Some test their strength by lifting weights, running, or witnessing the measure of their other achievements. Others unwittingly craft works of art. Two colors for one awaited the canvas's pleasure in a magnificent work, a work that even the suave express deliveryman Jiggy Pepper did not realize he had a hand in at the time.
He simply wanted to know how far he could travel, how much his heart could propel the Iron Horse. He wanted to know the precise limits of his existence as it melded together with that arrangement of steel. His goggles snug around his face, and the woolen ivory scarf wrapped around him, he glanced behind him for the final time for a while. Knowing that he would not return the same man he was before he left, he grinned and silently waved goodbye to the town and to himself. A cloudy screen of heart mixed with the dust trailed behind him as he vanished into the distance.
A single blue stroke of paint now lay on the canvas.
Meanwhile, a glasses-clad man in a dark blue jacket wandered the streets. The expression on his face screamed, "I'm okay with this, but not really", all over. This man of good standing, the upright Hive Master Largo Lloyd, forcibly paused any acknowledgment of duty just for today. He understood fully that he'd probably receive an earful from that woman upon his return. For now, though, he did not care. Too worried that he'd end up hurt, or worse, completely changed for the worse from this journey, he spent the day sauntering the streets of Central, head tipped down, cycling through countless cigarettes.
At a distance from the blue stroke, a yellow splatter haphazardly appeared on the canvas.
The cold air that Jiggy steadily pushed through nipped at every corner of exposed skin. A harsh sensation, as if shrapnel tore repeatedly through the outermost portion of the scar that framed his right eye, persisted. As he learned to in past deliveries, he ignored the pain, focusing instead on whatever it was that he sought. Whatever he was searching for, he would surely find, and without fail.
The blue stroke continued, constant in its breadth and intensity.
His gaze still to the unkempt street tiles, Largo continued steadily with that same confused expression as before. With each cigarette he nervously lit, the recollections of how eagerly he encouraged his friend to set off on this journey burned within him. He pondered how happy his blessing made the other man, but he couldn't help to feel loneliness, sadness, and fear at the thought of his departure. His deep pondering caused him to accidentally collide with a random passer-by. The person he crashed into sent him an angry glance; Largo responded with nothing more than a vacant stare and a simple "sorry". Aware of his lack of focus, he decided for his own sake to find refuge in the nearest bench.
The yellow splatter remained unaltered.
As accustomed as he was to the hum and vibration of his bike's engine, Jiggy began to feel those sensations wear on him. He especially sensed the differences in the way the bike's engine operated; the once, smoothly chaining sequence of firing mechanisms currently were plagued with sputtering and hesitation. Why now, of all times, he wondered as he reluctantly slowed the Iron Horse to a stop. The instant those vibrations ceased to course through his body, he noticed his heart beating furiously within his chest, his face warm and flush.
Abruptly, the blue stroke of paint ended.
Seated on a solitary bench, Largo remained motionless and continued in that same confused expression. The man, who typically radiated warmth with his bright, eccentric personality, appeared as a lifeless statue on the bench in that moment. He did not even react to the cheerful sounds of children laughing as they played in the streets or the festive music the minstrels performed. This broken man disguised himself well as a solid, unwavering statue.
The yellow splatter began to crack and peel from the canvas. Underneath the flakes of paint, a faint layer of yellow surfaced.
In his pause, Jiggy lifted the goggles from his face. He stood, steadily straddled over the firm seat, and gazed back toward Central. His thoughts drifted to the last conversation he had with that man, about his taking time away from the job for this silly journey. The brown-haired letter carrier expected his friend to mock him for such a request, but he was quite surprised at his reaction. Yet, the more time he spent hovered over his bike, not moving forward, the more uneasy he felt at what he knew was the underlying intent of his response. He sighed, returned his goggles around his eyes, and positioned himself to return back to Central.
This time, the blue stroke carefully moved in the direction of the yellow splatter.
Like clockwork, Largo breathed slowly and steadily. The man stayed seated, motionless and with the same confused expression. The day had grown late; the children returned to their homes and the minstrels thanked the crowds and moved to the tavern. A comforting air of quiet surrounded him as he realized he was the only person on the street. No sooner did he realize this, though, that a familiar roar of heart melded with steel approached him with increasing intensity.
The statue-like man looked up in disbelief as soon as the engine stopped. The brown-haired man who piloted the bike dismounted and seated himself beside the other.
"Jiggy, what happened? I thought you were-"
"Largo Lloyd, it is true that I set out on this journey to test the strength of my heart, to see how far I could go forward. But, on this journey, I realized I made one fatal error. I left something very important behind."
"What is that?"
"I left you, my light, my joy. Without you, there is no light for me, and essentially, no life."
Largo blushed, and his confused expression changed to one of warmth and fulfillment. One tear followed after another, and soon his face drowned in those tears.
Before either said another word, Jiggy gently placed his hand on Largo's face and, after silently instructing him to turn his face to him, he pressed his lips against the other. The older man's breathing quivered for a moment, but the flowing tears slowed as he found comfort in exploring his friend's mouth with his tongue. They both closed their eyes and enjoyed those minutes spent silently in each other's arms; it was in that silence, after all, that they both conveyed just how much they missed each other.
The blue stroke finally reached the core of the now renewed yellow splatter. As blue and yellow blended together on this canvas to create green, the calm, reliable Jiggy and the radiant, joyful Largo shared their hearts and found in each other just how far ahead they could go.
A/N: Here's to hoping you enjoyed this. :)
I watched Honey and Clover at the beginning of the summer, and just finally started to think about it again recently. This is inspired by that soul-searching journey Yuuta Takemoto went on toward the end of the first season, as well as by a song called Blue and Yellow. Hopefully I was successful in making this combination of ideas and concepts work out.
Honey and Clover is owned by Chica Umino, Tegami Bachi is owned by Hiroyuki Asada, and Blue and Yellow was sung by The Used. :3