Chapter Text
"Ms. Kafka. Is it true that you dated and married the barista of your local cafe?"
"Ms. Kafka! You pulled a deliberate publicity stunt for your movie. Do you deny the allegations?"
"Ms. Kafka. Please give us some details about your mysterious spouse you have been hiding from us!'
In the midst of flashing lights and a dainty red carpet, a pair of the iconic vintage sunglasses perch on top of wine red hair. The hem of her dress drags across the pavements, as she merely smiles at the cameras, not at all influenced by the blinding lights burning into her irises. Kafka's grin widens with each question thrown her way, the inquiries getting more ridiculous than the previous. That last one catches her eye though.
"Maybe. Perhaps." She jabs her index finger at each of the journalists in swift motions, with a sinister smile on her lips.
Kafka turns to the one that asked the last question. The interesting one. "Details? Then how should I keep her to myself?"
The crowd before her roars even more loudly. More microphones being pressed up against her face. Their words fizzle into specks of static. Kafka does nothing but wait for them to calm down. She looks towards the sky. The venue is indoors, yet the walk on the red carpet and the interviews lie outside. She sees a lone star that's shining a bit brighter than others. Ugh. She wants to go home to her lady already.
"May I ask you what made you want to marry this woman?"
Oh. Now that's riveting.
She taps her fingernail on her chin a few times, to pretend she's cautiously considering this question. Her mind just has one word in it though. She looks at the person asking this question. He's young, probably mid-twenties, just starting out fresh. Alright. She thinks. I'll help you out a bit.
"That's an easy question." She smirks, teeth glinting the same.
"She's hot. What more do I need?"
Kafka slept on the couch that night.
Silver Wolf moved out the second they got engaged. She seems a bit too enthusiastic about it too. Already packing boxes the minute the news of their engagement got out. As they now stand in front of now Himeko and Kafka's front door, Silver Wolf meticulously counts the boxes and checks if everything is in order. There's a grin on Silver Wolf's face the entire time.
"Are you that happy to get away from me?" Kafka scoffs, eyeing the movers hauling her shit out the door. Silver Wolf shrugs, a very clear 'Yes' lingering on her lips, but choosing to swallow her pride in front of her employer. Himeko looks at her concerningly. "You're only moving two floors up.."
"Better than nothing I guess." Silver Wolf caps back the pen in her hand on the clipboard she's holding. "Neither above or below your floor. I don't have to hear any strange noises in the middle of the night."
Himeko flushes red. Kafka merely chuckles. "Oh, Wolfie. You're still under contract, or have you forgotten?"
"Ahem. Everything's in order so I better get going! You two have fun from now on." Silver Wolf speeds through their door and closes it. Leaving the to-be-wedded couple alone.
"You're not mistreating her, are you?" Himeko inquires.
"You should be asking if I should be more strict with her." Kafka huffs, looking away.
"Lighten up. The work isn't done. There's still my stuff." Their eyes fall on the remaining boxes on the floor. Kafka feels the light pressure of lips press against her cheek.
"Come on." Himeko says, dragging a dazed Kafka along.
Right. Kafka realizes. It hasn't really registered in her brain yet. Things moved a little too fast for her to catch up. Suddenly Silver Wolf is moving out, and suddenly Himeko is moving in. She's going to see her every morning, every night. This is the sight she's waking up to.
Ah. That's right.
She's marrying this woman.
They still remember it like it was yesterday. A staycation Kafka had to convince Himeko to go with her. She has denied her many times because Kafka has brought her on way too many. Can someone develop seasickness from traveling too much, is that even possible?
But Kafka seems really desperate at the time. Himeko didn't have the heart to say no.
"Please. I won't ask anything else of you." Kafka pats both her hands on Himeko's lap and nuzzles her face between that space. Kneeling on the floor facing Himeko on the couch. Her classic 'begging' position, as Himeko would like to call it.
"We've just been to Hawaii last week. I can barely remember what my room looks like. Just please let me stay home."
"You can stay home however long you like after this trip. Just this one trip. And then you can watch that dumb sitcom until the day you die."
"Outdated Outsiders is not dumb—"
"Come on, sweetheart. Just this once. For me?"
It's a bit unfair how quickly Kafka realized making this specific expression can be the bane of Himeko's tenacity. The 'you look like a wet cat abandoned on my doorstep' look. It took Himeko two- four- six seconds to give in.
It's when Kafka kneels in front of her on that beautiful shoreline with 108 roses in her hands. That she realizes why Kafka was so adamant about bringing her here. Kafka looked dashing at the time, both hands on the base of the bouquet, smiling up at her with those same eyes that asked for her number 78 times. The recollection makes her face flush every time Himeko thinks about it. The sunset behind them during the proposal made a pretty background, March can confirm. Because she was there.
Stelle helped with the location, the lines. Dan Heng helped with calculating the perfect day, the perfect weather, the perfect time of the day. And March handled the picture taking. All three doing a pretty shit job hiding behind the bushes during the proposal. It's the first time they've seen their boss this emotional, throwing her arms around Kafka and burying her face into the crook of her shoulders. The trio can safely assume it was a 'Yes'.
The real challenge came when it was nighttime. They all slept at the same hotel. As soon as Dan Heng heard a soft 'thud' from the room opposite them, he dragged both March and Stelle out of there A.S.A.P.
'I want to sleep...' March whined once they were out of their rooms, languidly walking down the shoreline barefoot. Stelle makes a sound of agreement from behind them, practically dragging her tired ass to catch up.
'You're not going to get any in the hotel anyways.'
Dan Heng said.
'Why not? That's what hotels are made for, dummy. Are you suggesting we sleep outside?' March complained.
'If you want to keep your innocence intact.'
Himeko woke up at precisely three in the morning. Awoken by the noise coming from the bathroom, most likely Kafka cleaning herself up after their.. activities. The bed felt awfully lonely. She would've whined and pleaded for Kafka to come back to bed if not for her having a moment of clarity. So she just laid there staring at the windows in front. Obscured by the curtains, they let in muffled moonlight.
She would've missed it if it weren't for that moonlight. She noticed a glint, something reflecting that light into her eyes. The source on her hand, precisely her ring finger. Himeko slowly brought her hand up, turning it around and actually confirm her suspicions, that her mind isn't messing with her. When she did confirm it, the tears just couldn't stop.
Kafka came back to her quickly, cradling Himeko and swaying her side to side all the while laughing into the coldness of the air. All Himeko could do in her arms was to hit her weakly on her shoulder, murmuring 'Stop laughing at me.' It just spurred Kafka on, kissing the top of her head and trying to keep her giggles to herself in regards to Himeko's dignity.
On Himeko's finger sat a pretty diamond ring. Inside etched the words:
Beautiful. From day one.
"Let me in."
"No can do."
There's a fine line between frustration and anger. Himeko is the calm one. She kind of has to be. She's composed, elegant even. Even if the situation is unfavorable, she would always devise a way to gain the upper hand. But things become complicated when you factor your dumb wife's immaturity into the equation. Now there's new things for Himeko to be worried about. Things like 'Is Kafka getting enough sleep', 'Why isn't she home yet' and 'Where the hell is she'
She has texted Kafka numerous times before. Only to receive responses like 'Don't worry about me' and 'Go to bed without me tonight'. No she will the fuck not. So she went to Silver Wolf. Knocking on her door at three am as she couldn't find it within herself to sleep without her wife's arms around her waist, sometimes slithering a bit dangerously up her shirt. From SW she learned that Kafka is working overtime at the studio, sleeping there and continuing the grind the moment she wakes up. Now that's concerning.
It leads Himeko to her studio, blocked by its security guard. She had decided on dragging Kafka back herself and putting her to sleep (preferably not by drugs, granted Kafka does fall asleep easier when Himeko is holding her, she noticed).
"Look ma'am. There's another fan meet-up next month. Perhaps you can—"
"I don't need to do that, I have a backstage pass— No, that's not the point. I need to speak with Kafka right this instant."
"Ma'am, I'm trying to be polite here—"
"What's wrong over here? You're being loud." A middle aged man with snow white hair appears behind the guard, scrutinizing Himeko with those enerveted eyes, hidden behind a pair of very familiar sunglasses. "Oh, what do we have here?"
At that, Himeko crosses her arms. "Are you in charge?"
"No. Kafka is. What business do you have with her?" There's that tone again, the one Kafka uses with her she's bickering with her.
"She's my—"
"Elio. You're taking too long. What is going— Oh." The woman herself.
The guard awkwardly gets squeezed to the side of the doorframe by Elio and Kafka.
