wash with similar colours
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peachshipping anzu x yuugi
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drama, post-canon, oc
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let me tell you about the birds and the bees (4/4)
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Miho and Honda came over the next weekend. They said this was a daytrip for them but Anzu knew they were really coming to check on her. Their car was parked in the visitor spot because Anzu was renting out her spot to a colleague living in the suburbs.
It had been a hectic morning, taking the kids to the central mall, store hopping for shoes because there weren't any good ones in Domino, insisted Miho, much to Tristan's dismay.
'Actually, do you want to go back to the mall?'
Miho's emotional recovery sense tingled. 'Take that', she mouthed to Honda, handing him the purple plastic zipper she was trying to fasten on her wriggling boy. "Like, shopping? Actual shopping?" Both women noticed the multiple sales going on at the mall earlier this morning, but the kids had made it impossible to actually check them out.
Anzu nodded coyly.
Miho smiled.
Honda would be going alone to the park with the kids.
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"You're not really shopping for boots, are you" blurted Miho in front of the evening dresses section. The department store wasn't as packed as it could be on a weekend afternoon. Maybe the good weather chased all the yuppies and young families to the park. Miho wondered for a second how Honda was faring on his own.
"I guess I'm not," admitted Anzu simply. She approached one of the long sleeved black dresses and felt the fabric.
Miho gave her a knowing look. Anzu just cocked her head and let the sleeve drop. She had plenty of black already in her wardrobe.
"Anzu..."
She knew she wasn't getting away with a revelation like that.
"Actually, I think I have a date with a guy from work."
There. Out. She heaved her shoulders, taking a deep breath.
"You think you have a date?"
"Well, we're only going to see a play."
"Alone?"
"With him," Anzu almost whispered back, shyer by the second.
"I know - I mean, alone with him?"
Anzu nodded.
"So it's a date, then," concluded Miho triumphantly.
"I guess."
"There's no I guess with love, Anzu. These things are visceral. Gut feelings. You're supposed to know. I think you know. How long have you known this guy? On a personal basis I mean."
The girls walked silently, absent mindedly through the stacks of formal wear. A pair of heels on display caught Anzu's eye, but they were fuchsia, therefore not black, and she lowered her hand before she could even reach them.
"We've been going out for lunch for a little over a week."
Miho raised an eyebrow.
"And he's helped me. I mean, I owe him." Anzu had thought it better not to reveal the whole drunken incident to Miho. She didn't need to know all her w-
"Oh, cut the crap, Anzu Mazaki. You're rationalizing." Miho grabbed Anzu by the shoulders and forced the unnaturally timid woman to face her. "There's only one, just one question that matters here." She paused for dramatic effect. Anzu couldn't help but smile a little, remembering how Miho took things seriously back in high school when she gave dating advice to other girls.
"Do you want this to be a date or not?"
Anzu gave it some thought. Not that she didn't know the answer. She didn't know whether she was ready or not to actually say that answer. She sighed loudly.
"I... Yes. I g-" Anzu stopped herself when she saw Miho's brows knitting. "Yes," she restated, loud and clear.
"Good."
Miho brought Anzu closer in a hug.
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Anzu didn't eat, even though this wasn't officially 'dinner and a movie'. But she wasn't hungry, either.
She was too anxious to be hungry.
Perhaps guilt had a role to play in that, too.
It felt weird to look at herself, to study herself in the mirror so closely. She tried on every earrings she owned that weren't liked to Yuugi. Twice. None looked good.
None of her jewelry that could matched the hue of her new dress. Gold was too flashy; silver was too cold, anything else was too girly. She was an adult, she was a woman, she was a widow.
It was time that she begin to see herself as something else than one, though.
She turned, stretched. Her buttocks looked fit and firm.
Somehow, she didn't feel like she would be able to say that 'yes' the same way she did to Miho, a week ago. She wasn't sure what she wanted.
Was this even a date at all?
She was less and less sure.
Maybe it wasn't a date. She toyed with that thought all week long, even in Hassan's company during their shared lunch trips, she had dismissed the thought and wrestled with it. Bizarrely, the man hadn't brought it up again except for today at Casa Verde, when he parted with her on the words 'I'll see you tonight'.
He called her exactly thirty minutes after she arrived home from work. They agreed to meet at the café inside the theater. He wasn't picking her up.
She didn't know what to think about fany of this, and was too afraid to ask anyone about it. She didn't want to appear childish to Miho; she didn't want to spread rumours at work; she didn't want to look like she was betraying Yuugi to anyone from Domino.
