taken hold of her wrists, pinning them above her head with a hand, effortless, and they are kissing again. Tongues tangling, inside, outside, a thick fog spreads, and it is not from the steam of the water. It clouds her senses, fogs up her judgement, but their desire cannot be any clearer.

She throws her head back, giving Suletta all the access, all the permission that she needs as she traces her tongue down the tendons of her neck. She lets Suletta suck, lets her bite. She leans into Suletta’s touch as those fingers pinch at her nipples, gentle yet assertive, tender but also rushed, and all Miorine can do is mewl, let out these little sounds to urge her on, to give her approval. 

And when Suletta’s hands glide to the flat of her stomach, coming down between her legs to meet her wetness, she willingly parts herself, as much as her balance would allow. Miorine ensures to keep looking—keep their eyes connected, because she’s scared of turning away. 

She’s so scared of letting her go.

Suletta, however, seems to understand. With a reassuring smile, she comes in for a kiss. Just a simple peck on the lips. “It’ll be okay, Ms. Miorine,” she whispers. 

Only, those words bring more tears to her eyes. Miorine bites down on a lip, suppressing the need to cry. “How do you know that?”

Suletta smiles. She always, always smiles at her. “Because I won’t let you be sad anymore.” 

Still, the tears flow. “T-then…” she feels the girl’s fingers come closer to her centre, feels her teasing at the apex of her folds. “... then why are you shaking so much?”

Suletta plants small kisses on her lips. Just gentle, brief pecks. Again and again. The sound of the water mingles with the ringing in their ears, with the pounding of their hearts. They don’t speak, maintaining what they want to be their forever. “I…” 

Miorine tries to chase after the girl’s lips when she pulls away. When she finds the blueness she adores so much, she isn’t surprised to find tears. 

“... I can’t imagine what it would be like to live in a world without you.” 

She doesn’t cry out immediately. Suletta’s finger pushes in—one at first, curling, slowly—letting Miorine adjust. A silent gasp escapes from the bit of her stomach, makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. And when all is settled, Suletta pushes another finger inside. 

“So, just… to think that you did, so many times—alone, I… I’m—”

“Ahhn…! ” Miorine gasps, uncertain of what she wants to say, how she wants to respond, as Suletta starts moving. Thrusting deeper, hooking right where it feels good, Suletta does everything like clockwork—like it is second-nature, and, in turn, both pleasure and pain multiply. 

Pleasure, because sex with Suletta is amazing. It always has been. The sheer physicality, the heat, the passion that they share—utterly unparalleled. 

But then comes the pain, because this is an aspect that is inevitable. Somehow, upon acknowledging how they feel towards each other, they will be torn apart. 

No matter how hard they try. 

“I’m sorry I keep leaving you behind, Ms. Miorine.”

She can’t think straight, can’t even respond properly, as she loses herself in the sensations. Suletta’s fingers thrust away, moving fast, hitting that one spot each time. As always, as in every lifetime, Miorine is brought to new heights. The impending orgasm is built gradually, pushed closer and closer to the edge. It is a feeling she knows all too well, but coming back to it doesn’t make it any less amazing. In fact, it only makes her want this more—makes her want Suletta more. 

And as Suletta increases her pace, thrusting, pushing knuckle-deep, as she bumps her forehead against Miorine’s, hot breath fanning against bruised lips, she finds herself falling harder and harder.  Miorine’s half-lidded eyes are hazy, but she keeps them on Suletta’s as she moans and moans, begging for something, anything. As long as it is from Suletta, she will take it. She will accept it all—accept all that is Suletta. 

“I want—” Miorine cries, “—I-I want… let me… Suletta! ” She squirms, pleading.

Suletta seems to understand even if Miorine herself doesn’t. She frees her wrists, letting them fall and in an instant, Miorine wraps her arms around Suletta’s neck, desperate to close the distance with this girl. She combs her fingers through soft, damp red hair, loosening Suletta’s mane from her headband and hair ties with ease. Suletta, now free to use both hands, lifts one of Miorine’s legs up to give herself better access, to give Miorine more. And so, without hesitating, Suletta goes on, pumping into her core. 

Long have her muscles been spasming, clenching, sucking at Suletta’s digits. Her body gives these inadvertent hints to tell the girl that she can’t stop, can’t get enough, but god, it hurts. Her thighs are cramping, throat hoarse from her endless cries and just—

“Let me come,” Miorine begs, “Suletta, please, please—let me come…!” 

