Deep sleep aviations, in conversations with constellations
Midnight trepidations, the detonations of self-deprecation
I don't need you anymore
I don't need you anymore
But love, when I close my eyes
I'm lying next to you
And I don't want memories
To fade like pictures do
In these picture frames
~Picture Frames, Rei Brown
She realizes what time it is, and practically scrambles out of bed.
She's been so caught up with registration and getting her units that she doesn't really blame herself for forgetting, not that that excuses her. She doesn't bother much with the makeup or the hair, even though she's got a bedhead that even Junpei would give her grief over; because she knows the person she's picking up won't really care too much about how she looks.
Now, she is wearing a simple pink jacket (of course) with a light-blue shirt underneath. She is wearing black jeans and brown loafers, her ever-present and now fading-in-color choker wrapped around her neck. Despite it being spring, she finds the weather still rather cold. Leftover from winter, she supposes. Here's to hoping her jacket keeps her relatively warm.
In the end, she thinks she looks acceptable enough to get out the dorm and rush to the station. As she zips out her door, she's met with Fuuka and Mitsuru, who greet her and ask why she's in such a rush; Yukari doesn't have much time to explain, and as she sprints she simply calls back I'm meeting up with a friend without even turning around to face the two. She'll make it up to both of them later, she's sure they'll understand.
When she gets out the dorm she finds that the sky is grey, even though it's practically evening, and snow's dotting the world. It's not intense at all; the snow's not so bad on the roads, and it's rather pleasant to walk over it on the sidewalk. So she's not really complaining. She flips open her phone, reads the texts, and cringes at herself.
R u there? he asks.
I'm heading to the station, she texts back.
K, he responds.
I'll be right there! she declares. Just wait for me. :)
And he responds again, K.
It takes fifteen minutes waiting around the bus stop that she realizes she's not getting a ride anytime soon. It's not really a problem, she figures.
The trip to the station isn't long, and it's easy for her to get there in less than thirty minutes by foot. Timing shouldn't be so much of a problem for her; rather she's freaking out over what she could say to him. She's anticipated this for a long time. Practiced for hours that felt like days. What she could say, what he could say, what she could say to what he's said. If he's brusque, she'll have to be okay with it. If he's receptive to talking, then she'll be more than happy.
Because in the end, it's progress, and it's all she can really hope for at this point.
All the while she keeps her eyes on the cityscape, and wonders how much of this place he remembers. While the skyscrapers and the monorails and the bright lights of Iwatodai are all too familiar for her, she can't help but think that perhaps he'll be sallow and dour; perhaps he'll think they're giants, looming over him and watching him squirm. But she remembers soon enough that she should be hopeful.
He's been texting her, which is more than what he's done with anybody in a long time. He's the one who initiated the move back to the city in the first place. She hopes he's doing this out of some honest attempt at self-improvement; she doesn't want to force him to come back to a place full of bad memories. From his texts, he at least seems like he's trying to make something of this place; like he's actually trying to move on from what happened.
She hopes he's not trying too hard.
When she's close enough to the station to see it yet too far to actually enter it, she feels something nostalgic in her chest. It's enough to actually make her stop in her tracks, and she sifts through her pockets to get her wallet out. She takes a look at the small photo in one of the folds, and she gives something like a smile. It's faded and it's saturated and the sensation of old photo paper on her fingers still has that strange sort of feel to it, but when she sees his smile she steels herself because in the end the same boy in the photo is not the same one she's going to meet up with.
When she sees him, she just sees him sitting on a bench, idly staring at his phone and swiping in seemingly random directions as people pass him by. She gets butterflies right then, recalling days when they were just children stuck in overwhelmingly difficult circumstances.
There had been a time when he'd smile often, being genuinely joyful at being around his family members and the few friends he'd made. That didn't last very long. Some part of her thinks that she's been waiting all this time for nothing. A larger part of her ignores that, and tells her that in the end she's no better.
So she makes herself stand upright and puts on the best kind of smile she can muster; one that's big enough for him to see that she's happy to see him, but at the same time not so large so as to put him off.
Yukari realizes at this point that there's always something sad about reunions.
"Hey. Minato-kun?"
He is shaking. His legs are shaking. He is uneasy. They see each other, they know who the other person is, and they can't help but be silent, they can't help but be still, because they are together for the first time in the longest time.
His eyes are sallow at first, and they're as grey as ever, but when he sees her, as in really truly sees her he lets out a smile. It's a small smile, a tired one, but it's a smile, and it's something she's grateful to see. Though he looks like he hasn't slept in ages, she has to admit he's grown up nicely. His face still has soft contours but are firm enough in just the right places. The massive fringe haircut looks a little outdated, but it works with him, it complements his eyes. And though his skin is pale, it's clean enough that she can figure some girls getting jealous of him. She's still just a little bit taller, so she has that going for her, at least.
