Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Kimiko and Umiko Tachibana.

AS IT IS

He saw her as his fingers wound around his coffee cup. He heard her in every echo of his footsteps, and in the ringing violin that played through his headphones. She was on his fingertips, her voice in his mind, her name on the tip of tongue. As it were, Noburo Taki could not get her off his mind – and he had not been able to since the first time he ever saw Kimiko Tachibana play.

The present brought nagging thoughts along with it, however. Taki hesitated outside of her front door, plagued with doubts, both the necessary and unnecessary. She might not want to see him, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself from turning up anyway. It was natural to want to see her, he supposed, seeing as they were friends.

With that reasoning, Taki couldn't think of any reason not to knock on the door. His three, resounding knocks were greeted by a few moments of silence. His other hand hung by his side, clutching a plastic bag full of get well soon chocolates. He'd thought about getting flowers, but assumed Kimiko would have had enough of that during her time in hospital.

The door that swung open before him cut off his thoughts. He was greeted by a familiar face, one that regarded him sceptically.

Taki smiled and bowed his head to her. "Hello, Umiko. Is your sister home?"

Umiko Tachibana, Kimiko's younger sister tossed her hair over her shoulder, her disposition cool and detached. Her eyes were the same brilliant hazel of her sister's. "Yeah," she answered, "You're here to see her, I take it?"

"If you don't mind." He replied.

"Honestly," Umiko sighed, stepping aside so that he could walk inside, "You and Kimi are both so hopeless."

Taki was slipping his shoes off as she spoke, her words hitting him like a curveball. Umiko might have been only seventeen, but she was so astute and upfront in her thoughts that she had grown into the habit of being able to catch almost anyone off guard.

"Just what is that meant to mean?" Taki asked, though he had an inkling that he already knew.

"It means that you didn't come see her while she was in hospital, despite how worried you were about how her surgery went," Umiko didn't pull her punches on this one, "And it means that even though I know Kimiko would've liked it if you visited, she never called you and asked."

Taki winced as if he had been hit. Umiko, once again, had cut right through to the heart of the matter. "That's why I'm here. To apologise." He replied.

Umiko stepped into the hall after him. "Well, she's out the back. You know the way?"

He glanced back, finding himself under the immoveable and unshakeable scrutiny of Umiko's stare and the litany of accusations she held back.

"I know. But, Umiko, before you go – how is Kimiko doing?" Taki asked quietly.

Umiko shrugged, stationary next to the kitchen door. "Not good, I suppose. She hasn't been able to go out for weeks now."

He understood her implication. Kimiko, the woman he had come to know so well, was not someone who could sit around and do nothing. She was a breath of fresh air, a gentle breeze that no one could stop, her violin the instrument she spoke to the world with; and to be house-bound because the reconstructive surgery on her legs would be nothing but stifling to her. Taki missed seeing her busking out in the park, and he hated to think how much worse that feeling of longing would be for Kimiko herself.

"She's eating alright?" Taki continued his interrogation, receiving a curt nod at each question, "She's been getting enough rest? She's not pushing herself too hard, is she?"

Umiko sighed exasperatedly. "You should ask her yourself, sensei."

He smiled resignedly, knowing he was impressing his worries on the wrong sister. "Thank you for looking after her." Although he did entertain the idea of that being his job, he and Kimiko were nothing but friends.

"She's done the same for me for years." Umiko dismissed it with a shrug, unemotional despite the topic she skirted.

Taki was familiar enough with their history to know that Kimiko had been raising Umiko on her own since the age of twelve, following the death of their parents in a car accident. He couldn't imagine being twenty one, receiving that phone call, and abandoning a life she had only just begun, one full of promise, to move back into the home she had finally managed to leave behind.

Taki nodded to the younger sister before proceeding down the corridor. He had only made it a few steps before a voice called out to stop him.

"Taki," Umiko began haltingly. He glanced back curiously, catching her mysterious smile, "…Good luck."