"She's your—?" Elio asks Kafka instead.
"I've never met this woman in my life."
"I'm her wife." Himeko says a bit too loudly. The creases between her eyebrows are enough indication she's had enough of this. And to empathize her point, she raises her right hand, a pretty gold ring looped around her ring finger.
"That could be anyone's ring." Elio refutes.
Himeko sighs. Left with no choice, she raises her left hand. There she's only adorned with a simple silver bangle, on the outer side engraved the words:
'KAFKA'S SLUT'
Courtesy of Kafka. Of course.
Kafka immediately lurches forward and clasps both her hands over the jewelry. Sending a hard glare at Himeko's smug face. "Do you not know what a gag gift is? Why would you wear this out?" Kafka whispers through gritted teeth.
"You gave it to me. Don't pin it on me!"
"Ladies." Elio fakes a cough. "Let's invite our guest inside first." Kafka stares daggers at the amused smile plastered on his face.
Himeko came to know that Elio is also a famous director like she-who-shall-not-be-named. He's also a long term friend of Kafka's. Himeko learned that Kafka lost a bet once and had to name her cat after him. Pity.
They sit in the very DIY lounge area right in the middle of the studio. There's cameras on tripods everywhere, random green screens all over, and there's this out of nowhere couch and armchair in the middle of it all, on a rusty rug with a small coffee table. That's where they're sitting currently. "Sorry for the setup, we don't usually sit here and chat during work." Elio says with a laugh, sitting on the armchair. If he finds the large distance between Himeko and Kafka even though they're sitting on the same couch suspicious, he doesn't mention it.
"Oh, it's no problem at all. I have to apologize once again for inconveniencing you." Now that Himeko thinks clearly, she's feeling really bad for making them sit here and attend to her while they should be working.
"Oh no, please. It's more than welcome. Kafka never shares anything with me these days, not even the beautiful lady she's been hiding for herself."
Okay, that was sly. The more flushed Himeko's face gets, the more daggers Kafka glares at Elio. "You know, Kafka. I don't get why you sleep on this lumpy couch and not go home when you have her waiting for you to get back."
Shut up. Kafka wants to say to him. But the minute she sees the expression on her wife's face, she immediately shuts up.
"You slept here?"
Kafka neither nods nor shakes her head.
"Actually, Mr Elio, Sir. Can I ask you something?" Himeko switches up pretty fast, redirecting her attention to Elio.
"Yes?"
Himeko sucks in a harsh breath. Then..
"How's Kafka been lately? Has she been eating all her meals? Or skipping any? How many hours of sleep does she typically get in a day? She's not passing out or anything, right? Does she still drug herself to sleep? Believe me, I tried several different methods but—"
To put it simple, Elio and Kafka are stumped.
"Hold- hold on now." Elio hurriedly stops her rambling, a bit speechless. "Shouldn't you be asking her yourself?" He points to the woman sitting a good meter away from her.
She spares one glance at Kafka and scoffs. "I would if she would ever answer me honestly."
"Did you know she hid used coffee capsules in the trash bin of our downstairs neighbor. Do you know how petty that is? And that's not even the thing that makes me furious, it's the fact that you never use the coffee beans I bought." Himeko turns to Kafka, eyebrows furrowed.
Kafka scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Your coffee beans have poison laced into them, I'm sure of it. Nothing good comes out of those devil incarnated seeds. I've tried it multiple times. Black coffee, latte, cappuccino, americano, you name it. This blend kills people, Elio. My cause of death would say caffeinism. I used it to fertilize our plants once. It died."
"There was no need to be so dramatic. Just say you have a shit hand at making coffee and call it a day."
"Hell no. I will not allow myself to be a victim of third degree murder. If you want to kill me, at least do it with your thighs."
Himeko flushes hard. "You—"
"Please, ladies." Elio awkwardly cuts through the conversation (and tension). He did not sign up to be a couple therapist on this fine Friday afternoon. "I think you should settle this privately—?"
"Shut it." Both women speak at the same time.
"Okay."
"Why are you even here? I'm working. My workplace isn't somewhere you can just barge into unannounced." Kafka sighs tiredly, kneading her temple to play up her weariness. Voice lowering down to a whisper, "Silver Wolf is going to get in trouble for this."
"Excuse me? Do you know how fucking worried I was? You don't come home for eight consecutive days, and you don't call nor leave text or voicemail. So then I text you and receive half-assed responses. Even Silver Wolf could understand why I felt the need to come here myself. Why can't you?"
"And this was your solution? Himeko, I thought you would've been overjoyed by this. Didn't you say I always get in the way of your shows? How I keep bothering you while you're in meetings? I thought you would be enjoying it." Kafka tilts her head, actually confused for the first time. Himeko wants to strangle her.
"Why would I ever be—!" Oh my god. There's a fine line between frustration and anger. Right now Himeko is debating whether she tie that line around Kafka's neck or her own. She cannot with this woman.
Does she even know what Himeko has gone through these past few days? Enjoyment? Hah. Enjoyment. She doesn't know how late into the night Himeko stayed up, waiting for that door to crack open. She doesn't know how she yearned for that voice that always irked her when she would spew out spoilers for the show she's watching and sprint out the living room afterwards. She doesn't know how lonely it was to sit alone at the dinner table again, even though that was what she was used to years ago, before she met Kafka. But she's used to not being alone now, and suddenly going back to that is..
They see how Himeko outright deflates. The fight within her completely gone, like it had never been there in the first place. It physically hurts Kafka to see that, almost reaching out to hold her if not for the words Himeko speaks next. Her eyes looking at the floor as she utters,
"... I'm worried about you. I can't fucking sleep without your stupid face beside me with that stupid charcoal face mask on. And it's fucking cold because you're always the one who turns on the heater beforehand. Your cat wants you to come back too. Elio —not to be mistaken for the original beside them, witnessing this event in all its glory— meows nonstop at the front door. And everytime I try to get out he would latch onto my leg and it would take me at least ten minutes to get him off and—"
Himeko's voice trembles with that last part. She's trying very hard to keep her cool. Her voice is definitely not helping, her breath shaky and unstable. If she doesn't stop talking, her eyes may get teary. God damnit, Kafka always brings out the worst in her. She gingerly raises her hand to tug at the hem of Kafka's dress shirt.
"...Just come home. Please?”
Himeko finally looks up to meet Kafka's eyes. They're widened, surprised pink irises staring into her golden ones. They stare at each other for a while. Neither of them would even let out a whisper. Kafka, because she's very much surprised and still trying to process those words. Himeko, because she's afraid that if she speaks she's going to sound whiny and needy and she does not need any more embarrassment on her part.
Then finally, Kafka lets out a hushed breath. Her face relaxes, looking at Himeko with something she's more familiar with, the soft look. Kafka's cheeks dusted with the slightest of pinks. Her lips quirk up just a bit, not enough to be called a smile, more like trying to contain a smile. And oh, Himeko wonders:
Why are you looking at me with so much love in your eyes?
Kafka then raises both her arms sky high, and claps twice. So loud everyone in the studio stops in their movements.
"Everyone. Out."
"Excuse me?" Elio asks, incredulously.
Kafka wraps her arm around Himeko's shoulders, bringing her close. "My darling wife wants me home. So according to the law, I am to immediately head home right this instant. Isn't that right, love?" Kafka softly kisses Himeko's hair.
"Uhm—" Himeko stammers.
But by then, Kafka is already rushing them both out the door. "Everyone gets a week of leave. I expect this place to be closed and locked down by half an hour. Elio, you can handle things here right?" Kafka grins.
"No—"
"Over to you." And Kafka is out that door, arm over her love and heading straight home.
Elio doesn't work here, did he mention that? He was just visiting his old friend. So now Elio is left with a production crew that doesn't even work for him.
"Huh."
"Comfy?"
"Yeah."
In the comfort of their own bed, they're both snuggled up to each other. Yeah, this is what they both like best. Entangled with each other, not knowing where their limbs start or ends. Their room smells of coffee and roses. It's nice.
When Kafka momentarily disentangles her arm to pick up a vial of sleeping pills, Himeko softly taps her. "Can you do without them tonight?"
Kafka blinks at her, pondering. Her insomnia isn't getting any better. "I can try. Being back in bed is so much better than that lumpy couch."
"And?" Himeko quirks an eyebrow.
"And being in your arms, of course. I think I can fall asleep like this."
"Mhm." Himeko treads her fingers through wine-red locks. "Good girl."
That makes Kafka chuckle, nuzzling further into the expanse of Himeko's chest. She did fall asleep earlier that night.