He's wearing a grey overcoat that wouldn't look out of place in a snowier setting, and he's got black jeans over black socks and some leather shoes. He's also got large silver earphones draped over his shoulders, and while she's not familiar with the model and thinks that his clothes are overall kind of drab, she can't help but smile and notice how broad his shoulders have become.
She remembers being seven, the both of them; she remembers being inconsolable and she remembers him just locking himself away from the rest of the world. A thousand words a day with each other became nothing. Time's not been kind to either of them in that respect as well; and she hopes he's at least made some friends during his time in America.
"Yukari," he says with a smile. "How've you been?"
His voice, she'd actually almost forgotten his voice. He has an accent now, though; a distinctly Western one. But he says her name so easily that you'd think no time passed at all between them.
She lets herself smile just a little bit wider, and she says, "I've been good," before deciding to just smile as wide as she can, "I've been great. It's really good to see you again."
"You too," he says simply, hands in his pockets, still with those tired eyes of his.
She pulls some of her hair back under her ear and asks, "You wanna eat out somewhere before I get you to the dorm? There's just so much I've got to tell you about."
He nods, and the way he nods you'd think he's being brusque, but she knows that that's just him. "Any place in mind?"
"There's a really good cafe nearby," she responds, thinking of Chagall, "you drink coffee?"
He smirks, "I could actually do with some coffee right now. Trip was tiring," he yawns, pulling his duffel bag behind him.
There was a time in their lives when neither of them could talk to anyone. Cooped up in their rooms, they'd mourn and shrivel up, refusing to go outside because they're afraid of thinking that nice things could happen to them again. But they're older now, and they like to think they've gotten over themselves enough to have a decent conversation, at least.
Neither of them decide it'd be good to talk about their parents, and instead resort to what they've been doing recently.
"Heard you're taking archery?" he asks her.
She shrugs, "It's fun, I suppose. Relaxes my nerves well enough. There's just something about it that's satisfying, I think. Though, I doubt I'd be good enough to get in the big leagues or anything."
He smiles, because just like old times, she's the one talking more. "That's nice. Though, what course are you taking?"
"Performing Arts," she replies, smiling back.
"You're thinking of becoming an actress?" he says, stirring his silver spoon in his half-empty cup. "Or a dancer?"
"An actress," she replies. "Taking theatre. It's actually kinda fun to go on stage, reciting poetry and all that. It's a little nerve-wracking at first, but you get used to the crowds. It's always great to hear them applaud at the end of it all."
"Didn't you break out crying onstage during our first elementary school play?" he asks, grinning kind of smugly.
"Don't even!" she laughs, despite herself. "That was embarrassing. I can't believe you still remember that, of all things."
"I also remember that you tried to keep it secret that you watched Featherman—"
"Nothing wrong with that," she smirks, folding her arms playfully. "It's just a childish indulgence. You'd be surprised at how big of a female demographic the Featherman fanbase has, these days. The characters' relationships are all surprisingly maturely handled for a kid's show."
"Otaku," he smirks in faux-derision, to which she gives an intentional exaggeratedly-offended look. So he backpedals and says, "Glad to see you're handling it well enough, though. This acting thing."
"It's a bit tedious to memorize lines and try to compensate when your co-actors fumble the script up," she sighs, recalling an incident on-stage that involved green paint and messy breakups and Juliet suddenly shrieking like a harpy. "But it's always fun to get into a character's head and try to...figure out how they work, I guess. Their motivations, their personalities, stuff like that. But anyway, look at you, getting into Creative Writing."
"Well," he smiles, "I mean, it's fun to write stories. Like you said, it's nice to figure out characters' motivations and personalities and stuff. Though I don't think I'll find myself getting many readers. I doubt I'll be J.K. Rowling or anything, with her twelve mansions and net worth in the millions..."
Then she props up her face with her hand, "Still into music?"
He waves his hand at her dismissively, "I'm not much. I'm fine with a guitar. Fine with most instruments, I guess, but I don't think I'm particularly really good at any one of 'em. I'll most likely end up a backup drummer, if I ever get into a band."
"Write any songs, though?" she asks.
To which his face turns a little pink, "That's a secret."
"You've written some songs," she says, to which he faces away from her in clear embarrassment. "Do you have the lyrics on you? Have you produced them yet, gotten them out there?"
"I've a Soundcloud account," he smirks at her, recalling all the stupid love songs he'd write when he was a dumb idiot hormonal thirteen-year old, "but it's barren."
"You're an artist who doesn't produce music?" she raises her brow.
"I produce music. It's that all my songs suck, so I end up deleting them like a month after I've uploaded them."
She sips a bit of coffee and says, "I'd have liked to listen to them. I'd like to hear you play."
"I mostly use samples. I'm trying to get singing down right, but in the end I don't think I have the voice for it," he admits. "I drone too much."
"Practice makes perfect," she says. "If you've got some songs still on you, like in your laptop or whatever, I'd be happy to listen to them."
