An: Once again, I don't know what exactly I was thinking, but it makes sense to me.
He sent a messenger just to tell me that he has found out who the killer was and that he's staying in the town for another night.
That idiot.
He sent a messenger just to tell me that. That he will spend one more night in that town, with people playing for money, and with someone filling his cup with sake again and again, as soon it gets empty. I try to perish that thoughts, and the pictures too from my mind when I lie down to sleep.
That doesn't come.
...o...
It's almost noon and he stumbles into the office, tired and tripping a bit on the doorway. "What the hell took you so long?" I start, pretending I never got the message in the first place.
With a smirk he takes two steps further into the office. "I'm glad to find you in such a good mood."
I snort and grab the nearest file, trying to look busy. "Well, it's all done. You'll get the report this afternoon." He continues joyfully and I cringe at his happy tone. How dare he? With hard steps against the floor, the whole room creaks in familiarity and I force my eyes to stay on the file. He pauses just before he closes the door, turning around. "When will you find the time," he starts, "to come and spend with me all the money I gained?"
My eyebrow develops a tick and I raise my eyes just enough to send him a glare. "If you don't, I'll find someone else to spent it on. Or with." He ends, as if he's joking again. But his tone is a bit heavier this time, and we both know that he means it.
There is a sound of crystal shattering when I throw the bottle at the door just as he pulls them after him.
...o...
We are.. we could say - friends. On the record. Off the record? We kiss after one round of drinks that shouldn't have been ordered because it's too much. We fight and end up sprawled on each other when he follows me to my training. We only kiss, nothing more. Even when wanting more.
And then, once, he pulls me close and kisses my hair, as if he was some distant cousin, or worse, my brother that gives only support and safety. That pains me more than the fact that we kiss.
I don't take him up on his offer and the next day he's off to another mission.
I spend days pretending that I don't miss him, and when he comes back he asks me out for another round of sake again. It takes me a long minute before I think about it, and about what I know will come after that drinking party and with pain in my heart I drop the cards on the table.
"No."
...o...
Before he leaves for, what he promised to be the last time, he stops and stares at me a bit too long before speaking. "Did you ever think about what will come after?"
It's a vague question that can be applied to everything and nothing at all, but we both know what he's thinking about. I lie.
"No, I didn't." And I laugh after every word said. "But you will?" He urges on and my laugh stops short. He waits in the dark of the night for my answer which never comes. He leaves, with all the un-replied chances and all mistakes heavy trailing behind him like a shadow.
I don't tell him that I dreamed of him dead that night. I don't wish him a safe trip, nor do I say goodnight. I don't tell him that I thought so much about it that I don't know what to think anymore or even that I wish to have that - what comes after. Somehow, deep in my heart I think he knows.
...o...
One year after, I sit still on the floor, buried in papers and files, and mission reports. There's a big map spread out in front of me and with reminiscing fingers I trail over it, trying to measure the distanced between us.
Funny how it's so much smaller on paper that in reality.