Your Smile In August
When the Rose-Colored Glasses Come Off
**December 24, Christmas Eve
Time flies by so fast, doesn't it, diary? It seemed as if it was only yesterday when Dr. Gensai handed you to me. Here we are, entering our three years together, and you are almost out of pages.
I know you're sick and tired of me,
Because all I do is write about one person.
Come to think of it, it's kind of unbelievable, isn't it?
Three years.
Three years of pining over someone at a distance,
Three years of this one-sided friendship.
My friends don't even find it amusing anymore... whenever Himura-senpai's name sneaks into the conversation, they do not tease me, they do not make fun of me.
All they do now is fall silent,
And they look at me funny.
But I steel myself every time, and I pretend to shrug it off.
I know that their look lingers. But what else can I do?
Is it wrong to fight for something you've wanted so bad?
I've come a long way from where I've started. Everything I have has been handed to me on a silver platter, and everything that was taken from me, was yanked forcibly out of my grasp. I've always dealt with life's blows passively, I took everything in.
But what if, this time, I fight? Will it make a difference?
Diary,
What if I refuse to let him go?**
Without him noticing, another week had passed.
The days and evenings were mostly a blur, a wonderful kaleidoscope of colors to his mundane world. Just two weeks ago he was editing his photos in his penthouse, the silence ringing in his ears. Suddenly his life was filled with laughter, suddenly, wherever he looked, he was surrounded with the comfort of friends.
Their inclusive regard, their crazy antics, it made him wonder how in the hell had he overlooked such genuine people and dismissed them without a second glance.
More so, he found himself gravitating more and more to the woman who proclaimed her undying love to him, ten years ago.
As the days passed he continued to read pages and pages about her life,
Her caring, selfless nature revealed. There were literally hundreds of entries from the girl:
About her innocent wishes for his safety, Her quiet devotion to him, her red-haired senpai.
** I will not give up on him. I've never wanted anything so much in my life, and now that I've found it, I can't just drop everything.
Not now,
After all that I've been through.**
He read about the failed attempts at walking up to him and saying hello. About the little things she would do in secret, showing her support.
** It's the Kendo Nationals again, and they said he will be there to cheer the team. Fight, Kaoru! Win that medal! With patience and hard work, Himura-senpai will notice you for sure!**
The quiet moments in the Shrine spent in prayer,
**Please make Himura-senpai remember me...**
And that afternoon spent under the cherry blossom tree, watching the petals fall, her eyes blurred with tears as her red-haired Senpai walked away from her, yet again, during her third rejection.
** I like him. Is it selfish for me to do so, even if he pines for another girl? But they are not girlfriend and boyfriend yet. And I promised myself... until that happens, I will not lose hope.**
He wished he could have gone into the pages of the book, gone back in time to wipe the precious tears away from her eyes and reassure her.
But even if he could have done it, he was pretty sure she would smile and pretend that she never cried, and she would tell him that she was alright,
When in reality she wasn't.
One week turned into two. Small moments when she would look his way and throw him an easy smile, accidental brushes of his hand on hers, he had noticed himself seeking her presence more every day.
I like her,
More than I thought I did.
Before he knew it, the second week ended, and they were entering the third. Beautiful sceneries around the country, and countless pages into her diary, he felt like he knew her better than anyone else, for she poured her heart out, and her tears, through ink and paper.
Yet there is this feeling that is troubling me...
She says she will hang on,
She says she will never give up.
Am I supposed to be assured,
That she would have stayed that way?
It started one day, in the midst of Aoi Matsuri. "How do you ask forgiveness from someone you unintentionally hurt?" He asked her once. He was pretending to be engrossed in his picture-taking, he wasn't really focusing on his shots.
She shrugged from beside him, "Just apologize to the person,"
"What if it's been a really, really long time..."
"Well, if it's a really really long time, and it's nothing that grave, then the person might have forgotten about it."
The hold to his camera tightened. The man's lips slanted down. Somehow, the idea of Kaoru just forgetting about everything and moving on with her life did not sit well in his mind...
