A/n: Writing because I need other creative outlets. Now a filmmaker; always a writer. Let me know in the comments how you feel about this chapter. Thanks.

Love Languages

In the golden radiance of the afternoon, those few moments before nightfall arrived, Ann graciously entered the timeless Leblanc café. She attempted to make her way in as quiet as a mouse, but the bell advertised her entrance. Seeing the ground level of the café was empty she kept her footsteps as light as one could, in designer thigh high boots. She carefully took off her heavy faux fur coat, revealing a body contouring sweater dress, and abandoned that and her suitcase in the first booth. She removed the matching hat; allowing her ashen blonde tresses freedom; light beads of sweat adorned her forehead. She was quite warm too.

The place always seemed unblemished by time and pace; ever unchanged. She ran her fingers over dark wood details of the furnishings; worn out upholstery in the booths and the aroma of coffee. She inhaled deeply the aroma that made her feel most at home.

It was good to be back.

She was in and out of the country, still making doing modeling in New York and on the side giving a try at acting school. She was already in a few indie projects, but her main focus revolved around developing her makeup line in partnership with Okumura Inc., and so to meet her friend and business partner, Okumura Haru, she returned.

Her meeting was tomorrow; her plane landed a bit before and jet-lagged, she wanted nothing more than Leblanc curry, a cup of coffee and to see him.

"Sorry for the long wait." He walked down the stairs of the attic, tying his apron and stopped when he saw her at the front door.

"Hi." She said with a full pearly white smile.

"Hey." Akira had a polite smile of his own. He walked over to her and the two stood face to face; both red-cheeked. They had dated, broken up, had an affair and were now both single. They also still made the other feel like their skin was on fire. "Let's get you some curry." He told her.

Ann sat down at the counter, before her the remnants of curry. She sipped on her cup of java; the beans from the French Caribbean Island, Guadeloupe. "ça va?" She said between a longer sip of the beverage. Akira raised an eyebrow and adjusted his "for show" frames.

"In a language, I can speak, please." He asked, "I feel like you only do it mock me."

"I'm teasing. You really should study more languages. You have so much room to do so since managing the café. Pick up a few hobbies."

"Did you come to lecture me?"

"I came to say hi."

"Hi." He grabbed the dirty dishes from Ann's meal and placed them in the sink. In his own way, he made it clear he was upset. Though not a man of many words his actions spoke loudly enough. As he began to wash the plates, Ann made her way behind the counter; behind him and circled his waist with her thin arms. She pressed her breasts against his back; her cheek.

"I'm sorry." She said.

Akira abandoned the dishes and turned off the faucet of the sink. With wet hands, he pulled Ann's arms from around his waist and faced her. "Customers aren't allowed behind the counter."

"Am I really just a customer?" She dared him; a look in her eyes somewhere between desire and hinted with a fear of rejection. He hated that about her; he also loved that about her. That even with her insecurity on her shoulders, she made bold moves and did brave things.

"Of course not." He looked away, pushing up his frames with his middle and index finger. His body plagued him with lust and he wondered if it would be a bad idea to rock the boat with her one more time. They were both single; obviously, she was still attracted to him and it had been months since he slept with someone. But it was different with her. It wasn't like she was no one; she was Ann. The girl he had a boyish crush on; the girl he dated, she became the woman he had an affair with. Even if they weren't together, he hadn't stopped loving her, but he was also content never being with her again. Where did the confidence to make up his mind about her go?

It left when she crushed her lips on his and ran her fingers through his hair. It left when her hands roamed over him; outlining his ears; his jawline; his neck; her tongue tracing his lips. It had been so long since he had been kissed; much longer since he felt like a man – made to feel like a man.

He pulled away from her and hurried to the front door. Ann's heart dropped and she watched him, unsure of his next move. She was jetlagged and full of curry, but she wanted him. Did he not want her? Could she take it if he didn't?

Click.

He turned the locks; she heard them. He removed his glasses and placed them on the counter next to the ancient yellow telephone; there for show; the antiquated object; their romance. He made his way over to her and pulled her into his arms like he was the Joker she remembered in their youth and her wildest fantasies of him.

