Status: Done!

Jealousy?

Jealousy?

The dual spirals of black lace curled themselves gracefully at the very ends of the ribbon that hung down, their shapes curving together to appear as if they formed a single DNA strand, perhaps the only strand of femininity in the blonde's sleek, crisply ironed dress shirt and slacks combination. She'd been waiting for Michiru to finish volunteerily teaching her art class all afternoon, and she was more than anxious pull out the roses, the ones she had thoughtfully picked up from their favorite florist on the way to the art center, from behind her back and present them to her lover, their bashful, powder blue blush reminiscent of Haruka's current mood. A few weeks back, Michiru had come home after her lesson fawning over a stunning bouquet of roses, and while her prideful nature didn't allow Haruka to respond with anything other than a remark of arrogance (and secretly reassurance) when Michiru questioned her jealousy, she had been, in fact, somewhat irritated and startled, probably the first being a result of the latter. Haruka wasn't fond of being caught gobsmacked. It had taken her those weeks to win over the battle with her pride and step forward to meet the challenge, but she was confident these gorgeous flowers, with their tall, majestic stalks and bright, aquatic glow, would blow those pathetic bunches of petals out of the water without a second glance.
A good fifteen minutes later, and the class poured out, protectively clutching their most recent masterpieces, trophies of clay creation and a few blobs of failed visions. In the distance, the resonance of church bells chiming alarmed a flock of pigeons to fly over head, and a content, teal-haired beauty strode out of the building, her gentle smile warm enough to kindle a small, comforting calm within her partner. Haruka couldn't wait to pull her into a tender embrace. Even though the class was only an hour every other Sunday, the time apart was always an awkward, still void filled by longing for Michiru's company. Once you've been with someone as long as they had been together and truly have become one, she supposed, it was only natural to feel somewhat naked when apart. "Haruka! You didn't say you'd be waiting for me!" she chuckled with a smugness that made Haruka raise a defensive brow.
"Oh? Were you expecting someone else?" she smirked with cockiness, presenting the dainty Michiru with a miraculous bundle of baby blue roses. The very depth of the woman's eyes lit up, but before she could reach out to so much as touch them, a scrawny brat pushed the flowers out of his way so that he could show his teacher his finished product, a poorly sculpted mutation of what appeared to have been intended to pass as a heart, or perhaps some other organ with several tumors, judging by all the protruding lumps and blemishes.
"Ms. Kaioh, this... Th-this is for you."
"Why, thank you, dear!"
"Oh, not at all, Ma'am..." the twerp replied coyly, his crush as starkly evident as his failed future as an artist. Suddenly, the blue blush that had reflected Haruka's mood subtly transformed itself to reflect the blue hue of someone being strangled. "Who's this guy?" he asked with a deliberately sympathetic simper of feigned pity as he pointed apathetically to Haruka.
"Actually, that's my girlfriend, Haruka-san. We've been together a very long time."
"Girlfriend?" he squealed, his confidence dwindling beneath Haruka's wicked grin and the glaring gleam in her navy blue irises.
"Yes," she stepped forward to confront the child who had been attempting to romance her lover, "I'm your teacher's partner. It's nice to finally meet the boy who gave her such lovely roses. It's a shame they died so quickly, but it's just as well. That way, these will have somewhere to go! Not to mention that the shade of these flowers and the vase yours were in compliment each other perfectly."
As the two made their way to the parking lot, Michiru couldn't quite suppress a river of giggles spilling out from the part in her cheshire-cat grin. "What?" Haruka inquired with innocence so unbelievable and unashamed that it made the slender frame of the senshi of the sea quiver with uncontrollable amusement as the laughter proved victorious yet again. Michiru's laughter had always held an endearing patch of Haruka's heart, the charming ring indiscernable from that of an ensemble of angels.
"Haruka!" she scolded playfully as the two shifted positions before starting up the motorbike, "So cruel."
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