And her mother, well, that was another story. Her mother never quite accepted Yuugi from the start, and Anzu never brought up the topic again, even when it looked like her mom had finally accepted or, at best, come to terms with the fact that her daughter was marrying a shorter male, and a public personality at that.
She looked at her watch. It was time to go.
Anzu threw on a black scarf, black overcoat, classy black boots that she didn't wear at work and black gloves.
She locked the door to her condo, walked a few steps, stopped to take off her watch, walked back, unlocked the door and tossed the watch on a nearby counter.
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Walking to the theater took more time than expected. A light evening rain had dampened the cobble stoned streets of old downtown and she was extra careful not to slip.
Despite the risk they caused the streets were pretty, glistening under the lights. Other high heeled shoes like hers echoed here and there. Laughter could be heard from time to time. Some people had already started to drink.
Anzu saw the old theater many times during some of her evening walks, but never like this.
This time, she was 'the bustle', she was one of the pretty people, the affluent and happy, trendy people going to see live theater at a local venue.
And she was not going alone.
All she had was to slip through the thickening crowd and find Hassan inside, at the café.
She imagined him waiting for her, reading a novel or short story collection, instead of the freely available newspapers. It would be hard to recognize him; everyone seemed to be wearing black, just like her.
She wondered if anyone was wearing black for the same reasons she did.
"You made it." He'd managed to raise his voice enough to grab her attention, but not too much so as not to yell.
Anzu was slightly relieved that she wouldn't have to search for him amongst the other patrons, but her heart still jumped a little in her chest.
"Good evening."
She wondered, from the slight wetness in his hair, if he had been caught in the late afternoon drizzle - he wasn't carrying an umbrella. Hassan smelled like rosemary and sandalwood.
And, as she was asking herself for the two hundredth time how she should be acting around him tonight, he leaned toward her to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. His hand found its way on her forearm, landing like a butterfly, lingering on a few seconds after the greeting was over.
"You fit right in with these people," he joked.
At first she wasn't sure what he was referring to.
Then it hit her.
Wearing black.
Every person gathered here was wearing black.
He was the first one, since Domino, to mention it. No one at work dared bringing up that topic - her widowhood. Time stopped; her lower lip hung open and her tongue dried up.
But he didn't seem to notice. She could see him from the corner of an eye sporting a happy grin.
Pride. The sort that swells the heart with love until it bursts.
He placed an arm over her shoulders, guiding her towards the theater entrance.
Anzu walked along with him in clumsy steps, her mind clearly elsewhere. It was only then that an obvious fact came to her mind: he was taller than her, taller than Yuugi.
It felt strange. Good, though.
But strange.
Her cheek were hot; she suddenly felt the need to stay outdoors. She stiffened, but forced herself to keep walking. "Actually, want to walk for a bit?"
He broke away from her, eyeing her for a split second. The grin cooled off a little. "Of course."
They walked side by side, circumventing the crowd. His hands were hidden in his pockets; hers were gripping her faux leather purse.
No word was exchanged.
Anzu noticed a change in his behaviour. He acted more like a colleague and less like a date. Was she also coming across as slightly distant?
She wished she kept the watch.
They stopped at a street light. "Shall we go back?"
"We don't have to go," replied Hassan. He opened his mouth to add to his offer, but the thought trailed off, a cloud of mist in mid-air. In autumn-turning-to-winter air.
"It's not what I meant," replied Anzu hastily for the circumstances.
He had been offering her a way out of this... situation. Was this what he had been mulling over in silence, as they walked side by side, together but alone in the bustling city? Had he been also anxiously asking himself the proper way, if there was any, to go about asking a widow out? Had he been asking himself all along, even when he looked so composed and sure of himself?
Anzu risked turning her head. Looked at him.
He was staring into the distance, as if tacitly seeing off the hordes of diners and movie-goers crossing the street on a newly green light.
"I am..."
When it became evident she either didn't know what to say or whether she was going to say what was on her mind, he stepped in. Again.
"Listen I'm sorry. I understand. We don't have to go through this. You're going through -" he paused - "I can't possibly know what you're going through."
The street light was red again. A small crowd encircled them again, little by little.
I don't understand it myself, thought Anzu.
"I'm not..." He sighed. "I think you're an attractive woman." Then: "I might have... I don't know. I might have been insistent."
