Curled up in bed, under the dim light of her reading lamp, Senna couldn’t keep a groan from escaping her lips; the stupid comic was everything she’d been expecting. Its plot was some uninspired, trite bullshit about a shy, innocent girl—Hina—transferring to a school and meeting Kei, this suave, confident, but aloof lady-killer type who bounced from girl to girl, breaking hearts. Kei, of course, immediately developed an interest in Hina, but Hina’s shyness and fear of getting hurt in light of Kei’s reputation drew the whole thing out despite the obvious mutual attraction. At the same time, as Hina and Kei grew closer, Hina was slowly peeling back layer after layer of her crush’s aloof, troublemaker persona to reveal the kind, supportive, sensitive person Kei really was deep down. And, of course, in the end, the character growth Hina had helped Kei achieved was exactly what had allowed Kei to push through her own distant attitude and express her feelings in the sort of vulnerable, honest way which Hina needed her to in order to be certain their feelings for one another were real, and that this was more than just the next fling to Kei. The first volume—which was all that Brooke had ‘lended’ Senna—ended on a touching, romantic gesture, then a kiss as Hina officially agreed to become Kei’s girlfriend.  

And honestly, the whole thing was packed with every overdone trope imaginable; the mere thought of Kei could make Hina’s heart hammer in her chest. She could scarcely stammer out a few words when they spoke, and she spent the majority of the manga’s plot frittering about and making excuses for why they couldn’t be together to heighten some pointless ‘will they / won’t they’ drama. In other words, it was exactly the sort of shit Senna would have loved back in highschool when she was still early in her transition, and was still bogged down in all the fluffy girlish, gay excitment and yearning that came with it. Worst of all, Senna found herself enjoying it. She was an unwitting captive to her own stupid feelings as the cliche, predictable story swept aside all her jaded, smug superiority, and left her craving more. 

As Senna shut the book, and set it on her bedside table, a low growl scraped her throat. Stupid book, why did she have to like it? Brooke was gonna be so fucking insufferable about this. Of course, Senna could just lie, but she’d never been particularly good at that, especially when it came to emotions. Whatever, she just needed to get it over with. A bit of humility, admit she liked it, but not make a big deal about it. Brooke could only actually fuck with Senna if she let the teasing get to her. She’d return the book, and then never think about any of this any again. That was best, put all this behind her. It was just one comic, it’s not like she needed to think about it ever again. Either way, it was time for her to get some shuteye; Senna rolled over in bed, flicked off the light, and forced her eyes shut. 

What felt like maybe ten minutes later, and turned out to only be five, Senna flailed in bed, throwing off her covers and emitting a muffled shriek of frustration as she snatched her phone off her bedside table. She opened up her browser, punched in the name of the comic, and swiftly located a digital version for sale. This was stupid, her leisure budget was already stretched thin, how was she seriously considering spending it on fucking yuri manga? That line of thought continued, playing on loop in her head as she opened the page, and purchased digital versions of the manga’s full run. It wasn’t fair. She just had to know how it ended. And besides, these were special edition, full color releases, how could she not? The artwork samples looked absolutely gorgeous, so vibrant, so picturesque. As much as she hated herself for it, Senna just had to have them. 

Part of her wanted to pull out her tablet and dive right in immediately, but, admittedly, she was feeling quite tired. Besides, tomorrow was Friday, she didn’t have any classes Friday save for a couple of project based ones for which regular attendance was not expected. As much as Senna hated to admit it, spending a morning relaxing in bed and binging a yuri manga sounded like a much-needed vacation from all the stress in her life. Satisfied by her purchase, and her plans, Senna curled up in bed, and drifted off to sleep.

By the time early morning dreariness had given way to bright spring skies, Senna was already glued to her tablet screen, three-quarters of the way through volume two. After the first arc had focused primarily on Kei’s growth, volume two zeroed in on Hina. She feared her meek personality was a hindrance, and wanted to become more like Kei, but the narrative masterfully demonstrated how Hina’s flaws were crucial to their relationship. Accepting and accommodating Hina was clearly Kei’s love language, and it made Hina feel cared for. Plus, Hina’s gentle nature was integral to Kei expressing vulnerability. How could Hina not see that? Honestly, Senna was getting a little worried that the author might miss her own subtext, and try to change who Hina was. Thankfully, the second volume ended with Hina accepting herself, and Senna felt actual tension ease in her body. 

All of Senna’s annoyance at caring this much about some dumb romance manga was eclpised by her desire to dive right into volume three. After Hina accidentally touched on some of Kei’s past trauma, Kei lashed out at her girlfriend, hurting both of them. Fearful that she would inevitably break Hina’s heart, Kei began to withdraw. And, in a brilliant mirror to the past arc, Hina got through Kei not with boldness, but with vulnerability. Senna paused for a cry break after that one. Volume four was a welcome lull; both girls fretted over having a perfect Valentine’s Day, only for it to end messy, but uniquely wonderful for their love. One section in particular really stood out to Senna. 

