[06/12/18]
He runs into him late one evening and if he had been the superstitious type, would've (should've) knocked on wood. The library has been packed with students as the end of the semester approaches and this white noise and anonymity is what Ken craves the most. Yamato appears around the corridor, his arms full of books and a heavy-looking backpack on his shoulder. His face, long and tired, mirrors Ken's expression and he wants to laugh, suddenly, that they should be found together like this.
It starts innocuously, with a quiet greeting and a sincere invitation to join the one free seat at his table. They don't speak much beyond mandatory pleasantries and Ken works diligently on his charts while Yamato skims volumes of books, sets one aside and brings another, types furiously and goes back to the first book he grabbed. He watches him out of the corner of his eye, making a mental list of all the ways in which he and Yamato are not the same, wondering where she drew the line.
(Later, he knows, he will regret having done this at all.)
The quiet rumble of a phone vibrating interrupts his thoughts but it takes him a while to notice it's his phone, so he scrambles to bring it closer, suddenly in a panic. He's not quick enough; the name is visible and Yamato, who had looked towards the source of this distraction, discretely looks away when Ken grimaces and turns the screen off. The minutes pass excruciatingly slowly and he wants to scream when his phone lights up again, declining at once.
"Are you sure you don't want to get that?" Yamato hasn't looked up from either the screen or the book he's currently occupying, but Ken squirms uncomfortably anyway.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," he says and Ken is increasingly frustrated at the way he feels, like he's acting up and Yamato, more adult, more understanding, is letting him. His mouth opens and he takes a deep breath, feeling the onset of a headache approaching.
"You weren't," he assures him, apologetically. "I said I'd meet her today but can't seem to bring myself around to do it. I know I should."
"I'm sure you have your reasons," Yamato says and this time, actually looks at Ken. His eyes are unbearably blue, like the ocean or a day-old bruise and he can't stand to look at him for too long.
"Would you mind?"
"Not at all. I think we could both use a break."
They walk towards the nearest coffee shop and order their drinks to go. Ken needs to stretch his legs and doesn't think he can bear to sit and talk about his feelings, but he can really use the coffee. Yamato insists on paying and then they begin a slow, leisurely walk with no direction in particular. The air feels great on his skin and he allows himself a moment before speaking, ignoring his companion for as long as he dares.
"I think we're breaking up." Yamato-san pauses, slipping his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be," Ken says, shrugging. "It's mostly my fault, really."
"It's hardly ever just one person's fault. Trust me," he says and he's frowning, like he's just thought of something unpleasant. Ken finds himself hoping it's about Mimi-san, then feels guilty about it. He shouldn't think like that anymore, he knows.
"She really wanted it to work and I just can't bear to disappoint her." He hadn't expected to be quite so honest but now they're here, it seems like a waste not to be. The pulsing in his temple lingers and he finds Yamato's smile brief but oddly comforting.
"You've been friends for a long time. You'll find a way to work things out, in the end."
"Yes," Ken's lip curls and he hides it behind his cup before biting out, "Like you and Mimi-san."
There is a moment or rather, a fraction of a second in which he can hear Yamato-san's breathing cut short and then he laughs, dark and short but true.
"Not like that," he says and Ken really might scream then.
"No," he agrees, then looks up at the sky. "Not like that."
.
.
They meet in a nondescript little place, way off their usual turf. He doesn't recognise a face in the establishment or any item on the menu, settling for cucumber sandwiches and green tea. She orders a slice of cheesecake and strawberry soda, fiddling with the straw as soon as they are served. She lets go suddenly, as if she's just realised what she's doing and instead digs into her dessert, chewing more carefully than strictly required. Ken glances at her suspiciously, nibbling on half his sandwich, its fresh taste lost to practicality and dread.
"So, you wanted to break up?"
Almost choking, Ken coughs a little and Miyako pushes her drink towards him. He drinks deeply, wincing at the sugary relief.
"I'm sorry," she blurts out, apologetic. "I didn't mean to startle you. That's just confirmation though, isn't it?"
"Don't I get a say in this?" Ken finally asks, frowning.
"You don't agree?"
"Miyako..."
"It's okay," she tells him and means it. "I liked you for the longest time. And I'm glad we don't have to live with the uncertainty of what could have been. But honestly, I don't want to go into this afraid of losing you to someone else. Even..." The fresh strawberry jam trickles decadently down the side of her barely-touched sweet, the only indication of life on an otherwise still, quiet table. Miyako blinks rapidly and her smile is tremulous. Ken isn't breathing. "Even ghosts."
Before he knows it, his hand is reaching out for hers and grasping tightly. The café is quickly forgotten but there's a hint of strawberry and salt in her kiss.
.
.
It grows dark whenever she breaks him open.
The light that filters from the streets through the curtains turns his room into a vision from outer space. In this half light, her hair looks like the faded rose of cherry blossoms on the brink of death that haunts his nightmares. Without her spectacles, she really could be anyone else and this thought is more terrifying than the taste of grave, and mud, and rust in the mouth. Ken bends his head down and bites down on her collarbone once before kissing her, hard.
"I thought you wanted to break up with me," she murmurs quietly, kissing the hollow of his throat. His Adam's apple bobs and she giggles, inching that much closer with a naked leg dangerously close to his crotch. The simple truth is that he wants her, will run to her side and will stand in front of an on-coming train to stop her from leaving. The truth is never quite so simple.
"I want a better ending," he tells her and it is all he can do not to bolt. "Don't you?"
"What about..." she traces his inner arm with the tips of her nails, her touch feathery and light. "That's over, too?"
"It never really started," Ken wonders why it's so easy to lie to her without even breaking a sweat. Easy, when she's so willingly forgiven his little slip from before. From this angle, in this moment, he can almost believe it's true. "I wish you hadn't said anything to her."
"I've never seen her so forlorn," Miyako says, looking up at him. "Like her heart was breaking."
Her hair spills everywhere — his bed, her neck and breasts. Ken revels in the feel of it, soft and its scent, soothing. Lying here, he can pretend the past few months haven't gone by and he hasn't tried to kill this wild thing that lives in his chest. He hides behind it, a desperate ploy to avoid thinking about this Mimi she speaks of, crushed, and alone, and heartbroken, of all things.
"Did I ever break your heart, Miyako-san?"
She laughs deeply and the kiss that follows is as damning as the first.
"You would never."
A grimace hides in the corner of his parting, hungry lips.
The thing is, he would.
Author's Note: Mon Dieu, I love Ken.