"She's the type of person to hold on to her memories."
"Oh."
"And she would never let anyone know that it hurt her, especially to those she cares for dearly. And so she will never accept an apology."
There was a long silence between them.
"I don't know," she finally admitted, "You can tell her you're sorry if you want to clear your conscience."
"I'm not talking about clearing my conscience," He said.
She fell quiet for a while as if gathering her thoughts. Then after a long pause she turned to him, and she gave him an easy, unflustered smile. "If you and she are on good terms now, then all is good. That just means she doesn't hold anything against you.
Just leave it like that."
The photojournalist sat quiet, unable to retort. Kaoru reached out and patted his back, as friendly as ever. Yet the warmth of her hand or her gaze did not linger.
It never lingered,
Since when did it linger?
Ten years ago it did.
It lingered with her quiet devotion to him. It sat within the secrecy of her diary, as she silently hid her bruises behind her long sleeves and ridiculously lengthy skirts. It stuck with the hopeless, unrequited friendship she fought for... and it made her the laughing stock of his high school friends, it made her the fool in clown's clothes.
Ten years ago, you put your heart out on your sleeve.
She was the constant topic of mockery. And looking back at those times, it horrified him, at how he would laugh with them, ten years ago, in the brashness of his youth.
But now...
Although you are an arm's length away,
You feel so... distant.
He watched quietly as she excused herself, settling her attention to an approaching Misao and Aoshi. His eyes trailed towards those warm hands, and how they settled on Misao's back as she patted her briefly.
That same cordial smile on her face, that gentle tone she used with all of her friends.
I can't... stand it...
"No," he mumbled quietly to himself, "I couldn't just 'leave it like that'."
For the next few days, he decided to take a break from her diary. He tried to distance himself from the situation and examine his feelings as objectively as he could, but when she grabbed his hand one evening and dragged him into the small mudroom, all his defenses crumbled.
He tried to suppress the fast pounding in his chest. She would have felt it, as her hands settled over it, maintaining what little distance the crammed mudroom had to offer. Still, there was not much space to work on, let alone move.
They were packed like two sardines in the smallest possible can.
She jumped a little, the stub of a coat hanger sticking out of the closet, poking at her torso. Kenshin's hands wrapped around the back of her small waist, and he pulled her: away from the poking coat hanger, but closer, intimately closer to him.
She was pressed so close to him now, he felt he couldn't breathe.
"Thanks," There was a playful glint to her eyes as she looked up, "We needed to hide. Who knows who's lurking in the corners," she whispered, and he looked down at her, trying to accommodate her as much as he could. His hold to her was firm.
His brow cocked up, "Who's the one trying to get fresh now?"
She suppressed a giggle. In the dark of the closet, her eyes were a beautiful iridescent blue. "Eh... Kenshin," she held his stare, a blush was rising on her cheeks, "If you don't mind, I have a favor to ask you."
Everything about you
is beautiful,
She looked away and she bit her lip, unsure. The blush was heavy now, that he could see despite the dimness of the closet. Her warm hands fisted into a ball on his chest.
Why didn't I see this before? Why didn't I see you before?
"What is it?" He sought her eyes, and shyly, she looked up.
"This will sound silly..." she started, not breaking her gaze. It only prompted him to hold her closer, and he could feel her heart now,
It was beating as fast as his.
Stupid. I was so stupid.
"... and agree to this..." she was telling him something, but it was hard to hear with all the rushing of blood to his head, and the blasted pounding to his chest, "... and so I had... if you can... pictures..."
His hand wound tighter around her, his lips hovered over hers.
This troubling feeling that's brewing inside me...
"...listening?" a steady hand, her hand, settled on his chest again, but he was now too lost in the sight of her lips, and the warmth of her body pressed so close.
"...shin?"
He closed his eyes. His lips were so close to hers now, yearning for the final contact...
"...Kenshin!" she suddenly scolded, snapping her out of his heady trance.
He froze, stunned.
"You stayed up late, didn't you?" She withdrew a hand and touched his forehead. "How many times have I told you, you don't have to work so hard. Tch, see what's happening now? You're falling asleep on me, in the middle of a conversation."
