[11/07/18]

That spring the cherry trees are late to bloom and it rains every other day. Mimi's finger hovers over a picture on their social media account, a blurry thing easily confused for an artistic, grunge-era shot. She wonders vaguely who took it, then double-taps on it and continues scrolling, distracted by the existence of this nameless, faceless stranger.

She doesn't realise how hard she's been holding on until she lets go of the phone and her knuckles are white and aching.

Doesn't he know, though?

In a rush of courage she isn't quite sure she's entitled to, she dials his number and holds her breath as it rings against her ear, ominously. He picks up on the fifth ring and despite her efforts not to count them, she's already disappointed.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Hi," she says, eyes closed, one hand draped over them as she makes herself smaller on the couch. "I don't know if you're busy but, can I see you tonight?"

There is a rustle of activity behind him, voices in the distance.

"I've got rehearsal tonight, wait," she hears some shuffling, silence and some steps and then a door opens and closes. He sighs and his voice is clearer now, when he speaks. "Sorry. If it can't wait, I'll be out at ten. Where are—?"

"No, don't worry," Mimi interrupts him, letting her arm drop from her face. "I'll find you."

"Okay."

"See you, then."

"Yeah."

She cuts the line and holds the phone to her chest, waiting, not quite knowing why.

.

.

He cuts rehearsal short by half an hour, shouldering his bass as he exits the building. There is a small park not far from the train station where they're supposed to meet and she's there, sitting on a lonely bench. Yamato walks towards her, clearing his throat to announce his presence. She smiles softly, standing to meet him in the middle and the way she looks is almost enough to knock the breath out of him.

"You're out early."

"I wouldn't have made you wait if I had known you were here," he says. "You should've told me."

"I didn't mind," Mimi says, shrugging. "It's a beautiful night."

Maybe it's the lighting but he thinks he sees something on her face and when he stops to look again, it's already gone. This is the first time they stand before each other, talking, since that awful night. He wonders how she feels about that, if his absence has become as unbearable to her as it is for him. She's quiet as she walks down the cobblestone path and only sucks her breath in as she reaches the tiny pond and the curved wooden bridge above it.

Yamato, with his hands inside his pockets, turns to look around at the scenery, the tea-stained pictures under the yellow lamp-light. It really is a beautiful night, with a clear sky for the first time in days.

"Where did you want to go?" he asks, eyes fixed on the reflection of the city lights on the surface of the pond, and it looks like a liquid sky. "Mimi?"

He hears her behind him, her clunky boots dragging over the wood. Then she stands next to him, her back against the rails and she's gazing up at him expectantly. The realisation of what is about to happen sinks to the bottom of his stomach and there's nothing he can do to stop it now.

"I'm sorry to call you up like this," Mimi says, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Are you still angry at me?"

Yamato's eyes shift back from the pond to her and he sighs. "I don't know."

Even under this pale light, he can tell her cheeks are turning pink but he's not in a particularly forgiving mood tonight and neither is she, apparently.

"You still came, though."

"I'm in love with you," he says simply, lips tight. "What else can I do?"

Her eyes grow round, her surprise so genuine he could have laughed. Instead, he shakes his head and then inclines it, just once, towards her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to come out so rude."

"Is it truly such an awful thing, though?" her voice is smaller this time and when she hugs herself, Yamato is sorry he even said anything at all. He leans against the wooden rails and looks at, head tilted to one side and she looks like something plucked right out of his dreams. "Anyway, I just wanted to apologise," she continues, holding on to the same rail where he's leaning against. "I'm really sorry about that night. And last night, and every night before. I don't want to fight anymore."

She moves away from the bridge, turning towards him with a watery smile and when he pushes her hair away from her face, he's almost surprised to see she's about to start crying but something tells him there's nothing he can do to stop it. He knows there's nothing he could have done to stop himself, either.

"I should go now," she says, "Just, think about it, will you?"

She's already a couple of steps away when he calls out to her.

"I don't think it's awful at all," he says but if she hears him, she makes no indication of it.

.

.

The benches at Inokashira Park are hard, made of worn-out stone. It's still a little early so he slips his hands inside his pockets and watches the lake's surface, the people who feed the swans and the children who laugh with glee. She's never been very good at keeping their appointments so when he spots her in the distance, his heart sinks, rather surprisingly, into his stomach. She's wearing a black coat over her clothes and a gray scarf and the image is as pretty as it is startling.

"Ichijouji-kun," she smiles ruefully, stopping before him. "Are you going to break up with me?"

Ken gives her a confused look, then glances at the swan boats.

Ahhh.

Mimi shakes her head before he can bother to answer, sitting down on the cold stone bench next to him. They haven't spoken in a long time and the silence between them stretches, uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

"I was going to write you a letter."

"Yeah? How would it start?"

"Dear Ken, I'm sorry you came to my party and..."

"And..."

"Don't rush me. It would take me a long while to write it."

Despite himself, the corner of his lips twitches, amused. The world blurs and he imagines one of the swans is poised for flight, offering a show for the people who have chosen to sail on this bleak morning; he then blinks and looks away from the happy couple, off somewhere else, anywhere but her.

"I'm sorry about everything. I guess I could tell you I had my reasons and maybe I did. Some even had to do with you, but mostly, it was about me," she pauses, voice soft and glossy eyes. "But all of that and this, is pointless when we end up here, on a swan boat."

His throat feels dry and his fingers twitch again, hidden in the pockets of his coat. "We're not getting on a swan boat."

"That's besides the point, Ichijouji-kun," she waves her hand, then shrugs. "Anyway, it was all in the letter."

He leans back into the bench, stretching his legs before him. The cold air blows her hair towards him, carrying with it a whiff of her perfume and something else he can't quite name. He inhales slowly, like it is poison and he knows it'll kill him. He still needs to breathe. When he opens his mouth he isn't sure what he's going to say and is half-surprised when it tumbles out, quick and true.

"You know, moving on is the easiest thing."

She's looking at him with a strange expression, halfway between irked and amused and when she speaks, he thinks she is as cruel as he has ever known her to be. "Yeah? So why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't want to move on from you, Mimi-san. I wanted to be where you were."

Her hand opens and closes, forcing warmth into her fingers. "That hardly seems fair."

"I don't think life is fair at all," he shrugs, like it doesn't mean anything. "Will you tell me what happened, that night?"

She doesn't ask which night, instead she shakes her head, solemn. "Do you really want to know?"

"I suppose not," he says after being silent for a long time. "Still..."

Her smile is slow to come but her cheek dimples and her face takes on an expression Ken is sure he has only seen in his dreams.

"I thought it was just a crush," she teases and his cheeks burn brightly for a fragment of a moment.

"I don't feel that way about her," he says and he hates that it comes out like a plea. "It's not like that."

"Good," Mimi says after a while, smile both disarming and ultimately heartbreaking. She leans her head ever so slightly against his shoulder and he keeps his eyes steadily ahead until the cold makes him blink. "That's good, Ken."

In the distance, a swan boat glides peacefully across the water.

.

.

In the dead of night, Miyako's words come back to him, unbidden.

I think you're making excuses, because you're afraid.

His fingers are quick on his phone, his reply sent before he even has a chance to reconsider. He, too, wants a better ending.

[12:17 a.m.]石田 ヤマト: I've always wanted to be where you are. But I won't chase you.

Notes: This was written well over a year ago, along with many scenes that didn't make the cut into this story. I don't know why it took me so long to post but it's here now and we're almost done. You have been so patient and so kind and I felt bad not posting something for the fandom, so thank you.