Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any part of Love Hina, but this story is mine! Any resemblance to any person(s) and what not is entirely unintentional. Don't even try to sue me for it! Now, on with the show!
Love Hina: Shattered and Mended
He finally convinced her to let him take her out to dinner and a movie. It was the least he could do, after all. She had done so much for him, the monetary cost of an evening out on the town paled in comparison to helping him get his life straightened out. The "B" rating he earned on the latest mock test was the best rating he had ever received on any test. His dreams were within reach.
Of course, it took more than just a little wheedling and cajoling to get such a beauty to accept a date with perverted loser, no matter how lovable he was. He persevered, however, and she finally relented, as long as the dinner location and movie preference was her choice. He didn't care. He was mad about her. He would have let her pick anyway.
As usual, she was a pure vision of loveliness, her sheer exquisiteness visible even underneath the multiple layers of clothing needed to survive the frigid weather. She wore light make-up, which accentuated her soft features, making him feel both safe and afraid. He was similarly dressed more formally than normal, and she smiled at him, fixing his crooked necktie, commenting on how he can even be sloppy when he looks nice. He reciprocated her veiled compliment, causing her to blush.
They left their home, enjoying a leisurely walk to the train station. He remained a step behind her most of the time, stealing glances at the side of her face. She would occasionally turn to look at him, and he would quickly turn away. She knew perfectly well what he was doing, but she made no effort to deter him. She enjoyed having his attention, no matter how many times she denied it.
They were both nervously silent during the train ride into the city. They spent so much time together; they knew each other inside and out. Each could tell the other was nervous, but no small talk could really break the ice. Instead, he decided to start a pop quiz. That did it. By the time they left the train and made for the restaurant, they were engaged in a heated but courteous debate over the reason behind the American Civil War.
The pair stalemated when they reached their destination. They agreed to continue the debate after their date was over. Now that they felt more comfortable together, the pair laughed and snickered throughout most of dinner, drawing more than one glance from the other patrons of the posh restaurant. She politely refused dessert, knowing he was on a limited budget, despite the fact she was in the mood for a treat.
She stood much closer to him as they walked toward the local theater. His head swam with ideas of what he should do, but before he could come to a decision, they arrived at the theater. He paid for two adult tickets to the latest action flick and he held the door open for her as they entered the building. As he stepped forward to purchase two small bags of popcorn, she suggested he buy one larger bag to share.
They sat down with their bag of popcorn, chatting about nothing until the film started. The movie was not his cup of tea, but seeing her engrossed in the film's shallow plot put a smile on his face. He was with the one he wanted to be with. He had no complaints.
The film ended as most of their kind does: The man beats the bad guy, wins the girl, and rides off into the sunset. She was in action movie heaven as they left the theater. He could only nod in agreement to her as she sang the film's praises over and over again. When she finally came down from her high, she thanked him for the evening, hinting that she would like to do it again sometime.
Without any hesitation, she wrapped her arm around his, leaning into him as they walked back toward the train station. Realizing the situation, she quickly pulled away and apologized. He shook his head at her, and then took her hand with his own. They smiled at each other, and she moved her hand, interlacing her fingers with his, lightly rubbing his hand with her free thumb.
The remainder of their walk was blissful, until they turned a corner into a dark alley. Two masked men appeared out of nowhere, both pointing guns at the couple, demanding all of their valuables. The couple released each other's hand, putting them in the air, telling them not to shoot. He interposed himself between the men and her, trying to keep their attention on him.
He reached for his wallet, knowing full well what was in it would not be sufficient to quell the two enraged villains. It was all he could do. He tossed it over to the mugger closest to him. He reached behind him, placing a reassuring hand on her arm, squeezing it lightly. It did nothing to calm her nerves.
The mugger fumbled through his wallet while the other stood watch, his gun pointed directly at the couple. Finding next to nothing in it, the second masked gunman barked an order to his accomplice. A shot rang out. She screamed. The muggers fled. He crumpled to the ground face first.
She screamed for help while cradling him in her arms, trying desperately to stop the profuse bleeding from his chest. A rain of tears fell from her eyes, falling onto his face as she wailed in agony. With waning strength, he touched her face, telling her everything would be all right, before losing consciousness.
The ambulance arrived several minutes later. The paramedics had to pry her arms off of him to get him onto a gurney and into the ambulance. She refused to release his hand as the paramedics worked over him throughout the ten-minute ride to the nearest trauma center. The doctors rushed him into the operating room as a nurse tried in vain to console her hysterical crying.
