Fragrance
Disclaimer: Hotta and Obata's. Not mine.
Rating: K+ (as always, for concepts)
Summary: Isumi remembers the fragrance of gardenia with a bittersweet memory... (Written for LJ community 30kisses)
"Aniki, what's gardenia?"
He glanced up from the kifu he'd been studying, and saw his youngest brother standing in the doorway of his bedroom.
"Gardenia?" he echoed. "It's a type of flower."
Ken'ichi seemed to think about this for a moment. "Oh. What's it smell like?"
He blinked, eyes misting over as he stared unseeingly at a blank wall.
"It smells like..."
"Gardenia?" he guessed, stroking Waya's soft hair, the source of the fragrance. It must have been in his shampoo. Waya nodded, a somewhat absent look on his face. "Isumi-san..." "What's on your mind?" he asked, sensing that something was wrong. He tried to drape his arm over Waya's shoulder, but the other shrugged it off suddenly. Waya's gaze was steady as he looked up, meeting his eyes directly. He took a breath, and after a pause, said, "We need to talk."
He brushed a kiss over Waya's cheek, closing his eyes for a moment as a flowery scent wafted over him.
"Aniki?"
He blinked, having momentarily forgotten that his brother was still there. "I'm sorry, Ken-chan. You asked about gardenia, right?"
"Yes. What does it smell like?" Ken'ichi prompted.
He struggled in his mind, but was unable to resist the tug of memories as they swept him away once again. "It's...bittersweet..."
Something constricted within his chest as he saw the serious expression on Waya's face. His uneasiness was building rapidly at a steady rate; it was all he could do to still present a calm exterior. Waya bit his lip for a moment, glanced at him, and glanced away. He was fidgeting, a habit that Isumi knew meant there was something on his mind. Usually something unpleasant. Finally, he took a deep breath. "Isumi-san, we can't be together anymore."
"What's the matter?"
"Bittersweet?" Ken'ichi frowned to himself. "How can a flower smell bittersweet?"
"Well..." He paused, wondering why he'd even said that. Gardenia, technically, didn't smell bittersweet at all. It had a lovely fragrance. What on earth had possessed him to describe it as "bittersweet?"
"It's not bittersweet," he corrected, for his brother's sake. "It smells really nice."
"Yeah, but what does it smell like, aniki? Roses? Lilies?"
"No. Not exactly like any other flower...not really. It's...different..."
"We can't...I can't..." Waya stalled, apparently at a loss for words. Closed his eyes, as if preparing himself for something. Then, he finally continued, "You never asked where I've been lately." "Should I have?" His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. His gaze flickered over Waya's face, then moved away. This seemed to spark Waya's anger, for he suddenly exploded. "Yes! You should have! You should have been concerned that I'm not spending as much time with you, you should wonder what I was doing, if I was cheating on you--" "Who is it?" His voice was soft, but successfully cut off Waya's tirade; he just barely managed to make himself speak. Isumi suspected he already knew the answer...but a part of him refused to back down until all the questions were cleared. Waya's anger deflated as quickly as it had flared. There was a pause, then in a small voice, "Hikaru."
"...What are you saying?" His voice was soft, and it felt as though an invisible hand had wrapped around his neck, choking him.
"What do you mean by different?" Ken'ichi asked.
He blinked, trembling slightly from the ghost of tears and pain of so long ago. He forced a mild expression onto his face before replying to his brother.
"All flowers smell different, if you take the time to distinguish each." Explanations about flowers he could handle. Right? "Gardenia isn't like a rose, or lilies."
"Then how do you describe what it smells like?"
He shook his head, slowly. "You can't... You have to actually smell it to know. You have to experience it for yourself, in order to understand..."
"I can't keep lying to you." Waya tried to take a breath to calm himself, but even his breathing seemed to be shaking. He closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself to speak. "I didn't mean for it to happen this way. I meant to tell you, I never wanted to hurt you. That's why I can't put this off any longer... Only...I'm afraid it's already been too long." Waya's opened his eyes, and his gaze was begging for forgiveness and understanding. "I can't control how I feel. All I can do is do what I think -- what I hope -- is right. And...I'm asking you to let me go." Beyond the sudden stab to his heart, his mind was still rooted in denial and loathe to relinquish its hold on "what might have been" as it was unwillingly pulled toward reality. Let me go. Let me go... Let me... Let... Me... "Go," he said softly, not looking at Waya. "Isumi-san," there was a pleading tone to his voice, "don't be mad at me. I can't live with that. Just understand. I didn't want this to happen. I still want to be friends, just the way it was when we first met." Isumi closed his eyes, firmly ignoring the burning as bitter tears sought to escape, willing away the pain that constricted his throat, making it impossible to breathe. "Waya..." he managed to say. "Just go." His vision was all darkness behind closed lids, and the blood pounding in his ears rendered all other sounds obsolete. But faintly, so faintly it might have been his imagination, the soft scent of gardenia seemed to wrap around him for a moment, before dissipating into nothingness.
Shindou. He should have known. Come to think of it, he probably did, just wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge the fact.
"Could you say gardenia has a distinct fragrance, then?"
He blinked. Somehow, his little brother's description seemed to fit better than any he'd been able to produce. A small smile shadowed his lips.
"Yes, Ken-chan. Gardenia is very much distinct."
It still wasn't a complete definition, not by far. He could think up a dictionary full of words to describe gardenia: beautiful, haunting, nostalgic, bittersweet... Yet none of them could quite describe the flower's scent, or all the meaning it held.
Maybe he would never come up with an accurate description of the elusive scent that still haunted his dreams. Perhaps he would never understand.
But that, after all, is the nature of life, and of love.
I actually have no idea what gardenia smells like, so apologies if this seemed rather weird...