[KEEPING DAYDREAMS]
His smile knew the method of healing wounds. The seventy year old man in front of him seemed to agree.
Disclaimer note: The characters? Not my property.
One: Waiting
She said she didn't like herself much. He didn't mind.
He stood beside her, watching at the corner of his eyes how the cool wind picked up her hair and danced with the leaves.
He believed, since the time he had a large bruise in his knee when he was eight, that there were bestfriends who could actually end up at the altar—saying weird, gibberish wedding vows in front of many like what they once saw in the only church in their town.
He has one, too.
A girl bestfriend.
She was nice and dreamy. And although their old neighbours thought she would gonna be a florist or teacher someday, he personally thought pro boxing suited her better. It was magic that came to him one day, realizing that all the noise in the Earth just drown and all he could hear was the soft sound in her lips calling out his name.
He couldn't be proud enough of his heart.
It was marvellous, working pretty stubborn despite the years of agony. He said he could wait.
This, being in love, was the part an author, whom he later forgot, was earnestly talking about.
And with a sad sort of certainty, he reached out to her clutched hand against the window sill and asked –because he needed to know and to remind her, "Is he still coming back?"
She blinked lazily at him and her lips stretched. He was not surprised at all. So much was communicated with that one quite smile. It pained him but he didn't show.
"Hinata," his name dropped off her lips but he knew it was another name she wished to call.
And it was the sight of her, tenderly smiling at him over the thought of somebody else but him, made their silent moment heartbreakingly poignant.
A/N: Inspired by xxfatal's Stiches.
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