Melancholy and Consideration
Haku's eyes slid open, taking in the sunlight around him. He looked around for the clock and groaned.
2:45
How on earth had he let himself sleep in so late? Though he didn't remember going to sleep at all, he must have…though not until around seven or so. It was then that he last remembered looking at the clock.
He wondered why no one had woken him up, and then the memory of the night before hit him with a jolt. He, for several minutes, considered just staying in bed, but his stomach was growling, and he couldn't hide in here forever.
He climbed out of bed and realized he had gone to sleep in what he had worn the night before, and he looked disapprovingly at the rumpled and wrinkly blue button up shirt and jeans.
With a sigh he brushed a hand through his short hair—he was still not used to it being cut shorter—before straightening his shirt out as best he could. His feet led him out the door and into the hall, then down the length of it and into the kitchen.
It was oddly quiet and still, with dirty dishes in the sink and a half-eaten frozen dinner sitting on the island, a glass of water with nearly melted ice as well next to it. Cold water spotted the glass and left a ring on the blue counter, and the phone was flashing the words, '9 MISSED CALLS' in caps.
A ginger cat was curled in one of the tall, island chairs, its tail hanging off the side and flicking to an fro, and a black cat was sprawled on the rug in front of the sink. His eyes caught sight of something moving in the living room—his eyes darted…but it was only the third and final cat…a black one with white spreading from its breast.
No one was home, and when he made a move for the fridge, for something to eat, he caught sight of a paper, flapping in the breeze of the overhead fan, pinned to the refrigerator door with a magnet.
He pulled it down and his eyes glanced at the signature. It was Yenshi's. He read the letter.
Haku,
Chihiro's at class for most all day, and she won't be home till about 8. I got called into work last minute—I'm sorry—tell Chihiro I won't be home till late tonight. Sorry I haven't been able to tell you in person; you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you…hopefully you even get this.
Help yourself to whatever, and if you want to leave—and trust how I showed you around yesterday—there's a key by the door, on the table, so just lock it when you leave.
Catch you later!
—Yenshi
Haku crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trash, waking the ginger cat. She looked at him with a scowl and yawned before returning to her sleep filled with all-you-can-eat fish and milk.
He felt in his pocket and was replied with a jingling of change and a rustle of paper bills. Yenshi had taken him to get some of his gold changed, and the event proved he had a lot more money than he thought.
He leant his head side-to-side, was rewarded with several cracks, and grabbed the key by the door before leaving.
^
Chihiro sighed, leaning her books more on her hips as she gained her courage. Swallowing, she stepped into the library and scanned down the rows.
When what she sought wasn't found she went to the section of tables in the university library and was relieved, yet discouraged, to find Kenji sitting, studying.
Determined, she walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up at her and she sat her books down before sitting down herself.
"Kenji," She began. "I need to talk to you."
^
At a quarter after seven, Haku sat down on a bench overlooking a lake dotted with orange, sunset light. He felt like sighing, but there wasn't enough emotion to do so. He sat, drained emotionally, feeling the lack there of physically.
His regret of coming was so severe it was tangible, and his devastation at finding that Chihiro cared for someone else sliced into his heart like a katana.
Why had he been so foolish? Why had he thrown everything he had away for such a slim chance at…such a slim chance at…her. The truth was, that he had never guessed that things wouldn't work out. Sure, he had been nervous…but had he ever doubted? Never.
He had imagined a warm embrace, the sky to flash lightning in celebration, fireworks to explode behind them. Instead, on a drizzling night, he had found her. The sky hadn't celebrated, and the fireworks had been left alone.
And the next night the devastating truth—that she cared for someone else—had been revealed, leaving him crushed and making him realize how much his foolhardy, crazy decision had been.
He forced a sigh, blowing it through his teeth as he leaned forward on his knees, running his hands through his hair. Why had he come? Why on earth had he come? And now he was stuck…he could never go back. And he wanted to so desperately.
Perhaps—the thought struck him—he could. Perhaps, if he begged Yubaba she would take him back and he could return to his life that was. Perhaps if she knew how much he wanted to return, she'd take pity on him.
With that thought, he decided he'd try. He could at least try, and if it didn't work, so be it; he wouldn't be any worse off than he was now.
The breeze blew a strand of hair in his eyes, and the bottom of his pupils shone purple in color, reflecting the color of the water he sat so near. Yes, he could just try, and he couldn't be any worse off.