It was vague advice, but the underlying meaning had his heart skipping a beat. Umiko knew, he was sure, about his feelings for her sister. There was no way that someone that intuitive wouldn't have caught on by now, and it made him wonder – was it a suggestion, or a warning?

Before he had the time to figure it out, Umiko had turned on her heel and disappeared into the kitchen. Taki was left alone in the hallway, with nothing but a box of chocolate and a great, yawning silence that threatened to swallow him whole. His heartbeat wouldn't slow, and his feet refused to move until he had gathered enough sensibility to properly face Kimiko Tachibana. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he slid his glasses up as he rubbed the sore skin where they had rested.

He wondered if this was nervousness, if this was how it felt to miss someone, and what he would do if it were. And if this were breathlessness, then that first, sweet note in the distance was the fresh air that called upon him to breathe again. Taki felt the tension leave his posture, a smile taking its place – Kimiko was playing again.

The first note was followed by another, and then a second and a third. The vibrato was muffled by distance, but he recognised the distinct mix of a classical composition and the unorthodox notes that Kimiko was known for. Taki knew it to be Violin Sonata No. 9 by Beethoven, but she had made it her own.

The music led him through the house, where he came to the sliding door that stood between him and Kimiko. Her song rang so much clearer in his ears now, and remembering all those times he saw her play – barefoot on the street, dancing as her fingers flew across the neck of her violin – Taki was filled with a desire to see her playing like that once more.

The door slid open quietly, unveiling a small backyard bathed in sunlight. The garden beds were small and low-maintenance, framing a lawn in desperate need of clipping. The weeds that grew were weighed down with the new buds of spring, a few unfurling blooms brushed her feet as she moved from one spot to the other. Her violin was tilted downwards, as if she played to an audience of flowers.

Taki thought of the first time he saw Kimiko play. She wore the same white, summer dress that she did now, the colour in stark contrast with her tan skin. Her hair had been bound back in a long, sleek ponytail, and she had glanced over her shoulder with those sparkling, hazel eyes. His chest grew tighter at the memory – he was falling in love with her all over again.

Kimiko Tachibana did not turn to look at him upon his entrance, and it was likely she hadn't even heard him come. Taki didn't mind the wait, and was content to standing on the deck as he listened. He closed the door behind him and left the bag of chocolates sitting by his feet.

Her hand moved in an arch as she brought the bow back down against the strings of her violin, drawing it across in a soft, steady note. He counted four beats, and the slight waver at the end that was so unlike Kimiko he picked it out immediately.

Taki could feel himself being set in motion even before her hand had dropped to her side. The bow was slipping from her fingers, her knees beginning to buckle, but he managed to catch her before she could even begin to fall.

Kimiko's realization came belatedly, and by that time, she had already glanced up and found herself meeting a familiar pair of brilliant blue eyes, framed by black-rimmed glasses.

"Noburo…?"

He smiled gently at her, catching her arm and throwing it around his shoulder for the ease of support. "You should still be resting, Kimiko." He chided softly, burying his concern deep down.

She didn't care; that much was evident from her disdainful expression. "When did you get here?" she blurted instead, filling the silence out of instinct.

"Just then," he answered, "Now come on, you need to sit."

Kimiko's fingers tightened around the neck of her violin, the one thing she always refused to let go of. "I'm fine." She insisted, lying blatantly. Taki would still be helping her walk back over the deck no matter what she told him.

"Or maybe," he replied, arguing with her even though it didn't sound like it, "You don't know that you're not meant to be doing anything strenuous so soon after the surgery."

Kimiko pulled her hand out from his, collapsing onto the deck unceremoniously. Her hair fell forward like an ebony fail that hid her face, leaving her looking even more discomposed than usual. Taki leant down, one hand on her shoulder, the other moved to brush back the locks that hung loose.