Within an hour, everyone had gathered at the hospital. Her friends continued to help comfort her, while his family paced nervously outside the operating room. For the next several hours, occasionally a nurse would appear from beyond the portal leading to the operating room, quickly briefing everyone on his condition. The tension continued to build.
Until it finally snapped.
The lead surgeon finally emerged from the door, giving the family the news. She stood and approached them slowly, looking for any sort of positive reaction from his family. It did not happen. His aunt eyes widened in shock, and she covered her mouth. His mother screamed his name, while his father tried to keep her on her feet. The doctor bowed deeply at the waist in shame, and walked away, his head hung in defeat.
She fell to her knees, shaking her head, trying to not believe what had just happened. Her friends began to weep behind her, while she simply lay there in shock. She had no tears left to cry.
She tried to convince herself she was dreaming. She thought she would wake up and be able to see his face again. To tell him her feelings. To live her life with him. But no matter how hard she pinched herself, she could not wake up.
Reality slammed into her like a bullet. Her lower lip trembled, and new tears, as if wrung from a stone, welled in her eyes. She could not speak. It was if her voice was contained within the shattered fragments of her heart.
His aunt saw her sitting there with a confused look of shock on her face, and she knelt next to her. She could see his aunt's mouth move, but could not hear her voice. She clung on to her, finally breaking down into heaving, breathless sobs.
The services were held several days later. Her eyes were glossed over, staring blankly at his mahogany casket as it was slowly lowered into the ground. The voice of the priest broke her from her daze, although her eyes never moved. He spoke from Scripture about things she had never heard before: rejoicing, glory, and eternal life. She did not quite understand what the priest meant by all of that, but she still listened intently all the same.
Afterwards, everyone sat down together, sharing stories about him. Funny stories, sad stories, everyone had one to share about him. She laughed out loud at one particular story, suddenly feeling guilty for it. He had died merely days ago. She was ashamed, but did not show it.
As the guests filed out, they gave final condolences to her as they left. She put on a face and tried to hide the pain the best she could. His mother hugged her, whispering to her that it was not her fault and everything would be okay. She began to break down again in his mother's arms, apologizing profusely for taking her son away.
His mother reassured her that he was the happiest he had ever been in the short time he lived with her before leaving. The other guests and her friends left, leaving her by herself for the first time since the incident. She meandered around the building aimlessly, as if looking for something missing.
She found her way to his room, which still held his belongings. She sat on his bed, looking around the room listlessly. Her hand fell on a shirt that lay on his bed. She pulled it towards her face and inhaled deeply, trying to ingrain his smell into her brain. She noted a small stain on the shirt and she instinctively tried to rub it out with her thumb.
A sudden weariness crept over her as she glanced around the room. The emotional strain finally caught up to her. Gripping his shirt tightly, she lay down on his bed, closed her eyes, and within moments was in the most peaceful sleep she had for a week.
The Next Spring
A brisk wind wound about the graveyard as she stood once again in front of his gravestone. She knelt and brushed away the debris around it, placing a dozen long-stemmed red roses on the ground in front of it. She removed the silver cross from around her neck and placed it next to the roses. She closed here eyes in prayer for a moment. When she finished, she kissed her hand and pressed it against his name engraved on the stone. She stood, stretched in the warm breeze, gazed into the sky with a smile, and walked off.
Meticulously placed in the roses was a short note written on a plain white card. It read:
"Thank you for protecting me.
I will see you again someday, so please wait for me.
I love you."
Author's Note: A song I recently heard called "Held" by Natalie Grant inspired This fic. If you have never heard it before, I suggest you do. It is a Christian song, but for those with an aversion to such genre, I still suggest you listen to it, as I'm sure you'll find it meaningful. Also, I'm sure you've noticed there is no real dialogue or names in this fic. I assure you this was intentional, as I wanted to express feelings through action and reaction rather than by the spoken word. Keep that it mind as you review this. Thanks for reading.
Natalie Grant - Held
Two months is too little.
They let him go.
They had no sudden healing.
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling.
Who told us we'd be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We're asking why this happens
To us who have died to live?
It's unfair.
Chorus:
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
This hand is bitterness.
We want to taste it, let the hatred know our sorrow.
The wise hands opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.
(Chorus)
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
Bridge:
If hope is born of suffering.
If this is only the beginning.
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?
(Chorus)
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.