Onee-sama stares at me from across her room, "Yumi?" she questions my hesitance, "I'm only gone a week."

Sitting on her bed, I rest my chin on my knees as I wrap my arms around my legs, "I know…" I respond, my heart banging against my chest because I'm afraid what I am about to confess to her will change our relationship completely.

"So why so gloomy all of a sudden?"

By now Onee-sama should know what's to come, but even still, I cannot help but tremble in front of her, "It's—" I hesitate at first, but then remember who she is, how she makes me feel, how incredible this woman can be when she allows herself to feel, when she doesn't let others dictate her actions. So, I start, "Onee-sama," I say, gathering all of the courage I have in me to continue, "I remember seeing you for the first time at Lillian during the freshmen welcoming ceremony. I wanted to know your name even before Youko-sama introduced you to us as her petite soeur. 'And now, Sachiko will play Ave Maria,' Youko-sama said, and your name echoed in my heart so loudly I almost overlooked the flush on my cheeks for allowing myself to think of your name like that, just like Youko-sama said: Sachiko." I feel a heat overcome my entire body at the indulgence of saying her name like that, stripped from the honorific which has always followed it. Onee-sama doesn't correct me, though, agreeing to let me go on with the speech I have prepared.

"After that day, I knew I wanted to be close to you... Isn't it so simpleminded of me to have liked you like that? Not knowing anything about you but the fact that you were Rosa Chinensis en bouton? Come to think of it, that naiveté was what led me to hold my breath when you scolded me for not wearing my scarf properly the day we first met. My lack of composure made that exchange one of the most embarrassing moments of my Lillian career. But even though I thought that conversation was too cruel, I still couldn't make myself think ill of you… Onee-sama, my feelings for you, they've evolved, they've grown exponentially since that first day I saw you. The love I have for you can't be quantified. You are carved deep inside my heart." I say those last words with tears in my eyes, but a smile on my lips because I am so thankful for all of these feelings she, alone, makes me feel.

"I was terrified…" she confesses, "I was in a constant state of fright around you… always so strict… but it was the only way I had found to keep myself from breaking, because if I did, then we would both fall."

I tell her I know it, and she doesn't look surprised at all.

"I had been quite used to hiding my emotions, but with you I have to work twice as hard, Yumi."

"Your emotions," I tell her, "I love them because they are yours."

She shoots a bright smile at me, that response warms my heart; it percolates every inch of my soul.

"But you're not here just to tell me how much you love my turbulent temper, right?" She changes her tone from cloying to serious.

"Onee-sama…"

"…"

"As always, you're right," I tell her, my feet finally touching the floor. I sit close to the edge of her bed, and she watches me quietly. "My first love…" I say to her as I stand up and walk to her, "My first heartbreak…" I continue, "My first anger outburst at someone who was not in my family… My first caress full of lust… My first jealously feeling… My first fear of losing… You were the reason for so many tears of sorrow and joy, but most of all, for never-ending light in my heart," I say as I take both her hands in mine, then I conclude, "Onee-sama, you and I know, very well, that my love for you has never been in any way, shape, or form, sisterly."

"…"

"But, we both know my heart well enough to understand its choices."

"…"

"Onee-sama, you're spring in my heart. You're the onset of all of the feelings I now understand. You're the cool beginning, the brazen winds throughout, the warm conclusion. But, Onee-sama…" I start again, my heart beating in my throat, "My heart, it begs for summer; it pleads for devastating heat. It wants brash, and bold, and unafraid. It wants barging through doors, screaming at top of lungs, demanding my love."

"I see," she responds quietly.

"I wish you were autumn," I tell her; nonetheless. My heart still full of love for her, but these decisions, hard as they might be, are ones we all will have to face at some point. And it's not a matter of loving one more than the other; it's a matter of trusting oneself enough in hoping that there is no better soil for harvest than one which has experienced a forest fire.

"I wish I were many things," she says, closing the distance between us, then she cups my face tenderly, a smile tugging at her lips. "You're all four seasons at once." She places her lips on my cheek, letting the kiss linger for a long while before breaking that contact.

"Onee-sama…" I blush at her sweetness.

###

I say farewell to Onee-sama at the airport, selfishly wishing she didn't have to go; selfishly wishing she'd stay because if this plan of mine goes awry, I'm afraid she is the only one who could pick up the pieces of my heart.

But she's gone a week and here I am getting in the elevator, headed to the parking garage where summer awaits.

