Chapter Text
“-I told you, I’m fucking busy!”
Mira snapped at the guy leering over her shoulder at the table, her body tense with apprehension. The man’s face contorted into a twisted smile, words slurring from his tongue accompanied by the stench of liquor. She hated the smell of alcohol.
“Come onnn sweetheart, just one peek and I’ll leave ya alone– promise.”
Mira rolled her eyes, scoffing in disgust. Why tonight?
“Just one look? You promise?” Maybe he actually meant it. Surely he’d leave her alone after seeing her bike, right?
“Yeeaaaah, I prooomise–”
Maybe not. Something stank of danger in this whole situation. Or maybe it was him.
He stumbled back, almost losing his balance to make room as she stood, looking down at him. Her nose wrinkled. She was taller than him, lanky, wearing a halfway unzipped leather jacket with a faded anime tee underneath, matching leather pants, and her nice motorcycle boots. He reeked of alcohol, probably the cheapest bourbon the restaurant had in their well and gods know how many beers, judging by the aura of stale bread he left in his wake.
“Fine then.” Without another comment, she grabbed her helmet, leaving a neat stack of bills on the table to pay her tab.
Mira felt uneasy, angry at this man for ruining her night. She had bigger things to think about. A hopeful part of her pleaded with the universe that he’d go away after she showed him what he wanted, like he said. She knew it was pointless, but at least she’d be outside, away from the cameras.
The evening summer air was a welcome change from the almost stifling air of the restaurant. She took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Oh, the things she endured for the best chicken wings in town.
She was painfully aware of the man on her heels. She turned, arms crossed sternly, gesturing to her bike with her chin.
“There she is. Happy?”
The man shuffled over, taking in the angles of her bike in silence. A pristine Yamaha R1, all gloss black with perfect pink pinstripes to accentuate the aerodynamic ridges. Headlights narrow, like a pair of menacing eyes, windscreen tinted to match the rest of the bike, almost disappearing in the night shadows.
“I’ll take it. How much– hic– do you want for it?” The man slurred.
Mira blinked. Twice. She shook her head in disbelief.
“Want for it? I’m not selling it, you wanted to look at it!”
“Yeah, to buy it. I’ll take it off your hands. Besides–” He took a step towards Mira, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t even be on one of these. Wouldn’t want to bust up that pretty face–”
Mira had heard enough.
“Listen. I’m not selling it, it’s mine. How hard is that to understand?”
“Well if you ain’t selling…” The man reached under his shirt. Grabbing something, a weapon? Mira wasn’t going to find out, her fist already hurtling towards his jaw. A satisfying crack as her knuckles connected with his jaw rang out, his body crumpling to the ground like a marionette puppet whose strings had just been snipped. A knife clattered on the pavement, skittering away from his limp hand.
So he was armed.
Heart racing, Mira didn’t think twice. Slipping on her helmet, she grabbed her gloves from behind the windscreen, fiddling with the key in the ignition. She hesitated, seeing movement out of the corner of her eye. A lone figure was standing outside the restaurant, a young woman. Mira’s breath hitched. Did she see what happened?
Hurrying with the key, she finally started the bike, straddling the body as she walked it out of her parking space. She threw a glance back. The woman was just standing there. Mira couldn’t make much out, seeing as how most of the restaurant front was in shadow save for a single lamp above the door, she was small, had her hair pulled up in two buns atop her head.
Mira shook her head, moving her gaze back in front of her, taking off from the parking lot with a single decisive twist of the throttle. Her heart was still racing. This guy was delusional, trying to just take her bike from her like that. Too much alcohol and the wrong kind of person, who even knows what was going through his head?
The adrenaline wearing off, she fell into her rhythm, weaving back and forth across her lane, warming up every edge of her tires. She needed to put distance between herself and the restaurant. Did that woman see everything? Was she going to call the police? Panicked thoughts raced through her mind.
Then, the pain started.
Her right hand seared in white-hot pain from where it had connected with the man’s jaw, throbbing underneath her armored glove. Mira winced. Nothing crazy, it couldn’t be broken, right? She pushed the pain away as best she could, but it still sat there, hanging over her like a raincloud that wouldn’t go away, a dull ache that she grew used to. Just like she always did.
Slipping onto a freeway ramp, she slammed through gears, every mechanical bit clicking into place perfectly as her bike rocketed down the road. Weaving, cutting, taking every gap she saw possible, she rode for several miles before slowing down. The cars had filtered off the roads, the last of the night traffic taking their respective exits, probably heading home from work or a night out.
Mira finally took a moment to sit up, taking in the calmness of the night around her. The crisp air whipped by her, the pink tip of her pony flapping around from underneath her helmet. Usually, she listened to music on the ride, some alternative metal or indie pop punk playlist, but not tonight. Tonight was different, silent. Heavier.
She came up behind another biker, giving them that familiar two finger wave all riders knew as she accelerated past them– her? Mira did a double take, peeking over her left shoulder. It was a girl, with an impressively long purple braid waving delicately in the wind. Mira smiled. She never saw other girl riders, a sighting rarer than a blue moon, it felt like.
Maybe she’d see her again sometime.
Mira pulled into her apartment complex, turning off her bike at the entrance and walking it in. Didn’t want to wake all her neighbors up. She settled the bike in its parking spot, leaning it on the kickstand as she swung her leg over. Trodding up the stairs, everything started to hit her at once. The events of the evening, the panic of fleeing the scene of the…crime?
Why she was alone at that restaurant in the first place.
