Edit: 6/12/09. Couldn't just stop at the first chapter. I needed a character overhaul here, so the second chapter was not spared. Rika is no longer the wimp she was in the original version (so sorry that I ruined her like that) so she can't be that wimp in the second chapter either. It's not as much as the first chapter, but certainly a lot.
"Before criticizing someone you should try walking a mile in their shoes. This way, when you do criticise them, you'll be a mile away and have their shoes."
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon.
Someone Else's Shoes – Not My Size
"We have heard your wish . . . and it has been granted . . ."
Feeling strangely disoriented, Rika tried her best to familiarize herself with her surroundings. She suddenly found herself seated in a dimly lit restaurant, her hands fidgeting nervously as she twisted the silk napkin into knots. She took a sip of water to try to calm herself, but almost choked on the strange tasting liquid.
'What am I doing here?' Rika thought to herself as her eyes wondered nervously across her surroundings. She felt so out of place.
She was surrounding by couples, each of them sat at a round table adorned with long stemmed roses and vanilla scented candles. The walls were a warm red that bespoke of passion and love. In the background a string quartet played gently in dulcet tones.
In this beautiful, romantic setting Rika was alone.
But at least she looked like she belonged here. She was out of her usual Capri jeans and band shirts. Her hair had been pulled free of its usual ponytail. Her face had been cleared of its imperfections, doused with a layer of pink makeup to match the lovely pink bubble dress she now found herself adorned in.
None of this was right. As beautiful as she appeared, and as lovely an ambience she found herself in, it just wasn't her. She felt as though a hundred eyes were scrutinizing her every move, waiting for her to do wrong so they could throw her out into the street where she belonged. She wouldn't even blame them if they did. They had every right to throw her out – she didn't belong here.
With conviction, she stood to her feet, letting the twisted napkin fall to the floor. The eyes were on her once again, critically evaluating her position. She looked down sheepishly, not daring to meet a single eye as she looked about her for some kind of belongings.
"Rika," a voice said softly from behind her, stopping her in her movements. Her heart thumped away hopefully, and she turned slowly, hoping that the voice truly did match the boy she had conjured up in her mind.
At once her violet eyes met the silvery blue eyes of Henry Wong, and despite her previous awkwardness, she smiled at him.
He looked perfectly matched to their settings, strikingly handsome in a tailored black suit and bow tie. Unlike her, he seemed to blend into the scene with ease, as though this was where he always belonged. He was the kind that could fit into any society.
"Ri-Ri, I'm so glad you made it," he told her softly, smiling gently. "After all the time we were apart, I was afraid you wouldn't come."
She didn't reply to his strange address, confused as she was by his insistence that they had been apart when it was only the previous evening that she had spoken to him on the phone. Or was it? She wasn't really sure anymore, but she could hardly care when he smiled at her like that.
"You look beautiful," he stated in an almost breathless tone as his eyes locked on hers. "Not that you don't always."
"You shouldn't say stuff like that, Henry," she warned him. "One of these days I might take you seriously." She didn't notice her slip; not even when his smile so broaden further and his eyes seemed ten times brighter.
"I wish you would," he said lowly, with an almost sly smile.
"Sit," he told her pleasantly. "I took the liberty of ordering for us."
"Thanks," she said, only a little surprised by his presumptiveness. It wasn't like Henry to be such a control freak – he was usually so easygoing – but she had to admit that it thrilled her just a little. She felt excited as she wondered where this night would lead them
"So . . ." they both spoke at the same time. Rika glanced up shyly, her eyes meeting a stoic pair of silvery blue that watched her unflinchingly.
"You go first . . ." they both started again, their voices mingling in perfect harmony. They coughed awkwardly as Rika made a brief hand gesture to indicate that it was his turn to speak.
Henry nodded. "I really am glad that you're here, Rika," he told her honestly. "I wouldn't want to be here with anyone but you."
