Title: This Long Lenten Season
Author: SecretAgentSmutGirl
Summary: They say that April is the cruelest month, but every month has been cruel since Rui got the news. R/T, T/T past.
Disclaimer: I don't even own the computer this was typed on yet.
ooo
Hanazawa Rui couldn't help but think that this was not how things were supposed to turn out.
The party had started hours ago and he was fashionably late, he was always late just he was always in fashion, but he'd gotten the invite late and he'd come so far. He'd woken that morning in Hong Kong, where he'd been for nearly a week, and now he was in Tokyo wearing the same suit.
When he entered the room the crowds parted for him with a hush, a hum of drawn in breath before the sound void was filled with the gossip that always seemed to cling to his heels. There wasn't much to say about him, but there were those whose names seemed to be an extension of his that just teemed with gossip and scandal. One of those names, one of those people, were the very reason he had made sure to be in town for this particular event.
It took him a moment but he had her. He spotted her across the room, far too changed in the eight months he'd been gone to manage oversea interests. Those days had all merged into one meaningless blur of work and exhaustion. All the days but one day, all but that day.
On that day he'd been in Paris, running on two days of no sleep, two days of jet black espresso and exhaustion. That day had been gray, and to him it seemed that all those after had been just as dull and colorless.
Even more so for her it seemed. She was a shadow of herself, albeit a beautiful one. Poised in her sadness, as remote as the moon in the autumn sky and just as dominating to his attention. She wore it well but it was all wrong, she was supposed to be a wild thing in their polished circle. A wild thing that could not be tamed or subdued. Yet there she was, perfectly immersed in society and oh so stylish
Her skin was pure alabaster, made that much more pure by the mourning black she wore, charming and proper but lifeless and cold. Untouchable.
She looked like a perfect copy of herself, a parody, a reflection in a cold mirror.
Cold or not she was like a flame. He was drawn to her like always, her body turning towards his across the room before she even noticed his presence. Two halves to a whole. A near miss, in a lifetime passed .
"Makino." He drew out the syllables like a benediction, soft and with the reverence it deserved. Her gaze fluttered towards his across the space between them, unfocused like the vague smile she gave him.
He would have pulled her out of the party, out of that horrible place, if only he were more impulsive, if only he were more like him but he wasn't. He never had been, in all the ways that mattered. So they played the party game, the niceties as though they were merely acquaintances.
Out of routine she raised her chin for the meaningless social kiss on the cheek but instead he pulled her into his arms. It almost surprised him to feel her heartbeat, feel the rush of her warm breath on his neck as she exhaled all at once. There was nothing to her, she was weightless in his arms and so shockingly fragile that he had to frown down at her and ask, "Are you eating?"
She trembled in his arms.
She had always trembled in his arms, when it had been fun to make her flustered and tip her off balance. Now he feared such a tip would topple her, send her down into some abyss. He could see it there, swimming between their locked eyes before she blinked and looked away.
"Of course," she demurred, her smile becoming a little more forced. He could feel her collecting herself, steeling herself to become remote like she never should be. Like she never had been around him. "It's just been so hard to find the time."
He never knew what to say in those situations, he was a man of few words in any circumstance. Instead he searched her face for a sign, as those the cracks of her heart would show on the outside. When he released her from his embrace she slid her hand into his and squeezed, a tiny gesture that lifted his heart.
"Are you free for tea tomorrow?" Her dark eyes searched his, suddenly sharp and in focus so he nodded. He willed his warmth to flow through her cold hand, to liven her. He smiled softly, as was his way and answered, "Of course."
"Good. I've missed you, Hanazawa Rui."
For a moment there was an understanding between them and a perceived silence in the bustling room, but it was quickly shattered.
"Mama!" A little boy broke through the crowd which parted for him like the red sea. He looked like his father, all sharp stubborn features and unruly hair. Tsukushi knelt in a puddle of black silk to bring herself to his much shorter eye level, automatically fixing the little boys jacket and smoothing his curls in a reassuring manner.
The boy glared up at Rui as he possessively clung to his mother. The scene was so familiar that something in his chest twisted.
Tsukushi frowned at her son halfheartedly. "Say hello to your Uncle Rui, Tsukasa. He's come a long way to be at your party."
"Hello, Uncle," the boy responded, grudgingly and without looking at him. Instead he kept Tsukushi his center of attention, as though nothing else existed. "Mama, I'm bored of this can we go home?"
"If that's what you want, darling." Tsukushi rose, holding her son by the hand. She smiled at Rui then, showing the cracks in her facade and all her exhaustion at once. "It was nice to see you. I'm so glad, actually."
"I'm always here for you, Makino."
"Domyouji," the little boy, Tsukasa of course, corrected him haughtily. "Don't speak to my mother so disrespectfully, Uncle."
Rui smiled softly, almost sadly but for the tinge of humor it contained. Some things would never change.