Today is a quiet day. No new upcoming projects for Kafka, so she opts to lounge in Himeko's home office while watching her type away at whatever she's doing. From what Himeko has told her, she has a couple of side jobs she does on the side. Being an editor is one of them. So she usually whiles her time away refining literary works on that laptop of hers.
It's not boring, per se. Himeko looks hot while she's working. Kafka can always admit that with full confidence. Himeko is fine when she's focused. But it does get sort of tedious.
It's after Himeko hangs up a call with one of her colleagues that Kafka decides to add some pizzazz.
"You called them 'dear'". Kafka feigns a little pout.
"I called who?" Himeko replies absentmindedly, still typing away at the keyboard.
"The one you were on call with? You ended with a 'Thank you, dear.'".
Himeko hums. Not really paying attention. "Something like that, yes?" She tilts her reading glasses a bit further up the bridge of her nose.
"You rarely call me with terms of endearment. Is that not a bit unfair, to me, your legal wife?"
"And you want to discuss this now?" Himeko groans, tilting her head back to spare Kafka one glance before turning her attention back to work.
Kafka was not going down without a fight.
"Give me your phone."
Himeko throws it to her before she could even register the action. "Wait, why."
Kafka easily catches it. "Why are you asking why? Are you cheating on me?" She smirks as she asks that, dangling her phone in her hand as a tease.
That makes Himeko scoff. "I doubt anyone would want me with you as my history."
Kafka taps on the phone once, it lights up with the lockscreen. She's not surprised it's the phone's default lockscreen. Red and orange colors. She taps in the passcode. Himeko easily gave it to her. It switches to the main screen and Kafka giggles softly in the background. It's a random selfie that Kafka secretly took using Himeko's phone, in their own living room, holding their cat while Kafka puckers her lips at the camera. She applied it as Himeko's wallpaper as a joke, but it does make her happy when Himeko never bothered to change it.
Himeko knows damn well what she's smiling about. "The only reason I keep it is because Elio covers 70 percent of the picture."
"Totally." Bullshit.
She taps into the contacts, scrolling down until she found hers. The first thing she notices is the picture icon set for her. It's a candid photo of herself that she didn't even know existed. Taken by Himeko during their honeymoon trip. Kafka's asleep in their hotel bed, the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains make the dust pollen floating around in the air visible. Himeko probably woke up earlier and took this. Kafka didn't even know she could look this peaceful.
She should've been happy, right? That would've been the case if it weren't for the words right next to the icon:
Headache.
"Still keeping that nickname for me, huh?"
"It's code. For you." Himeko smirks and winks at her, "Be grateful you're not 'david double macchiato thursday 4pm'"
She doesn't expect Kafka to turn a sharp 180 degrees away from her and curl up into a ball on her office couch. Baffled, Himeko strays away from her work and settles down next to her headache.
She's not actually sulking, is she?
Her headache buries her face into the crevice of her knees. Himeko could hear soft and barely audible muffles of 'She doesn't love me..' and 'I'm gonna die alone..'
Yeah, she's definitely sulking.
"Kafka." She tries once. She gets no response in return.
"Kafka." With a more stern tone this time. Himeko regrets that a little when Kafka shrinks more into herself.
"Look at me." She doesn't.
Fine.
"Honey."
The sulking mess beside her visibly perks up. Relaxing her shoulders, and the slower pattern of her breathing tells Himeko more than she needs to know. "Honey, look at me."
And she does. Amusement shimmering within those sinister eyes. Himeko can't clearly see anything below her eyes as she's blocking half her face with her arms, but there's definitely a mischievous smile hiding underneath. Kafka blinks at her, waiting.
"Enough with your theatrics." Himeko sighs, fed up.
Kafka begins to turn away again, "No, wait.."
There's a few ways Himeko could go about this.
One. Ignore her and her silly tantrums.
Two. Talk it out and resolve the issue like dignified adults so that they don't have to go to couple's therapy for the sixth time.
Three. Seduce her.
Obviously the most logical decision would be,
"Baby." The petname rolls out of Himeko's tongue a bit too easily. She drags her tongue out, drawling her words similar to how Kafka talks to her. Her fingers unconsciously trail down Kafka's neck and down the fabric covering her back. The shiver she gets in response is all too familiar.
The tip of her fingers slowly drags across the line of her spine. When she reaches the curve of her hips, Kafka stops her abruptly by catching that dangerous hand in her own. "You're playing with fire here." Kafka faces her again, this time with this wild look in her eyes.
It's rare to be able to catch Kafka off guard like this. And Himeko would relish in the feeling every chance she gets. "Are you scared, darling?"
"Hah.." Kafka breathes out, she doesn't even notice how husky her voice is beginning to sound. "You are not off the hook yet."
"Don't be mad at me. Please, baby?"
The last rational thought escapes Kafka with that last critical hit. She pounces on her.
Marrying Kafka was like welcoming a needle into Himeko's bubble of normalcy. A small pinprick like this would prove to Himeko that she's not as adaptive as she had thought. She hadn't quite acknowledged what comes with marrying a celebrity. To Himeko, Kafka is just Kafka. That dumb dork who won her heart by questionable means. What do you mean she has to plan her route and wear an unnoticeable outfit just walking down to the nearest grocery store?
It's not like her being with Kafka is a secret. She's been on the headlines before, multiple times actually. Possible spouse? Kafka's wife revealed? When confronting Kafka about it, she responded with 'If they find out, they find out.' A very 'I don't care' response. Typical of Kafka to be uncaring of her public information.
"Why the hell should I tell them who I'm dating or who I'm with. Our friends know, that's enough."
But deep down, Himeko knows a small part of Kafka's reasoning is that she wants to keep her to herself. Away from the views of her fans and the public in general. Cute.
Can't say the same for Kafka. Marrying Himeko was like being thrown into a sea of normalcy. Instead of her usual takeouts, Himeko cooks for her. Himeko keeps the chump change leftover from purchases, whereas Kafka always tells the cashier to keep them. And Himeko always hand washes the dishes, even if the dishwasher is right there. Himeko always keeps the plastic bags from their rare takeouts and uses them later on as garbage bags. Himeko also likes to keep rubber bands in case they need them. Consider it a drastic change for Kafka. Kafka would never say it to Himeko's face lest she's going to have to spend the night outside their front door, but Kafka would say Himeko's sort of.. Wifed up. The thought ceases there, unless she wants to face Himeko's impending doom.
Ironically, Kafka feels awfully.. Domesticated. The thought came up one day while she was staring into the golden void that is Elio's eyes. A golden void inside a black void, staring into each other's soul. In her mind she was mentally comparing their similarities:
Himeko feeds Elio once in the afternoon. Himeko also feeds Kafka once in the afternoon, a homemade brunch usually paired with a side of eggs.
After Kafka spent some time with Elio, Himeko would come in with a lint roller ready in hand, and start brushing down Kafka's body. Kafka would just have to stand there like a stiff board and take it. At times like these, Kafka is rather jealous of Elio, having the right to clean himself only with his tongue.
Boredom would overwhelm Kafka every once in a while. When the shoots are over early that day, or when Elio (the guy) kicks her out of her studio, rushing her back home. Kafka would just lounge around Himeko's study like a languid cat. Legs dangling off the edge of the couch, reading what appears to be some random literature picked off of Himeko's shelf. If the mood strikes her, she would crawl into Himeko's lap while she worked on her laptop, and huddle into her for attention. Himeko would use her free hand to 'pet' her whenever given the chance. Below her chin and behind the base of her neck are her sweet spots, Himeko can attest to that. If Himeko worked for too long hours, Kafka was one vodka shot away from sprawling herself all over her keyboard. She did not do that. Thank god.
So you see. With the evidence right before your eyes, it's not an out of pocket question when Kafka asks Himeko during dinner,
"Am I a cat to you?"
A loud clink sound of the fork falling out of Himeko's hand is the last thing they hear before total silence. This absolute horrified face washed over Himeko's features, then it turns into disbelief, and finally deadpanning. "Where is this coming from?"
"With the way you treat me, I feel like a pet."
"That's called being pampered. Do you want me to stop that?"
"Oh?"
"I don't know whether to be angry you just accused me of bestiality or be sad you have never been pampered before."
"Sorry. I'm just not used to it."
"Then get used to it." Himeko shoves a piece of garlic bread into Kafka's mouth. Then she smiles, "This is going to be your whole life."
So Kafka just chews. She doesn't mind that at all.
One knock is for weirdos. Two knocks are for normal people. Three knocks are for Kafka. Four knocks are for Kafka emergencies. Straight up banging on your front door is when Silver Wolf pulls out the bat.