His fingers brushed over her freckled cheeks, startling Kimiko into glancing up. He hadn't realized how close they were until that moment, when their noses almost bumped against each other and he could see, in detail, the black smudges underneath her wide eyes where her makeup had left marks. The longer he touched her, the redder her face grew, until at last she jerked backwards in embarrassment.

Taki exhaled slowly before recovering his senses. "Are you hurt?"

Her lips puckered, eyes narrowing. "Yes – by you."

"What?"

"Never mind," Kimiko dismissed quickly, already regretting her impulsiveness, "Would you mind getting my bow for me, please?"

"…Sure." He agreed, though it did little to distract him from her comment.

Taki turned away to go retrieve the bow she had dropped, and Kimiko occupied herself with packing away the violin itself. The case was sitting on the deck beside her, easy to reach across and pull closer. For some reason, Kimiko couldn't help but feel reluctant to put it away, her fingers resting against the strings as if in position to play.

The revere was broken by Taki's return, handing the bow over for her to pack away. Kimiko met his gaze with a small, apologetic smile. "Thank you."

He sat down on the deck beside her. "So what was that about me hurting you?" he asked.

"I told you not to bother about it, didn't I? I'm just being melodramatic, anyway."

"And I'm still going to worry," Taki insisted gently, "Until I figure out what it was, I can't be sure I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

Kimiko refused to look at him. "You're not going to let it go until I tell you, are you?"

He smiled, moved a little closer to her so that their shoulders bumped against each other. "No."

"…You didn't come to visit me."

It was the answer he expected, the one that her sister had theorized about it. He could borrow Umiko's argument, tell Kimiko that she never asked him to; but Taki would never take that choice when it came to her. She was crueller to herself than he could ever be.

"I know," Taki said instead, "I'm sorry."

Kimiko let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping. "I'm not angry," she admitted, wringing her fingers, "I just want to know why."

Her hair fell forward over her shoulder, tempting Taki to brush it back. The urge to show Kimiko his honest affections was so innately ingrained in him it was almost impossible to resist. Instead, however, he directed all his attention to answering her as truthfully as he could, with the few words he had to articulate the feeling. "…I didn't know what to say." He admitted, finding it to be a poor excuse.

"You didn't have to say anything at all."

Taki stared at her, surprised by her suggestion and its validity. For lack of a more suitable reply, he murmured quietly, "Sorry, again."

Kimiko's shoulders jerked, her hand rising over her mouth to hide her laughter. "It's okay." She replied, tucking her hair back behind her ear. This time, it was her shoulder that nudged him back.

It still wasn't enough to satisfy Taki. He understood that she was forgiving him, and he was grateful for it, but some small voice spoke in the back of his mind. How could he accept her forgiveness when she didn't even know what it was she was forgiving him for? It was his fault for being so inarticulate on the points that mattered most.

Without even meaning to, he had reached out and wrapped his hands around hers, resting them on his thigh. He'd never really considered just how dark her skin was until it was compared with his, nor how well their fingers fit together, until that moment.

"Kimiko, I mean it," Taki persisted, looking at her earnestly and smiling as she at last returned his gaze, "I'm really sorry that I didn't visit, but I want you to understand that it wasn't because I didn't want to. I just didn't want to make it any harder for you after the surgery – which is because there's something I haven't told that I really want to. I wanted to wait until there was a time when I could properly talk to you about what it is, and if I went to see you in hospital, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself from blurting it out."

She frowned up at him, eyeing him sceptically. "There's nothing wrong with blurting things out, Noburo. Maybe you're just too rigid."

Her joke persuaded him to smile once more, though his seriousness wasn't entirely lost in his posture and the tight grip of his hands. "Maybe you're just too laid-back." He teased.

Her fingers squeezed around his, glancing across to study him. Taki's eyes were set forward, attention on the sunlight garden, his handsome profile illuminated by the light. There was the smallest of smiles on his face, and it was enough for Kimiko to resolve her choices.

