Disclaimer: Honey and Clover does not belong to me. It's such a sad, sad predicament to be in.

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Four Seasons: Summer Showers

By StarrYsTarRysKy

What do I do with my life?

What do I need at the moment?

How do I feel about this?

How do I deal with this?

Is there…

is there anything at all that I can do?

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I. Because the palpitations of my aching heart cannot be steadied

Ayumi Yamada sat quietly inside the studio, once again drowning out her frustrations with a pottery-making marathon. Usually, she'd only go there to complete a certain project, or whenever she was called for, but now, she had constantly found herself visiting this room whenever she was perturbed, depressed, or perplexed. And frankly, she had been coming to this place more often than she would have opted.

"One of these days, you're going to find an answer to those problems of yours. Who knows? Maybe you'll find it underneath the hundredth bowl you've made," her teacher had once told her.

Maybe the old man was right. She did not need to hasten herself. What she needed to do was take time off, think things through, and find the answer—even though that would take her more time than she would usually bargain for.

One thing was evident, though, and that's the fact that she had been leading a miserable love life. And she knew it. She really knew it right from the start, and even though she knew that she would end up murdering herself over Mayama, she just continued to love him in her own way.

It's somewhat hilarious when you think about it. She always wanted a happy-coloured love—something akin to what they show on the television. Sure there would be tribulations and whatnot, but love would prevail in the end, persistence would always pay off, and those who love most win it all. Unfortunately, though, it wasn't like that when it came to her, and most people still found it difficult to fathom the situation she was in.

She was deemed the most stunning woman in their university and hundreds, if not thousands, of men have fallen helplessly at her feet, but no matter what she did, no matter how close she tried to get to him, he could never love her. He would never be able to look at her the way he looks at Rika. No—not in a million years.

Tears fell from her wide, cerulean eyes. How many times has she told herself not to cry? How many times has she promised herself not to cry? How many times has she berated herself whenever she cried? Exactly how much or how many, she was certain. But even after all this time, she still had enough tears to cry.

"Stupid, Ayu. Stop it, just stop it," she told herself as she wiped her eyes with clay-stained hands. "There's no point in crying. It won't solve anything. And surely these tears—"

"—these tears. Not even these tears can reach him."

She then resumed her work, watching the makings of a big bowl rotate round and round before her. Round and round it went, drawing her in, beckoning her to come close. It was quite hypnotising, really, to just watch it rotate. With bleary eyes, she continued to watch the big bowl rotate—rotate like a wheel on its axle, rotate like a planet on its axis. And in spite of the monotony of all that's happening, she just carried on watching it, numbing herself with the deed. In doing this, she didn't have to think about her rotten situation. She didn't have to find the answers she needed. She didn't have to wake up with the knowledge that she'd be hurt at least once a day. She didn't have to live with herself. She didn't have to feel anything.

She didn't have to feel anything at all.

And that's why she kept coming back here, more often than not. She came here to forget—forget about her feelings, her situation, and her life. She came to this place to relieve herself of her cumbersome disposition. Here, she didn't have to love.

She didn't have to love the one Takumi Mayama even for a little while.

But as ironic as it is, she does. She still does.

Even in her entranced state, she still loved Mayama.

That had been most painful—the knowledge that she could never get rid of him, never get him out of her system no matter how much she tried.

And God knows how hard she tries.

"Er, hello? Is Yamada still here?"

That jarred her back into reality. Someone was there. She swiftly stood up from her seat and stumbled towards the door.

"Oh, it's you, Nomiya," she said, smiling a bit.

He lifted his right hand and waved at her boyishly. "Hi there. I'm glad I caught you here."

"Well, what brings you here?" she asked as she motioned for him to come in.

"Hmm," he said, whilst looking at all the displays. "I wanted to ask if you've already finished those pieces of pottery that we commissioned you to make."

"Aren't they due next month?" she asked as she sat down to continue her work, her back turned towards him.

"Hmm, well, yeah, they are. I just wanted to check y'know. I mean, you do tend to work yourself crazy sometimes, and so I came by your house earlier, but your mom said you weren't at home. I kinda figured you'd be here, so there."

Ayu continued to mould the bowl. "Oh, is that so?"

"Plus your dad was staring at me as though he wanted to skin me and eat me alive, so I guess I was kinda relieved that you were here and not at home," he added, his head hanging.

She steered her head towards his direction. "Seeing as they're not finished yet, I guess you'd better leave now. You should come back in a week or so. Better yet, I'll just call you up when they're ready for pick-up."

"Oh, is that so," he said, almost crestfallen.