He looked at her. He blinked, and he looked at her. There was concern in her eyes, the same one that she would throw whenever she was worried about Misao, or Aoshi, or Megumi, or any of her friends.
I knew it.
Kenshin slid his hands from her waist, up to her upper back,
and he straight up embraced her.
Kaoru stiffened.
In the most intimate gesture, he wrapped her tighter within his arms. Kenshin let out an exhausted breath.
I knew it.
She relaxed. "Hey, didn't I just warn you not to fall asleep on me? I may not be able to carry you out of the closet, you big baby."
"Hn," he chuckled, but it came out more like a hum, as he rested his head on her shoulder, tightening his hold "I wasn't falling asleep."
"Anyway," she continued, oblivious to his hold, unmindful to his warmth. She could not see the man's expression gradually change from shock to something much more sublime... "I was wondering if you can take pictures of Misao... in... uh... compromising positions."
Something much more sublime, as his stomach dropped, that troubling feeling he was trying to wish away. He buried his face affectionately into the crook of her neck,
yet she didn't even flinch.
"Now be kind to me and don't sneak in ugly pictures of me for blackmail—" Misao's plea replayed in his head, as he tried to distract himself from the troubling feeling that was swelling within him:
Was there a point,
Within those years of indifference...
She pulled away, and she looked into his eyes. "I totally understand if you decline," she smiled apologetically, and it was then that his stomach finally dropped.
No blush on her cheeks, no fluster at their contact. "But if you agree, I'll give you anything in exchange." she grinned.
"Dinner would be good," he said, staring at her hard. He still had her wrapped in his arms.
"Just dinner?" she looked back at him, confused. Then, "Hai!" she chirped brightly, "Dinner, then! I'll have Sekihara-san prepare your favorites. Let her know what you want,"
"You misunderstand," he protested miserably, but she slipped out of his hold. She pulled away from him and opened the closet door.
"Thanks, Kenshin! I knew I could rely on you!" she waved at him and she bound off, disappearing into one of the hallways.
Was there a point, within those years,
After being ignored, rejected,
being made fun at...
That you finally gave up?
The Todaji Temple was packed with people from around the globe. The torchlights had been lit, the priests had started their ancient ritual. Onlookers of the Omizutori bowed their heads in silent prayer for a prosperous year as the embers fell from the Nigatsudo hall.
Kenshin glanced at his companion, her eyes were closed in a solemn prayer. He smiled despite himself: she did not have a coat. She loaned it to an old lady in the audience, an old employee, as Kaoru explained it, who had recently retired to take care of her grandkids.
He stepped behind Kaoru and wrapped his arms around her small frame, engulfing her in his oversized coat, protecting her from the chill of the evening breeze.
She opened her eyes and gave him a sidelong glance. "You could have just been a gentleman and loaned your coat to me,"
"I'm coming down with some sort of cold." He did not lie, as he sniffled, his nose congested, "If I do that, I'll be the one freezing."
"You just want to touch me, you lecher." She leaned onto him, not wanting to disturb their friends from their chatter. "Are you so in love with me that you can't control yourself?"
Kenshin looked at her for long moments: she was joking.
Evident from the lack of abashment, obviously, from the same neutral smile she gave to all her friends.
He tried to quell the need to sigh as he did last week back in the mud closet. His eyes betrayed him, though. He knew that the practiced calm on his face had long been shattered. Trying to pick up the corners of his lips that fell, Kenshin reached out from behind, and he pinched her nose. She grumbled a bit, but her phone buzzed, as it was put on silent.
The screen lit up on her face in the darkness of the evening, and he noticed a slight blush on her cheeks as she scrolled through the text message.
Kenshin craned his neck sideways, stealing a glance at her screen from behind.
_From: Ue-sama
Message: Just dropped by to check on you. Have you caused any trouble yet?_
Her smile was beautiful, as she typed her response.
Reply: What are you talking about?
I've been a good girl, like always.
Kenshin's clutch to the unsuspecting woman grew tighter.
