an: Soooo, I thought I'd wait till May but you know what? My birthday is May 15th, and I kind of want to make the ending of this fanfiction fall on my birthday or close to it. It would be a really nice birthday treat to myself. That and, maybe the sake I had for lunch today is convincing me to release this sloppy chapter- haha! Just kidding. (Not about the sake though, hoho) What else? I had an interesting time writing this chapter. Anytime I have to write a different kind of emotion/experience for Lee it's always challenging, but worth it. With not giving away too much already, I hope I do him justice. Anyway, as always thank you so much for your kind reviews. I read each and everyone of them again and again for weeks on end. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!
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Chapter 22: Promise
"Oh my lord. Call an ambulance and the minister, " I whimper out a cry, curling myself into a ball and wrapping my arms around my abdomen. The change in position doesn't quell the knots of pain twisting and turning inside my pelvic region, continuing to rumble around chaotically.
My minds eye pictures the kitchen cabinets open, and a bottle of painkillers glowing like the Holy Grail itself within sight. Yet, despite that reality of it, the distance between my bed and the kitchen seems so tiresome and strenuous. I wonder if I'll ever make it, honestly. Another transient attack comes swiftly, and I can't suppress the moans wanting to spew from my mouth. It's best to endure the grueling journey than to perish a miserable and unrelenting death.
With weakened muscles, and an even weaker mental state, I tear myself from the bed where I lay practically comatose. I continue to hold onto my stomach, feeling as if its heaviness will fall and hit the bottom of my feet. I take sharp intakes of air, hissing out the air in some weird attempt at a breath exercise as I enter the kitchen. I fetch a few painkillers and pop them into my mouth, almost forgetting I need water to swallow them properly. Some relief fills me; at least knowing the effects of the medication will come within the hour.
"At least it's the weekend. It'd be terrible if I had to go into work like this…" I break in with private dialogue, rummaging through a kitchen drawer and pulling out the stack of take-out menus I've collected over the past year or so. When it's that time of the month, it's best to treat yourself, right? "Everything looks so tempting. Darn it, why does this always happen to me?"
After what seemed like hours, I finally decide on my 'go-to' place during these special times. I pick up our resident phone and dial the number on the menu.
"Hello, this is Ramen Ichiraku," I hear a young woman answer cheerfully. "How can I help you?"
"Yes, I was wondering if I could place an order for delivery?"
"Of course! What will be your order?"
I blush and entangle my fingers at the very simple question, "Can I order the family lunch special with beef, please?"
"Ah," the young woman from the other line begins. "Is this Sho-san? It's been a long time since you've ordered from us. I just remembered your voice, and since you order the same thing for yourself every time."
"M-Mhm, it's me," I pipe up with some embarrassment in my voice.
"Will that be for one?" she asks.
"Yes, just one," I reply with a nervous chuckle.
"Alright, Sho-san. Thank you for your order."
I finish the conversation with the young woman by giving her my current address. It takes no longer than twenty-five minutes for my order to arrive. Upon receiving it, I carry the weighted load and practically drop it onto the coffee table. What better way to sooth some aches and pains than with some ramen and old-style sitcoms? With a new excitement that somewhat masks the tenderness of my underbelly, I lay out the family meal like a buffet in waiting. My violet hues glimmer at the sight, knowing it will be my pleasure to devour a dinner made for at least four. With no modesty I begin to chow down, practically choking on a noddle when I laugh at a slapstick joke presented on television. I finish about three-fourths of the entire meal, and succumb to a fullness that causes a bittersweet bodily paralysis.
"I feel like a balloon," I lament, somewhat regretting eating so much now that I'm experiencing some menstruational bloating. Or maybe it was the vegetables? Oh well. I touch my protruding stomach, as I lay flat on the wooden floors. "Oh, but what if I am a balloon?"
An existential thought.
I hear the jingle of familiar apartment keys, and no sooner does my roommate walk in. Although I want to lift myself up promptly, it's utterly hopeless. The pressure inside my stomach is too much of a burden to bare. A spring of guilt wedges itself in my chest when I see Lee take notice of me, and rush to my side with a look of concern about him.