Anzu stayed silent.
He'd been the one to initiate every step of what some people would call 'a budding relationship'. She couldn't argue with that. But was it insistence? Was this thing one sided? Did she yearn for him, or did she merely yearn for human warmth?
He turned to her. His gaze lost some of its strength.
His beard, already short to start with, had been trimmed, she noticed. And he wore a brown peacoat he never took to work.
She gazed back at him with pleading eyes. Not that she wanted something out of him; she wanted something out of herself. She wanted to know... what it was she wanted.
And if she didn't act now, she'd lose an opportunity to find out.
"I want to go."
In her voice was the same assurance she had when opening up to Miho.
She lowered her eyes and grabbed his naked hand with hers, gloved. She felt his warm even through the leather. "Let's go."
The street light turned green again but they turned around and walked against the human current, side by side, back to the theater.
In silence.
Except that this silence wasn't empty. It was blooming, full, engorged with unspoken wishes.
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They arrived at the last minute, searching for their seats in the dark theater. They settled in just as the before the show started. The very last lights faded just as Anzu was taking her coat off.
She would have wanted him to see the special dress she was wearing.
Needless to say, neither paid much attention to the play.
Anzu found herself reminiscing some intimate moments she and Yuugi had shared. Much to her surprise, the moments were blurry. They were more and more like fragments of impressions, rather than full blown memories. She could remember pleasure, tenderness, laughter. None of this thing called 'arousal' inhabited her memories.
She was experiencing, however, some for the man sitting by her side. Or maybe she was wishing herself to feel arousal for him. Or to feel arousal at all.
He was a pleasant man, and quite easy on the eye, there was no arguing about that. But she knew very little about this man. And this man knew little about her. Actually, because of her association with Yuugi and because of his fame, Hassan might have heard things about her she didn't even know were being made known to the public. She had never kept up with what the tabloids had to say about her or the King of Games.
She felt him shifting in his seat and wondered if he was anticipating the intermission as much as she was.
He must've caught sight of her turning her head, for did the same and smile to her. On the stage, an argument between two siblings - or were they cousins? - was escalating into screams. An object came crashing against something, which startled them. Anzu had to stifle a giggle. She brought a naked hand to her face. Hassan's eyes lowered to her other hand, inter on her lap, holding a limp glove.
They patiently waited until the very last lights dimmed, blacked out, and stood up when the applause, roaring as loud as Anzu's heart, started.
Then the lights were turned on again and the pair laid eyes on one another. Anzu's cheeks were red; she noticed budding pearls of sweat on his forehead. She rummaged through her purse and handed him a handkierchief she carried with her for that sole purpose.
Hassan stopped clapping, staring at a non-descript point on Anzu's clavicle.
The fabric of her dress.
Anzu suddenly became self aware of the colour she was now wearing.
Purple.
She retracted her hand and stuffed the handkierchief back in her purse. Licked her lip nervously.
Then Hassan broke free of his trance. "Want to leave?" There was a sense of urgency in his voice.
"Yes," she replied meekly.
A heavy feeling nested itself in the bottom of Anzu's stomach. She had wanted to show him that she wasn't a widow anymore by wearing this coloured dress, well that's how shw had felt at the time, when she bought it, with Miho.
Now she wasn't so sure anymore, and she knew Hassan knew.
They dressed a little clumsily, eager to leave the fading waves of applause, to leave the stuffed air of the theater, to go somewhere they could clear their minds. Together.
She threw her scarf over her shoulder and fastened every button of her coat so as to hide the purple fabric.
He was following her this time, rather than ushering her around.
"Do you want-"
"-to go for a walk?"
They had spoken at the same time.
They nodded eagerly to one another and set forth, Anzu leading the way that would take her to her condo.
Anzu didn't know what to say. She felt like a bundle of contradictions. And she felt bad for misleading him.
Or was she? Was she simply confused? She had no intention of playing games with him, toying around for her own benefit like she'd seen Mai do with Joey an every other male that crossed her path. Anzu wasn't that type of person.
Nonetheless, she felt dirty. The dress had been revealed at a moment less than climatic... And she could tell from his silence he was still struggling to put the pieces together.
"You..."
He said no more.
"I know everyone at work noticed, and yet nobody asked. Why I'm stubbornly wearing black like an old Sicilian lady. I know it's strange..."
They turned a corner, taking a side street that would eventually narrow and become a back alley a few blocks from now. Anzu would never take that route alone at night, but the present company made her feel safe. Late night down was now a mere distant hum behind them. They were alone.