Her head came to rest against his shoulder, eyes drifting shut as Taki made no move to disturb her. Rather, he was content to enjoy the silence with her and commit the moment to memory. He wanted it to be something that, years from now, no matter what happened between now and then, he could recall the sensations as vividly as he could now; the sun on their toes, the faint smell of Kimiko's perfume, and the weight of her body against his.

When Taki moved his arm, the one she leant against, Kimiko glanced up in surprise. She thought, at first, that he meant to push her away, but instead all he did was wrap that arm around her shoulder and pull her even closer.

"I brought you chocolate." he announced quietly.

She bit back her laughter. "It's probably melted by now." She pointed out.

"You can still enjoy the thought."

"Now that's cheap of you," she remarked, teasing him, "Whatever, you can just shout me coffee some time. I like doing things like that with you."

"Like what?" he wondered.

"Like what, what? I didn't say anything." Kimiko lied quickly. She really needed to improve on her poor impulse control.

Taki laughed quietly, not taking it to heart. In fact, it was a habit of hers that he had come to both expect and enjoy. As if to tease her in turn, he leant down and kissed the top of her head. Kimiko was surprised enough to jerk away, staring up at him, but he did nothing to address his affection.

All Taki had to say was, "You know, one day you're going to say something you'll really regret."

"I'll worry about that when it happens." She murmured, laying back down against his chest.

Taki didn't respond, his thoughts having been dragged far away from words and any semblance of coherency. Under his fingers, Kimiko's tan skin was soft and warm, and he couldn't help but trace small, soothing shapes across her arm. She wasn't sure if it was meant to comfort her, or if he was moved by some deeper feeling – or if she even wanted an answer to the question that had plagued their friendship for some time.

"When's the next operation?" Taki asked suddenly, quieter than usual.

Kimiko could feel her eyes drifting shut, willing the pleasant feelings to last just a little longer. "…Two weeks," she answered at last, "And I want you to visit me this time."

"Of course. I don't mean to make you angry again."

"I'm not angry!"

"You realise you're not going to convince me by shouting like that."

Kimiko lifted her head, twisting to face Taki. Though taken aback at first, distracted as her leg moved over his, Taki was pulled to his senses when she reached up and pinched his cheek sharply. "I'm not mad!" She declared firmly, letting him go with a stern glare. Her childishness was not without reason, but was still a poor cover for the truth. Kimiko just didn't know how else to channel her sadness.

Taki met her glower with his usual smile. Looking at her now, the furrow of her brows and the blush that only grew brighter the longer he looked at her, he could think of no better time. "Kimiko," he began slowly, feeling the air about them grow still, "Is it alright if I tell you what it was that I couldn't say earlier?"

Kimiko began to move away, but he caught her waist in one hand, keeping her kneeling over him, while his fingers pulled her chin up so that she couldn't look away. She hesitated, even in the act of breathing, but curiosity prompted her to nod in silent consent.

She could never tell just how nervous she made him, for as coolly as Taki delivered his lines. He would, for her, leave behind all his reservations and doubts for the chance to confess to her, just once, his true feelings.

"I just wanted to say that, since the first time I saw you play, I've thought you were beautiful," he told her unfalteringly, "And, not since the first time I saw you play, have I ever stopped loving you."

The answer, she thought, was not what she had expected. "…Noburo-"

"Not once," He insisted, "Not even for a moment." There was no smile on his lips, no trace of amusement. He was sincere, and he meant every word that fell into the cratering silence between them.

Kimiko couldn't get the words out, couldn't think of anything else but how, though it was definitely not what she expected him to say, it was the answer she had always hoped for. She wasn't sure how to tell Taki that when he touched her, she felt as though her heart had stopped and her skin burned, and when they spoke, it was hard to meet his eye without blushing and stumbling over her words or feet. Her feelings went beyond words, and she had no way to tell him just how human he made her.