"Yamada-san!" He speaks my name with such alarm; it almost resembles a scene from one of my drama shows. How funny. "Why are you on the floor? Is everything all right? Are you hurt or—?"
"I'm fine, Lee-san." I calmly interrupt his flurry of questions. I smile up at him, grateful for his caring nature, but it's unneeded. This is my womanly burden. One that forces me to buy new underwear whenever it decides it sneaks up on me. "I'm only relaxing."
Mother Nature must think I'm rich.
"I feel as if you would be much more relaxed on the couch. Excuse me…" he slips in a polite word and gesture, taking me into his arms for a brief moment before placing me on the couch. Once I'm settled, his circular eyes pass over me, "I am sure this is better than laying down on a hard floor."
"You're one to talk, Lee-san. I saw you fast asleep while doing a handstand against your bedroom wall about a week ago," I mention with an upward tilt of my lips. "I think you were like that for about two whole hours. Maybe even more, come to think of it."
"Ah, that is true! I remember the headache when I woke up," Lee laughs at his own expense, before settling himself onto the couch and peering at the emptied ramen bowls on the coffee table. "Did you eat all of that by yourself, Yamada-san?"
My face flushes whilst the tiniest of hairs on my arms stiffen at the inquiry. I shake my head, denying the reality of my apparent gluttony.
"N-No! I had…um, my new co-workers come over for lunch today. Sadly, you just missed them. There were like five of them; the whole faculty practically." I fumble like a complete idiot, unable to control my nervous lips from smacking together. "You know, just a lot of people. Not just me by myself with five bowls of ramen—Mhm."
"If that is the case then…" his attention returns to me, trailing down to my protruding stomach, which I realize how apparently round it has become.
Once my roommate places an oddly paternal hand upon it, all the blood rushes to my face at the insinuation. The red coloring my entire complexion worsens when I perceive the faintest trace of tears glossing over his black marbled eyes. I want to interject but my roommate spills his heart out before I can open my mouth.
"I cannot believe I did not see it this whole time. To think that Yamada-san was pregnant and I missed all the signs!" He begins to bring up his fingers for a countdown, "The abnormally larger pints of ice-cream in the freezer, the abnormally larger appetite, the abnormally larger tissue box next to your bed for when you cry while reading, and…" he places a hand over his apparently warmed cheek, staring off into the living room air with a perceptible disbelief. "The pickles in that sandwich yesterday—Yamada-san does not usually eat those!"
"Lee-san! Please, I'm anything but that," I come in hastily to taper down his excitableness. "First of all, that brand of ice-cream was on sale. The 'buy-one-get-one-free' deals are just so addicting. I don't think anything in the fridge right now was bought at full price."
Oh jeez, I'm slowly turning into my late grandmother. Wait, didn't she have a heart attack when she found out her prune juice wasn't on sale? Oh no, is that how she…
I shake my head at my sidetracked mental commentary, "Second, I bought the wrong box of tissue paper from the convenience store. And third, I do like pickles sometimes. I just don't eat them that much because I can't open jars very well. I have no talent for it; that or someone is sabotaging me by rubbing all the lids with vegetable oil..." I mumble the last of my explanation, coming to realize it does fit the description of quirky pregnancy signs.
My violet hues close tightly with guilt and humiliation, "I'm sorry, Lee-san. I lied to you…I did eat all of that food. I think I even ate a decorative piece in one of them. I'm not sure anymore; it just looked edible. So please, just stick an apple in my mouth already and put me in the oven. I'm all dark meat at this point so I hope you're not on a strict diet."
"Yamada-san," my company clutches at his mouth to stifle the burst of laughter wanting to spring from the base of his stomach. "You should never feel like you have to hide such things from me. To be honest, I think it is quite a talent in itself for someone as small as you to fit so much food." After taming much of his chuckles, he goes on to say; "And I'm not on any particular diet. Although you just reminded me, my general doctor did say my cholesterol was phenomenal. So I would not mind having a helping or two!"