"Is that an admission that you'll take me out to whatever show you'll be a part of?" he asks, raising his own brow.
"Sure!" she says. "Besides, I'll need all the support I can get, while I'm onstage. Every actor-slash-actress does."
"Anyone offer you any jobs yet?" he asks.
"Nope," she responds. "Which is normal. It's when our final year comes, that we really need to pull out all the stops. The final play attracts indie directors, veteran directors, actors from stage and film, all over Japan. There's always a need for new talent, after all."
"I can't wait for when you do Romeo and Juliet and trip on your own heels," he grins widely.
She opens her mouth and slaps him lightly on his shoulder, "Rude! Geez...," though she smiles despite it all. Because she can totally picture that happening, too. And then she asks, "How was America, by the way?"
"New York's a big place," he says, sipping his cup. "Though it can get a little rough around the edges here and there. People like to shout a lot, and it's weird how easy it is for them to talk to each other. And, if you ever decide to go there yourself, get like several jackets to bring along with you, because when it's cold it's freezing."
"Duly noted," she said. "Though, you said it was rough around the edges...?"
"Lived near the Bronx, is all," he says, smiling a little sadly in the ripples of his cup. "But enough about that. This dorm I'm going to...how is it?"
"Minatodai's...big. Everyone in there's a little eccentric, but you shouldn't be too worried. Just remember that the guys' floor is the third, and the girls' is the second. Nobody crosses those boundaries, or else Mitsuru-senpai has your hide."
"Mitsuru-senpai?" he asks her.
"She's a friend. Daughter of the person running Gekkou U," Yukari smiles. "She's a little cold at first, but she's nice once you get to know her."
"How'd you become friends with her?" he asks.
"Same dorm, rooms across from each other," she shrugs. "Plus, we get annoyed over the same things, so there's that."
"How're the other occupants...?" he asks.
"They're nice. Though some of them can be a little annoying," she says, remembering Junpei complaining to her back in high school about how their school festival got cancelled 'cuz of the rain and as such he was denied the sight of her in a maid outfit. "They're all good people, though. Nice to talk to."
He looks down at his hands, clasped together on the table, and she sees his index finger twitch.
She places her own hand on his, and says, "They're perfectly good people. You don't have to be scared of them. They know when to give you the space you need."
He nods simply, "Okay," then smiles. "I'll hope I'm worried over nothing, then."
His hands ball up into fists. She knows what he's remembering. She's remembering the same thing, though she doesn't know that she is. They're eating on the rooftop of her house, eating at Hagakure together, buying things at the mall, belting out tunes at Mandragora, Yukari giving him light slaps along the face for some comment he made about how she never kisses him—
"You want to head out?" Yukari asks. "It's getting late. I should show you to the dorm."
To which Minato says, "Sure."
Yukari reaffirms to herself that yes, there's always something bittersweet about reunions.
They're meant to bring back together those who have been separated by time, by distance, by whatever fate decreed would have to keep them from remaining at each other's side. And yet, when a reunion does occur, there's always this air of nostalgia makes everything feel so...temporary.
Even the concept of reunions is a bit shabby now, as websites like Facebook and Twitter exist, rectifying the issue of separation. But what those sites cannot replicate is that feeling you get when you actually see that friend of yours with whom you haven't met or hung around for the longest time. No matter how many years have gone by, or how much time has tempered you or your friend, you see each other and you both immediately return to a younger, possibly happier time. And then for any reason imaginable, you have to leave your friend, but you both promise to talk to each other again, to meet up with each other again.
She doesn't know how much she doesn't want him to leave, this time around. And he doesn't know how much he wants to stay with her, at this very moment. All they can think about now is how much time they've lost, both wondering how much of ten years ago the other remembers.
They're both hoping that by remaining friends, neither of them will end up dredging up memories of crashing noises, and fires, and millions of unsaid words.
A/N:
Thought it'd be interesting to do an AU without Shadows or Personas or the Dark Hour. Now. I've always been a massive MCXYukari fanboy, and the thought of having a plain slice-of-life story involving the two of them just being college students trying to struggle with the newfound stress of being an adult sounded great to me.
Plus, it helps that they have all the emotional baggage in the world.
The story's gonna focus on them and how they go through life as college students, all the while facing the multiple inconveniences and maddening scenarios they find themselves in, thanks to the general tumultuousness of college itself and all sorts of unresolved tension from past experiences I won't delve into right now.
This used to be a series of (kind-of?) songfics based on CipherPrinceofDreams' Days of Summer, where Minato came back to life and would continue his relationship with Yukari from there, but what I want to do is try my hand at plain, boring, simple, utterly normal romance wherein all the struggle and angst has nothing to do with the supernatural and has everything to do with stupid kids being themselves and trying to make the most out of all the nonsense they have to deal with in the real world.
EDIT 2/9/18
Fixed up some small inconsistencies.