I cross the road and run to her.

We haven't seen each other in weeks, and the distance between us, though my own doing, has been killing me.

I watch her eyes follow me through her rearview mirror, even still, I knock on the passenger window, pretending I didn't see her stare.

She unlocks the door and I get in her car apologizing for making her wait, but she keeps to herself and I wonder if she's still angry at me for avoiding her for way too long. Still, I wish she'd greeted me with her usual bow and 'Gokigenyou, Onee-sama.' But all I get is an awkward head nod from her. Sometimes Touko can be mean but she doesn't even realize it. She is good at that –the best, actually–. And I am starting to second-guess myself because of her silence.

Touko keeps on her guard but I know she is worried. "S-she'll be back soon, I say, trying to appease her, "It's only a week," I continue, feeling the awkwardness of this moment engulf my sanity.

What am I doing?

I repeat the last sentence once more, berating myself for not being able to tell her how I feel already.

When I finally shut off my racing mind, we're already far from the airport. The radio swallows the silence between us. It's okay, I reason, while she hums quietly to the rhythms of the music.

I wish she'd sing these songs to me. I wish there were ulterior motives which led her to make me a playlist full of love songs. I wish she weren't playing with me heart.

But I wonder if what I am doing is fair to her; though. I wonder if all of the small hints about her feelings toward me that she has sprinkled throughout our soeurship are real or just a fabrication of my imagination.

I need to know.

"Touko," I get her attention when we stop at a red light, "Is it okay if I spent the night with you?" I vomit the words recklessly, hoping to Maria-sama she won't deny me –in many other ways than just this simple request–.

When she doesn't say more than, "Onee-sama," I feel my heart flutter. It's taking everything in me to be this forward, and it's exhausting to never get through to her.

My mind races again as I confirm Kanako's whereabouts. There is no reason why Touko would be this hesitant about me coming over unless she knows my intentions and wants to avoid my advances.

Perhaps these feelings I thought we shared are one-sided, after all. And now my fear is that summer will freeze my heart.

So I drop my head down, and I think of her. I think of the life she and I could share; a life where I can make her happy –I know I can–. Suddenly, a torrent of feelings floods me and I cry out the pain of not knowing whether she really loves me or not.

Touko looks confused at first, desperately pulling over into a convenience store parking lot and throwing her arms around my shoulders as if she knows that her touch alone holds the power to placate all of my anxieties, as if she knows that without her arms around me I'll shatter.

I hold her tighter than I have ever held her before, and she cries with me, telling me she doesn't know how to help me, then she voices her anger toward my Onee-sama.

Little does she know that these tears are not for Onee-sama, that Touko is the reason why my chest feels this heavy.

So I cup her face in my hands, and I look at her for a long while, and I cry even harder at the thought of not having her warmth in my life.

I should leave things the way they are, find the strength in me to accept that having her as a friend is the mature thing to do. Because if I tell her, if I dare tell her that my heart longs for the warmth of her body, then I risk losing everything we've built so far.

"It's my decision," I tell Touko, my hands withdrawing from her face, knowing very well that she won't understand what I mean by those vague words. But if I don't say them out loud, if I don't tell her, then I can't keep myself accountable.

"Sometimes your decisions are thoughtful, but your timing is reckless," she says when I have no more tears to shed.

"Like the first time I offered you my rosary…" I joke with her.

"Hai."

So I tell her my heart was in the right place, and she counters me by saying my heart is always in he right place. But she doesn't know how wrong she is. She doesn't know my heart has never been in the right place when it comes to her.

"That's a good thing, you know."

"Sometimes I wish I would follow my head more." Maybe that way I wouldn't be here right now, holding my heart in my hands, hoping I hadn't fallen in love.

"But then you probably wouldn't like me as much," she says, breaking my heart in the process. Touko can be mean sometimes, and right now, she is the meanest.

If I loved her less, if I ever could love her less, then perhaps I would know how to go on with this emptiness in my chest. "You're right," I answer her carefully, anything other than that would have had to be "I love you more than life itself."

"Please, take me home," I want to tell her when I can finally speak properly, but before the words come out of my mouth she is redirecting the GPS.

We're going home.

And there she goes again, singing these love songs she handed me on a CD long ago when our relationship was so new I had mistaken infatuation for love –it's been love all along. All of this time, ever since I started to care for her back when she screamed my name outside my window when she ran away from home: love–.