Suletta grits her teeth. She draws her fingers out, spinning Miorine around to make her face the wall. She shifts her weight forward, soft chest pressing into the shorter girl’s back as her hands start to wander. They snake up to Miorine’s breasts. Suletta cups them, squeezing, massaging, eventually moving to their peaks where she pinches, twisting at them. 

Miorine is trapped, pinned against the ceramic tiles. Her centre quakes at the sudden emptiness, aching to be filled again, and her clit twitches for attention. She can only rub her thighs together, unintentionally grinding her bottom against Suletta’s crotch. And Suletta doesn’t deprive Miorine of her desire; she’s always so thoughtful and loving, which is why she knows to push a leg against Miorine’s centre. 

“Suletta…!” In an instant, the contact makes her jump. Miorine squirms, unable to do anything but to let herself be touched. In this euphoric state, her senses are heightened—the sounds are louder, the smell of the running water, the steam, the scent of their sex, and the thought of how provocative their position is—everything is amplified. Miorine goes on moving, grinding away, just riding Suletta’s thigh, thrashing. 

“M-Mio…” Suletta’s whisper hits Miorine in the form of an electric shock. It runs down her spine, shoots right to her core. It explodes, spreading to every nerve-ending when the girl abandons a breast, moving downwards to spread her entrance open—wide—exposing that pink nub and making it easier for Miorine to rub it against Suletta’s thigh.

This all happens as Suletta suckles at her neck, leaving behind harsh, reddened marks, but, god, she doesn’t care. Miorine can’t care at all because it— “Feels good…” she moans, “... it feels so good, Suletta…!” 

Miorine rides faster, thrashes harder. She’s so close—coming so near to the edge. Just a little more. A bit more. But as it always is, everything suddenly stops. Suletta’s thigh is pulled away. Miorine’s eyes widen in horror, and, meaning to turn around to complain, she is suddenly halted when Suletta’s other hand comes down to cup her heat. 

“Ungh…! God, yes!”

The fingers reenter, finding the bundle of nerves with ease—perhaps too much so, as the moment it happens, Miorine shatters. 

Where it should be a tell-tale sign that she can’t take anymore, Suletta just goes on thrusting. Her other hand, still spreading Miorine’s centre, comes to run harsh circles on her clit. Rough, assertive, uncontrolled. Suletta does this as her hand pumps faster—fingers running harsher, harsher, all the while letting Miorine’s cries echo in the bathroom, letting her scream—

“Yes…! I-I’m gonna come—” Unstoppably, almost like she is in pain but, oh, it is a form of pain that transcends time and space—a pain that connects them through lifetimes, “Don’t stop, don’t stop—I’m coming, I… Suletta…!”

She calls her name like a mantra, crying it out in a worship. As it should be, her legs are out of strength, turned into jelly. She trembles, inner muscles rippling, gripping at Suletta’s fingers as yet another orgasm hits. 

A strong, excruciating crash—imploding like a supernova as a white light blinds her from the inside. It consumes her, wiping away all concerns and replacing everything in a momentary state of bliss. The sobs that follow are broken, muted. The slick that streams down her thighs is washed away by the shower, forgotten. Miorine loses herself to what she believes to be a dream, trusting the girl to catch her as she collapses. 

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.

She wakes with this spiking pain all over her body. Not at all an unfamiliar feeling, but it still hurts, nonetheless. Miorine tries to lift her head, but finds herself too weak. She tries to move her limbs, but the burning sensation has yet to subside. 

Miorine gives up, eventually resorting to use her strength to assess where she is. 

The gentle ba-dum, ba-dum, a rhythmic sound of a beating heartbeat should be enough of a hint. With effort, Miorine cranes her neck to look up, finding herself to be lying in Suletta’s chest. The sound she hears is her heartbeat. It is strong, loud, and alive. Through it all, she feels the girl brushing at her hair, just combing through her silver strands. 

“Are you okay?”

Takes her a good second to refocus. Takes her another second to find the voice to answer. She recalls how, in their moment of passion, she had essentially given her first time—always, always—to this girl. And this first time, so to speak, would always end up having her wake up in pain. 

A good pain. 

The thought of it makes her blush. 

“Mmm,” she hums, snuggling into the girl’s soft embrace. “You just don’t know when to stop.”