She slowly walks up to the still fist-attacked front door of hers, one hand on the door handle and the other wielding that trusty bat, readying to swing at whoever dares to disturb her beauty sleep. She opens the door, envisioning a tall brute man trying to collect debt. Instead she finds none but yet again, Kafka, on her doorstep.
"Whoa, don't hit me with that." Kafka eyes the bat Silver Wolf is holding.
"Why are you here?" Silver Wolf scowls. She slowly lowers the bat.
"Why do you have a bat?" Kafka retorts.
"For people banging on my front door." She rolls her eyes. "Stelle gave it to me. For all purposes apart from self defense she said."
"You know Stelle?"
"Yeah. We play games together. I'm being sidetracked— why are you here?"
Kafka fixes her with a look similar to a mixture of a guilty conscience and the hope of survival. Silver Wolf understands, "Made the wife mad again?"
Kafka nods, "Can you let me in now? It's freezing."
Silver Wolf steps aside to make way.
The next morning, Silver Wolf walks into her living room finding Kafka on her couch, still not leaving after staying over last night. She's still not ready to go back in the tiger's den, she supposes. Kafka's fidgeting with her phone, fingers rapidly tapping against the screen then long pressing the bottom right corner where the delete button is. Curiosity makes Silver Wolf lean over the couch and peek at Kafka's screen. She's in her messages.
the wifey: Kafka.
The dots on the other end appear and disappear. As if Himeko is struggling to phrase her words any more nicer than she could manage. Kafka might as well be sweating right now. The dots click together.
The 'typing...' appears again and Kafka almost fumbles her phone, "Wolfie, help me."
Silver Wolf lets out a devious chuckle, "You made the girlfriend mad. You better hope that text message isn't more than five sentences."
"We're married."
"Three then."
Kafka sharply glares at her manager, before flitting her eyes back on the screen. Surely not, right? But it's taking quite a while.
the wifey: Come home. Now.
And she goes offline.
"..Or one." Silver Wolf whistles.
"I come home to not one. Not two. But seven! Seven dead plants in our garden. Explain yourself before I leave you out on the balcony. You can feed off photosynthesis for all I care.”
The foreboding dark shadow of Himeko looms over Kafka. The convicted has obediently kneeled down on the floor before her, sitting on both of her ankles and hands on her lap as the words go in one ear and out the other.
"How do you plead?"
"I plead guilty."
"What punishment do you think you deserve?"
“Spanking? Gag? L—”
"Kafka." The prosecutor kneads her forehead with her fingers. She just came back from her business trip. Leaving the care of her plants in the hands of Kafka. Now she comes home to a variety of wilted roses and stems shaped like an upside down 'U'. She had given her an entire instruction booklet on how to take care of these verdure lifeforms. How many times to water, how much sunlight to shed on each one, all dictated in detail for the three weeks that Himeko was gone from home. It all proved to be futile, of course, judging by how things turned out. She stares at the guilty woman before her, then to the mini garden they had on their balcony. Most of them survived, thank god. But the ones that needed extra care, the ones that Himeko specifically told Kafka to tend to since these significant plants can't survive on their own, have ultimately perished to plant heaven.
In her hand holds the booklet she made for Kafka, she smacks it across the palm of her hand a few times. Debating which course of action is the correct one here and won't jeopardize their relationship. She sighs once, looking down at Kafka again. Who is still obediently kneeling before her like a scolded dog. "You should have called me."
"I.." Kafka adverts her eyes for a few split seconds. "I didn't want to bother your vacation."
"It wasn't a vacation. I was working. And we called or texted every night before I went to bed. You could have mentioned it to me during those.”
"It's not easy to suddenly bring up the fact I've killed seven of your children while giving you kiss-call goodnight."
"Don't word it like that."
"Okay." Kafka hangs her head low again.
Though the situation is like this, Kafka is acutely aware of how open Himeko is being with her. When they were still dating, she had asked her employees (or kids) how they view their boss. They said they viewed her as a role model, someone who can smooth out waves even in the harshest of storms. That she remains cordial and poised even in the most distasteful situations, either handing unpleasant customers or people in general. Which is probably the reason why Kafka is the only one who gets to see this sight before her. The sight of Himeko angry. Himeko being vulnerable and relaxed enough to visibly look and be mad at her. She doesn't feel the need to hide. So Kafka tries her best not to interrupt her lash out's, since she thinks she probably doesn't get to release these emotions very often. And the best part is after the whole 'scolding her' part, Kafka would be peppered with affection because Himeko would feel bad afterwards.
And yes she did. Himeko softly sighs. Instead of telling Kafka to stand up, she herself sits on the ground, until she's eye level with Kafka. She reaches out her fingers, and Kafka meets her halfway, nuzzling her chin into her palm. Fluttering her eyelashes up at Himeko with an expectant look in her eyes. "You're not only shit at making coffee, but also gardening. What else can you do with your hands."
"I—"
"Don't say 'in the bedroom', 'in bed' or.. in me for that matter."
Kafka pouts.
Himeko glares at her, but doesn't stop stroking Kafka's cheek, brushing her fingertips against smooth and pale skin. This goes on for a little while, Himeko touching Kafka in the ways that she knew she liked, and Kafka enjoying every second of it. Himeko sighs and mumbles softly, 'What am I going to do with you..' and continues her little act of affection.
Until Kafka breaks the silence, very reluctantly pulling away from the touch. "You know, I tried this once before."
Himeko tilts her head at that, a subtle sign of confusion. Kafka continues,
"Gardening, I mean. I tried gardening for you."
She says, "As you well know by now, I'm still bad at it. But I tried, really."
Himeko is cautious of how she speaks now, "For me?"
"Mhm." Kafka chuckles, "You like roses, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"I tried to grow roses of my own for you. Hoping to make them flourish. A gift on the first snow of the year we first met." Kafka fondly recounts her memories, "It didn't work, obviously. Whatever my hands touched, they wilted upon contact. I realized I'm just not made to hold pretty things."
She really did. Attempt after attempt, it bore no fruitful results. Only sad and droopy stems and barely blooming buds. Her garden looked relatively depressing at the time. She wouldn't dare invite anyone over during then, unless she'd subject herself on the end of teasing for simply growing flowers for her crush. That fact's not embarrassing, it's the fact they never bloomed. She had begun suspecting perhaps her hands really were cursed with forsaken death.
Himeko's complexion is indiscernible. But she looks like she wants to say something, Kafka beats her to it. "Sorry. For the flowers. I really should have stopped at step five when the plant started fishing."
Himeko is still awfully silent. It concerns Kafka. "Darling?"
She's caught off guard when Himeko gently takes both of her hands in her own. She flips them over with her palms open. Then she moves them to her face, nuzzling into them like how Kafka was just now. "Kafka."
"Yes?"
"You're holding me."
"I am."
Himeko giggles in Kafka's cold hands. Kafka makes a mental note that Himeko looks absolutely beautiful laughing.
"Am I wilting?" Himeko asks.
"No." A truthful answer.
Himeko smiles again. Cheeks dusted with the faintest of reds. "Then would you hold me until I do?"
Oh, Kafka thinks, What am I going to do with you?
Kafka rubs her thumbs against her face, icy skin meets fervent warm skin. She leans in, placing a chaste kiss on her beloved's lips.
"My pleasure."
"Don't fall now."
Kafka almost does, if not for Himeko catching her waist and hoisting her up again. One hand around Kafka's back and another on the doorknob. Himeko twists it and enters their home with Kafka slumping over here. Her hand feels around the wall until she touches the light switch and turns the lights on. At that, she hears a soft groan from Kafka. "Bright.." She heard. So she switched the lights off immediately. Doing her best to walk them up to their bedroom in darkness. With one hand she feels against the walls of their corridor once they reach up the stairs, to the dark oak door of their bedroom. She gently plops Kafka down on the bed, turning on the nightlight on their nightstand. She turns to leave and get a wet towel of some sort to wipe her partner down but is stopped by nimble fingers, coiling around her wrist with slackened force. Those clouded eyes stare into hers while she breathes quiet words, "Who are you?"
"Hm." Himeko lets Kafka pull her down to a seat on the bed. "Who do you think I am?" She replies.
Her inebriated partner tilts her head adorably, scanning Himeko's face, finding every source of familiarity but at the same time, muddled reality. Himeko feels her trimmed fingernails lightly graze her hand, drawing mindless circles while she keeps inspecting her. Since when did Kafka pick up her habits? Kafka says after a while, "I.. don't know. Can you tell me?"