From: Ue-sama
Message: You better be. Can't always be there every time you land in hot water.
She suppressed a soft laugh. She was about to respond when another message from him followed:
From: Ue-sama
Message: Can't always be there to wipe the tears off your silly face, you damn crybaby.
Her expression softened, and her lips twisted into a small, wistful smile.
Reply: Then come back hom—
The photojournalist immediately pulled his gaze away, averting his eyes.
He didn't want to see it.
Much like how he did not want to open her diary again,
Afraid of what he might find. Kenshin had not opened her diary for two days now...
"... will be arriving," She said, her tone light and casual, yet he did not hear. "Kenshin," she leaned onto him again, and dammit, it the warmth that had thrown him into turmoil was the same warmth that brought him back to his wits, "Yahiko is here,"
"Who's Yahiko?" Kenshin asked weakly, his thoughts still on the damn text exchange.
"Oh! Yahiko is—"
"That brat? What's he doing in Tokyo?" A flustered Sanosuke suddenly cut in. He and Megumi had been standing behind them the whole time, and the couple exchanged a bewildered look between them.
"Ue-sama said he's running an errand for him. He'll only stay for the night." Kaoru laughed softly, burying herself comfortably into Kenshin's warmth.
Ue-sama...
He figured as much, she was trying to warm her cold extremities. The smitten man only tucked her under his chin, oblivious to the wide-eyed looks of the group.
Who is he to you?
Why do you keep bringing him up?
He thought he heard Misao squeal, but when he looked, her face was grimaced in pain, and Megumi was looking elsewhere, strangely guilty.
"Oi," A newcomer announced, and all eyes settled on the young man that stepped in. He was looking between sixteen to eighteen, with spiky hair and a mischievous expression.
"Hey there!" Misao greeted him with a warm smile, and the young man grinned back. He gave a fist bump to Aoshi and Sojiro, a nod to Megumi, and a glare to Sanosuke.
Then his eyes fell upon Kaoru, who was tucked in Kenshin's coat. "Yo Busuu," he acknowledged, "Who's that?"
"This is Himura Kenshin, an old friend of mine," Kaoru introduced, "Kenshin, this rude kid is Yahiko... Ue-sama's cousin."
The glare the boy gave to Sanosuke was now fully directed to Kenshin. Although there was a grin on his face, there was no humor in his tone. He folded his arms across his chest and sized the red-head with a predatory glare:
"Why are you holding her like that? You her boyfriend or something?"
Jaws fell on the floor, and the group gaped at the boy's brash challenge. But the red-head only tightened his hold to the woman.
"Well, Yahiko-chan," and he gave Yahiko a lopsided grin: "What if I am?"
Kenshin felt a sudden jab to his ribs as Kaoru struck him with her elbow. She broke off from the warmth of his coat and reached over to Yahiko, pulling rather painfully at the teenager's cheek.
"What the hell are you two yapping about?!" She shook her head in defeat, releasing a squirming Yahiko out of her grasp. "I expect this to be a wonderful, banter-free evening. From the past years, you guys owe me that much, at least." She glared at the rest of the group who were watching from behind.
"Ah, yes, yes of course!" Sojiro laughed nervously.
"We will keep this evening as trouble-free as possible! Promise!" Misao chirped, doing a salute, all the while yanking Yahiko out of Kaoru's proximity.
"Hey!" Yahiko protested, "I only came to drop off some papers from Shishi—" He was prematurely cut short as Sanosuke and Aoshi slapped their hands over his mouth. They started to drag the kid away.
Yahiko managed to yank the hands off his mouth, as he was being manhandled by the men, "Busuu! I'll talk to you tomorrow!" To Kenshin, he gave his death glare, "And you, Himura!" Yahiko proceeded, with two fingers, to point to his eyes, and then pointed it to his bewildered red-head target's:
"I'm watching you."
They came home at about 11 at night, when the girls were already asleep and the people in the group were too exhausted to say any parting regards. Everyone else blearily retired to their quarters, and the ones who went home early, (Yahiko, Aoshi, and Sanosuke) would have already been asleep.
