Sweet and heady. Thick and warm. The fragrance of cherries and ash permeate the room. She closes her eyes and breathes, feeling stress, depression and fear slowly ebb away. She feels long, strong arms envelop her, pulling her against a sturdy chest, whose heartbeat pounded fast against her cheek, and she wonders how he could keep such a calm face, when he clearly was feeling anything but.
And not for the first time has she thought sourly that the damn baldie always, always had to act so cool.
He calls her name in that deep, rich, sexy voice, and she wonders how she could survive Tokyo without him.
So many words lie unspoken between them, because they understood exactly what that would mean.
She watches him, as she stands just inside the train, by the door, mentally willing him to follow. She knows that behind those dark-tinted glasses, he is watching her, willing her to stay.
They both know her pride will win out. But because he wants her to make the choice, he waits for her to submit, knowing it is a futile hope.
The train is about to leave and he gives in.
"Don't go." He tells her. And he realizes he has never acted so boldly before. He tries to offset the damage he himself has created, and adds lamely; "You know it will only make you lonely."
She realizes he has shown her a moment of weakness -finally- and for once, allows her pride to bend a little.
"Then come with me!" She yells back. "There are many other law firms in Tokyo!"
And even as she is surprised at the hint of desperation that has leaked into her voice, she stamps her foot down, angry at herself, for needing, aching for him.
But her words only makes him more obstinate. Because he has had enough of always falling to her whim. Because it has become too tiring to always be the one to give in.
Because he needed her to choose him. He needed to know he was worth more to her than her pride. Worth more than the lover who had left her. Worth more than the dream she would sacrifice everything for.
He knows what lies between them. Just as she does.
And with a dead calmness to his voice, he looks away, as if disappointed in her words, saying; "There are places here, too, where you can sing."
She stares at him, a shocked, incredulous expression on her face, as the door snaps shut. He pulls his gaze back to face hers, those dark-tinted glasses obscuring whatever emotion he didn't want anyone to see behind those dark, tinted glasses.
"But there is no Tokyo Dome in our hometown." She thinks, numbly. "No Budokan."
She presses a hand against the doors glass window, watching him watch her as the train pulls away, until she is unable to take it.
She sinks to the floor, unable to stop the tears that begin to leak out of her eyes as she inwardly screams in frustration.
Because for all his maturity, in the end, he did not understand her.