"Lee-san, you're not supposed to humor me right now," I turn my flushed cheek away from my company, wanting to somehow disappear into the creases of the couch. I must look like a hot mess…except minus the hot. "My stomach feels like it's tied in knots everywhere, but I can't blame anyone but myself at the moment. It's just the way it has to be."
"I may have something that could be useful to you," my roommate comments before lifting himself up and venturing away.
I hear him rummage around in his room until he returns with something in his possession. I'm unable to question him as he goes about his business of wrapping the item around my belly and turning on a quick switch. I feel the pad fitted comfortably around my stomach radiate a temperate heat, distracting my pelvic muscles and lessening the presence of the bothersome pressure.
"How is that, Yamada-san?" Lee asks.
"It feels much better actually, " I hum in content, patting it with reassurance. "Is this a heating pad?"
"Yes, it is." He beams with a profound nod. "I have used it on multiple occasions. It is especially useful for when my muscles are completely exhausted the day after a new training regime. You are welcomed to borrow it for as long as you need."
"Thank you so much, Lee-san." A humble smile forms against my features. I feel a warm and tingling sensation growing within me, and I know it's not from the heating pad alone. It's enough to make me blush, but I welcome it this time around.
We continue to converse with one another, laughing and carrying on, as if we hadn't spoken in years. However, a firm and obtrusive knock at our door disrupts the pleasantry. My roommate hushes, shifting an observable gaze at the door. My attention also wanders, unsure if I should answer the door. I motion myself upwards, but my company raises a hand, signaling me to stay put. I oblige out of courtesy and allow my roommate to answer it.
The…Hokage?
His presence was the one lingering behind our apartment door. Yet, unlike our first meeting, there is something rather earnest in his current address. There is no humble greeting. When his piercing blue eyes capture mine through the tiniest space between my roommate's shoulder and doorframe, they narrow only slightly. The Hokage mumbles something I can't hear, drawing my roommate in as they exchange private words. There is a break within their conversation when Lee takes a hesitant look towards me, perhaps wondering if my eyes are keener than my hearing. When he returns to the Hokage, he indulges him with a full nod and another reserved word resembling an agreement.
"Lee-san?" Somehow, I garner enough will to speak up. "Is everything alright?"
"No worries, Yamada-san." My roommate looks back at me with an exceptionally practiced smile. "The Hokage-sama wanted to personally tell me that I forgot to add a few details to a mission report I submitted recently. Which looks like something I need to correct as of right now."
My body involuntarily shifts when I see him step out, and speak with me through only a now half-open door. "I will be back shortly, so please sit tight and wait for me here. Okay, Yamada-san?"
"Mhm," I speak low whilst my reflexes urge my hands to twist together against my lap. "I'll wait for you then."
Another rehearsed smile. Another rehearsed thumbs-up.
Once the apartment door closes, I stare down at my hands folding into one another, unwillingly listening to the footsteps outside the apartment grow faint then deaf.
Lee-san…you liar.
o o o
Once my cramps subsided, I peddled around my house aimlessly for what seemed like an hour. The apprehension circling inside me brought me to my house phone to dial my mother's number. It rang with no visible answer. When I heard a voice on the other line, it ended up being the voicemail. I wanted to hear my mother's voice, but not one that was prerecorded. I decided to leave the apartment to visit her, and relieve my anxious emotions with her company, if only briefly.
Now as I stand upon the house steps before the wooden door, I think momentarily about my roommate and his request for me to wait for him for his return. Perhaps I should have stayed—maybe he's already back home. It's an optimistic thought, but hardly realistic. I decide to insist my mother's door with a few knocks. It takes about a minute or so for my mother to answer, and her facial features are one of joyous surprise.
"Oh, honey. Come inside," my mother coos for me to enter, closing the door behind me. "I didn't know you would be stopping by today. Is everything alright?"