Suletta breathes out a sound of amusement. “I do,” she argues softly. “I-I just… I didn’t want to.”

Her cheeks feel hotter. 

“E-even now, I…” Carefully, as gently as she can, Suletta flips them around. She lets Miorine lie on the bed, and she herself comes on top, propping herself up by her forearms. 

Miorine’s heart swells. Her lover, so eager and insatiable, stares once again at her with those piercing eyes. Her centre pulses at the thought that she may experience all those overwhelming sensations, unbearably hot and passionate. But as Suletta brushes aside platinum strands to kiss her forehead, as she trails her lips down to her cheek, to the top of her nose, and then at last, to her own lips, Miorine comes back. 

She wills herself to wake from this dream, from this fantasy. 

“Suletta,” she calls to her. 

The girl just goes on kissing. Soft and tender, unrushed—cherishing the smallest of motions, Suletta does these light, gentle tugs at Miorine’s lips with her teeth. 

She pushes through, forces her sore arm up until she can touch Suletta’s face. Miorine keeps a palm at her cheek, letting the pads of her fingers caress Suletta’s smooth skin. This tiny gesture captures the girl’s attention, and the two are looking at each other, uninterrupted.

“Promise to come back to me.”

There is a moment of, what should it be, hesitation? Of a slight shock, as though Suletta did not expect such words. That, or she simply does not know how to respond. 

But eventually, the girl smiles. Her signature, charming, beautiful smile. “I promise. I told you, didn’t I? That I want this lifetime to be the one.”

No, Miorine knows what she’s going to say. She knows it, but she’s afraid, afraid to hear it—

“No matter what, I’ll find you again. I don’t care how many times it takes. I’ll find you and fall in love with you again. Over and over and over.”

She shuts her eyes, hides her tears. 

.
.

But they keep coming. 

In the void of space, floating in its vast expanse, Miorine reaches out to the girl. 

“Suletta!” She calls to her. “Suletta, wake up! Please, open your eyes…!”

Silent, motionless.  

Oh, no. 

“Please…”

Not again.

“... you promised.”

Time stops, freezing her in place. 

It is a feeling that she has experienced far, far too many times. For each and every heartbreak thus far that leaves her shattered, broken, Miorine feels a potential for change—of the possibility of reverting her choices to avoid this very moment. Because it is the same. What she feels right now, it is the same as before, and she is at her breaking point. The throbbing in her head intensified, multiplied into that thunderous pain, drilling her skull open. The twitch in her eye, pulsing in a red-hot anger.

Miorine doesn’t know if she can take any more. 

The constant loneliness, the constant reality of living a life without Suletta, of having Suletta die in her arms, again and again, the pain of it builds, coming back in a maelstrom that only exists to swallow her.

“... I don’t want this.”

I don’t want this.

“No more…” She whispers, gritting her teeth. 

Miorine grips onto Suletta’s shoulders, coming in as close as she can. In her head, the past memories flash by—of the despair, the emptiness that follows after Suletta’s departure. And in every one of these memories, Miorine berates herself, blames herself for failing. 

“Listen to me,” she says out loud. To whom, however, Miroine isn’t sure. There is only the need to voice this—to let the universe hear her. Trembling and cold, drowning in a spiralling void, she wraps her arms around Suletta, holds her tighter than ever—than any of her previous lifetimes. “I don’t want a next time. I don’t want anything if it means to lose her. I want her back—just Suletta. Nothing else. So, please,” she pulls away, looks through the glass of their helmets, searches desperately for the girl she loves so, so dearly, “Please, don’t take her away from me.”

Come back to me.

“Give her back,” Miorine begs. “Give her back to me.”

Time resumes. In a strange turn of events, the pain in her head subsides. It’s a slow, gradual process, but Miorine notices it. 

Somewhere out there, something must have heard her. 

“Ms… Miorine…?”

That has to be it, right?

Her breath catches in her throat. She doesn’t have the words at first—doesn’t even know how to start. But when she sees those brilliant blue eyes, flickering in that vibrant aqua hue, glimmering like the stars surround them, she voices it out—not just to Suletta, but to whatever’s out there—

“.... Answer me sooner,” the relief swells in her chest, but she pushes on, “You idiot.”

.
.

If this is a chance of many, many lifetimes—if this is the one time she can have Suletta for the rest of her remaining existence, then it’s okay.

Miorine has convinced herself so.