Himeko senses the lingering taste of wine in her breath. It might be because she herself had some alcohol in her system, a little less than how much Kafka had but still enough to make her a tinge tipsy. But staring at her lips makes her want to push her tongue in and taste it for herself. She decides against it. This conversation is much more interesting. "Hm. No. You'll have to take a guess."
"Aw. Is it so hard just to have your name?"
"Maybe you should try harder."
Kafka smirks, well, as well as she could with eyes barely keeping open. "You have fight. I like that in my women."
"Do you say that to every woman you meet in the bar?"
"Only those who deserve it. Would you like to be my exclusive?" Kafka leans in closer, flitting her eyes to Himeko's lips every once in a while. When she tries to kiss her, Himeko places her hand over her mouth and lightly pushes her away. "That won't work on me, dear."
"And confidence. I like that too."
Oh, this reminds her of when they first met. She hadn't responded in kind like this. At work, she tends to have a few admirers here and there. Kafka was no different, at least, she wasn't different then. She brushed her off at the time, the more Kafka visited her, the more Himeko got annoyed at her antics. Their ending was of course, the best thing Himeko could have wished for. It was a rocky start but it worked out in the end. But here Himeko wonders what could've happened if they met in different scenarios, one where she wasn't working. Maybe at a bar like this? Maybe Kafka's first attempt would've worked on her immediately, maybe she would've been charmed by her allure in a heartbeat. Maybe it would've been easier.
But then she wouldn't be exclusive, would she? If this was how Kafka is like with everyone. If Himeko hadn't rejected her many advances. If Kafka didn't have the need to increase her interest for her. Would they ever have ended up like this?
“You're her. Aren't you?” Kafka grins behind Himeko's palm. “I would recognize the face I've been staring at for so long in a heartbeat.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Himeko.”
It's always pleasant to hear her name out of those lips.
“Did you come to reject me?”
“Reject you? I'm your… Nevermind. What's the date today?” Himeko asks her instead.
“You're right here.”
“The date. Like on the calendar, dear.”
“‘Dear’, I like that.”
“Kafka.”
“4th of December, or something. You're asking a drunk woman, sweetheart.”
That's the day after she gave her her coat while Himeko closed up shop. And the time where Kafka went MIA because of the scandal.
“What do you remember?”
“I gave you the coat, right?” Kafka giggles drunkenly. “I made it myself. Black cashmere with a line of red. Did you like it?”
“I liked it a bit too much.” It's literally the only coat in her possession. And she wears it out the entire winter.
“You should. It's exclusive. For you.”
“An exclusive for me?”
“You're my exclusive.”
She would be lying if she said her heart didn't skip a beat.
“Did that make your heart skip a beat?”
“No.”
Kafka laughs softly. “Guess I'll need to try harder then.”
Himeko suddenly grabs hold of Kafka's face and pulls her in. Kissing her once more. Tasting the faint and fading taste of wine with her tongue like she said she wouldn't. “You don't need to.”
The look Kafka has on once Himeko pulled away is so delicious. A mix of shock and delirium. A pretty blush littered across her cheeks. Kafka breathes out harshly, before she's back in action, diving forward to go in for a second. Himeko doesn't stop her this time, instead wrapping her arms around her shoulders and pulling her in. Her lips are then captured. The taste of alcohol is gone, now only left with warmth, overloading her senses. She doesn't know how long they go at it, but Himeko feels the lips pressed against hers falter, and Kafka's whole body slumps right after, melting into Himeko's arms. It makes Himeko scoff, half amused Kafka could pass out during a kiss, half perplexed as to how she's going to explain her swollen and bruised lips the next morning.
“I remember everything, by the way.”
Her sudden invocation startles Himeko beside her, still coddled in bed working on her laptop in her lap. It's still pretty early. Himeko woke up earlier to start the day, lazy to crawl out of bed so instead worked on her editing proposals first. With Kafka facing the other side, she thought she was asleep. Apparently not. Himeko immediately shuts her laptop and stares at her. Kafka chuckles, slowly turning around to face her. “For the record, you never had any competition.”
Himeko sets her laptop aside and firmly looks at Kafka, chin propped up on her hand. “Competition?”
“I've said this before. I only look at you. I only looked at you before everything. Twenty days after your grand opening I was standing outside your windows, you were setting up the plant decorations at the time. Roses. A lot of roses.”
It's too early to be this sappy, but Kafka somehow manages to do it. Himeko scoots more into Kafka's space, and Kafka naturally turns fully to welcome her into her arms. Kafka chuckles, “You're quite needy sometimes.”
“You made me like this. Take the blame for once.” Himeko easily nuzzles her face into her shoulders, the scent of the morning air and Kafka fills her senses, it's what she wakes up to everyday, yet she can't help but find it addicting. It makes her absolutely bury herself into Kafka. It's a little silly, but at times like these she just wants to crawl under Kafka's skin, a very absurd thought but who wouldn't want to get as close as possible to their partner? Kafka quietly laughs as she watches Himeko struggle to cuddle closer even though she's quite glued to her already.
“My exclusive. Lucky I got you first.” Kafka plays with her hair, curling a few strands between her fingers. Himeko nestles between the sheets, coiling her legs around Kafka's. Until the seams of what limb belongs to who's become muddled.
“Pretty girl..” Kafka gently coos. The more Kafka speaks, the more flustered Himeko gets. She deems it a perfect time to retaliate, opening her mouth and sinking a good amount of her teeth into Kafka's shoulder. Kafka lets out a startled hiss. “Ah!”
Himeko grins as she licks the mark after. Darting out her tongue at Kafka. “Payback.”
“Should've left it higher.” Kafka pouts as she feels the bite mark with her fingers. It's too low down her shoulder to be displayed.
Himeko rolls her eyes, burrowing her face right back into her rightful place which is Kafka's neck. “I'm not an animal like you.”
“How mean. I would never.” A kiss at the top of her head is placed. “Precious things ought to be treated similarly.”
“Can you stop being so soft right now and.. I don't know, say the things you usually say? I'm getting embarrassed.”
“Sorry. I want to be gentle with you right now.” Kafka chuckles. “I haven't had the time to appreciate you lately.”
“Stop that.” Himeko groans, getting more and more shy with the bombardment of affection randomly thrown at her.
Kafka's hands slither further down to loop around Himeko's waist. “Let's stay in bed for a little longer. Let me shower you with more of my bewitching praises.”
Himeko laughs breathlessly, “An offer I can't refuse.”
"You're late. On date night."
"We're living together." Himeko deadpans.
"Which is precisely why you could never be late. But here you are."
"Twelve minutes, Kafka."
"Still counts."
Himeko sighs, hanging her favorite coat —the one Kafka gave her— over the backrest of the chair. Pulling it out a bit and seats herself. She sees Kafka standing up halfway, but she gestures for her to sit back down. There's no need for her to pull her chair out for her when she could do it herself. Not when they're already this far in their relationship. But Kafka pouts, but sits back down anyways. "This is newly opened." Kafka says.
"Hm," Himeko hums, looking over the menu. "Sorry about that. She was my business associate." Right. They came here together. Pros of living together is that you can never be stood up for date night. And you get to watch your spouse doll themselves up to impress you. When they arrived at the doorstep, Himeko recognized one of her business acquaintances. Instead of letting Kafka stand there beside them while they talked, Himeko sent Kafka into the restaurant alone to be seated first. But not without a pout and the heavier sound of her stomps into the restaurant entrance.
“Make it up to me.”
“We're already on a date.”
“A mandatory date. Don't say it like you're doing me a favor.” Kafka glowers at the menu, like those pieces of paper are the ones at fault here. “And you're already shifting your attention to another woman.”
“I guess I'll just ignore my business opportunities then.”
“Hmph”. Kafka points her gaze to anywhere but the woman seated in front of her. Himeko sighs.
“You already know you're being rewarded when we get home. Don't play dumb with me.”
“Oh?” Kafka quirks an eyebrow, staring at Himeko with all mischievous intent. “I didn't know about that. And not quite sure about its contents. Is there a menu for me to look at?”
“Don't push your luck, honey.”
“Now I'm hungry for other things..” Kafka hums.
Himeko rolls her eyes, “Ugh. Just order.”
A waiter arrives.
“Hm. I will have carbonara, and a side of you.” Kafka winks at Himeko.
“I'll have the same and exclude her please.”
The waiter offers a very concerned look but notes their order down as per their job. “Any drinks?”
“Wine.” They both say at the same time.
The waiter leaves.
“I'm still waiting for my answer.” Kafka says.
“Then it wouldn't be a surprise then.”
