In Limbo - Part III

22:00 – Florence - October

It had started out as a feeling, and before she'd known it, it had grown into a hope. She hasn't seen Yukihira since that one week in London, but he's been keeping in touch, instant messages and e-mails and the occasional Facebook query about recipes. It's new, and it's fresh. Considering the lack of communication between their last break-up and their unexpected (but welcome) reunion, Erina had to admit it was pretty damn magical.

The hope, though, is getting far too much to bear, the warm, fuzzy feeling in her belly growing stronger with every message and Facetime session they shared.

She hates him for it. And more than that – she hates herself for falling back into this trap. They'd been dancing around each other since high school, and it had taken the better part of two long years after to understand that Yukihira would be The One That Got Away. She'd only just started being okay with it, only just realised that she could love him and still let him go.

And then she'd had the rotten dumb luck to run into him in London.

Their reunion had opened a whole new can of worms. Feelings and memories she hadn't thought of in forever came rushing back, and she found herself craving his touch, aching into the night when his warm, rough hands were far from reach, and his heart even further. When the week had ended, she'd thought things would go back to normal – she'd even said as much to Alice, but her cousin had only laughed in her face.

"Dream on, Erina. You're both idiots," her cousin had said.

It's been a long day of work, and she's exhausted by the time she's washed and dried and bundled up in a thick, woollen bathrobe. As much as she hates to admit it, Alice is right. Things had changed – not just between Yukihira and herself, but also in the way she saw herself. Where she'd once balked at the preposterous idea of leaving work on time to go out on dates, she now found herself wishing that Yukihira would come and drag her away on one of their adventures – tasting new things and seeing new sights and stealing moments to themselves, hands on skin, mouths and bodies entwined.

She lets out a sigh. Fuck.

Her phone buzzes on the bed. She swipes to answer, and doesn't even need to look at the screen to know that it's him. "What's up?"

Yukihira chuckles lightly on the other end. "Am I interrupting?"

"No." She flips over one of her pillows, then throws herself into bed. The soft thump more than stifles her grunt of pleasure, and she sinks into the plush pillows and mattress with a sigh. "I'm home and in bed. Did you just close up?"

There's a long pause on the other end of the phone, and she thinks she hears the unmistakeable sound of Trenitalia's stop announcer.

Her breath catches in her throat. Is he…?

"I'm actually on a train," Yukihira coughs, and suddenly, she knows what's coming.

The man had never been able to resist making a grand gesture – and she'd never been able to resist him for it.

"Go on."

He lets out a sigh. "You already know what I'm about to say."

"Yes," She tells him, feeling her cheeks flush. "But you don't say it."

"I'm an hour from Florence, so you'd better still be awake when I get there." Despite the exasperated tone of voice he adopts at present, she knows the man is wearing that stupidly charming, sheepish grin. And it chills her to the core, just how bright the hope burns within her.

She doesn't want to set herself up for disappointment. Again.

So she tries for detachment. "Fine. Bring food."

"I'll make us something." Another pause. She wonders if he's about to hang up – but then he speaks up, and the hope flares again. "And Nakiri? We… we need to talk."