Difficult
By Komillia
Author's Notes: This is sort of a sequel to "By the watergate", also an Apple/Shu fic which you can find through my profile. It's not absolutely necessary to read it before this one, but it helps understanding this fanfic. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this one-shot. As much as I like the ending in "By the watergate", I really wanted to write more about Apple and Shu post Suikoden III.
Sometimes everything is just difficult.
It is difficult for you to be back in the small town, the same small town where you spent most of your childhood. Some memories are quite joyous. You remember lazy summer days spent by the lake, hours pouring over books in the library and a man who you could have called your father. But with that man you also associate other memories, more angry and sad ones. You remember lectures you did not agree with, the tension between the two of you after such disagreements and the final one which cast you out of the house you grew up in, the family you had grown to love.
It is difficult for you to put aside the past to look towards the future. You loved him, looked up to him. But at the same time you could not get along. There were too many differences in thinking and in the end when he cast you out you felt betrayed and angry. Even now, twenty years later a part of you is still bitter.
With all of this in mind, it is difficult for you to fully understand why you came back when you were asked to. Perhaps it was because of her, because she had asked and you had said yes with her in mind. Considering her track record, she had the ability to convince you to do things you never intended to do. Leaving a successful career as a trader being the biggest favor she had asked of him. But in the end you didn't regret saying yes to her and that fact comforts you as you are stuck in this small town, dusting off old bookshelves in what used to be a magnificent library.
You dust the bookshelves because it is what needs to be done. Everything needs to be clean and spotless before all the new furniture and materials are moved into the newly renovated school. After Master Mathiu's death there was no one left to take care of the school, leaving it in its dirty abandoned state until you two returned to restore it. It was her idea and it shows in the enthusiasm she has. She was the one who rejoiced when after a few weeks the carpenters told her that the walls and the roof have been repaired. She is the one who knocks on doors, talks to parents in every household and ask them if they are interested in sending their children to the school once it has been reopened.
It is easy for her to do these things, she has everything figured out.
With you, it's not. It's unknown, difficult.
Before her you were a trader. You traded, you predicted and you made money. With her influence you became a strategist, carrying the weight of thousands of lives on your shoulder. But you excelled and in the end emerged as a victor in what had been a long war of suffering, pain and death. You survived, she survived and you both moved on. But now you are with her again and after all these years you don't really know how to handle that.
It's difficult because she has been hurt before. Sometimes you forget that, forget that she once belonged to another man and how he inflicted scars upon her that can't be seen. You forget that because she smiles and doesn't dwell on it but the few times you remember you feel like marching up all the way to Gregminister and hurt that man for what he did to her, did to her trust.
Sometimes it is difficult to think that there was a time, fifteen long years, when the two of you were not a part of each other lives and did not see each other once in all those years.
Like that time when the red haired boy came by. You think of him as a boy not because he is that little, in fact he is out of his teens, but because of the childlike laziness he emits. He came and visited one day and walked up to the school just as she was supervising the carpenters who were working on the doors and windows. You felt suspicious and perhaps jealous the moment he took the liberty to call her "My shiny Apple" but after she had reassured him that the boy was harmless you said nothing more.
You watched the two of them chat and learn that he is her student Caesar Silverberg and that it had been a year since last time they saw each other. There was talk about people they knew, people they had met while travelling together and you felt like a third wheel. But it did not take long for the boy to yawn and ask if he could stay at your place for a while. Your place. When he had asked that, she simply rolled her eyes and pointed in the direction of one of the bedrooms in the school that had been restored. The boy said goodnight and walked off and you watched him not envious of his relationship with her, but of the time and experience they had shared.
It is difficult to figure out how to deal with that, especially when you know that there is nothing you can do about it. The past is the past, unchangeable. You still ponder on it as you dust the bookshelves, even though the boy left to continue his journey weeks ago.
Suddenly you hear quiet footsteps in the hallway and when you look over your shoulder you see that it's her. She is carrying a pile of books in her hand and looks like she can barely walk another step without dropping all of the books. You immediately abandon dusting, not that you were enjoying it in the first place, and help her with the books instead. She smiles at you and it becomes difficult to not return that smile.
But later that night you are alone in your room, awake in the middle of the night and quietly sipping wine. Things become difficult at night when you are alone with your thoughts and you wonder if there is anything that feels simple anymore. Perhaps it came with age but then you try to remember if there was a time when you did not need to be careful, cautious and mindful of everything happening around you.
There is a knock on the door.
You know that it is her, since you two are the only ones currently staying in the school, and you tell her to come in.
The door opens with a dragged out creak and from the darkness of the hallway she enters your room. She smiles nervously and says that she saw that the lights in your room were still on. You give her no explaination as to why you had not gone to sleep. Instead you invite her to sit down with you and have a drink, perhaps out of politeness, perhaps out of the desire to have some company. Either way she nods and as she sits down by the other side of the table you pour up a glass of wine for her.
There is no cheerful toasting, just drinking and sipping as you talk and discuss small and insignificant matters. The two of you talk a little about the school, what should be done the next day and what else needs to be fixed.
By the time the bottle is empty, you have moved on to the bed. You are not quite sure why, perhaps simply because the bed is more comfortable and much softer than the wooden chairs by the table. At first you both just sit there next to each other but then she lay down and you follow her example.
The smell of wine lingers in the air, in your breaths.
Perhaps that is why you find that the most natural thing to do is to slowly reach out to her, play with the hem of her cardigan for a few seconds and then carefully slip fingers underneath to feel the bare skin of her waist. She draws a short breath but does not say anything, nor does she ask you to stop.
So you draw her closer to you, eventually rolling over on your back and pulling her on top of you. There is a faint blush on her cheek that is not there because of the alcohol and you are aware of the fact that you both suddenly feel like you are sixteen and young again. It all feels new when you use one hand to take the glasses of her while the other is moving further up her back, wanting to feel more of her warmth and skin.
Her hand reaches to touch your face and she lowers her face a little. The distance between your lips and hers becomes remarkable shorter. You already feel the warmth of her breath, your chest rises and falls with each nervous and shallow breath of your own.
Again it all becomes difficult. You are aware of the past you share and everything that is at stake. The deep friendship between the two of you is already in jeopardy because of your actions. Going further, taking one more step could destroy and ruin everything and you would be left with nothing.
Perhaps it's the alcohol.
Perhaps it's your own recklessness.
But as you place one hand on the back of her neck and rise up to fully capture her lips in a demanding kiss, you tell yourself that you'll just take the chance.
The kiss becomes a little more than a kiss. She cups your face with her small hands while yours roam more freely over her body. You lose track of time. Logic and rational thinking abandons you as clothes are discarded and you feel more of her skin against yours. All you can think about is her, her touch, touching her and wanting to become closer, closer.
In the morning you wake up because the sun is up and the room is filled with light. You find that she is still lying next to you, asleep and facing away but your face is buried in her hair and your arms are around her.
At that moment it is not so difficult to decide that this is how you would like to spend the rest of your life.