Himeko sighs as she looks beyond the window beside their table, “It's been a while since we went out.”
“Indeed. One's always keeping her eyes on a screen and works 9-5. The other's always waiting for ‘one’ back home.” Kafka grins. “Do I need to make an appointment for a second date? Are you free in sixteen business days?”
“Kafka.. Are you poking at my conscience on purpose?”
“It's justified. When I was busy, a word from you can make me drop everything in a heartbeat. But now that you're busy, I barely even see you.” Kafka sighs dramatically, twirling her fork between her fingers. “Can't even barge into your workplace like you did since I have, per Silver Wolf's words, a reputation to uphold.” Kafka says the last few words in a mocking tone.
From the way creases form between Kafka's eyebrows, a subtle frown mars her features, a strained smile on her lips. Kafka is not in a good mood. She continues with a weary voice, “Sorry. We're on a date. Distasteful topics like these ought to be said behind closed doors, no?”
The wine arrives just in time. Breaking the tension that has accumulated between them. Kafka stares at the wine being poured into their glasses, Himeko stares at her.
After the waiter leaves, they sit in silence.
“Say it.” Himeko tells her. “Tell me what's bothering you.”
“Right now? No. Right now, we should be enjoying what little time we have. You're going to be gone for another week, right?” Kafka takes a tentative sip of her glass. “Instead, tell me more of what rewards you have in store for me.” Kafka tries her hand at being smug again.
“You can fool your audience, but you can't fool me. I even know what tone of nail polish you like, so don't bother avoiding the question.” Himeko crosses her arms and leans back into her chair. “Just tell me. Tell me what I can do better. I'll never know what I've done wrong if you keep brushing me off like this.”
Himeko glances at Kafka's hand that's gripping the stem of her wine glass. She reaches out to gently pry her fingers off and clasp them in her own. “What's more romantic than talking your heart out to your one and only?” Himeko smiles brilliantly.
Kafka flicks her eyes to their intertwined fingers and Himeko's face, “It both scares and amazes me how communicative you are in our relationship. How many relationships have you been in?”
“Are you seriously asking me how many people I've dated right now— Wait, are you avoiding the question again? Kafka.”
Kafka rolls her eyes, but doesn't pull her hand back. “Alright, sweetheart.”
Kafka begins her play with Himeko's fingers as she continues, “Would it be too much to ask you to stay back for me?”
“If that's what you want. You're being so adorable right now, it's hard for me to say no.”
“Don't tease me like this.”
“But you're so cute—”
An awkward cough pauses their chatter, their orders arriving at their table. It's the first time Kafka's eyes strays away from Himeko, it's then when she notices the lot of other eyes looking at her. Hushed whispers spoken between the tables, eyes glancing between their date and to the couple. Kafka realizes she's been recognized, and Himeko is blissfully unaware.
It's taking a toll on Kafka not to send a death glare to their faces. Especially since she could see them taking out their phones slowly, presumably to take pictures. Her scowling face is not something she would want on the headlines. So she bares her teeth and tries to focus on the food and her date. But her eyes wander ever so slightly to the eyes that stare back. The more louder those whispers become, the more Kafka begins to lose focus. The shutters of their phone cameras, the clicks of their texting. She has walked the red carpet before. But never had she been this overstimulated by people. Maybe it's because Himeko is here that's making her more sensitive to the attention. Her words falter more and more until she's silent. Looking down at her plate as the whispers begin to fill up her mind. This is going to end up on the internet somewhere.. She better lift her head up and smile before she gets dragged into the depths of cancel culture. Damn it, this isn't like her at all. She can't bear to see the expression on Himeko's face right now, probably a mix of confusion and disappointment—
Her chin gets gently tilted up by warm fingers. Himeko smiles at her, her body bent over the table in effort to reach her, “Look at me, baby.”
Kafka lets out a shaky exhale.
Himeko lowers her voice down a little, “Want to get out of here?”
“But our date—”
“Dates can be anywhere, you know?” Himeko smiles gently. And all of a sudden, the whispers and looks towards her way disappear in a flash, as if they've never been there in the first place. Now it's just her, and Himeko. That outstretched hand pulls back, but Himeko doesn't leave her gaze once. A gentle reminder of who she should be looking at right now. A gentle vow of who she promised to only look at. Himeko tilts her head, patiently waiting for her answer. Kafka releases the breath that she didn't even realize she was holding. Her voice comes out so naturally, even though her throat felt so clogged up a few minutes prior. Himeko can really do things to her.
“If that's possible, yes. Yes, I would like to get out of here.” Kafka grins, tilting her head in the same manner as Himeko. Matching that warm invite with an even warmer answer.
Himeko fully stands up, taking one small sip of her wine before putting the glass back down. A small smile on those lips, “We're getting these to go. Wasting food is a no-go.” Himeko points to the food that got deserted.
Kafka chuckles, airy and light. She locks their hands together as they walk out the establishment. Uncaring of what pictures that would be uploaded the next morning, what headlines that would pop up on the front page. Maybe she would even post a picture with Himeko just slightly in sight, and leave the audience with questions and even more curiosity. Maybe she would keep posting pictures or short videos of Himeko barely on camera, a lock of red hair, her hand around the corner. Let the audience guess, for she is the only one who gets to witness their answer in all its glory.
They would know her face, her job. For they wouldn't know her smile, her radiance, her habits. The way she prefers half transparent blinds for their bedroom, since she likes to fall asleep to the light omitted from the stars. The way she can't stand leftover dirty dishes left in the sink for her to clean up. The way she looks like waking up. Kafka knows that. Nobody but Kafka does.
Thinking about it like that, Kafka does feel sort of silly. Insecure much? She thinks to herself.
“How about we go somewhere quieter?” Himeko asks her once they're out in the open air of the parking lot.
“Hmm,” Kafka nods in agreement. A slow drive to the shoreline sounds nice. Looking up at what Himeko loves. The stars. Hearing her talk about the constellations and the vast universe doesn't get old for Kafka at all. They sit on the roof of the car, looking at the dark mist above. It's hard for Kafka to keep her eyes above whenever they ever so often gravitate towards the passionate look on Himeko's face. Stars reflecting off those golden orbs is a beautiful enough sight for Kafka.
Maybe a second date is still on the table?
(Himeko hit her just for that. Of course there will be a ‘second’ date)
It's 2AM. Most people are asleep. At least, they should be. Himeko is awoken by her phone, ringing from a call. It startles her awake. It's March. Himeko is about to regret putting her as an emergency contact, able to call her even when she's on DND. Kafka groans from the other side of the bed, still sound asleep. Himeko picks it up, and the loud scream that follows through wakes Kafka up as well.
“Himeko! Come bail us out! We got arrested.”
It's too early for this. But panic rises in Himeko. “Where are you right now?!”
“In the back of the police car. They're actually quite nice.” A crunch in the background. “They gave us donuts.”
Stelle's voice cuts in, “These oreo-vanilla ones are always sold out when I get there.” It's very obvious from the way she talks she has her mouth stuffed full.
Dan Heng's voice cuts in, “I didn't know there was a shortcut route like this. The scenery is beautiful. Pity I don't have my sketchbook with me.”
“Oh here!” March's voice gets quieter after she says that. The phone is then passed to Dan Heng. “Use my phone to take pictures!”
“Don't! Don't hang up!” Himeko practically screams into her phone. It makes Kafka groan and squirm further down the comforter beside her, pressing her ears into her pillow. “Tell me where you're headed.”
Dan Heng tells her the location and Himeko gets up immediately, shaking her half dead spouse awake. They arrive there in less than ten minutes. Himeko in bunny slippers and a beige cardigan, twirling her car keys between her fingers impatiently. Kafka in cat slippers and a fluffy black robe, head drooped down like a corpse. The officer behind the counter tells them, “Sorry. We can't let them go yet.”
“Why not?” Himeko seethes, bunching her fists on the counter.
“We just found out there was another case of speeding simultaneously on the opposite street. But instead of teenagers, they were grown adults carrying out a robbery at the Southern Bank. We have reason to suspect the kids acted as a diversion. Although it is highly unlikely, it's better to be safe than sorry.”
It sounded very reasonable. But Himeko still can't let go of it. “Fine. Can we at least talk to them?”
“No visitations until the end of the investigation.”
Himeko makes an odd noise that's akin to a growl. That's when Kafka gently taps her shoulder. A wink sent her way to say ‘I got this’.
