Last Bonfire of the Summer [ Soma Koma | Invite ]

[attr="class","textie"]It now dawned on her that she had nothing with her. She had simply left the house in her swimwear, ready to get numb and party. She had thought there was coat she had worn down. Or shoes. Something. She knead her eye with her palm, feeling a brief, burning wash of embarrassment. She'd been drinking for a while.[break][break]

"I didn't bring anything," she admitted, closed hands falling to her sides. She really, really wanted to rescind that invitation. What the fuck was she thinking? What else would she have invited him over? She started to bury a foot in the sand, kicking up the sand that accumulated over it. It was embarrassing, really. She did it to spite Kikyo, but she'd...she'd never had a man in this apartment. She'd never spent the night at any man's house ever. What would sh-[break][break]

Aw, it'd be fine.[break][break]

She gave a quarter turn to the cliff that encircled the beach, flooded with tall office buildings and sizable apartment complexes.[break][break]

"I live in that sorta creme colored building over there," she pipped, nodding in the direction. She could see the light on, top floor and towards the ocean. It was only a seven floor building, but those flights were a killer workout. They certainly got her blood pumping for whatever the day had ready to throw at her, but certainly not this. She'd be taking the elevator, assuming it'd been fixed.[break][break]

A smile had returned to her as she thumbed over to the open shower by the stairs that went by the street.[break][break]

"C'mon, I'm covered in sand. I need a rinse."[break][break]

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[attr="class","tagsie"]Kimura Kyōryoku

[attr="class","textie"]Soma had chosen to ignore Kimura's teasing comment. Surely he didn't mean anything by it, but it succeeded in punching a quick laugh from her. The way she was walking was surprisingly upright for someone so inebriated. Though, as happy as she was, her feet had literal pops to them, like she was skipping almost.[break][break]

Why was she happy? Her emotional state at these points in her party nights were almost impossible to graph and predict, but it seemed like this would stick. In the back of her head, she hoped to God it would. The joy that started to work the alcohol through her system only made her heart pump harder once she took hold of Kimura's offered hand. She kept at her pace and was easily keeping ahead. Now, to see this young man being pseudo-dragged down the sidewalk by a woman in a bikini...well, what would you think, reader?[break][break]

Soma probably thought the same as her pace slowed and her other hand slithered over his bicep. He was warm. Significantly warm. It was so...odd. No matter whether she was dancing or in crowded area, people never felt like this. The only person she'd been this close to in a while was...[break][break]

Oh, no.[break][break]

No, she had to be out. Renamon always went out around this time.[break][break]

Many seconds in the elevator went quiet before Kimura finally decided to say something.[break][break]

"Nosy~,." she purred, slowly letting go of the boy and standing before the doors. Her hands were against the cold, steel doors feel the vibration of the moving cables ever so faintly.[break][break]

"No, silly, it's just a regular apartment. I don't need all that penthouse space,." she waved a hand in front of her face, like the concept was too ludicrous to consider. Upon the question of her job, she was feeling a little silly. So silly, in fact, that she threw up some...odd hand sign and coerced her body to take this...oddly provocative pose.[break][break]

"Soma Koma, idol for your heart~ I'm Koma-ing for your love~ Kyuu!." She ended it in time with the doors opening with a shot from a finger pistol, then made a mad dash for her apartment. Not in excitement, but embarrassment. She'd really just done that. She had actually really literally just done that.[break][break]

And the door was open. From the couch was that massive paw she knew so well, lazily waving to her. The other arm was outstretched, stabbing at the TV remote and flicking through channels.[break][break]

"Sup, Soma."[break][break]

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[attr="class","tagsie"]Kimura Kyōryoku

[attr="class","textie"]"Ye...yeah I h-too?!" She had already grabbed the door and shut them inside, unwilling to have anyone be able to peak inter her subtle apartment. She was careful not to slam it, or as careful as she could be while inebriated, and hissed at her partner from the entrance.[break][break]

"Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you went for your walk."[break][break]

"I did. I walked to the beach. You looked like you needed me home tonight, so I came home." This digimon moved almost too much like a human, gesturing with a single claw and finishing it with a deep shrug of 'fucking obvious'. She didn't take her eyes of the TV either, which was most likely where she'd picked up on such mannerisms.[break][break]

"Bath's drawn up. I made chocolate pudding. You guys took forever to get here." She waved about with what little tail there was available, allowing the focus to spread to the room. There were so many shelves stuffed with curios, trophies, books, but more prevalent than anything were the picture frames. Wood and meta, silver and gold, of every shape and size lied this memory prisons. Some with large groups of young girls, some of a concert band, and some of an older couple, presumably her parents.[break][break]

However, some were overturned. There was a nail or two with no frame to sit upon it. The futon and chair were situated around a glass coffee table with the TV pushed over into the corner. At the back behind the dining table was the glass sliding door to the veranda, from which laundry was situated of various color and function. It seemed like any normal person's home, a successful person, a person with a lot to look back on, but...normal in a way.[break][break]