They kissed heavily and Ann found she was desperate for air. He suckled her neck, and she let out a cry that inspired Akira in such a way, he felt like an animal. His tongue traced her earlobe and he lowered his hands to squeeze her bottom. She whined as her breasts pressed against his chest; she felt warmer than she did wearing faux fur winter wear.

She also felt a bit bloated.

He could wait no more, and Akira picked her up off the ground. She felt her stomach turn then. "Wait!" She cried, "wait!"

"Wait?" He asked. He stood there, holding her in his arms bridal style and examined as she shook her head with a 'no', holding her hands over her mouth.

"I ate too much." She said, muffled, behind her hands.

Night came and Akira lay in bed with Ann. She wore his old clothing; a t-shirt and some sweats, and him in a matching set of pajamas. Their legs were intertwined, and they shared the view of his tablet, watching online videos of the indie projects, Ann starred in.

"You're pretty good." Akira told her, "though I can't understand a word you're saying."

"Practice."

"Okay. I will." Ann looked over at him incredulously and he smiled.

"Okay then. I'll hold you to it. Let's see how good your French is next time I visit." Ann yawned loudly and crawled out of Akira's bed. She changed her clothes and prepared to leave. The day was lighthearted, filled with coffee and curry, intense making out, and videos of her budding acting career.

"Thanks for having me over."

"You never said why you came."

"Mostly business. I have a meeting with Haru tomorrow."

"I see. I wish you told me when you'd be coming."

"And what would you do? Avoid me?"

"Ann –"

"You know it's true. Akira, we're still weird around each other. We're going to be weird, but only if you want it to be."

"I don't want it to be."

"Then stop acting like it is," He was upset now; she was projecting. "Okay, we've messed up, but we can move on. We're adults." Once fully dressed, Ann faced the man she once called, leader. She missed the days of his silent confidence and inexplicable ability to have his shit together, even as the world around them crumbled. She was like that. She also wished she didn't say anything. She knew she was wrong then; trying to beat him to see who'd reject who first. Ann wondered if she an apology was due, for being unable to be as mature as her age called for. "I'm sorry for coming on to you. I don't know, maybe it'll always be weird because we still have feelings for each other?"

Even though it was true, he wouldn't admit that to her. He feared rejection too. "Did you call your taxi?" He asked. Ann sighed. She should have expected that.

"Goodbye, Akira." She disappeared down the attic stairs, and Akira lay in bed unmoved. He picked up his tablet and replayed the video of Ann's performance in the mediocre indie film.

The scene took place on a train platform; a close up of Ann's face and her beautiful features. In this her love interest walked away, leaving her in tears. She shouted, "I still love you! I still love you!" Hot, drama inspired tears rolled down her face; Akira replayed the scene over and over again. After several minutes, he tossed the electronic device down and made his way to the bathroom. He was shocked, for as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, there was Ann standing in the doorway.

"Ann." She turned to him, and just as she appeared in the film; tears in her eyes.

"It's hard, right? To not be weird. To move on." Her voice trembled.

"Yeah. It's really hard."

"It's stupid. And I hate this. But I still love you. I still love you." She covered her face with her hands and cried. This routine, Akira was all too familiar with. He was highly aware of how vulnerable she was, despite maturing over the years. Despite how 'cool' she pretended to be. How much like him, she really wanted to become. He wasn't a high school student anymore. He wasn't cool, though he pretended. Feigning it wouldn't make it.

He walked over to her and pulled her into a warm embrace. "I didn't want it to be weird. It's going to be weird. I can't move on."

"Then don't." Ann paused and stared into the eyes of the man she thought she didn't deserve. Even after all their years of knowing each other, he was enigmatic but somehow transparent; more than she was with herself. She could never be like him. Perhaps that's why she couldn't get over the notion of them; of him.

"I still love you, too." He told her. "I never stopped."

Ever so carefully, he moved tears from her eyes; kissed her cheeks. Their lips, mere centimeters from each other, brushed lightly and Ann inhaled and exhaled to full herself with his aroma; home. They kissed; fiery, passionate kisses and Akira knew he could not go back on his word to practice another language. He wanted to tell her he loved her in every language she spoke.