How I hope these songs were sang for me. How I hope her heart was made for me.

She parks the car and we walk side-by-side until she opens the door to her home to me, "You first, Onee-sama," she says. I walk in, thanking her carefully. She follows me, our bodies so close, our hearts kilometers apart.

She leaves me in the living room while she prepares us a bath. I'm a ship adrift at sea, my anchors long lost, and in my heart, Touko is the only one who can rescue me, bring me to shore. I set out the flares, they burst in my sky, illuminating the waters for only a second, and I am afraid they've never reached her.

I've been here numerous times before, but today, these books, and pillows, and blankets, they all seem new to me. They all put things into perspective: Touko, as taciturn and disconnected as she is, is human, too.

I run my fingers across the paperbacks and hardcovers on her shelf, then I pick one up and flip through the pages. I read a line or two –sad waltzes played in old pianolas by a young man in love–.

The book goes back in the shelf and I inhale deeply. Walking to the TV, I turn it on, then notice a small console hooked up to it. Yuuki has one of these, too, so I switch it on, looking for the controllers. Then I flip through the pages of games and pick my favorite. I used to spend hours in Yuuki's room playing video games with him when we were younger, so as the game's theme song starts, nostalgia hits my chest –things were much easier when we were kids; relationships were more straightforward, love was a simpler concept–.

Not long after I start playing, Touko comes around the corner to let me know the bath is ready, so I pause the game, thanking her for her hard work, and I take a good look at her; something feels off. Suddenly, all of those feelings of inaptitude from the very beginning of our soeurship come crashing down on me. I want to know what she wants from me. I want, so badly, to know what she is feelings, what she is thinking, if there's room for me in her life.

I learn quickly I spent way too long in the bath; my head spins when I stand up, and I hold on to the sink so I don't collapse. With a hazy mind, I wrap myself in Touko's robe and step out of the bathroom, the cool air in the hallway brings me back to life.

"I'm all done," I say to her, a smirk tugging at my lips –the thought of Touko's robe against my skin reddening my cheeks, but the flush goes unnoticed even though we both know she was staring–.

Then she all but run by me and slams the bathroom door behind her. Did I do something wrong? I wonder.

I pick up the controller she threw on the couch, still looking at the end of the hallway wishing she'd swing that door open with same passion she had when she slammed it, running to me, throwing herself into my arms, professing the love I wish she had for me.

But none of that happens. And right now she must be undressing.

I'd be remiss if I didn't wish I were the one unclasping her bra, unzipping her jeans, sliding down the last of her clothes.

Have I gone mad?

I push the controller's start button and pick up from where she left off, but I can't clear this stage to save my life, my mind tangled with thoughts of her alone in that shower.

So, at that thought my legs lead me to her, "Touko-chan," I whisper, my forehead pressed against the bathroom door, and I guess the answer to my question is, yes, I have gone mad. Only madness can explain what I am doing right now.

And why, all of a sudden, I'm calling her Touko-chan? Why all of a sudden add the honorific to her name when I really want is to whisper it, stripped from any honorifics, over and over again, inside her mouth.

"Touko," I more whimper than speak, only then she responds, "Y-yes, Onee-sama?" her voice is the fuel to the fire in my heart, "May I?" I question even though I've already opened the door.

She asks if I'm okay and it takes everything in me to lie to her. Nothing is okay right now because her body is not pressed against mine, because her mouth is not atop of mine, because my fingers are not lost in her hair.

"I couldn't sit alone anymore," I tell her, taking the showerhead from her hand, and burying my fingers in her hair, the suds painting the blue floor tiles white. She props her head back, and I fight the urge to look down; this is not how things should be, after all. I look at her hair instead.

Once her locks are free from the shampoo, I reach for the bottle of conditioner. Touko stands her ground; if it were me, I'd squirm like a little kid, trying to cover as much as I could in the process. But Touko doesn't budge, and I wonder if she wants me to look at her. Though I am dying to do so, I hold my horses, only picking at her bare shoulders. It takes everything in me not to take her all in.

She let's me massage the conditioner into her hair. Deliberately, I start at the top, carefully working my way down her head, making sure every inch of her hair is properly coated and her scalp softly massaged. I get behind her ears, and as I move down her neck, she abruptly stops me. She tells me she'll wash herself off, and all but kicks me out of her bathroom, leaving me to wonder what I've done wrong again.

