Work Text:
Rinko could wear white.
Arisa did not know what it was. The contrast against her long black hair? The demure modest nature of the clothes, or of her own personality?
Other people wore white. And it was okay. But Rinko in white gave the appearance of an oil painting Arisa might ruin with her clumsy fingers if she dared to reach out.
She sat on the back porch, feet on a lower step, arms folded in front of herself as if she wasn’t sure if she was cold.
“…is something… wrong?”
Arisa swallowed. “N-No. Nothing’s wrong.”
Rinko’s cheeks warmed as she looked back out. “I… I was worried I might be…”
Arisa felt stupid at times, but she knew she wasn’t an idiot. And part of the reason she and Rinko got along so well as because of their similarities. Some people might call it boring. Arisa called it belonging.
Taking a deep breath, she sat down by Rinko. “You’re gorgeous. I… was at a loss for words.”
Now her face was as red as Rinko’s. Rinko blushing was beautiful too. Arisa sometimes couldn’t believe Rinko thought the same about her.
Rinko reached out. Arisa intertwined their fingers together.
“Thanks.”