"Same here," she responded honestly. In truth he was the only one she would stand this sort of thing for. For Henry she would don a pretty pink dress and heals, and subject herself to the stares of those around her, but only for Henry.
"I must be just about the luckiest guy in the room right now," he added smoothly, reaching across the table to gently squeeze. "You're so incredibly beautiful, Rika. I bet every guy in this room is wondering what I did to deserve you. I admit, I even wonder it myself. I'm so lucky to have you as a friend, Rika."
"Uh . . . thanks," she replied awkwardly, unsure what to do with the compliment. She wasn't used to Henry being like this. She had grown quite comfortable with the way their friendship was progressing, and she didn't know what to make of his sudden obsession with her supposed beauty.
Silence and awkwardness quickly overcame them as Henry continued to hold onto her hand, giving her furtive glances across the table. She really didn't know what to make of this. In a way, this was what she had always wanted, but it didn't feel right.
Maybe it was the setting. Henry fit into it seamlessly, but it wasn't her and Henry. It was somebody else, and it was a feeling that wouldn't leave her no matter how much Henry smiled at her and held her hand.
"Rika-" he started, trying to break the awful silence that had fallen between them. His voice was soft and meaningful, as though we was trying to embed some deeper meaning into the single words, but something stopped him before he could go further.
"Bonsoir, monsieur et jeune dame. Je suis Pierre. Je serai votre serveur pour cette soirée," a smarmy young waiter interrupted. The waiter himself was Japanese, but his French was surprisingly unaccented, and he seemed to play the role of rude French waiter very well. "Shall I bring the dishes?"
Henry nodded, sending her a smile.
Rika suppressed a frown. She usually loved Henry's smile, but there was something not quite right about it this time. It almost seemed fake, and it hurt her to think that Henry could be fooling her.
It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea how she even got there. The last thing she remembered was going to sleep in her bed the previous evening, but now it was night again, and she couldn't for the life of her remember what she had been doing during the day. The thought made her dizzy, and paranoia made her wonder if this was what it felt like to have a brain aneurism.
"I don't know how we got here," she whispered dazedly, her words barely carrying over the table.
A look of annoyance crossed Henry's face that she couldn't understand, but the gentleness quickly returned. "I don't either, Rika," he said softly. "I almost can't believe all the things that the two of have been through together over all these years. It's like were finally coming to the end of a journey that has taken us almost ten years."
Henry hadn't understood her, which was so unlike him. Most of the time it was like every thought that passed through her head was shared with him, but now it was like they were on two different wavelengths. She felt like they were in two different conversations.
It wasn't helped by the fact that Henry kept having the strangest slips. First with the 'haven't seen you in ages' business, and now this 'ten years' thing. They had only known each other about six years – that wasn't almost ten by any stretch of the imagination. Again, she didn't correct him. Something inside told her not to, as though it wasn't safe for some reason; as though he wasn't safe.
"I don't want to be here," she whispered quietly.
Annoyance flashed through his eyes once again, but he quickly masked it with concern. "Rika, are you ok?" he asked gently, leaning towards her.
She nodded, but didn't meet his eye. Henry always knew when she was lying, but this time he seemed to accept her answer and move along.
"Rika," he said gently, his features narrowing seriously, "there's something I have to tell you."
She gestured for him to continue, her face looking placid. She waited for her heart to start racing in anticipation, but the usual excitement she felt when Henry got that determined, sincere look in his eyes wasn't there. Maybe it was because the look wasn't quite right, because something about this entire situation was just the tiniest bit off.
But despite this lack of excitement, Rika crossed her fingers beneath the table, and silently prayed that all her wishes would come true, never knowing how bad it would be if they did.
Henry continued.
"Rika, I . . ."
~ to be continued ~
Better, right? I guess now it's time for chapter three to get a makeover.
Notes:
Bonsoir, monsieur et jeune dame. Je suis Pierre. Je serai votre serveur pour cette soirée: Good evening, sir and young lady. I am Peter. I shall be your server for this evening.
Next chapter: Written in the Stars