Left with no other way to express her feelings in anything more than nonsense words, Kimiko felt herself moving without any real thought. Her body crashed into his, the violent embrace enough to send them both crashing backwards onto the deck. Shock kept Taki frozen in place, unable to even readjust his glasses, or be spared a single moment to recover, before Kimiko had kissed him.

Her fingers wound through his hair, brushing across his cheeks as her elbows began to ache from supporting her weight. It was a quick kiss, bittersweet, through which Kimiko did her best to tell him that his confession was as if he taken all her breath and kept it behind his lips, where only her kisses could reach.

"Kimiko," Taki breathed, reaching to hold her hair back, "Why are you crying?"

She wiped a hand across her face, feeling her skin grow wet. She hadn't even known it herself, but the moment Kimiko realised that he was right, she was sitting up and beginning to turn away to hide her face.

Taki sat up after her, one hand around her hip, the other catching her chin and forcing Kimiko to look back at him. She avoided his gaze as best as she could, hating the thought of anyone seeing her cry, but not being able to stop either the tears or her words.

"I don't know! I just-," she began, her words a waterfall, "I want to go places with you as your girlfriend. And I want to spend time with you as your girlfriend and be able to touch you and hug you as your girlfriend and…"

His gaze was so earnest, his attention caught on each word she spoke, that Kimiko felt just a little overly-conscious of herself. It was easier for her to talk through her music. Taki thumbed away her tears, smiling gently down at her. "And?" he prompted.

"I want to kiss you," she whispered, "Again; as your girlfriend."

He obliged her within a heartbeat. It was the admission he had been waiting for, though she might not have returned his confession in so many words. Kimiko was never one to speak for long, and she was hardly ever eloquent or emotional in any other form except for her music. Kissing her now, softly – once, and then again because he still had breath left to spare – Taki wondered what sort of a song she'd play for him.

If he'd asked her, Kimiko would have told him, but as things were he felt he should almost know it already. At guess, if she were to play anything at all, he was sure it would be a serenade.

"Okay," he murmured, breaking away at last, "Are you done crying? Because I don't think we need your sister walking in on you looking like that."

Kimiko smiled, biting her tongue to keep from laughing. "Or you looking like that." She retorted, reaching up to straighten his glasses and fix his hair. "Besides," she added shyly, "I was just really happy about what you told me."

"That I love you? You know, if you ask me to, I'll say it as many times as you want." Taki replied, in all seriousness.

Seeing that, Kimiko couldn't help but flush red in embarrassment. "…I, ah…"

His smile turned wry, blue eyes glinting playfully. "I love you Kimiko."

Her cheeks burned brighter still.

"I really love you. I love everything about you – your fingers," and he paused to grab her hands and bring them to his lips, "Your shoulders, your neck, your cheeks." His kisses grazed the skin of each particular place he named.

His fingers traced the curve of her lips in preparation for the next words, but Kimiko bet him to it. Pulling his hand away, she reached up and covered his lips with hers to steal another kiss from him. When she pulled away, it was to the sight of a wide-eyed Taki.

She smiled sweetly up at him. "I love you too, Noburo."

His lips pulled into a soundless oh, a silent enunciation of his surprise that came in the company of a brilliant blush. Kimiko couldn't help but laugh, proud of herself for being able to return the feelings he gave her.

"It's the same for me," she confessed, her fingers brushing against his jaw, "I've spent every moment since we first met falling in love with you."

As her legs began to ache from kneeling over Taki, Kimiko was quick to remove herself and sit back down on the deck beside him. Their shoulders were pressed together, toes swinging out into the warm edges of sunlight. A soft breeze blew through the garden, disturbing the flowerbeds and curling the hem of her dress around her knees.

If there had been a need to speak, one of them would have said something. But, as it were and would always be, there were some things – like music, like the touch of another's hand, and a gentle smile – that spoke best for themselves.

Honestly, I love classical music so much and there really aren't enough shows about it. Thanks for reading and sticking through my bullshit wishy-washy idea of what (the after effects) of surgery are like!