ii. Time Without Consequence
For nights on end they lay, silent, on their bed, watching the stars go out and feeling the storm before the first raindrops fell. Their fingers no longer intertwined, sheets resting quietly without passion below their cool bodies.
Neither could say they hadn't seen this coming.
Yukari had opened the door in her post-shoot jeans one night to a blue dress, its plaits fanning out and draping over the Egyptian bedsheets. Almost painstakingly identical.
'I thought we could revisit the past today.' She heard the gentle smile in his voice.
Hiroyuki came out fresh from the showers. The florescent bathroom light was the only thing that lit up the shine in his eyes, like he'd just seen the most beautiful person in all the world.
He took a wistful Yukari by the hand ( not by the sleeves or the hem of her dress ) and led her. The night was dark and quiet, theirs alone. Only her silhouette moved on the wall.
Changing didn't take long ( forgetting the past did ).
'Hiro -'
His fingers brushed lightly against her waist when he fumbled with the frills of her blouse. Against the pillows she let out a breathy sigh.
He was the gentleman, her safe harbor. He'd never let anything hurt her, especially not himself ( even now, as he guided her. Her palm was cool against his bare chest. For a moment she allowed it to rest there, tuning her heartbeats to his. He didn't have trouble with the strings on the corset ).
The dress hung askew ( as did her memories and thoughts ). She kissed his lips through the thin fabric. Hiroyuki. She had always loved him, the right way. Loved him too much to hurt him. She kissed him again. His fingers drummed a seductive tune on the small of her back, speedier, speedier.
At last they both gave in to themselves.
She arched her contours to his mold, pressing against his warmth, needier than she had been in a long time. Her hair tickled his inundated kisses. She was tracing patterns on his damp skin.
He told her that he loved her.
( They were perfect, she thought. )
He closed his eyes and entered her and she breathed, uncontrollably, 'George . . .'
The house remained a vacuum of their voices. Hiroyuki tried. She felt like a stone.
Tonight, as the rain clouds pressed in above them, she said sorry.
He said it was okay.
She knew that it wasn't.
Tonight they fell asleep against thunder and rain and each other, and he felt her struggle to cage up the past. He held her closer.
Originally part of a collection of ficlets for The Night Owl Is Addicted's nineteenth birthday. Happy birthday, love; may you always experience time without consequence.