"No, I called but you didn't answer. I was worried and…." I grow quieter, bringing my violet eyes to meet hers, discerning and warm. "I'm worried, Mom."
"My poor girl." When she touches my tense arms, her hands flinch as if she caught sight of a ghost. "My goodness, Sho. You're so cold and covered in goose bumps. Let's sit you on the couch and get you something that'll warm you right up."
I allow my mother to guide me into the living room. I wait patiently on the couch while she busies herself in the kitchen. When she comes to sit at my side, she places a cup of freshly brewed chamomile tea in my pale hands.
"To calm the nerves," she smiles at me with such empathy; I feel she can see all my troubles sitting so plainly on my shoulders. When I bring the cup to my lips, I continue to listen to her speak tenderly to me; "You know, I used the get the same way with your father. Especially when he'd be late with his letters. It's so selfish of me to admit this, but when your father was sick I was at least happy that he was home. Somewhere where I could see him…be with him, whenever the time came."
I swallow the chamomile and scratching lump sitting in my throat, "Is this what it felt like, Mom? Everyday when you were with my father, you would just sit on this couch wondering if waiting was all you were ever good enough to do?"
My mother's wrinkled palm falls upon my knee, and with a gentle squeeze she says, "Waiting becomes the most painful thing in this world, especially when you're waiting for someone you love. It takes so much of you each and everyday, it becomes all that you know. But when they come home, for just a moment, the whole universe waits just for you to cherish it," my mother reaches a hand to tuck a brown string of hair behind my ear. "I loved your father, Sho. I would wait another lifetime just to get that one moment back. Now you have to ask yourself, are you willing to do the same?"
"Oh, Mom," my pink lips tremble to speak. I pinch the teacup in my hold, unable to restrain the wetness tempting the corner of my eyes and cheeks staining rose. "I love Lee-san."
"There, there, honey. I know," my mother chuckles, rubbing my back affectionately. "I had a feeling for a while now."
"I-Is it that noticeable?" I make an unpleasant croak.
"I think even a blind man could see it all the way from Sunagakure."
"How embarrassing," I sniff with a half-hearted chuckle of my own. I wipe away the moisture gathered behind my eyelids. "Jeez, I'm such a mess over here."
"Let me get you some tissue paper," my mother pipes up, all too ready to fetch me what I need.
"Thank you," I smile when I watch her saunter away.
In my own thoughts, I stare absent-minded at my chamomile tea. I watch the still puddle breathe aromatically into the air. The herbal pool begins to ripple subtly underneath my gaze. It pulses like a heart quivering to life. I find the sight rather odd, considering I'm seamlessly still. A mere second passes and a distant rumble settles the house heavier against its frames. The ceiling creaks and moans, placing a troubling note inside my chest. Before I can call for my mother a bombardment of knocks make contact with the house door. It's crudely forced open and cracks against the hinges. Two federally employed Shinobi men, adorned in defensive combat wear, enter the home with post haste.
"Ma'am, this zone has been placed under evacuation protocols under the Hokage's protective mandate," one of the Shinobi men speaks with a raised and commanding voice, while simultaneous revealing all pertinent credentials. "We're here to request that you come with us for your personal safety. Are there any other family members within this household presently?"
"Y-Yes, my mother." I shake against my words, flicking worried eyes to the upstairs portion of the home.
The accompanying Shinobi men are quick with their actions. One of them escorts me outside while the other rushes to retrieve my mother. When my mother appears in my line of vision, I reach out my hand to take hers. She squeezes as hard as her aged hands can withstand, and I return with one of equal value. As we're taken away, I catch sight of other families within the residential area being escorted by other dispatched Shinobi men and women. The adjoining noises are mentally numbing; parallel rumbles are echoing between cinderblocks homes and newborn children are crying out for comfort. A fissure of crumbling earth and rock follow suit behind my mother and I.
"Togo—!"