"Well...thank you, Renamon," she made her way through the kitchen and sure enough, there was a huge bowl of chocolate pudding in the fridge. She was already to the bathroom door before she'd registered Kimura's question.[break][break]

"I think I'll be okay; I'm still not feeling great, but thank you," she said, a bit sheepish and quick. She needed some time alone, she thought. She'd jump in the tub for a minute or two and get the sand off and hopefully she would be able to think clearly. She locked herself in, undressed, and slipped into her stew.[break][break]

The problem for her really, she found, was that the guilt was still there. No matter how hard she scrubbed the beach off herself, the guilt had followed her home. She knew what was in those hidden picture frames and it made her stomach punch itself. Every advance this man had made tonight, when she could put them together, pointed to a singular interest, no matter how genuine he was in her well-being. It sickened her. Not that he wanted it, she understood men enough to not blame that drive. She was sick of herself. To her, Kazuma was barely gone. She could still feel that gaze just far enough, that agonizing distance she'd wedged between them for her job. She wanted to prove that she was above worry. That she had let go.[break][break]

But she still hurt. No amount of partying had changed that yet. She couldn't go through with it. Not today, not tomorrow, but...but nothing, she couldn't even figure when she'd be ready.[break][break]

When she came out, she was a little damp, her hair fully undone, and her form completely swallowed in this gigantic white business shirt. The hem of it reached her knees easily. She let a stare rest on Kimura.[break][break]

"Renamon, earmuffs."[break][break]

Both of the beast's paws drew up to those pointed ears. Soma took a deep breath; this was...a lot to unpack.[break][break]

"Kimura, I'm sorry, I...I had brought you hear because I thought I was ready. I was sick of everyone worry about me, I thought this would finally stop Kikyo from hovering on me but...I'm just not ready, I'm sorry," she tried so, so desperately to keep the tears out of her eyes. Just 5 minutes in her head had completely ruined her liquored buzz. And now she got to play buzz kill.[break][break]

[attr="class","iconie"]

[attr="class","tagsie"]Kimura Kyōryoku

[attr="class","textie"]She didn't want to hear him, she didn't want to see what anger or disgust she imagined was in his eyes. She stood there, hands gripping the shirt that hung in front of her legs, like a child. Head down, still and silent as statuary. It wasn't until he made a move for the bathroom that she took a step aside, allowing him through. Once the door closed, she could let her muscles go. Trembling and shaking of the most violent sort, eyes shut as tight as vices as a near constant stream of tears found their way out of that prison. Her damp, undone hair is enough of a curtain for Renamon, now cross-armed and staring at her partner, from seeing such an ugly sight.[break][break]

"I still haven't figured out why you do this."[break][break]

All she got in reply were sobs.[break][break]

"You keep hobbling around, you keep handicapping yourself, you've been like this for as long as I've known you." When Soma managed to stifle her sobs and finally look at that silken-coated beast, Renamon was pointing at her.[break][break]

"But that isn't you." The paw lulled through the air, cutting through what thick tension there was, to the bookshelf stuffed with albums and trophies and grandiose photos of her and her fellow entertainers.[break][break]

"That's you. That's still in you, but you pretend it isn't. I didn't know Kazuma-" the mention of the name broke her gaze from the fox.[break][break]

"I didn't know him. But he didn't make you you."[break][break]

"You don't know what he did for me." As soon as she said that, she tried to take it back. She actually started to move, trying to keep her from slinking back to the couch and no matter how she tried to apologize, Renamon was having none of it. Renamon, more than anyone, knew how much Kazuma did for Soma and how much he loved her. In a way, Renamon loved her just as much, even moreso maybe since Soma's habit for partying was relatively new.[break][break]

There she was, trying to shake some attention from Renamon's stoic laziness, when Kimura came out of the shower. Soma's hands were gripping the sofa's back like if she would let go she'd just fall away. Her face was red, but she'd stopped crying. She finally found herself where her emotions just...weren't pressing. She had to deal with this. She had to stop feeling like she was being a bother. She had to. She let him speak, but she didn't want to listen, didn't need to. She'd heard that thousands of times and she did believe it. She just..there was something in the way. Something never felt correct.[break][break]

She turned around with a very neutral expression, aside from just how red and wet her face was. She managed to speak without that emotional beast clawing at her words. She gestured to her laundry hanging up on the veranda. A single pair of sweatpants.[break][break]

"My bed's big enough," she said. With that, she just...left. Through the far door into a modest room with barely any decoration. A computer, a bookshelf, a lamp that didn't work. She'd been six months without light in this room, besides said computer. In the far corner, a queen sized bed was placed. A pillow and blanket bundled up against the wall. She slid in, eyes on the wall with the blanket pulled back to allow Kimura to share her little room. Maybe she could manage, at least tonight, to not dream about him.[break][break]

Maybe it was the warm, human body in her bed. Maybe it was the small learning of who she actually was. But she didn't dream at all that night. She didn't stir. She didn't flinch at any touch. She just slept. An eerie, empty peace.[break][break]

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[attr="class","tagsie"]Kimura Kyōryoku