"It's not strange."
"Thank you," she half-whispered.
She then took a deep breath, as if to give herself strength for the confession or resolution to come.
But she kept silent.
"I feel pretty blessed that you're still around. You're not easy to approach, y'know. Even if this evening isn't going as smoothly as I expected, I'm pretty happy right now." His voice had taken on a deep, rich texture, and it glided gently against the damp walls of the back alley. "I'm... I'll be honest with you. I want this. I really do. I've given this a lot of thought... And honestly even though I don't want to pressure you and all, I mean you're going through a lot right now obviously, I just hope you're also, I mean, that you're seeing me that way, too."
They were one block away from her building. There wasn't much time left, and whatever she'd say now would make it or break it. He'd laid it out for her in the open; it was her turn to make a move.
If only she knew what she wanted.
She wanted to feel attachment. And she was attracted to this man. But it was not the same type of attraction she had felt for Yuugi, and frankly, he had been the only man she'd been seriously in love with, even though she'd never admitted it.
She just wasn't sure she wanted to get the ball rolling with this man, this broad shouldered but lean, educated and open-minded man who had made it very clear he wanted her even more than she wanted him.
She wasn't sure she was ready to use the words 'us' again, or if she'd ever be.
She slowed down and he matched her speed as she climbed the half step leading to the front door of her condo building. She turned to him and he set himself in front of her.
She lowered her eyes, but didn't make a move to reach for her keys.
They both stayed still. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for a catalyst.
She lifted her eyes to see him studying her.
She leaned forward imperceptibly and so did he - then the formidable, expected, anticipated happened - he lifted her hands to cup her face, cradle her head and hair, took a half step forward until his forehead met hers, closed his eyes while she simply felt unable to do so, she took in his warmth and the whiffs of sandalwood and the oscillating artificial flow of the overhead light above them, the wet sound of a car passing on the street, and he kissed her.
He kissed her and all she could think of was Yuugi on their wedding day, Yuugi's little hands and always cold fingers giving her shivers when he caressed her. She tried to chase the thoughts away and kiss back the wonderful man - and great kisser - who was giving herself to her, but all she managed was unglue her tongue from her palate and breathe in. Cool air came rushing in her mouth and she chocked, broke free, stepped back, brought a gloved hand to her throat. The coolness of the leather helped fend off her budding nausea.
Nothing could be done for the tears. They were blurring her vision. She couldn't tell what he was thinking and coughed up a first sob that echoed loudly in the street. She took rapid, short breaths. Her chest shook and trembled as she breathed.
"I'm sorry..." she let out, "I'm not..."
She stopped forcing herself to keep her eyes open and took a deep breath. She felt friendly arms bring her into a protective embrace. All she could do in lieu of an apology was repeat this broken sentence between sobs, like a mantra:
"I don't think I can do this... Don't think I can do this..."
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fin
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A/N I've been quiet over the last few chapters, I know. This is the fourth and last installment of this story. It was originally a oneshot plunny. Why oneshot? Because I was busy, at the time, writing for a contest set in a strict oneshot format. I also had given up on experimenting with the multi-chapter format - I've never been able to complete any of the multis I've started before now. So this is a first and I'm quite happy about that.
I know this fic is far from perfect - there are way too ellipses, not enough canon cast, too much OC, and I don't rely quite enough on building atmosphere, the one thing that people say I can write decently. It might also feel a little bit rushed at time. But I had to write and publish this story despite all its flaws. It's a stepping stone that will allow me to write on longer projects, including those in progress (Blackout, a genderbent batteryshipping). It was also written during emotionally turbulent times - I've been quite busy with great changes that, in turn, caused me to question myself about who I am and where I am in my life.
One thing that's interesting about this story is that it started off as one single, little line: the last one, the very last sentence of the story. The fatal truth Anzu admits to herself and to the man who happened to be there at the wrong time and place in her life. I don't really know where they'll take it from there, and since I wrote the whole thing just to be able to use that line, I don't think I want to know. I wanted to tell the story of a woman (not a teenager, they are getting enough representation in fandom) struggling with herself. Or at least part of her story, because life never really ends, does it? This isn't a story about loss, or at least not the loss of a significant other as the summary lets on; it's a story about identity, about having to come to to terms with a new self while shaping that new self at the same time.
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special thanks to Jonouchi Katsuya for beta reading :)