notes: Because I kind of love them together. Enjoy!

starlight all over
my heart is ugly but it could be yours


Sometimes, just sometimes, Kaya wonders if this is all there is.

She spends most of her time at the studio, nowadays; cleaning and cooking and being a good wife in general. Between buying stationery for Akito and Mashiro and making numerous pots of coffee for the assistants, she doesn't have much to do, and this leads to her wondering if the rest of her life looks like this, too. If weekdays will continue to bleed into weekends, consumed with things like sketches and names and G-pens. If every time she comes home to their small flat it's going to be silence that greets her since he'll be on his desk with all the lostness of a writer in his own world.

This happens only in moments of weakness, really. When she's feeling under the weather, when PCP's ranking goes down, or when she's just finished a shoujo manga whose heroine is passionately in love with a workaholic bastard who has no care for her feelings and even they get their own happily-ever-after. It's at times like this she remembers that she used to dream of bigger things: flowers on her nightstand every morning when she opens her eyes, a nicely furnished house filled with warmth and laughter every second of every day, a man who dresses her in the color of dawn and takes her out dancing. She may be a tomboy but she is also a girl (a woman), capable of feeling lonely and jealous and most of all, insecure.

Kaya hates it when her mind is clouded by thoughts that don't seem her own. At first she kind of hates him, too, but then…

But then she sees a cup of tea by her bedside when she wakes a little late, down with the flu, and it's already cold but it's sweet and just the way she likes it. But then he drops by to the supermarket to buy instant coffee and comes home with two packs of blackcurrant-flavored mints instead and she remembers she's never told him that it's her favorite. But then she finds these doodles of her in random scraps of paper slipped between the blank pages of his notebooks one afternoon, folded neatly into small pieces as to keep them hidden.

"It's not me, it's Saiko," Akito grumbles when she asks. "We're trying out these new character designs and he needs inspiration."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! He's just trying to come up with one that we both like. You know how it goes."

Then he turns away, muttering to himself about character A and plot twist B, but there is color spreading on his cheeks and she sees the doodles once more, realizing that there's no way Mashiro will draw something so horrendous. These smudged lines (are those supposed to be her lips?) and indistinguishable shapes (that's way too large to be her nose) and the whole brashness and rawness and clumsiness of the drawing… the artist just isn't physically capable of it.

Akito did this.

And this is why Kaya stays: because whenever he touches her—grabs her arms, seizes her shoulders, pushes her up against that wall—it's silk and fire right down to her bones. Because whenever his lips meet hers it's starlight all over again, just like the first time. Because whenever he catches her gaze and his lips curve into that small, secret smile reserved only for her, her doubts are gone and the only truth that's left is clearer and more certain than anything else she knows:

They will grow old together. They will grow old together, and they will be very, very happy.



notes: Also because I'm sure Takagi cares for her. I'M SURE OF IT. YES.