^
He slid the key in the lock. Hopefully Chihiro would already be here—it was ten till nine—and he could say goodbye before he lost his courage to leave. Turning the key, the lock clicked and he pushed the door open.
He dropped the key on the table just where he had found it, and a sound caught his ears. It was coming from the living room. He glanced up to see Chihiro sitting on the couch, hugging a pillow, her head shaking. She was crying.
"Yenshi," She managed through her sobs, mistaking Haku's presence for another. He stepped into her sight and she looked up, then gasped—though it was nearly hidden—in surprise. "Haku?" Her brows furrowed and she tried, in vain, to wipe her tears away. "I'm sorry—"
"No, don't be." He sat down next her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "What's wrong?" His voice, so hauntingly familiar and calming, soothed her embarrassment away and she fell into an embrace which he returned without a second thought.
"He…we…we broke up." She managed to say, her voice muffled by his own body. "We're…" She began. "not together anymore." Without thinking twice she explained for him, and there wasn't a moment anything was acknowledged to him except that he needed to comfort her.
"Just cry, Chihiro." He smoothed her hair, and his voice, to her, hadn't changed in such a long time. "It's OK to cry." She knew that voice better than her own, it had haunted her every single day, every time she remembered him, every time she thought she had dreamed it all.
Through her suffering, subconsciously she basked in the silky tone, the pitch that suggested knowledge more vast than a scholar. She burrowed her head into his neck and tightened her hold around him.
Did he know what she had gone through for so long? Did he truly know how she had suffered this whole time, never knowing what was real and what was imagination—thinking maybe she had imagined everything?
Her tears were more than just for Kenji now. All her frustration and sadness that she had been through in the past eight years had surfaced—he was here! He was holding her! Everything had truly happened!
He grasped her shoulders and held her away from himself. Her eyes looked at him, wide and suggesting innocent surprise.
"Do you regret it?" His words were as pleasant as a melody. She thought about it…and realized she regretted nothing. She shook her head. "Then don't waste your tears, Chihiro." His hand drew up to her cheek, and she leaned into its warmth.
He made a move like he was moving away, and she grasped his wrist and pulled her back down next to her.
"Haku," She said quietly. "I always thought I had imagined it all." A tear spilled down her cheek. "But you're here." She squeezed his hand and he wanted to hold her again. "You have no idea how much this means to me…you have no idea how glad I am that you came." She blinked away another round of crying.
"I've missed you so much, Haku." Now she threw her arms around his neck and he pulled her close, his hands tight around her waist like he never intended to let go.
^
She had fallen asleep in his arms, and now, later, his back was growing unbearably sore where both of their weight was supported on the armrest of the couch. He shifted himself, gauging her reaction, but she barely even stirred in her sleep.
He shifted her weight into his arms and stood up, and his back cracked, reminding him crankily how much it had been through in the last little bit.
He carefully carried her into her room, where he drew the covers back and set her down. Her body naturally shifted itself to make her more comfortable, but as he turned to leave her, her hand shot out and grasped his wrist.
Gently she tugged on it, and he turned around.
"Stay with me," She requested in her sleepy state. "Don't leave me." He sighed and looked down, his eyes seeing nothing, his mind thoughtfully considering.
He nodded, then set down on the bed, taking off his shoes before he slid under the covers next to her.
She turned on her side and slung an arm over his chest, snuggled her head in his shoulder, her hair spilling around his face and smelling of tea tree and patchouli. He breathed in the scent deeply—it was so rich and it nearly intoxicated him.
She shifted; snuggling more, and he moved an arm to rest above and around her head. He glanced down at her hand that rested upon his chest, and a gold ring shimmered on her left middle finger.
It was too dark to see the pattern, but with his right hand he touched it and turned it over and over on her finger. She didn't stir, but she sighed gently.
How could she do this to him? Did she realize how she was torturing him? She thought him a friend when he thought so much more of her, and did she realize with what bittersweetness he cherished this moment?
He let out a sigh of his own, and decided to wrap his arm around her. She stirred, just barely, adjusting to his own adjustment, and he squeezed his eyes shut, taking in every scent, every feeling, every emotion of the moment—when he left he wanted to remember this.
But how could he leave her? And did he still want to? With a pang he realized he didn't want to…but what would happen each time she dated? Would he constantly suffer this pain? He would have to stay, and suffer the pain of seeing her love someone else as he bid her farewell to an evening with another man each time she had a date.
But…he just couldn't leave her.
That night, both slept soundly.