** Well, for this fic, I'm not going to give any warnings regarding couplings, content, etc. Why? Because it'll ruin the ending. I like it remaining ambiguous until the end. If you're that hard up for warnings, either don't read this, or just pretend it ended differently. It's not so bad that you need a babysitter. Anyhoo, I wrote this up in about an hour or so, and I think I may add a second bit to it eventually For now, enjoy the ambiguousness. o.o
Dear Jou --
Over the past two years of living together, a pattern has emerged. Nearly every day for the past 730 days has brought the same, stable, solid relationship. One would think that someone like me would get tired of stability, possibly wanting to move on to someone more unpredictable. No, in my eyes you are what truly keeps me sane... and alive. I have enough trouble keeping my own mind on more than one situation -- why would I want to subject myself to someone similar to, if not worse, than me?
Every day I watch you scurry about the house at 6:00 a.m. as you get ready for your classes at the University. There are days I wish I could sleep in, but I treasure every moment I spend with you, and throughout your studies, they've become fewer and further between. I gaze, sleepy-eyed, as you dash about the entire apartment, always too hurried for your own good. When I can, I make you breakfast, but usually the most I can do is make sure you promise to at least stop at a vending machine near the train station and eat a little something.
Every morning, you scurry out the door, and I prepare for my own day. No, I'm not so dependent that I can't find myself happy without you. I do enjoy the time I spend alone -- everyone needs that time in order to stay sane, I believe. But there is something of a void throughout my day, an emptiness that can't be filled until you return to the apartment, usually well into the recesses of the night. I'm not saying this void is necessarily good or bad -- it's just empty. I miss you, but I can survive my day without you. You give me something to look forward to at the end of every work day, my reward for diligence.
Every evening, I cook you supper -- rice balls, tempura, clear soup, anything I know you'll enjoy and that we can afford on our tight budget. You always look so tired when you get home, but I know you're happy, especially this semester while you've been interning in pediatrics. I already feel like a little Japanese housewife, only without a frilly apron or my hair in dutiful buns.
Every night, I draw us both a hot bath. We scrub ourselves down before entering the scalding water. I know it takes you some time to get used to it, but you patiently put up with my yearning for the hottest water imaginable. When you lean against me, my arms curled around your bare body, there's nothing I enjoy more than feeling your chest rise and fall as you breathe. Like children, we dress each other in our pajamas when we're done; on summer nights, we forego the clothing altogether and simply wrap one another into soft, terry robes.
Every night, just before bed, you brush your hair carefully and draw it into a loose ponytail, because it annoys you to have it in your face at night. You go over your caseload for the next day, and then you begin the ritual of taking your medications. Allegra if it's spring, NyQuil if it's flu season, and, as always, the steroid inhaler to keep your asthma from acting up. You sit with your back to me, as if ashamed, but I always watch you carefully -- even when you think I may be writing in my journal, or reading the latest horrorbook by King. The others would have made fun of you, but I remember the nights in the digital world over ten years ago when I'd wake up in the middle of the night to you straining for breath. You only had an emergency inhaler at the time, and you were scared it would run out, so you'd forego using it unless absolutely necessary. Let me tell you, Jou, those nights petrified me. I was always afraid one day I'd wake up, and you'd be unconscious -- or worse. The others might have laughed at you, made fun of you, but I understood all too well, being allergic to cats, myself.
Maybe that's what endeared me to you in the first place -- you were always sensitive, but beneath it all you were the strongest of us all. None of us would have ridden that unicorn with the black gear in its back. None of us would have stayed more than two minutes at that diner out of duty to pay a past-due check. None of us was as stable, as sensible, as brave as you. Throughout it all, although you complained, you barely cried while the rest of us fell to pieces. You kept your true despair to yourself.
There were plenty of times when you'd comforted me, dried my tears over some small mishap or another. You held me when my brother moved to England, when I lost my first love, when my father passed away. But never did I have the chance to reciprocate. You always held your grief in, or at least you didn't let it out when I was around.
So maybe that's why I was so terrified to find you home all too early from work, sitting on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom and crying. You told me that your brother, your 'Niichan, Shin had disappeared in the forests of Brazil weeks ago while he was in the midst of his missionary work, and he was presumed dead. I watched as the tears poured down your face, stripped naked of your glasses, and you turned to me for comfort. Comfort I couldn't give.
I don't know what possessed me, but all I could do was walk away. It tore at me deep inside to leave you there, to hear your sobs echoing down the hall as I took out the vegetables for supper. I worked like a machine as I prepared supper and listened to you cry, my feet rooted to the floor. Suddenly, after two years of living together and over ten years of solid friendship, my rock was no more. I felt as if my world had been wrenched from my feet. I couldn't comfort you like I should have. When you finally came to supper, you were a zombie, and I didn't have the heart to get you to eat. Not that you would have listened to me, anyway.
For the first night in two years, you didn't join me in the bath. You didn't run the brush through your hair or take your medication. You didn't slip underneath the covers with me for a night of lovemaking, or just to be held. Instead, you left the apartment -- out for a walk, you said. You needed to be alone, you said.
Everyone needs their alone time. I let you go. I've never regretted that decision more than I do now.
It's nearly 3:00 a.m. as I write this, and you still haven't returned. Tonight, I'll leave this note upon your pillow, and I'll pray that you return soon. I never was that great at expressing my feelings through spoken word; you've always known that, Jou. So I hope you can forgive this note -- I'd only become tongue-tied if I tried to tell you all of this in person.
Most of all, my darling, I beg your forgiveness for neglecting you in your time of need. I was afraid -- but now, I'm more afraid of losing you over a dumb mistake of my own making. You are my one and only, my life, my reliable rock in a turbulent world. Give me a second chance.
Let me be your own rock in your time of need. I love you, Kido Jou.
Always,
I.Y.