Title: Leaving Paradise
Author: Misoka Mine
Rating: K
Genre: General/Angst
Pairings: None
Warnings: slight spoilers for end of series, angst
Summary: The memories will live in them, even if the studio where it all began is locked for the final time.
I had always imagined that paradise would be something totally different--a serene forest, a gold pathway leading to a gilded gate, a tropical island. I would never imagine that I would find it in a renovated bar being used as a studio.
But it was Paradise to me. The place where my view of the world had expanded and gown so fast that I couldn't help but suffer from growing pains.
Even now, I can still smell the incense.
I can hear the familiar, rapid tapping of a sewing machine.
I still taste on my tongue of all the various teas we bought during that hectic month.
And now as we shut off the pulsing music and pack up the stereo system, as Arashi and one of his bandmates move the pool table out, as Miwako and I return the torsos to Yazawa Arts, I can't help but feel as if we are slowly taking apart a part of me.
The realization that George and Isabella are gone really hit me when I stand in the studio, bare and empty of everything but a few sets of fabric. The stools, the tables, the bottles and the television, all gone and leaving nothing but pink walls and a stone floor.
The closets had been cleaned out last week.
The boxes of tea had been packed up and sent to Isabella.
The pictures and paintings on the walls had been packed lovingly by Miwako, wrapped in pink bubble wrap and then set in a cardboard box. Our memories, doomed to be stuffed in a storage room.
I was too afraid to ask if she felt like crying about it too.
"Whelp, that's everything," said Arashi, locking the studio door for the last time. The "Paradise Kiss" sign was gone, taken away by Miwako the day before. It now set on her dresser.
Had the stairwell always been this dark? Miwako was running a hand over one of the painted butterflies, metallic paint shimmering under her long, purple fingernails. Arashi was shifting his guitar back and forth, not looking at Miwako or me.
"The rent would just be too much without Isabella and George helping out," I said, trying to throw logic at the nostalgia we were all feeling.
"Yeah, but Miwako will miss this place," Miwako said quietly. There was a silence, barely broken by even our breathing. Not even a passing car came by to break the grief filled stillness.
Arashi put a calloused hand on her shoulder, and the silence shattered. Miwako started to cry. They looked like a grieving couple that had just lost a family member, standing there huddled around the door.
I turned away, to ashamed to admit that I felt like crying too but had no one to comfort me. I looked up at the archway, my tears making everything look soft and bright.
I could still see George walking up the stairs, ignoring me. He turns around, giving me a mysterious smirk and says "let's go" with his eyes.
I could still hear the faint rumble of his car, as if he had just shut it off.
But it wasn't there; nothing was anymore. It was just another building in this maze of bars and boutiques. No one but us knew what happened there, how many lives were changed.
We all turned around and started up the stairs as if we were in a play, making a dramatic exit. But all it felt like, in the end, was that we had left our adolescence behind us.