It was a POV sequence from Hina’s perspective; she was seated on a patch of grass, relaxing against a tree. Her eyes closed, and when they opened, Kei’s face dominated the frame. She had Hina boxed in, looming over her and fixing her lover with a hungry stare. The next panels had no dialogue, simply shots of Kei’s face as she stared Hina down. Hina’s heartbeat grew louder and quicker each panel; Senna’s did too. Then, movement: In a sequence of panels so gradual it could practically be spliced together into animation, Kei leaned inward, closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and kissed Hina. Senna found her own heart exploding alongside Hina’s as the tension ratcheted up, then released so perfectly. She tried very hard to ignore the growing tightness in her pants. 

Senna needed another break; she ate, and took a cold shower. Even so, the mere thought of that sequence still left her blushing furiously. It didn’t matter: volume five. She tapped the next volume, and the cover appeared on her screen; Senna practically dropped her tablet. Hina sat on her bed, in nothing but a bra and panties. The bra was halfway undone, one of its cups in the middle of slipping right off her breast. Kei loomed over her, in a similar state of undress, pushing Hina to the bed and clearly fiddling with the clasp of her lover’s bra. Their eyes were locked in a soulful, passionate gaze: Hina, wide eyed and open mouthed, and Kei, serious, in charge, but full of love and sincerity. Senna flushed deep red all over again, was this volume seriously going to go there? She vaguely recalled seeing something online about the manga being for readers eighteen and older, but hadn’t even given it a second thought at the time. Now, the thought of seeing that sort of thing get portrayed on paper like this, drawn in detail and colored in vibrant, stylistic glory, filled Senna with an unfamiliar sense of shame, and nervous excitement. 

She couldn’t help herself; Senna began to read. An hour later, she set down her tablet. Red in the face, heart racing, belly full of fluttery, hopeless yearning, Senna buried her face into her pillow and screamed. Kei was such a romantic. The ways she had struck such a perfect balance between seduction, and comforting her timid, nervous, but eager lover had set Senna’s heart aflame. And the drawings themselves, too, they were so—Senna trimmed that thought before it could continue, her blush flaring up even more. 

She cast a glance toward her tablet, still lingering on the final page of the volume. The tightness in her pants became impossible to ignore. Senna whimpered, and reached her hand down to stroke her sensitive dick. As she did, her mind ran wild with fantasy. She imagined herself as Hina, pinned to her bed, Kei looming above, stifling muffled cries as the woman she loved carefully, sensually guided her through her first time. The thought of those eyes, staring down at her with a look of calm control, and boundless love pushed Senna even closer to the edge. She bit her lip, rubbing even faster. And then, climax came, and as it did, Senna’s thoughts strayed ever so briefly away from Kei’s eyes looking down on her, and toward another’s. 

In the wake of her orgasm, Senna lay in bed, gasping and panting through her recovery. Then the reality of what she’d just done set in, and embarrassment washed over her. How could she do something like that? It felt so… dirty. But no, that wasn’t the issue; that was ridiculous. How could she think that was the problem? The problem was she’d just masturbated to some flowery girls’ love manga, what kind of loser was she? Senna sat up, and shook her head, then checked the time. It was nearly five o’clock. What the hell? She had only meant to read for a few hours, how had she lost so much time? It was as though she’d slipped into some kind of manga trance, a flowey haze of romance, and sickeningly saccharine sentimentality. She shut off her tablet, disgusted, and set it aside. “Stupid, f-fu-fucking manga,” she stammered. The profanity felt awkward, uncomfortable on her lips and tongue. Whatever, she needed to get out, remove herself from this weird headspace. She’d grab dinner, then see if there were any parties worth going to, maybe she could get lucky tonight, that would get her out of this funk. Senna tried to pretend that thought didn’t cause another blush to bloom on her cheek, and set herself to task. 

An hour later, Senna was well fed, and waiting to hear back from her friends about what was going on around campus. She didn’t have to wait long, her phone vibrated, and she opened a text message which read: “rager on Fifth and Gregory? If not, there’s something smaller on Ninth and Langley, I can get us in.” Senna took a moment to consider her options. She really didn’t feel like going to a rager, loud music, a crowded, run-down house, plus so many weird, creepy guys there to try and make a pass at her? No way, definitely not. So the smaller one, then? It sounded less scary in some ways, and would certainly be quieter, but Senna didn’t know anyone who lived over that way, so she’d probably be surrounded by strangers, and the idea of having to put herself out there sounded just as bad as the rager, honestly. So what was she supposed to do? The answer was obvious. What she wanted to do was curl up in bed, and finish reading her manga. She was about half-way through the run of it, and if she started soon, she could probably finish just in time for bed. But wasn’t the whole point of this to try and take a break from that? Whatever, Senna didn’t care, her other options sounded miserable at best, downright frightening at worst. She sent a quick reply saying she was gonna stay in, and muted her phone, then curled up in bed. 

Midnight rolled around, and Senna was wiping away tears. She’d done it, read every last panel. It really was a beautiful story. And the ending was a little cliche, with the two getting married, but the whole sequence was just so gorgeously drawn and written, Senna couldn’t care less, she wouldn’t want this to end any other way. Sometimes art wasn’t there to challenge or push boundaries, it was just there to make someone feel good, and that was exactly how Senna felt: well and truly touched by this wonderful, romantic story. She just hoped she could find a Kei of her own some day. Feeling tired from her long day of reading, Senna stretched, rolled over into bed, and let her imagination carry her off into the realm of dreams.