Kafka reaches into her purse, and pulls out a decently thick stack of cash. “Is it hot in here?” Throwing her hair back. She begins to fan herself with it. “Are you hot? Because I certainly am. Is there no air conditioning in here or—”
Himeko elbows her in the side and Kafka stores her money away with a pout. “Officer. They're just kids. They work for me, at my coffee shop. They wouldn't need to resort to underhanded jobs like these to make ends meet.”
“That could be a rather helpful testimony. But I'm afraid a visitation right now is not possible—” The door behind the counter swings open, and the trio rushes out. Immediately when March spots Himeko, she lunges at her in a surprise hug. “Himeko! You came for us!”
Himeko tries her best to catch her. Another officer follows behind them, judging by his expression he looks awfully tired. “Oh good. Are they yours? Please. Take them.”
He starts to converse with his colleague for a minute. Before the first one turns to tell Himeko, “You're free to leave after you pay the fine. We found no evidence of any links to the robbery group.”
“I've checked their phones and everything. There's a sickly amount of cat pictures.” The other officer groans.
“Do you have more donuts?” Stelle inquires.
The other officer rushes through the back door and comes out with a box full of them. “Please. Take them. And don't come back.”
“What did you three do?”
Dan Heng nabs the chance to answer. “Speeding. Act 1984 of Road Traffic Regulations. A minimum penalty of a hundred dollar fine and three penalty points added to your driver's license—”
“No. I mean what did you three do to those officers?” Himeko says, one hand on the wheel and an elbow on the window frame, lightly kneading her temple. “They were traumatized.”
“Oh nothing.” March replies as she uses her phone. “We just talked, that's all. Did you know the first officer you talked to was a divorcee and a single father? He and his daughter had a fight recently so she's staying at her friend’s house. The second officer had been cheated on by his girlfriend of five years. Turns out that woman had an affair with his…” Something, something…
Himeko looks towards her partner in the passenger seat, and Kafka stares back with an equally unamused face. It's going to be a long night.
Their doorbell rings on a chilly Saturday afternoon, Kafka kicks her feet down from the coffee table to check it out. She just got back from work, sporting a lazily buttoned down black shirt, and her usual cat slippers. She opens the door, mind still hazy and tired from work that day. The coffee shop trio stands there in front of the doorway, March holding a large bouquet of flowers as Dan Heng and Stelle each stand beside her. The expression on their faces falter as they take in who opened the door. Kafka gets understandably annoyed. Like they had forgotten she lives here too.
“Kafka!” March yells.
“What brings you kids here?” Kafka says behind a strained smirk and narrowed eyes.
The trio exchanges perplexed looks.
“You don't know?”
“Know what?”
“Today's the shop's anniversary!”
Oh. “Himeko knew us way before she set up shop. And we were there from the start. It's natural to celebrate a successful business, right?” March's glee is written all over her face. The other two standing beside her share the same sentiment. Even Dan Heng bares a small smile on his lips.
“Hm. Cute. Come in then—”
…Wait. Why does it feel like Kafka has forgotten something?
“Is something wrong?” March asks so, so innocently.
The moment Kafka hears the sound of footsteps behind her, she immediately leans her arms and body against the doorframe. Trying to block their view as much as she can.
“Kafka?” Dan Heng asks, confused.
“Ha..” Kafka curses herself for the awkward position she has subjected herself to. She straightens her back some more, trying her absolute best to block their sight. “Actually, Himeko just went in the shower. Why not chat with me for a little while?” Kafka asks in forced enthusiasm.
“No she's not. I can see her feet behind you—” The minute March says that, Kafka slides her body halfway down the door frame, back to her uncomfortable position. “I don't know what you're talking about?”
“Honey, what's that noise?” Himeko's distant voice calls out from inside.
Kafka all but yells, “Himeko. The kids.”
The trio hears an audible shriek and the sound of footsteps scattering further away. A door clicks and Kafka finally stands up properly, letting out a long exhale. Stepping aside to make way. “Stay in the living room.”
They had a wonderful time. Idle chatter and reminiscing about the early days of business. The way business was slow the first few days, but the more recipes Himeko came up with on her own, the more customers started flowing in. How Dan Heng was like first week on the job, sending patrons fleeing with that cold and stoic expression he wears all the time. How Stelle was always found digging into the store back trash cans, leading to March and Dan Heng dragging her back to work each time. How March was.. Honestly, it's surprising how March was the most normal one at work. A customer favorite at the shop.
Kafka and Himeko sent them off with a goodbye. It's when the door shuts close and they both fall back into their couch in exhaustion.
“Can you warn me next time?! Do you just open your door to anybody without a second thought?” Himeko says with her face behind her hands.
“I just got back from work. I was tired..” Kafka groans.
“Tell me that the next time I walk around the house naked.”
“You had underwear on.”
“Your point being?” Himeko glares at her.
Kafka curls up into a ball beside her, mumbling incoherencies. Himeko shifts in a white oversized tee she had haphazardly thrown on in the spur of moment, “I'm never doing that again.”
Kafka jolts up, “Wait, no.” Grabbing Himeko's wrist.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I love seeing your naked body when I get home. Please don't stop.”
Himeko swats her hand away, “I don't mean that! I mean we're installing a camera system for our front door. I'm surprised you don't have one in this gaudy house.”
“Well. Silver Wolf tried that once. But someone managed to infiltrate the system and somehow reverse it, making it so that they could see us through the lens. We have taken it off since then. But if that's what you want..”
“That's morbid. Why would someone do that?”
“You'll have my diehard fans to thank for that.”
Kafka eyes Himeko up and down. “You can take the shirt off now.”
“No.”
“C'mon, you were fine just a moment ago.”
“Where do you think your hands are touching—?”
Kafka's hands just happened to slither under her shirt, and just so happened to land on each side of her waist, gently rubbing the skin there. Himeko glares at her, and Kafka smiles back. “I'm keeping you warm.”
“Your hands are cold.”
“Feel the warmth that's radiating from my heart. The warmth of seeing my lady dressed in nothing.”
“You would prefer that all the time, wouldn't you?” Himeko sighs as she rolls her eyes.
Kafka fake gasps, “Do you think of me as some sort of perv?”
“I—”
“Actually, don't answer that.”
Himeko gently pokes her forehead, “You are, by the way. A perv.”
“Your perv.”
Kafka crawls a bit further up, climbing on top of Himeko and pressing her chin on her chest. Staring up at Himeko with a glint of mischief, “I could warm you up in other ways if you'd like.”
And she silently gasps when Himeko abruptly stands up, throwing Kafka off her balance and sending her back to the couch. Himeko's ears are tainted red as she murmurs, “Go take a shower first.”
Kafka, confused.
“I'll be waiting in bed.” Himeko hushes out before storming back into their bedroom.
Never had Kafka raced to the shower so fast before.
“Fuck you, Kafka! Fucking get—”
“I get it, Elio. Sit your ass down.”
“No. I finally won at something. This is a cause for celebration, people!” Elio yells out in the tall and open space of the studio, raising up a Royal Flush of cards. Causing confused glances from the workers there. “New rule. The winner gets to give an order starting next round.”
Kafka slaps her hands onto the coffee table in the middle of their little studio rest area. “I wouldn't get too cocky now, Elio. If I win, I'm sending you back to your lonely home with your lonesome self because you don't get any women.”
“Or men.” Silver Wolf adds in.
“Wow. No one wants you, huh?” Kafka smirks deviously at Elio.
“How's your better half?” Elio asks her, eye twitching.
Kafka tilts her face to her left, “My right side.”
“Your wife, Kafka. Didn't you say she was coming?”
“Oh, she did, alright— I mean, yeah she's gonna be here any minute now..”
Suddenly the studio door opens, revealing Himeko. “You're late, sweetheart. You missed out on the joke that is the only man at the table.” Kafka gestures for her to sit beside her on the couch.
Himeko sits down, “Sorry. Traffic. You guys were playing cards all day?”
“Mhm. And she lost.” Elio smiles.
“I lost my virginity way before you did.”
“I suddenly don't want to be here anymore." Himeko tries to stand up again. Kafka pulls her down swiftly.
“One more round.” Elio demands.
He won.
“Kafka, let us play a game of 2 truths 1 lie. If I win, I get another three orders for you.”
“What are we, 3 months old?”
Himeko quips, “You have the mentality of one if you thought babies that young could even speak.”
“Get on with it. King's orders.” Elio demands.
“If you were my king, I would gladly become an illegal immigrant.” Kafka facepalms herself. “Fine. You want 2 truths 1 lie, I'll give you 2 truths 1 lie, ”
“I've had sex 4 times this week. My favorite cocktail is the margarita. And, I made a manicure appointment this morning.”
Elio and Silver Wolf both look at Himeko and simultaneously nod their heads.
