a tale by
. . morning z e p h y r . .
p e r f e c t   p o r t r a i t

Not vocalizing a solitary word of welcome and lacking all salutation gestures, he twisted the worn-out, once lustrous brass doorknob and pushed open the door.  Sauntering to his bedroom, he left the short-haired brunette to invite herself inside.

Still loitering in the flat's outer corridor, she winced every time the filthy rubber sole of his shoes met the equally soiled carpet that was beige when it was still new and the temptation to reprimand him was highly inviting.  But she quickly realized that the position to care about such matters were not hers anymore; she should not and could not be concerned.

As she meekly tottered into their – no, his residing quarters, she could not help the nostalgia washing over her as white-capped waves would over the golden sand of an ocean shore. 

She bent down and reached for her shoelaces.  As she came into contact with the course cloth material, she quickly withdrew her long, slender fingers, reminding herself that if he did not give a hoot about being immaculate, then why should she who was only an outsider.

Straightening her posture, she walked slowly into the living room and glanced around at the furniture.  The orientation of the semi-tidy room had not changed since she left; in fact, she could have sworn the pair of socks he had taken off after work two months ago still lingered next to the base of the black leather love seat.

Gazing at the latter, rose-petal soft lips twitched and curled upwards slightly in a sad fashion.  How many times had they snuggled up against each other on the sofa needing only a thin blanket because the other's warmth was enough for the two?  How many times did she fall asleep within the soothing safety of his arms while watching late night black-and-white oldies on the television?  Countless.

The tides crashed onto the sandy beach again, bringing in not only more memories but a questionable feeling as well.  Something about the atmosphere, although it looked the same so far, felt foreign.  She scrutinized each part of the living room in hopes of pinpointing what was radiating a sense of unfamiliarity.  The corner of her eyes caught light reflecting off an ornamentation hanging on the wall.  Raising her head, she found the culprit: the picture frame hung empty.

She walked towards it, reaching out to caress the intricate designs impressed into the rectangular border.  After choosing the best photograph of their skiing trip to Icicle Village, they stored the picture in the picture frame before her eyes.  In her mind flashed a vision of him tearing up something into minuscule sections and throwing them into the garbage can before setting it on fire with his lighter.  The picture was definitely gone and the casing clung to the wall bare and meaningless like a puzzle missing a piece.

The bedroom door reopened and she swiftly stepped away from the frame.  He emerged with wet, tousled hair with a navy blue towel around his bony, pale neck.  Still drying his locks, he sat down on the leather couch with his intense, unparalleled aquamarine gaze on her ethereal heart-shaped face.  He had the slightest feeling, though, that she was trying to avoid eye contact.

Throwing the towel next to him and raking gaunt, pale fingers through his recalcitrant hair, he asked nonchalantly, "Didja want anything?"

Did he not welcome her presence at all?  Or was he just being his usual jackass self?  Then she remembered Reno's utterly heartwarming reception and she went back to being a hermit hiding under its shell, hiding what she truly felt.

"Yeah.  I stopped by to pick up my things."

Silence stretched on again as if he was actually startled by the reason of her visit.  Surely he did not expect her to come back groveling on her knees, asking him to accept, to love her.  Yeah, he probably did have that in mind. 

Arrogant bastard.

"Oh," he said after finishing another ninja-staring session.  He noticed that his ex-girlfriend still purposely tried not to look in his direction.  "The only thing left is the top drawer of the nightstand.  The rest is already packed."

Her façade nearly cracked and slipped, but Yuffie held onto it tightly.  Tears wanted to cascade her cheeks, but Yuffie would not allow herself such a display of weakness.  Did he really want her to stay as little as possible when she came by for her things that he even packaged them ahead of time?

Knowing that she would not make the initiative to enter the bedroom by herself, Reno rose from his seat and went to the closet for a box.  Entering the room, Yuffie followed suit.

Laying the box next to the nightstand, he sat on the bottom edge of the bed with his back to her while the Wutaiian gathered up the rest of her belongings.

Upon opening the drawer, she remembered that it once held things most precious to her.  It use to be her favorite for everything in it was somehow connected to Reno, but now, it held nothing but the past.  And if she was to let go, she could not carry anything from the nightstand out the door with her – she could not leave with a piece of her past.

Forgetting that Reno only mentioned the top portion and not the entire nightstand, she pulled out the bottom drawer as well.  Brownie-colored orbs grew wide as she stared at the only content visible.  The picture that once served as an embellishment for the living room wasn't engulfed by flames as she had imagined before.  Gingerly she picked up the photograph, making sure not to leave fingerprints on the glossy cover for fear of ruining its perfection.

In the image, he stood behind her with his arms around her waist and chin resting on her head.  Smiles – the genuine ones, not the cheesy ones – graced both faces.  The poofy coats designed for the biting cold weather always reminded her of human-sized marshmallows.  Yuffie smiled down at it.  She knew it was rather a plain picture with nothing special happening in it, but she always loved this one more than the rest . . . 

 . . . but it wasn't hers to keep. 

Yuffie swallowed and veiled her blurry vision with her eyelids, pushing two crystalline tears down both cheeks.  Her lips trembled as did her hands when she placed the one thing she would do anything to keep back into its rightful place.  No, it was not the rightful place, just the appropriate place. 

She gently brushed the tears away and slammed the drawer harder than she expected.  Standing up, she asked Reno in a tone colder than he had ever heard from her, "My things, where are they?"

He popped one eye open wondering what ate her up the past few minutes.  Then he took a closer look – her cheeks were wet.  He wanted to ask if she was all right but decided anything he said now would anger her further.  She was the kind who despised looking weak and he knew that.  Oh if he only thought otherwise.

Acting oblivious to this new revelation, he pointed a finger towards the closet behind her.

Yuffie briskly turned around and swooped down to pick up the box lying next to a heap of unwashed clothes.  She planned to make a swift, clean exit.  No longer did she want to linger at a place where her heart had been born innocent, lived beautiful, and died corrupted. 

One of her two feet stepped into the living room and she stopped in her tracks.  A shimmering gleam caught her eyes once again.  Perhaps it was human nature's liking for all things sparkly or maybe it was fate pulling another string here and there, but either way, she traced a step backwards.  Looking above the bedroom television, a gasp fled her parted lips and into the air.

This frame contrasted widely with the one outside.  This one actually had a picture in it – a snapshot of Yuffie standing on top of Wutai's Da-Chao with only one side of her discernible. 

And for the first time that day, she looked Reno straight in the eye and was reminded of the brilliance and obscurity those uniquely-colored aquamarines held.  Like so many times before, her speech was lost in the depth of his gorgeous eyes.  All she could do was cock an eyebrow in question.

He just shrugged and simply said, "I wanna keep it."

fin.

author's scribbles –
another random "reffie" from outta the blue.  bah!  i think i could have done better, but obviously i didn't.

©Jennifer, Oct. 6, 2002