"I thought you said it was over between us."
I pressed my cheek against the rough fabric of his jacket. He tensed beneath my touch, but I held on. Refusing to let go, because I felt afraid if I did, he would leave. I was afraid he would leave, and the distance between us would widen further and all that had been would become a faint memory to him.
I could still smell the cigarette on him. It reminded me of the first time I opened my heart enough to see him for anything other than the childhood nightmare he had been to me.
On these very same steps, he told me it was all right to have more confidence in myself. That wasn't a lie, was it?
I knew I had no right to be here. To be talking with him. After what I had done, the only right that became left was the one to never speak with him again. But just as he had told me to have more confidence in myself, I wanted to have the confidence now, to say what was on my mind.
"Ryoki, I…"
"Are you okay?"
No…..No…I squeezed my eyes shut. From Onii-chan, from the truth. But the darkness beneath my lids only aided in gathering together the pieces of his features. His hands that had hesitantly cupped the side of my face, his shoulders, white against the headboard of his room, his eyes…the dark eyes that had looked into me, pleading with me to forgive him for his weakness.
"I…."
"Hatsumi…I'm sorry."
It was like watching a movie fast-forwarded, all that had happened a blur except for the occasional flashes of identifiable color. My blue shirt, crumpled on the ground, my jeans, interwoven with his clothes into a heap at the edge of the bed. The white sheets of his bed dyed into shades of red and pink as the setting sun cast its shadow through the open window. The blackness of his hair as I ran my hand through the strands, pressing him down further onto the bed as I did so.
He had been tentative with his touches at first, almost as if he expected me to draw back at any moment. I should have stopped then, realized there was so much to lose. But instead, I had wrapped my arms around his neck, kissed him with the clumsiness of inexperience, drew him closer to me as if somehow the heat of his skin, and the warmth of his heart could somehow make everything right again.
I realized too late though, that I wasn't a child anymore. He couldn't just patch me up with a bandaid like he did back when we were still kids, and suddenly everything would be okay. This wasn't a matter of running over to him crying over a scraped knee. This wasn't that kind of level of hurt. It was so much more.
"I…"
"I didn't…it wasn't meant….to be like this."
"I'm so sorry Ryoki, I---"
"Hatsumi…I'm sorry."
There was nothing to forgive, because it had all been my doing.