All I want is to be near her, to feel her warmth, to appease the demons that plague her. All I ever wanted was to make her happy, to make her understand that out of the entire universe, I am here for her, I am here to love her.

Am I too late?

Touko remains quiet through the night, and I feel this inadequacy around her; this inability to make her open up, to make her see what I want her to see. Suddenly we're kids again, suddenly I am once again silently fighting these demons surrounding me, her, this apartment.

But it's nighttime already and her elbow grazes my arm while we share her bathroom as we get ready for bed.

Then, she lies by me on her bed, eyes closed; and I keep track of the rise and fall of her chest, wondering what goes on inside her mind, wondering if I am part of those thoughts –because I selfishly want to be–.

She must be tired, I assume, we had such a long afternoon, it's only fair I let her sleep. But just as I am readying myself to close my eyes for the night, she looks at me, and I feel my heart swell up in my chest, "Hi," I tell her, which she responds back, "Onee-sama." My love for her overflows into a smile I can't contain. And she smiles back, a smile I want to believe she only has for me, one which is genuine, packed with love I know is mine. Love I wish were as strong as mine for her.

I reach out for her, carefully adjusting a few flyaways behind her ear, getting her bangs off her face so I can see her eyes clearly. My fingers dare to continue touching her, and I cup her face in my hand; she's warm, but the fire in me is scorching. "I'm so glad you're in my life, Touko," my lips work on their own accord. Nevertheless, before I do anything brazen, I turn off the light.

I close my eyes in the darkness of her room, still, I feel the warmth radiating from her. Touko's shallow breathing lets me know she's not asleep yet. And we play this strange game of whose warmth will light up this fire for hours on end until she turns her back to me.

Who gave her permission to look away? My heart demands that warm breath of hers, tickling my nostrils ever so lightly.

I throw my arms around her without thinking of the consequences of being so terribly forward. I let my heart take over; I let it dictate the next steps I take without taking the time to think of what will be of our relationship tomorrow.

Summer! My heart begs. I think I am finally ready for whatever will come when morning breaks.

My fingers wrap around hers, my lips land atop the beads of the rosary pressed against the nape of her neck. She breathes in deeply, and I swallow a sigh. Her skin burns against mine, and I melt when she presses her mouth atop of my knuckles.

And she stays there, long enough to make me think she wants me the same way I want her.

But then she makes me doubt my sanity by letting go of my hand; however, instead of running away like I thought she would, Touko turns around again, her face centimeters away from mine. I breathe out the breath I didn't know I was holding in.

I wrap my arms around her, "I'm yours, Touko," I tell her with that embrace, and I bring her closer to me, so close I can feel her bottom lip graze mine.

So I wait for her. I wait for Touko like I've always done. I wait for her to fight with the monsters in her head telling her this is not how things are supposed to be, that this is not how our relationship was supposed to end up. I wait for her internal monologue pointing out a catalog of pros and cons on this crazy thing we're both about to do. I wait until she lets out a quiet whimper. But I've always thought that if Touko were to cry out, that it would have to be of pleasure, by my hands, by my lips on her bare breasts, by my tongue in places Maria-sama shouldn't know I think of kissing.

I should have told her I loved her years ago, when she sat across from me in my bedroom the night she ran away from home. I should have thrown my arms around her when my heart was screaming, "Do it! Do it now!" I should have gone with my heart, forgotten about my head –I always did better when I trusted my gut anyway–.

She exhales a warm breath mixed with tears that I can feel on my own face.

"Touko," I say to her in a whisper, cupping her face in my hands, "I don't want you to hate me because of how I feel," I confess, closing the distance between us as I try to explain these feelings overflowing inside of me, "I don't want you to run away…"

"I understand there are many things you don't want… " she whispers in response, my lips practically atop hers, "But what is it you want, Yumi?" she asks, and I melt at her forwardness, at the way she intentionally chooses to call me by my name, at this courage she has to put me on the spot.

"I want you," I finally tell her with the last of my voice.

She whimpers again, a vulnerability I am not use to, but just as she shows me the most delicate parts of her, she also allows me to see her strength when she closes the last bit of distance between her mouth and mine; the softest of touches setting fire to my heart, and I feel like crying when she pulls her lips from mine only to kiss me again, tenderly, yet much deeply the second time around.

I kiss her back, delicately, her tongue inside my mouth with conscious gentleness but earnest yearning.

I let summer scorch my soul. I want nothing more than to live inside this fire.