as long as it means we're together.

“I’m in love.”

The mic screeches out and everyone winces from the sharp sound, some quickly reaching to cover their ears. With that, the previous chatter had died down immediately, now replaced by heavy silence. Confused, their eyes all turn to fixate on the lone figure up on stage.

She grips the microphone tightly, holding it away from her face slightly, gaze wavering. An inward gulp, then the steadying of nervous feet. A hand quickly moves to tuck back stray dark locks behind a porcelain ear.

Lips pressed together, eyes squeezed shut.

Stifling quietude.

Hana could almost hear them whispering in her head.

Breathe. Then forcing her dewy eyes open, lips parted, and with her breath rolling out before words should:

“I’m in love—have been in love, for a very long time now.”

Was this a confession? Maybe.

Or maybe, not quite.

Without realising it, she had already begun searching again, gaze darting from face to face, scanning the crowd for that one person she was so fond of. Heart racing, looking for the reason why she was up on this stage, saying all these words.

“I’m in love with a girl.” She continued, having memorised her script weeks beforehand, waiting for this day. The words came out like how she had imagined and the more she spoke, the lighter her chest felt. The invisible weight now cast aside.

Chatter began to wash through the crowd, heads turning, voices raised.

Hana blinked, registering the familiar face in the middle of the crowd, still unlike the rest, and then steadied her gaze. The girl raised her head, staring back in the same fashion. A small sheepish smile cracked on Hana’s face, and then vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“I’m in love with you, Mimi.” She half-whispered into the mic, careful not to let her voice crack, suddenly feeling sad.

“I love you.”

The voices lifted into an uproar, students now dropping all reservations. Teachers alike did the same. Like a wave crashing down onto the coast, dragging her thoughts back into the whirling foamy sea.

Hana tore her gaze away from Mimi, blinking away the tears that creeped up to her eyes. She raised her head, staring at the back wall of the hall, struggling to think.

“For these past few weeks, I’ve failed all of you as your student council president. I’ve abandoned my duties when they were most important, I’ve disappointed many teachers who believed in me.” The words just kept coming, like poison seeping out of her system.

“And Mimi—” Hana paused, still unable to lower her gaze and look back into familiar brown eyes. She didn’t want to think about how they would glisten, like how they held the stars for eyes in their chocolate rims. Nor did she want to think about how they would swirl with emotion, love, disappointment, maybe even anger.

No, it would hurt too much.

And when that happens, she wouldn’t be able to talk anymore.

“I’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me. I’m sorry for running away, I’m sorry for being a coward in our relationship. I’m sorry for hurting you, for saying terrible things I shouldn’t have.”

Hana was crying now, and she moved the microphone aside quickly. But it still managed to pick up the juddering intake of breath, and the faint muffled sound of pain through her closed lips.

“I-I… I’m sorry for I must decline the school’s nomination to have me as your council president again for the second year.” She brushed off hot tears with the back of her hand.

“And Mimi…” Eyes daring to meet once more. “I’m sorry—”

“—I’m sorry for running away again.”

Hana snapped the microphone back onto its stand and headed straight down the stairs, brows furrowed furiously, a hand clammed over . The sight of Mimi looking back at her with sad confused eyes clouded her vision, it stayed when she ran out the hall, it stayed with her when she ran out down to the foyer, it stayed with her everywhere she looked.

And it hurt so much.

“Hana—!”

The soft pattering of footsteps behind her. Hana quickened her pace, her shoes slapping against the tiles, then slapping against bricked floor. Why was she still running?

“Hana—” She could hear Mimi’s voice clearly now, and it wasn’t much of a surprise. Mimi was after all, the more athletic one between them. Add that with determination and there was no way Hana was escaping the girl.

“Wait, Hana—!”

One desperate grab at her arm and Hana swung around, stumbling backwards with her head held down. Mimi took a few steps forward, reaching her hands out. She hesitated, worrying about how Hana would react, before placing both hands on the girl’s trembling shoulders.

They stayed like that for a moment.

“Where are you going?” Mimi’s voice came out as a whisper, full of longing and something else Hana couldn’t read. “Don’t do this to me, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Listen, don't get me wrong, you can run away but--” Hana raised her head, surprised. But the girl wasn’t finished.

“But not from me, never from me, do you understand?” Mimi gave Hana’s shoulders a light shake, staring at the latter with a look she had never seen before. It was quietly intense, sending chills down her spine.

“If you want to run away, we have to do it together.”

It was said like a fact, like something that was absolute, unchangeable. Hana parted her lips to protest, but Mimi reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers together. The warmth filling her hand replacing any need for words.

“Let’s go.”

Mimi took off first, pulling Hana along with her. Their fingers tangled in an inseparable lock, adrenaline fuelling their legs, abandoning all school-related responsibilities as they ran out of the large gates, the floor beneath them changing into pavement.

Then changing into asphalt road, then metal nailed train floors, then grass and soft sand.

With the darkening sky over their heads, with sound of the ocean washing through their ears, and the smell of salt and freedom filling their senses. Hana smiled for the first time in a while, tear-streaked cheeks now replaced with pink-dusted ones.

Their hands were still locked, carefully holding onto what they had together. Sure it was fragile, it was chipped at the edges, even volatile at times.

But it was also beautiful, warm and never-changing all at once.

AN: sigh