Yasashii Ame
The party looked beautiful, wonderful, an enchanting swirl of light and color and music. I wouldn't know, though. I wasn't part of it.
I suppose in the most literal sense I was, but... even though I had an invitation, even though I was in the right room in the right house at the right time of the right day, even though a million things, I still wasn't really at the party. I wasn't partying. I wasn't happy.
That revelation shocked me, as revelations are wont to do. I mean, I suppose I'd known before this, but... but saying it makes it true.
I wasn't happy.
Takeru chose this moment to swing by and fulfill his hostly duty. Everything all right, Hikari? You look sorta... well, sad, wistful maybe.
No, no, I'm fine, I protested, as politeness dictates.
Takeru shrugged one shoulder. If you say so, Hikari, he replied, in a tone that indicated mere half-belief. Then he swung back into the bustling party. His face held an intent look, one that revealed he was looking for something.
No, not something. Someone. Someone else. Her.
Naturally, he found her. Stepping neatly through the crowd (the guest list had been obscenely long), he made his way to her side. She was chatting with some girls I didn't recognize; Takeru deftly inserted himself into their conversation. He slipped his arm over her shoulder. Not protectively or posessively or awkwardly or anything you might expect, just... comfortably. Like his arm belonged there.
Which it didn't, at least not in my ever-so-humble opinion. It should be around me. I should be there. It should be me.
A tear quietly slipped from my eye, a token of sadness that Takeru couldn't possibly fob off. But he never noticed it. Instead he kept on talking happily in the warm light on the other side of the room. Another tear dropped from the same eye, following the streak left by its predecessor.
Come off it, Hikari, I thought. There was really no point to all this angst. I like Takeru, Takeru and Katherine like each other, nothing I can do to change it, no point in dwelling on it further. Right?
But I'm wrong, and I don't dare say how wrong it all is, becaus e that will cement its wrongness. And I still want that statement to be right.... I don't hope for change. I just hope to accept the facts, now. Just to accept them...
That doesn't seem so hard, does it? Not on the face of it. But in so many ways it's the hardest thing in the world. Maybe it's because somewhere deep inside, I still believe that I can still change things. Maybe the hardest thing to do is letting go of that hope...
It's strange, isn't it. Everyone always says that hope's hard to gain and easy to lose, and that when you have it it's an eternal light on your soul that shines dark pains to nonexistence. But the reason I hurt so much now is because of hope. And I find it harder to lose hope than keep it.
Maybe it's because I hope for impossible things and know this.
While I was thinking, more tears had silently flowed down my face. But the scattering of wet spots on the carpet below was all that betrayed their passage.
I angrilly snapped out of my funk and walked over to the drinks table, concealing the swirl of my emotions surprisingly well. I snatched up a cup of something—soda, by its feel, but I wasn't paying much attention to flavor—and gulped it down to calm my seething nerves.
My stomach immediately began to throb dully—I'd drunk too much too fast. Well, physical pain was a nice substitute to emotional pain. It didn't require as much attention, as much concentration, as much angst and hope mixed until I couldn't tell the two apart.
From my new vantage point, I slowly rotated to see the room. The largest room in the Takaishi apartment, it had been decked out fully for a party. And the party had obliged, filling the room completely. I was far from alone physically, for all I felt so isolated.
I had been standing by the window, where a cold wet draft had drenched me periodically. It had felt good, in a perverse masochistic kind of way. Sipping another soda—more slowly now, but still not caring enough about taste to tell—I walked back to where I'd been standing.
And further, now, along the same direction. The window opened onto a balcony, which I stepped out on. I stood in the middle of a tempest now. It battered me without the same way my stormy emotions battered me within. Tears ran from my eyes in earnest now, blending with the violent rain in one drenching downpour that completely soaked me. My hair plastered against all convenient skin in ragged draggles, and water flowed down this conduit to get under my clothes.
It was as if the rain understood me.
It was as if the rain knew my pain, and knew that I wanted no comfort.
So it didn't provide comfort. It provided more pain, so I drown in the self-pity upwelling within me and drenching me without.
Takeru... damnit, why didn't I ever say anything... I was such an idiot... always thought he felt the same... never bothered to confirm it... I was setting myself up for this, really... my God, I've been such a moron... and he still thinks we're friends... and I suppose we are... but damnit, it could have been so much more...
I'd left the window—door—swinging open behind me in my tunnel vision for my own problems. Now Takeru came running through that opening, saying, Hikari!? What are you doing out here... you're soaked! Come in... come in... I'll get a towel... Mom probably has something you can wear temporarily, sorry that it'll be a bit big.
The cold rain had numbed me, and I no longer cared what happened. One last favor.
He rushed me to the bathroom, and dumped a pile of towels and warm clothes on the floor. After he departed, I methodically dried off and changed. My God, but that had been a moronic stunt. I could've caught pneumonia or something, and just for the sake of some stupid heartbreaky teenage angst. This all wouldn't matter in the long run anyway.
Now in a fluffy-if-overlarge sweatsuit, I emerged from the bathroom. While my hair was still a bit damp, I'd toweled most moisture from my body. But I'd left my face, with its tears, undried. I couldn't dry off my sadness, just throw it away. Sadness is the kind of thing you need to accept.
Or else it keeps coming back.
The rain had gentled now, to a warm shower from a freezing storm. I walked out into again, for some unconscious purpose. But when I was once more in its center, I knew. I had to thank it.
So I did, mentally.
Takeru came running out once again, and opened his mouth, about to speak. Then he shut it again, and stood in the gentle rain with me. It flowed over him as well, though I don't know what comfort it afforded him.
And the rain washed over my face, washing away my tears and leaving my eyes crusted with diamond droplets.
And the rain washed over my soul, washing away my sadness... and leaving my love, crusted with diamonds.
They glittered gently in the cloudy light, and the storm cleared.