Tell me, do you feel the way my past aches?
When you lay on me, can you hear the way my heart breaks?
"My Little Love" by Adele
8.
There's the Tuesday Jou opens her kitchen cupboard and the mug with a chipped lip is sitting on the second shelf up. He takes it out to run his thumb over the cracked rim, frowning at the slivered line that burned nearly the whole length of its side, the Soumei University emblem worn down to a dull matte. "You can't use this," Jou chides. "It's going to break in your hands."
Just looks up at him from the seated table, hand buried in a bowl of popcorn, the glow of the television screen washing her face in technicolor blue. "Oh," she laughs, like she'd woken up. "Yeah, toss it."
2.
It's summer, and Hikari squints into the low afternoon sun, tracing the familiar laugh to her brother's beach towel laid some paces away. He's on his back, and she's on her stomach on her own towel, arms folded under her chin. Head whipped around the other direction from him, whole body quivering over another of his tactless jokes. He rolls onto his stomach, then his back, and then his stomach again, until he's crossed the distance between them without once getting off the sand. His mouth lands on her shoulder, and she doesn't move her arm. Hikari goes back to her book, a shy blush reddening her cheeks.
6.
Sunday brunch with Sora, and he's late again. "Held up," instead of a sorry, so rushed nothing about what he's wearing makes sense, not that it usually does. She'd ordered for him, picked something random off the menu. Takes four bites before deciding he likes it.
"That's new."
Looks down at the short jacket, thumbs a loose button, shoulders pinching, stuffed. Too late to pretend it'd shrunk, that he hadn't gotten dressed in the dark. He goes for it anyway, headfirst, eyes closed. Can't lose. "No, it's not."
"Yes," though he's used to her disagreeing with him.
Digs himself deeper. "I've always had this."
Just stares in you really thought.
"You don't know everything about me." The sort of argumentative lie that has her smug, ready to prove him otherwise, though she never has to, with him.
"Sure." Her head tilts, closed smile. "I'm just the one who bought that for her." With a loud huff, he shrugs it off, words and all, and throws the jacket in her face. Sora laughs at him, "Wanted to see how long you'd play at it."
"Who's playing?" Looks at her, grinning.
"Good." Softens, thinking about her, what she doesn't need, what he doesn't deserve. "Don't."
10.
Koushiro visits in the winter. Gives him a tour of the city straight from the Friday redeye, catch the morning light off the hills. It's his favorite spot, around the curved top of the second highest crest. "You've never seen anything like it."
Doesn't tell him he already has, same spot, same time, in a snapshot he'd found fallen behind her dresser, rescued when he'd come to help her pack up. Koushiro'd never seen the picture before, didn't properly get to then either, with how fast she'd snatched it from him. Looked at it for a long while, the blurred image, shot out of focus. A bad picture, though she'd always claimed those didn't exist of her. Wobbly voiced. "Guess they do."
He's laying on his back, propped on the hood of his car. "How's everyone?"
"Good." Koushiro's honest, knows he should know. "Happy."
Arms behind him, wind on his face. He wonders if he's thinking about her, or the picture he'd made of her in his head. Wobbly voiced. "Good."
3.
Spring comes, and Ken loans her a phone charger, sharing the same make as hers. "I'm always losing these things," she confesses, searching for an outlet. "Never know where they run off to." Leaves her bag and books at their table when she goes to freshen up, isn't there for the tap on the window.
He's grinning on the other side of the glass, fresh off a run with joggers wrinkled, sweatband pushing his hair back, damp curls sticking up and out even worse than they usually do. Comes around inside, dumps her phone charger into her open purse. He'd been carrying it in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, all this way. "I've got three more of hers back at mine," he laughs. "Was trying to see how long it'd take her to stop just buying new ones."
"You do live pretty far," smiles Ken.
"Oh, so it's easier to just replace 'em?" He's in a good mood. Winking at him, lingering. "No chance. Nothing replaces me."
5.
Daisuke treats them to a late lunch on a Monday. She does her usual little performance loudly, so passersby on the street can overhear her praises over the menu, the decor, the food. He's ignoring her, scarfing down his noodles, pausing only when she bounces to the table to accept a big bite from his own bowl, then bounces away to gush over the wall art, some stock photography that'd come cheap and easy for a fledgling restaurant struggling to get its legs. The way she raves, though, it's priceless.
The tips of Daisuke's ears are as dark as his hair, flustered, listening to her, and he laughs at him for it. "You have to stop blushing around her for everything, or people'll talk."