A deafening silence enveloped the two of them. It wasn't a regular occurrence, especially with the two around. Nomiya was always quite talkative whenever he was around Yamada. Even though he'd end up prattling non-stop about Yamada's almost-sick obsession of Mayama, he still talked, nonetheless. Ayu, on the other hand, always ended up screeching or bawling as a result of Nomiya's preaching and prodding.

This time, though, the situation was different. The two of them were unnervingly hushed—as though any sort of movement or any intake of breath could shatter any of them to pieces. And this time, they were far from each other—she, sitting at her post with her back turned towards him, seemingly engrossed in her task at hand; he, leaning on the wall 8 metres away from her, staring wistfully at her back. This wasn't a norm between the two of them, but what else could they have done? They were friends, and firm ones, at that, but there wasn't anything else to talk about.

There wasn't anything else they could talk about.

It had been a while before Nomiya realized he had been staring at her. He quickly tore his eyes away from her and cleared his throat. This whole setup was getting to be quite awkward.

"Uh, Yamada?" came the rather hesitant voice.

"Hmm?" came the reply, uninterested, detached.

"Uh, well, y'see…I, uh…"

He didn't know what urged him to speak. Yes, he was quite vocal, especially when it came to preaching about Ayu's twisted love affairs, but he wasn't one to talk when there wasn't any apparent need for it. That moment was one of those times.

But even so, he felt a need—an almost insatiable one—to talk to the girl. He felt the need to vocalize his feelings where they concerned her. He felt the need to make her listen to him. He felt the need to make her turn her head and look at him. He felt the need to make her see just how much he's come to care for her.

And although he couldn't admit it to himself as of yet, he felt the need to make her see him the way she sees Mayama.

And it is this very fact that still binds them together.

Ayu turned to look at him. "Is something the matter?"

"I, uh…I was just wondering if you'd like to go and have dinner with me."

"Dinner?"

"Well, it is getting a bit late."

She resumed her earlier position and looked outside the window. It was getting late, and the sun was getting ready to set. However, even after knowing this fact, she made no effort to stand up or acknowledge his offer in any other way. She just continued to stare at the broad orange sky, once again numbing herself of any emotion or feeling.

"But I'd understand if you didn't want to go. I guess I'd better leave, then. Sorry for intruding on you like this."

She didn't answer. She simply looked at him at the corner of her eye, and smiled.

And yet, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Bye, then," he said as he walked out the door.

Once again, she was alone. She didn't know whether she truly wanted to be alone, or whether she wanted someone to be with. One thing is for certain, though. As long as she loved Mayama, no matter what she did, she would end up in this studio, dwelling on and feeding her ever-growing misery.

She knew that Nomiya was there—would always be there to accompany her every step of the way. He would always be one of her closest friends. Even though he always ended up badmouthing Mayama, or nagging her about her feelings towards him, Nomiya would always be her friend. And yet, no amount of insult or advice from him changed the way she felt for Mayama. And that made her feel bad more than anything else.

"I'm sorry, Nomiya. Please forgive me."

Sadly, though, he was not there to hear it.

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Nomiya sat in his car, staring at the faintly-lit room Yamada was in. He felt like a stranger, a little beggar boy, cold, hungry, lonely, looking into a magnificent window to a warm inviting home. Yet, the only thing he could do was gape at the window. He couldn't do anything else.

He was displeased with the thought of leaving her alone at the studio, but he didn't want to make her feel any worse than he knew she did. Given the chance, he would've opted to stay longer and watch over her; make sure she doesn't get cold; make sure she eats something; and make sure she gets home safe; stuff like that.

Ever since he had seen her bawl herself out, he had taken it upon himself to watch out for her, especially where it involved the other Takumi. And so he had always been present whenever she needed someone to cry on (even barf on), run to, or be with. He had always tried to cheer her up in his own ways, even if that meant taking her to Nagano for soba, or accompanying her in the dead of the night. Whatever happens, he would be there to help. As Mayama was there to protect Ayu from Nomiya, Nomiya would be there to protect Ayu from Mayama…

…from Mayama and her own self.

He leaned back, reclined the driver seat, and sighed. That Mayama had undoubtedly poisoned Yamada's mind about his so-called womanizing tendencies; probably told her that he wasn't any good, even as a friend; probably told her that he wouldn't be able to make her happy.

He smiled, albeit bitterly. "Wouldn't be able to make her happy, huh? As if you can, Mayama."

But he knew, deep within his gut. He knew full well that if there's anyone who can make Ayu happy, it would be Mayama.

And that thought unsettled him—it unsettled him in a way nothing has ever done before.

---End Chapter 1---


End of this chapter! Please review! Please? Pretty please?