My mother turns to view parts of our house crumble slowly into itself. I watch in such painful reserve as my mother calls my father's name. The Shinobi men urge my mother to stand on her weakened limbs, grasping at her arms and keeping her steady. This image festers terribly in my consciousness. Rational cognitive thinking becomes so dilute in my mind; nothing in this world begins to make much sense anymore. I don't know how or why certain bodily actions take place, but they do on a very primitive level. My legs dart towards my mother's house, and my panting and splitting heartbeat drown out the chaotic voices reaching to salvage me.
My feet clumsily meet my mother's porch, and I recover on my hands and feet. I rush through the sparse entrance into the living room, witnessing debris from the ceiling and walls coat the room in a desolate scene. I gasp, seeing much of the brewing calamity drape over where my father's place of prayer once stood. I scramble over loose parts of wood and cement, collapsing onto my knees and digging my fingers and nails into the bed of rubble.
"I'm not going to let us lose you again," I weep through gritted teeth and a swollen tongue.
My nail beds filling with tints of red scream at me to cease my quarrying, but I'm unwilling to listen. As I dig and dig, I can see the day my father's ventilator was pulled. I can see my mother holding her mouth but barely holding herself together to watch. And I can see me, a young girl who was vaguely aware she had lost her father, smiling thinking he was going to come home.
"Please, let me save you," the scorching tears filled with swells of memories fall and unravel upon my tortured hands. "I can do it this time."
They mindlessly continue to prod and pull without fruition, and I'm beginning to lose sensation at the tips of my fingers. As I cry out to my father, a thunderous clatter erupts from above my head. I can only blink once, witnessing a slab of ceiling above my head break from the second floor foundation. On an inhale, I rid myself of sight, and succumb to a world of perfect stillness. One that I believe will be my place of rest.
"Yamada-san—!"
I hear a voice call out to me, coupled with the sound of a disastrous impact. I force my eyes to open against the dust-ridden air. They blister against the image of my roommate; burdened by an immense weight of stone. His expression is convoluted, a mixture that transpires sweat and pain. The drops of his efforts fall beneath him as he tosses the mass rested on his back. My violet hues observe, but they don't see. When my roommate crouches before me; I want to say that I'm seeing right through him. His lips move rigidly, but I can't hear him—there's only ringing. I barely feel his hands grasp my own, examining their horrifying appearance. I watch in a muted state as he takes the wraps from his hands and quickly secures my own. Before my mind can process anything further, my company collects me in his arms. With swiftness, he flees the home in rubbles.
Still in a haze, I hardly acknowledge my body being placed upon its own two feet. When I look up, I see my mother in no better shape than myself. Her own tears drag her sunken eyes lower, and when she gathers close to me, her hand strikes my cheek. I hear my mother speak words of reproach, 'Sho—you idiotic girl', before embracing me with all the love a mother could only hope to give to her child. Slowly, warmth gathers at my check. It stings and I understand the transgressions I've made. It fills me with a surmounting remorse as I reciprocate my mother's intimacy. I repeat gargled apologies through my tears and wails.
"We're deeply apologetic for our carelessness, sir!" I hear one of the shinobi men speak winded apologies to my roommate, as both come to stand and salute his presence.
"Sorry does not even begin to describe how your future situations will be," Lee instigates with an abnormally assertive and intimidating undertone. "The Hokage appointed me with the responsibility of overseeing the complete and safe evacuation of this sector. If I had waited any longer, we would have witnessed our first civilian casualty for today. So do not think even for a second that my timeliness was a success. It was a warning."
"Please…" I interject weakly, separating from my mother and guiding a shaken hand to touch my roommate's forearm. "It wasn't their fault, Lee-san. I ran from them, they shouldn't be punished for my—"
"Would you like to take their place then, Yamada-san?" Lee interrupts me with a direct question, and an even more direct antagonism. I lower my head and outstretched palm; remaining silent like a frightened sheep. I can feel my roommate's piercing onyx circles shift away from my pitiable form, "I thought that would be the case. Perhaps it is best if Yamada-san stays out of personal shinobi affairs which she has no knowledge about."
"Come here, sweetheart." My mother takes me gently by the shoulders, guiding me away from the conversation. "Let's go. It'll be alright."
