CHAPTER 19: Loosening Up Tied Ends

Kyoko picked up the large chunks of wax that had scattered from the candle that suffered an calamitous meeting with the floor. It was the best distraction she could make up on the fly to avoid looking at him. Kanae and Maria had already vacated the room, so she had little else to focus on. Once she'd collected the pieces, and her thoughts for the most part (read: she had barely collected them at all and most of them were still running amok like unsupervised children through her mind) she turned to face him again.

"Come on, we've always operated on fair trade." Kuon stood there with his arms folded across his chest. "What are you keeping from me?"

"Why?" She threw her arms wildly into the air. "Why do I have to tell you?!"

"I told you about the dreams that only my parents know about. Not to mention this whole thing apparently involves me," his tone matched hers in volume and intensity. "Or, at least, the me I used to be. I want to remember who I was, Kyoko. Why won't you let me do that?"

Her arms fell and tightened around her waist. "Because, for that to happen, I have to do something I… don't want to do."

"What is it?"

She just shook her head vigorously and looked at the floor. If she could, she would place telling him very last on her list of things she would like to do and let it stay there until it collected dust and cobwebs, never again to see the light of day. But she couldn't help feeling as if she was being unfair towards him. After overcoming their initial conflicts, Kuon had been nothing but understanding when it came to her; letting her take her time and even opt out of telling him things entirely. Still, this was the one thing she was the most adamant about not sharing with him.

"I told you about my history with him and that was already more than I wanted to share."

She played with the hem of her blouse and shifted uncomfortably as if she would escape her very skin if she were presented with the opportunity. By that point, she couldn't tell if it was the subject matter that was the most discomfiting to her or the fact that she was alone in a room with the second party of said subject matter. Then again, the two things were so wholly intertwined, it was of little consequence to ponder over it.

"But you also seem to regret the mistake you made back then," he pointed out. "I don't understand why you wouldn't want to fix that."

"Because it's my responsibility to bear the consequences of the choice I made."

He took a careful step towards her and her entire body reacted by doing it's best impression of a marble statue. Noticing this, halted his advance.

"You keep saying that, but you made that choice based on the very limited knowledge you had at the time," he sighed in frustration and she could see the tension in the hand he raked through his hair. "Now that you know more, now that you know me better, shouldn't you reconsider?"

"I'm not following."

Another sigh. "I mean, didn't you essentially get what you wanted?"

Scowling, she glared at him. "How is this even close to what I wanted?"

"You said that everything happened too fast and you barely knew who I was at that time," he explained. "Now that we've basically spent an entire month together, is that still true? You know who I am, even the parts of me I probably couldn't—didn't want to share with you."

"So?" she mocked out of sheer defensiveness.

"So why are you fighting this so hard?"

"Because I'm scared!" She screamed and she could tell it shook him from head to toe, but he didn't relent.

"Why?"

"It's too convenient. Love doesn't just fall into your lap like this." She gestured between them. "It never has before."

"And you're basing this off of, what, a handful of experiences?"

Kyoko's nose wrinkled with disgust and she reeled back. "How many times do you think I've been in love?"

He just shrugged. "You tell me."

"Once."

He frowned, letting his arms go limp and his shoulders sag, seemingly under the weight of her words. His eyes were less wild and more sympathetic.

"Kyoko," his voice softened. "There are about as many different loves as there are people in this world. Just because you had difficulties with one idiot, doesn't mean everyone else is like that. And it doesn't mean that every love is like that."

"I know that now," she sniffled, the threat of tears suddenly very real and very near. "That doesn't mean I'm any less scared. Even if all I have to do is tell you how I truly felt about him or, well, you that doesn't make it any easier to actually do it."

"Is—Is that how you can reverse the effects of the spell?"

The answering nod came before she could do anything to stop it. Just like how her previous words came out of her mouth without any preamble or warning. To think that she was of the opinion that she was being unfair. Whatever he was doing to coax this information out of her definitely made him the unfair one.

"Listen, I don't know the extent of what he—I felt for you at that time. By the way, it's super confusing and awkward talking about myself like this," he interjected with a shake of his head. "Anyway, it's probably an order of magnitude greater than what I feel now."

"What you feel…" she slowly repeated his words back to him, her brow pushed into deep wrinkles before it flattened out again and her eyes widened.

"I wouldn't argue that passionately and often with you if I felt nothing towards you, you know."

The flush of color one his cheeks that accompanied his shy admission fully obliterated whatever she planned to say next. The pressure of tears against her eyes abated in an instant. Her words fell apart and only a squeak came out.

"Kyoko," he begged. "Please tell me. I want to know."

She shook her head again, only barely this time, and refused to look at him. "I can't."

"Then—"

He stepped forward again and she could feel the barely-there press of his shirt against hers. When she felt the warmth of his hand on her hip, she looked up before she could even consider stopping herself. He was close enough that she could see every shade of green in his eyes even if she didn't want to. Because his eyes had picked up where his words left off, imploring her and locking her gaze with his own. Try as she might, she couldn't look away so she stared helplessly back at him.

His other hand had, at some point during which she was otherwise unaware, had snuck its way up to her face. It pressed softly against her cheek, the heat from his palm a stark contrast to the chill she felt from his fingertips. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up in a strange mix of protest, fear and excitement. The hair on her head entertained ideas of doing so as well when he brought his face closer, stopping just short of their noses touching. She had no idea how she was able to register the feel of his breath against her face when she was certain her own internal temperature had elevated to dangerous enough levels that it should have been eclipsed.

"Then," he continued in a whisper, "pull me closer or push me away. The choice is yours. I'll wait right here. Just like this."

She heard him swallow and watched the flicker of his tongue skimming across his lips. Unconscious of her own actions, she did the same.

"If you can't tell me, I'll wait just like this and you can show me."

The spike of adrenaline coursing through her said it was now or never. The twitch in her fingers said all systems were prepped and ready for action. The tingle in her lips said there was no backing out this time. So, she begrudgingly told the adrenaline that now would be acceptable. She told her hands and her lips that she would need every ounce of energy they could produce. Then, she slowly curled her fingers into his shirt and tugged him forward.

And she showed him.

She showed him with every last shred of emotion she had. She used her mouth, her hands, her entire being to convey to him the words she could never let herself say. It was neither elegant nor eloquent by any means. It was more the nonverbal equivalent of a desperate chorus of I missed you. I need you. I loveyouloveyouloveyou played at full volume and a runaway tempo. But it got the point across.

The air around them felt heavy and charged with an abundance of something they couldn't name. And, when the need for oxygen became a higher priority than the need to tightly embrace, they held each other and breathed in silence. His chin rested atop her head while he stroked a hand through her hair, causing a shiver to pass through her.

"You know, when I left that scarf in your apartment, I thought I could use it as an excuse to see you again," he mumbled the words into her hair as if he was self-conscious about them.

Kyoko should have been shocked, but couldn't bring herself to be. Whatever reaction of surprise she normally would have made turned into a small laugh. An odd feeling of peace had settled within her and she was loathe to surrender it.

"So you planned this the whole time?"

"Not all of it, obviously. There's no way I could have reasonably predicted any of this would happen. But," he paused to press a kiss to her head, "you can't deny that the end result was the same."


SHE SURE SHOWED HIM! Honestly, this chapter gave me no small amount of grief. You'd think it would be easy, right? They talk, she gives in, there are smooches. Nope, my brain just decided to go on temporary hiatus with this until I all but smacked it back into action.

Anyway, you're not here to read author notes. Proceed to the next chapter because I know that's what you really want.

AUTHOR OUT!