Tea stood on the porch, watching as the dusk melted into the stars. The faint tinges of orange could still be seen, but were soon distinguished, as the cool night air was welcomed home by a luminous moon. Hands clasped together, head slightly tilted to the side, she wondered what the world would look like through the eyes of a god. Whether it would be a wondrous sight, the dusk's final parting gift before it was whisked away. She wasn't even sure if she believed in such things.
"The evening tends to listen, if you return the favour," said a quiet voice behind her. Tea wasn't startled, because a voice like that could never strike fear into the heart of anyone. No, not his voice.
"I think I'll pass on the soliloquy, but you go right ahead. I will not lie to you by saying it wouldn't be entertaining."
Yami carefully side-stepped her remark, and replied coolly, "I think I'll pass as well. After all, one cannot receive grave tidings if one has not received an answer."
Tea pondered his response for a while, but the use of his own primitive dialect soon put a smile on her face, despite her best efforts to dispel it.
"I haven't seen you for a while," Tea murmured ruefully. "Are you alright?"
"I've been better," Yami sighed. "It's not easy. Telling someone what they mean to you."
He turned to look at her, and in his vibrant violet eyes, Tea could see something more. Something that wasn't the way a friend looks at another, but the way a poorly-treated servitor gazes upon the dove, upon it's wings; pure white, impenetrable, and thinks only of how he longs to fly away.
"Those are not your eyes," she whispered, looking away. Yami could not keep his confusion from displaying clearly on his face.
"What do you mean?" He asked curiously.
"You have never looked at me like that-" she stopped herself and did a double take. "-You will never look at me like that. I have accepted that. You don't have to pretend. I won't-" Tea's voice cracked.
"I'm not pretending," Yami cut her off. He clasped her arm, not forcefully, but quite gently. He took it as a good sign that she didn't pull away. His next words burst forth in a rush, and Tea listened intently, looking for the slightest lift of his voice, or the slightest movement his gaze made that wasn't near her eyes. She was looking for a sign that this was just a joke, played by a man who would never need her anyway.
"Many dawns ago I met a lady. She was beautiful beyond imagination, and her eyes reminded me of a summer sky; an endless entity, tarnished only by the sunlight. She was a lady that made me feel so happy just to be around. I didn't need her to notice me, I wasn't searching for any kind of dramatic love scene, in which both parties announce their love for one another, because to me I was something that just lingered in the air, not to be watched, but just to watch. Seeing her was enough. That lady is you, Tea."
Tea analysed Yami's voice in silence. There was definitely sincerity, but there was a sadness, the same sadness Tea felt when she had thought Yami would never love her the way she did him. But no matter how sceptical she may have been when he first stepped onto the porch, she could not deny the fact that, the way the servitor looked at the dove was the perfect analogy for the way she looked at Yami.
"Well, you got your dramatic love scene," Tea murmured, smiling weakly as the force of his words hit her over and over again. He loved her; he really did. Yami, who seemed to have been holding his breath for a seemingly impossible amount of time, exhaled in relief and gave her a dazzling smile. Tears sprang into her eyes as she took his hand and placed her forehead against his.
"You have new eyes," she whispered, before pulling him into a kiss, which he returned with all his heart. When they broke apart, he chuckled before saying, his voice interwoven with mock dread and what seemed to be sincere worry, "Now we just have to tell the others."