I don't follow with a reply to my mother. As I'm conducted away, I look back over my shoulder. Although they're not staring back, I witness a gleam of personal reflection within my roommate's eyes. However, it is swiftly replaced with one of stern discipline, as his lips move to continue the reprimanding conversation with his company. Solemnly, I stare down my feat trudging along the neighborhood dirt path.
My mother and I are escorted to a near by recreational shelter, harboring various families and other civilians. Distinct chatter of distress is apparent, and mothers of all ages are desperately trying to distract their children from the surrounding conversations. Gathered in an auditorium like space, I saunter to a group of nearby individuals clustered around a poorly circuited radio. I grip the wool blanket given to me over my cold shoulders. Quietly, I tune in to the current news:
"…our updated reports suggest many families have been evacuated safely from the targeted neighborhood. Although there have been no suspected casualties, there are fifty reported injuries, some being critical. In the Hokage's recent address to the press, the carefully planned attack has been deemed one of domestic terrorism. The Hokage has also stated that the perpetrator has been taken into custody and will be facing appropriate charges. More information will be provided within the hour…."
I tune out of the broadcasting when a medic-nin confronts me, beginning to do their basic assessment. My pupils tremble and shift to the side when they shine a light into them, then asking me to follow their penlight for any neurological abnormalities. When they reach my limbs, they examine my hands. They denote their haggard appearance, and use their healing ninjutsu to remedy their appearance. I'm grateful when the pestering pain subsides. They document a few things on their chart before excusing themselves and carrying on to the next set of individuals.
I linger towards my mom, busied with an apparent social worker asking a set of required questions.
"Do you have any family members able to provide you shelter, ma'am?"
"Yes, my sister will be able to house me," my mother nods tiredly.
"Do you have any insurance that can be used to cover any needed therapy you may need?"
"I do have insurance but that won't be necessary…" she continues on.
Once the social worker is satisfied with their work, they leave. I come to stand with my mother, embracing her and carrying her slouching form.
"Are you sure you'll be alright, mom?"
"What else can I do, honey?" she answers, while beginning to rub my back. "Your mother has to keep working…I'll need to in order to pay to fix the house."
"I can help you," I state promptly, separating from my mother and sewing a look of responsibility. "I can save more, I can eat less. I can give you a part of my paycheck every two weeks. I-I'll even get a part time job. We can fix the house together."
"Sho, don't worry about me," she speaks gently, wiping a stray tear falling against my cheek. "You just focus on yourself. This old woman can take care of her home and family on her own. I always have."
"I know," my words tremble against my lips. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you too," she responds with a kiss on my forehead.
o o o
The television flickers and resonates information I seem to have lost track of. Mindless as I am, my eyes stare vaguely at the screen with a visible detachment. I'm so abandoned with thought at this hour of the night, I don't hear the apartment door open and close with palpable indignation. I'm only taken when the television is turned off, and abandons me with my roommate drawn with restlessness.
"Your hands, Yamada-san." I'm beckoned to adhere to my roommate's unpleasant way of speaking. "Show them to me."
Out of woeful obligation, my hands lift to be snatched and examined by my companies discerning eyes.
"The medical relief at the shelter mended my hands," I say meekly during his observation. "…I was very grateful for their care."
I receive no reply. I stand from the couch and retake my hand, pressing it against my troubled heart.
"Lee-san, I —"
"I told you to wait for me, Yamada-san." Lee interjects without any regard. The docile politeness that usually carries his character is nowhere present; rather, it has been replaced by a palpable frustration. As he advances, I nearly shift away from this stranger presenting himself to me. He comes to bare down his gaze, his eyes flashing impatiently; "I would like for you to explain something to me. Why did you think it was such a good idea to jeopardize your safety?
"Oh," I whisper breathlessly to myself, forfeiting my initial idea of apologizing. I cross my arms uncomfortably over my chest, darting my gaze anywhere but my roommate's callous features. "I…don't know myself, honestly."