Not sure why he says it, brain-to-mouth filter on the fritz as he watches him casually feed her again. "Doesn't stop people from talking about you."
She laughs through a full mouth, an easy wave of her hand, so loudly Daisuke second guesses himself. Both order separately, the next time. That part, he remembers.
11.
Saturday night and Miyako turns around, ears pricked. Knows that tone of voice, the kind she uses to peel herself open. Sees her leaning on her heels, propped against the wall. He keeps his hands in his pockets, slouched next to her, arm's length apart. Aren't even looking at each other. Wonders if she'd misheard.
"I mean it. You were the best thing in my life."
"You're still better in someone else's."
Her feet catch up, stepping between them, in front of her. Shield and sword. Presents the broadest smile, distracts her watery gaze. "Come dance with me," says Miyako.
Looks back only once, leading her away, to see him rest his temple on the wall, turned into the space she'd been.
1.
"Stay."
7.
Takeru calls him, late autumn. He'd been drinking, trying to reign in the nerves. "About Hikari. I'm gonna do it this time."
"Finally." Likes the idea of being related. Can't help but goad him a little though. "So tell her."
"What, with words?"
"Or just keep pining at her from across the room."
"I'm not that obvious." He sounds dismayed.
"Nah," laughs to reassure him, supportive. "But you're good at words."
"Not the direct ones." They have this in common. "What do I say?"
"Don't ask me."
"Yeah. The track record."
"Fuck off." Lets the laugh trail a bit. "I mean, what would you say?"
Answers without hesitation. "That you're there, and she's here. Do you plan on changing that?"
"Mm." Chuckles low, thinking. "That's good."
Takeru can almost sort it out then, three drinks in. Has to concentrate, curious about the rumor, too. "So will you?"
He hums, "Will what?"
Chews the question back, tucks it away. "Visit soon."
"Oh, yeah." Smiles broad enough to hear it through the telephone line. "Yeah. Real soon."
4.
Iori almost walks right by her in the convenience store some Wednesday evening. She shows him a gossip rag, her finger tapping a half-page spread a quarter in, advertising a mail-order pin-up. Feels his neck burn when he remembers that calendar. Charity was the ploy he'd told them, trying to recruit volunteers, everyone wise enough to decline anyway. Mostly everyone.
She insists Iori take a picture of her holding the issue open, mocking gasp, immodest blush. Laughs all the while. "He bet I'd never find proof of it." Just about floats herself to the register, hands the cashier her card, tucking the magazine in her purse. Winks at him, "But I never lose."
9.
On a Thursday morning, Yamato meets her for coffee, their usual spot. Surprises him not only for having shown up before him but also when she adds an extra espresso shot to hers, swallowing a wide yawn. "You sleep in more than anyone else I know."
"Couldn't at all last night." Mutters into the cup.
Unusual also to stop there, not to tell him the whole story, embellish the details. But then, he hadn't gotten all that much sleep either, the farewell party going on longer than sensible. "I'll miss him, too."
Her eyes are already closed, chin in her palm, sagging over the table. Gives herself away, that exhausted, that safe with him. "Not like me."
"Yeah, like you."
Looks at him, takes it in. Yamato lets her, because he's never told anyone this before. Safe with her, too. "Oh."
Takes a one-handed sip as he holds up the other, a reassurance of a possible future. "It was a long time ago."
Studies the simple band for a while, then sweeps her gaze back to his. What he sees, she struggles with. "Doesn't feel long, though. Right?"
Knows he isn't helping things at all, talking like this. But then, he hadn't gotten over him easy either. "Feels like yesterday."
12.
It's summer, and she doesn't want to be lonely again. Tells him, too. The befores and afters and where she'd learned to put him, to put this life away. "I had it figured out. I was getting used to it."
He doesn't answer, for the longest time. "Yeah. You will." Like he's promising it to her, like any of this is up to them.
She used to like these yearly reunion events, before he'd started looking at her like that. "What if this is all I have to live with?"
"Would that be so bad?" Turns his face into the crook of her neck, soft, slow kiss. "Isn't this good?"
Curls her fingers through his hair, something to hold onto, something to be held by. "Yes." It isn't.
"Then stay."
Author's Note: It's raining and I was moody and I heard the line of Adele crying worried that she's going to have to learn to be lonely for a long time and then I sort of lost it a bit. The day she stops writing music will be the day I stop writing fics.