When she wakes up next to Suletta on the hospital bed after weeks of coma, when she helps Suletta to her wheelchair some time after she is able to move her body, when she waits patiently for Suletta to slip that ring on her finger with trembling hands, when they walk down the aisle in their beautiful dresses, when she returns from her business trips to see Suletta waving to her upon the golden wheat fields, she is content. 

The images and visions, the past and present converge, rippling outwards and inwards through time, coming to this one chance.

All the times that she couldn’t make it happen, Miorine reflects. What she’s done wrong, what she could’ve done better, where they are now—regardless, she will cherish everything. 

The pain, the sorrow, the failures.

She closes her eyes and listens to Suletta’s heartbeat. She smiles when the girl runs her fingers along her back. Only when the sun rises in the distance, dyeing their room in a subtle pink haze that Miorine realizes she’s stayed up to ponder. Only then does she remember what she needs to do—properly. 

Come to think of it, this isn’t something that she’s actually done in all those times. 

“Suletta,” she calls to her.

Who so easily wakes up. Or, rather, just like herself, she was never asleep. Perhaps she was thinking of the same things. “Hmm?”

Miorine smiles up at her. 

Silver stars clash with blue skies. She scoots up higher, plants a kiss in her neck, and whispers tenderly to her wife—

“I love you.”

What comes after is a split second of shock, followed by a cute giggle. Suletta strains to turn to her side. Moving is still a bit of a challenge for her, but she tries. Her arms shake as she wraps them protectively around Miorine, as she pulls the smaller girl in for a hug. Kissing the crown of her head, Suletta answers in an equally soft whisper, “I had a dream that this would happen.”

Miorine moves her arms up, scratching her blunt nails along Suletta’s back. “In… this life?”

She shakes her head. “In all of them,” Suletta’s hug is tighter. “I dreamed you would tell me that, and I… um, I’ve always waited, but you never said it. This is actually the first time.”

Miorine breathes in. She takes in the distinct smell that is uniquely Suletta, of woodland spices and waterfalls. “... I’m sorry I took so long.”

“It’s okay,” Suletta says. “You know I will always wait for you.”

Those words put a strain in her heart. “Suletta…” Miorine searches for her hand. She threads their fingers together, clasping tightly. “I…” she closes her eyes again. She doesn’t know what she even wants to say. 

They remain quiet, letting the light of the rising sun fill their room. The warmth of the air, the chirping of the birds outside, and the simplicity of their existence resonating with past memories—they all come together clearer.

So, as these memories flow into this current timeline of theirs, Miorine lets them play out. Every flash, every instance, she holds them dearly. Yes, indeed—the pain, the sorrow, the failures. She will remember it all, so as to cherish what she has now. 

“... At the end of the dream,” Suletta suddenly starts in a whisper.

Miorine looks up, searches for her eyes. 

But the girl has them closed. Long, thick lashes heavy with fatigue, heavy with the weight of their worlds. Still, Suletta pushes on, “... I-I say it, too. I tell you. And then we’re happy and together and—and then I can’t see anything else.” She pauses, peers her eyes open at last. 

The light of the sun shines upon them, and the aqua hue that Miorine adores so much returns. 

“I’m scared of not knowing what will happen afterwards.”

The fear is undeniable. Suletta feels it—Miorine feels it. It doesn’t even occur to them that they’re holding each other more tightly. Fear of letting go, fear of losing each other. But, where it once made Miorine pull away—run, evade, selfishly reject this love, she now embraces it. 

With all that she is, Miorine smiles at Suletta. “Then, let’s find out together.”

The girl blinks. 

And she, grateful for what she has, can only smile wider. “With you, I…” Miorine moves higher to wrap her arms around her wife’s neck. She buries her face into her shoulder. “… I think I’m starting to feel okay, moving forward a little.”

Shaky, delicate arms circle around her tiny waist. 

Miorine sighs next to Suletta’s ear. “So don’t hold back,” she says, “... I love you, Suletta. So, so much.”

Suletta’s words that follow are soft, whispery. Yet, they are said with such confidence, with such commitment, it shifts Miorine’s world. Any concern, all the fears, and the possibility of failure, insignificant. 

In a moment of unadulterated devotion, affection, adoration, and anything that constitutes love, Suletta tells her—

“I do, too, Miorine.” 

Their embrace becomes stronger, protective—amplified by the need to cherish each other.

“I love you, and I won’t ever stop. Not even if the universe wants me to.”

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