"Not knowing does not excuse anything today, Yamada-san. Not one single bit." Once again, my company interrupts me without restraint. Like the cracking of a whip, his voice and tone don't cease to lash against my emotions. "I remember a time when you had implied that I thought very little of my actions. Maybe this time, it is you who does not think." Shifting away from me, he begins to pace mindlessly around the living room. "Because of your actions I had to dismiss two fellow shinobi men for reevaluation and possible termination. It is not a very good situation to be in. I am sure they worked very hard to earn their positions. Do you not think so too, Yamada-san?"
"I do…" I bite down on my bottom lip; keeping the wave of shame from completely drowning and suffocating me in a cowardice silence.
"Good. I am glad we can agree on that," Lee presses on with his uncharacteristically unkind opposition. My roommate stops his pacing, drawing his circles up to the ceiling, "I also do believe your actions almost cost you your own life. They were so reckless, I am beginning to wonder if they were possibly intentional."
"You're not being very pleasant, Lee-san." My lips quiver as a silent parade of tears trickle down my cheeks. I repress the hiccups and stalled breaths, allowing the tears to fall helplessly onto my wringing hands. "I wanted to save my father, and I did it for my mother. It's all that we had left of him. I guess you wouldn't understand though, since all you care about right now is making me feel awful."
"You are right, Yamada-san. I would not understand," he replies immediately, reaffirming his place in front of me. "That is because I never had a family. I suppose I have to remind you of that simple fact. However, even though I may not understand completely, I am certain your mother would not want you to join your father anytime soon."
After a labored pause filled with my unsteady cries, my roommate's disposition transitions right before me. His saucer-like spectacles lower with a cultivated suppleness, and his intakes for air have settled into an observable pattern. His hand travels inside his protective jacket, and he pulls something wrapped in white cloth. Extending it, he deliberately unravels it with a weak smile, "…I am sure your father would not want that for his daughter either."
I make a choking noise in the back of my throat when my father's frame peeks from the white folds. I cover my mouth, sobbing and not even able to find the strength to take it.
"You are my family, Yamada-san," Lee speaks with a pinch in his words. His own reserved tears are finally surfacing and dripping onto the collar of his flack jacket. "Along with Tenten, Neji, and Gai-sensie. All of you are so precious to me, but when it comes to you…especially you…" my company drops to his knees in utter submission to his passions. Bringing one free hand to catch my shirt, he tugs enough for him to bury his sodden face against me. "You are not like us, Yamada-san. The more I realize this, the more I become paralyzed with fear. To think of the day that I could not reach you…I thought today was going to be that day."
"I'm so sorry, Lee-san." I cry uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry…."
"I am sorry too, Yamada-san," he breathes heavily against the fabric of my blouse. "For speaking inappropriately to you this whole time. I was just so scared—I did not know how to properly express myself."
"It's alright, Lee-san. I understand, and I deserved it," I exhale on a quiver, lowering myself to my own knees.
With care, I take my father's frame from my companies hold, and prop it on the coffee table next to us. A soft smile forms against the streaks of moisture present on my cheeks, glancing from my father's portrait to my roommate.
"Look's like you kept your promise, Lee-san." I lean in, bringing my fingers to wipe away the droplets formed against his oval eyes. "Thank you for keeping me safe." My complexion warms before I speak again; "I know that I can be a handful and make poor decisions sometimes, but I hope you'll continue to be by my side. Even with all my other shortcomings."
"Yamada-san…" my roommate shifts closer and takes me into his resilient arms. I pay no mind to the sobs muffled into my strands of brown hair. "If you are the one keeping my hands full, then I would never complain. Just promise me now that you will not scare me like that again." His embrace tightens, and the emotion seeps into me and springs a few speckles of wetness to my eyes. He exhales on a tremble, "Please, promise me."
"I promise," I sniff back the moisture floating in my vision. Relaxing further in the kindling warmth of his arms, I rest my forehead against the padding of his shoulder. "I promise I'll wait for you, Lee-san."
And when you come home…the universe will wait for me.