Kenshin would have said goodnight to Kaoru,
But he looked beside him, and she was gone.
"You okay?" A worried Misao settled beside him, just as she was about to walk the hallways towards her room.
"It's nothing," Kenshin tried to wave her worry off, "Megumi said it's probably just a cold,"
"Jeez," Misao said, "Sorry about that. Sucks to have that in the middle of all this,"
"I'll be fine." Kenshin nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "See you tomorrow." Bowing politely he walked the opposite way.
He did not see Misao's worried gaze linger all the more. When he was finally out of sight, someone shifted from behind her, and Misao turned her gaze towards the tall figure which was her husband.
"Hey," she smiled, not the slightest bit surprised by his sudden appearance. She had expected him to greet her home, anyway, as what he would always do when she came home later than him.
"Hey." Aoshi leaned over and kissed her. "What's wrong?"
"Himura-san," she allowed herself to look back, to where the redhead once stood, "I mean, Kenshin... he seems to be more winded down, as the days pass by." She paused, "I don't think it's the colds—"
"It's not his colds," Aoshi said, taking his wife's hand as he led her to their quarters. It had been a long day for them, she must have been exhausted herself. "It's probably her diary."
A veil of sadness fell over Misao's eyes.
"Ah, yes.
January was when she started to let him go."
He could not sleep. He tried to read his e-mails, and he actually got his whole inbox done. The books in his e-reader did not help. The infomercials on late-night tv were barely a distraction.
He ended up counting imaginary sheep, counting the seconds as his clock ticked by, counting the beams on the ceiling...
He knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to face it.
Kenshin fisted his blanket off his person, and he sat up.
Then slowly he reached under his pillow and searched, until his hands felt that familiar material he had grown to be so acquainted with the past three weeks.
With hesitant hands, he opened her diary to a bookmarked page.
**January 23
After another incident with Himura-senpai's enemies that left me with a broken leg, I came back to school hobbling around with a cast and a crutch.
Things went fine throughout the day, it started out funny, even, because my friends were overprotective freaks, glaring at everyone who came across our way. (I never told them what happened.)
Yes, everything went fine for the day, until we came across Himura-senpai and his friends.**
He slammed the book shut.
For a while he contemplated. This was where he had left off. For some reason, he could not continue reading.
He did not know how long he sat there.
Kenshin closed his eyes,
And opening them again, he forced his hands to open her diary.
**Yes, everything went fine for the day,
until we came across Himura-senpai and his friends.
Diary, My heart kind of fell, because Yukishiro-san was with them.
She was telling him something, and his gaze was intent and adoring. But then someone probably noticed us approaching, because they stopped.
I stopped, too.
Himura-senpai was looking at me,
And I froze.
Because the look that he gave me... it was the complete opposite of how he looked at Yukishiro-san.
I pretended to brush his disgust away and shrug it off. I said goodbye to my friends with a smile on my face. I went home early that day, rushed to my room, locked the door behind me.
And when I was very sure that no one else was there,
no Ue-sama by the doorway,
I cried. **
He ran his fingers on the old paper, over ink that was almost obliterated by the fall of her tears. The entire entry was riddled with water blots, it was evident that she did not hold back on her heartbreak, or she was not able to.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
**Diary,
For the past three years I've been a vigilant warrior, who held constant battle marks on my skin.
For the sake of a lost friendship that never had been,
For the sake of a Prince who doesn't even know me.
I'm physically and emotionally exhausted.
I'm tired... of this unrequited friendship...
But the moment logic and reason come knocking at the door, my heart screams at it and slams it on their face.
I can't get mad at him, because this is all my fault. I dug myself into this hole, and I can't seem to get out. But at the same time, I don't want to give up on him yet.
I don't know. All I know is that, after three years, I've been spinning, spinning, this endless spinning...
and I stop to see my progress, nauseated and dizzy from my efforts, catching my breath, trying to reach him...
and I find that I'm still at the same spot where I stood three years ago:
I'm still a stranger.
A damn stranger. **