Standard disclaimers apply
Swimming in the Dead of Winter
-Disenchanment
Fuuko shook her head somberly in dismissal, thinking that it was yet another one of those days where paranoia reigned over rational thoughts. The tall brawny bartender with a mop of bleached blond for hair returned shortly with her drink and winked mischievously at her.
"Here you go. Oblivion for the pretty lay-dee," he teasingly drawled.
'Perhaps,' she thought, 'Perhaps given a brain, he would have made quite a catch,' she silently mused to herself.
"Put that on my tab…"
'That voice again!'
It had always spoken in a curt, dry tone. Never warm or even tinged with the slightest hint of it. It was always sad, never happy. Even when everyone else was… It always answered coldly, sometimes, too bitterly.
She was nearly convinced she had imagined it again but was baffled when she saw the drinks server suddenly perked up with alacrity. "Hey, no problem," the artificial blond shrugged neutrally.
She quickly spun around, feeling a surge of anxiety bring color to her lightly powdered cheeks. "Tokiya?" she asked breathlessly, not quite believing her eyes even though they were her own.
Unsmilingly, but not unkindly, the newcomer returned her a firm nod, meeting her sapphire orbs with his own frosty blue, as he slowly inched closer with fluid grace. She suddenly felt ridiculously self-conscious and shyly directed her gaze away from his, settling them instead onto his classy polished boots.
She constantly worked a small reminder in the back of her mind to appear calm and disinterested. But much to her annoyance, her eyes took no heed of her mental warnings, and began to liberally wander on their own.
Eagerly, they traveled up the long lengths of his equally black leather pants, that was neither too tight nor too loose on him, only perfect. Her eyes journeyed further north and she wondered curiously how he could effortlessly make the plain white shirt look so sensuously good.
'Hell,' she thought, ' he'll probably still look good dressed in a potato sack.' At this, she smirked.
The bronze-skinned bartender looked on with partisan fascination, darting a questioning look at the two. He saw the rose-haired lady grew even more beautiful as she prettily blushed with anticipation. He had caught her eyes lighting up lucently, albeit fleetingly with recognition, as she studiously examined the stony features of the beautiful stranger standing before her.
The stranger… Hmm… what can we say about the stranger…
Though at where he stood wasn't too well lit, the streaming fairy lights filtered through the lengthy tie of his hair so that it seemed to shine like polished pewter. His face, though drained of color, was actually pretty; the kind that made heads turn to get a second look then another, and another and another… Tall and vividly blue-eyed, he was impeccably handsome. Surely, a perfect complement to the girl.
"Leave us," he said with a slow and deliberate glance in the direction of the nosy blond.
"Yes. Of course," the tanned man gave a small bow before withdrawing away to a much busier corner where his charms were better appreciated.
The stranger watched the retreating back for a while before returning his eyes on her. "Kirisawa," he spoke, reacquainting himself with the formality once again, "It's been a long time.
If six years is a long time, then it still wasn't long enough for her. No, it wasn't long at all. Even if each night was spent in cosmic unbliss, and each passing day in equivocal doubt and discontent. No, six years is not punishing enough.
Six years is too short. Six years is nothing. A long time would be more like… forever. … Yes, forever is a long time.
"Indeed, Mikagami, indeed," she had answered nonetheless, managing a weak smile.
TBC…
Thank you for reading and even greater thanks to all who commented for their kind words.