Most normal people went on dates, hung out with friends, went to bars. Not Mira. Mira preferred to keep to herself, there weren’t many people she could stand being around without pushing them away.
She unlocked her door, slipping her boots off inside the entryway. Mira’s apartment was cozy, short entryway with a spot to hang all her coats and helmet opening up to a spacious living room plastered with posters, a TV on the wall hung opposite the couch and massive beanbag, a vinyl player nestled between two stereo speakers with a huge bookshelf full of vinyl records and CD’s she had collected over the years, her current listening fixations strewn around the player in their sleeves.
“Snowy. Come on, I know you’re in there.” Mira coaxed, kneeling down below the record player. Two amber eyes materialized from what seemed like thin air as the cat yawned languidly with a content mrrp. Snowy, aka, the blackest cat to ever exist, stretched his body from underneath the table, tail quivering in excitement as he woke up.
“You must’ve eaten.” Mira picked up the feline, immediately confirming her suspicions with his smelly chicken breath. Thank the stars for automatic feeders. Snowy settled into her shoulder, purring like a motor as she made her way down the hall. She set the cat down, flopping onto her bed without bothering to change clothes. She stared up at the ceiling, a trembling sigh finally escaping her lips.
It was that time of year.
Mira slipped her gloves off, first inspecting her right hand that still ached. Not as bad, but the pain was still there. She brushed her fingers over the bruised knuckle. Just a mark, no cut, and seeing as how the pain dulled, probably not broken either. Then, she slipped her ring off from her left ring finger. Her lip trembled as the soft light refracted through the gorgeous diamond studded atop a rose gold band, sturdy yet not too chunky.
“I miss you.” Mira barely could choke the words out, throat clenched with sadness as the first tear spilled. She clutched the ring in her hand, holding it close to her heart. It felt as if someone had just driven a stake through her chest, everything she did to avoid the rib-crushing sadness washing away with no one around to see her cry.
The tears ran down her temples, into her hair, onto the bed. They kept coming–she let them flow, until she couldn’t anymore.
That feeling after you’ve just finished crying, sobbing your heart out where you can hardly breathe, your ribs hurt from gasping for hair, eyes puffy from rubbing. Mira took one last look at the ring, taking a deep, trembling breath. She slipped an alcohol wipe from its package in her bedside table, softly, reverently cleaning the ring with every ounce of respect she had. She placed it in the open ring box on the table, eyes still glued to it. She couldn’t put it back. Not yet.
She closed the translucent lid, standing up shakily. Snowy mrrp’d from his perch on his cat tree in the corner. Mira padded over, scratching his favorite spot underneath his chin. He started purring again.
“You miss her too, don’t you? Can cats even miss people? Fuck if I know–” She muttered, Snowy blissfully running his face across her fingers, getting his fix of head scratches.
Losing someone, whether to the sands of time, to sickness, to unfortunate circumstances, was never easy. Mira knew what losing family was like, grandparents, aunts, uncles passing away when she was young. It always felt…surreal. As if it was inevitable, accepted long before it actually happened.
Losing someone you were going to marry?
It had been a year. Three hundred and sixty-five days of putting her head down, pushing from one day to the next as if nothing had happened, as if–
Ah fuck, she was crying again.
Softer this time, silent tears running down her cheeks as she peeled off her clothes. She needed to shower, get the energy of the day washed away before she fell back in her pit of sorrow. Mira had fallen down the pit once, and she had sworn never to fall again. It took her months of forcing herself outside, to the gym, to work, just to function again. Even then, after all her work, she still felt broken.
Grabbing a towel, still sniffling, she started the water. Steam billowed up almost instantly, the hot water from the rainfall shower washing away the sweat and grime instantly as she stepped in.
Shampoo first.
Mira massaged her minty shampoo into her scalp, the infused cooling herbs soothing her scalp and cleansing any residue from her hair spray. She sniffled again, a rogue tear still slipping from the corner of her eye.
Just like she used to do for Mira.
Conditioner–
Mira tried not to think about it, taking deep breaths of the steamy air. She massaged the gentle moisturizing mask into her ends.
Skin.
She grabbed her scrubbing mitt, dumping a cocoa butter wash onto it. She sighed, breath shaking as the dirt of the day washed away, down the drain. She wished her feelings would follow. Maybe not down the drain, gone forever–
Maybe just saved for later until she could fully feel them. Process them.
It was too easy for Mira to just shove aside everything that was thrown at her, work, family stuff, but this…
Losing her fiance had completely and utterly broken her. She felt broken, incomplete, almost useless now. What purpose did she have here, if not to love the woman who loved her?
Yet still she pushed on. Day by day.
Hana would have wanted her to.
Mira stepped out of the shower, roughly toweling her hair dry before wrapping herself up in it, popping her toothbrush in her mouth. She swept a hand across the foggy mirror, illuminated by the backlight built into the wall. Her eyes were red, puffy, but free of tears. Her brown eyes steeled again, the sad glassiness disappearing. The walls were coming back up.
She shuffled across the hall, rummaging through her dresser to throw on one of her many oversized anime tees and a pair of shorts, before sinking down on her mattress. She turned to shut the lamp off, hesitating for a moment. The ring was still on her bedside table.
Mira picked up the case, gazing through the glass lid. She settled into her covers, still turning the case over and over in her fingers.
The lamp clicked off, nothing but the moon illuminating the room.
The diamond sparkled in the moonlight, twinkling at Mira as if it were a faraway star. A hoarse whisper escaped her lips, as the weight of the day pulled her eyelids down.
“I miss you, Hana. I miss you so much.”
Written by a human in Ellipsus.