“Why do you guys automatically believe the first one?” Himeko asks incredulously.
“It's hard to believe Kafka would make appointments herself.”
“But it's easier to believe that we?.. you know..”
“How's your back?”
“Sore— No comment.”
Elio and Silver Wolf exchange knowing looks. Silver Wolf says, “What does Kafka usually order at the bar?”
Elio shrugs, “I don't know. She never accompanies me to the naughty clubs ever since she got domesticated. What is stopping you from the fun we used to have, Kafka?”
Kafka narrows her eyes and gives a sickly grin, “My wife, Elio.”
And indeed, Himeko is glaring through his soul.
“God,” Elio shrieks, taking a good step backward. “Kafka, can you go have sex with her and make her a bit nicer please?”
“Don't mind if I do—” Himeko pushes Kafka away as soon as she begins to lean into her. “Go lick a pole.”
“Fine. I guess I'll just go confess my sins at the altar.” Kafka gets up from the couch and drags her feet over to the mini bar they set up in the corner of the studio.
“The bar is her altar?”
“And her pole is that three glass tall champagne bottle she's holding.”
“I'll go get her..” Himeko groans as she tears herself away from that lumpy couch, walking over to the woman trying to drown in her misery.
Kafka notices her coming and pauses on popping the cork, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You somehow find even more ways to sulk. Color me impressed.” Himeko takes the champagne out of her hands and pops it open herself using a corkscrew nearby. She pours it in an empty glass for her, “I admit it's cute and all.”
Himeko nudges the glass towards her while sliding into the stool next to her. Kafka takes it with a pout, “I hate losing.”
“I know you do.” Himeko caps the bottle back. “It's obvious you don't deal with failure very well. You're so accustomed to everything going smoothly, that you would do anything to get back on track.”
“Hm. Who are you and what have you done to my wife?”
“She has had enough of you and asked me to take her place.” Himeko rolls her eyes. “And she asked me to take good care of you. Knowing you don't say the things you want to say aloud, and that I should do it for you.”
“What else did my beloved say?”
“She said I should let you know not everything is a game of survival. You set your goals too high and your expectations too low. You aim for the stars when you're afraid to leave the ground.” Himeko sighs as she brushes a few stray strands of Kafka's bangs out of her face. “I know this isn't just about a poker game.”
Kafka chuckles as she takes a sip, “Want some, oh mysterious figure of possession?” Nudging the glass to her.
“No. I'm driving us home.” Himeko brushes her away.
Kafka hums, “You drive me crazy sometimes, Himeko.” She lets out a breathless laugh, “God, you really do drive me crazy. And the worst of it all, you terrify me.”
“A- ah?”
“This is bad,” Kafka drops her face into the palm of her hand, “This is really bad.”
“Wh- What's wrong? Did I say something wrong o—”
“My body isn't even mine anymore. You could order me around like a dog and I would actually sit. I can't believe this is happening to me.” Kafka straight up laughs into her hand, “The power you have over me. That's terrifying.”
Himeko swats at her, “Do not scare me like that! You had me worried—”
Kafka grabs her wrist, “Look me in the eye.”
Himeko does, albeit hesitantly.
“Fuck.” Kafka chuckles. “You have me on a leash.” She leans her head against Himeko's shoulder, mumbling, “This is really..”
For a few minutes, Himeko was stunned. Then she gently strokes Kafka's hair, treading her fingers through sangria locks, finally processing the words that just came out of that deranged mouth, “Is it really that bad?”
“Hm?” Kafka murmurs.
“Being weak to someone like me. Is it really that bad of a thing?”
“Not someone like you. Just you. Only you.”
“Yeah. Is it really that big of a deal? Better me than anyone else, right?”
“When you word it like that, it makes total sense.”
“See. You should listen to me more often.”
Another voice pulls them out of whatever lovers’ bubble they've immersed themselves in, to make matters worse, it was a voice of a man. Elio shouts in the direction of them, “Are you two done flirting yet?”
Kafka actually growls. Even Himeko is shocked by the weird sounds of irritation that seethes out Kafka's teeth. She covers Kafka's face with her hand as she answers Elio, knowing that there's a bone chilling expression hiding under there, “We're almost done.”
Reluctantly, Kafka follows after Himeko as they head back into the studio rest area.
“I think we're going to leave now. Kafka had enough to drink.” Himeko dutifully notifies Elio and Silver Wolf.
Kafka just had a few sips, but the look Himeko gave her afterwards tells her to just go along with it.
“Alright. I'm glad you came along today, Himeko.” Elio genuinely means it. But before Himeko and Kafka could fully step out. Elio shouts from afar, “Wait! What's the lie?”
Kafka smirks, “The first one,”
“Because I had sex 5 times this week, and it's about to happen later.”
“No, don't listen to her—!” Himeko tries, but inevitably gets pushed out the door by Kafka before she could even defend herself.
On the car ride back home,
“No seriously, what's the lie?’
“The first one.”
“Kafka.”
“If you don't want to believe me, that's fine. I can't make everyone happy.”
“Come on, I'm actually curious. Please?”
A critical hit.
“Fine. The second. My favorite cocktail is the tequila sunset. The ombre effect reminds me of the stars, the view in which your passion resides. And it's taste reminds me of citrus sweetness, of you and your warmth.” Kafka says all so smoothly.
Himeko can't even hide her flush since she has to keep her eyes on the road.
“... Then there were two lies in your question.” Himeko mumbles.
“You mean..”
“Please stop talking to me for the rest of the ride. I might actually combust.”
One morning, Kafka wakes up in an empty bed. Already, she misses that beauty mark adorned back she opens her eyes to every morning. She reaches out to stroke the surface where her beloved should've been, it's warm and slightly indented. She gets up, slipping into her black cat slippers and dragging herself down stairs. Halfway down she gets a whiff of that home cooked aroma, next thing she knows she's spending down the stairs in a hurry. Bolting around the corner to see a woman wearing matching white bunny slippers, humming to herself in front of the stove.
“I thought you were going overseas..” Kafka leans against the kitchen aisle.
“I canceled it.” Himeko turns around, that cute apron tied around her waist. “What, surprised? Moved?” She smirks.
“Who was it again, said something about missing business opportunities..”
“Well. I let that thought marinate for a while and I was like, ‘I do have a rich designer, actress and movie director’ back home. I don't need to work that much.”
“So you're leeching off of me for my money?” Kafka grins, resting her chin in her palm. Gazing up at Himeko with eyes she hopes that don't scream how much desperation she's currently feeling right now.
“No,” Himeko reaches out to gently stroke Kafka's cheek, Kafka can't do anything but lean into it like she always does. “I missed home.”
Himeko leans in, hand still on Kafka's face, and kisses her. She swipes her tongue over Kafka's lips, nudging her to open her mouth. Kafka does, welcoming her in. Himeko can be cute sometimes, when she's not in the dominant housewife role. Suddenly Kafka gets pushed back when Himeko pushes forth, claiming her mouth with her own.
“Oh..” Kafka says, breathless after she pulls away. “Still hungry after last night?”
“I love you.”
The cogs in Kafka's brain stop all together, hearing those three words.
Himeko averts her eyes, “You've heard it before, don't play dumb..”
“Yeah but that's the first time you said it on paper.”
“Don't break the fourth wall for this.”
Kafka chuckles, looking at Himeko with that loving gaze again, “I love you too. Just so you know.”
“That better be the case.” Himeko kisses her sweetly again. “I really love you.”
“That's like a spell for me. Two more of those and I'll propose to you again.”
“Oh no, I have too many rings from you already.”
“Flowers then?”
Himeko ponders for a while, “There's too many flowers in our house.”
“Another trip. I'll bring you to a place where you can tell me all about the stars you love so dearly without anyone around except for us two. Tell me everything I don't already know about you.”
“Oh,” Himeko laughs, cheeks warm and tummy fuzzy. “You'll be the death of me.”
“I'm taking effect a bit too soon, aren't I?”
Himeko grabs her face, and peppers kisses all over her. Kafka hums like a cat being devoured by their owner who has cuteness aggression.
Fuck you. Himeko thinks. Fuck you and your stupid pretty face and your stupid cold hands and your stupid arms that I can't sleep without them around my waist. I hate your pretty hair, your gifts to me, your eyes that make me flush an embarrassing red whenever you look at me with that dumb loving look in your eyes—
Himeko pulls back and comes face to face with Kafka again. That innocent look of confusion and curiosity at what comes next.
“Himeko?”
Himeko sucks in a breath, laughing breathlessly.
“Perhaps I'm just in love with you.”