Seven. Finding
Sometimes, a small thing was enough to make plans turn out differently, to turn a situation unexpected, to change a life completely. Sometimes, the flap of a butterfly's wings was enough. A slight stir in the air. A faint tune.
Hitomi kicked open the door to Yukari's apartment. The air inside was warm and smelled slightly old and dry, like a piece of clothing that spent its entire life in the closet without ever being used. Yukari had more or less moved in at Amano's, meaning that her apartment was abandoned most of the time.
With a loud thud that sounded like a relieved sigh, Hitomi's luggage hit the tiles when she dropped it. Rotating her arms, she made her way to the windows and a gust of wind hit her in the face and made her squint when she opened it. Carrying the noise of car engines and conversations up from the street below, it smelled of warm asphalt, warm leaves, warm earth, warm clothes, it smelled of sun.
She was one and half a day late, tired and exhausted but she felt good. Her skin had a slight tan from being in the sun for so long, her eyes, despite the tiredness, were glowing brightly, the intense green a stark contrast to her skin. And there was a tiny smile constantly lurking at the corners of her lips. It wasn't one of those smiles she always plastered on for the press; this one was genuine.
She had spent four weeks at the back of beyond, without mobile phones and television. Four weeks alone. Four weeks to put some distance between herself and the events that had taken place, distance between herself and her feelings. Four weeks to think. Four weeks to decide.
Somehow she had dreaded the meeting with her parents the most. She had been afraid of disappointing them, of admitting she had been lying, of admitting she had failed, of admitting that in some way they had been right. She had been afraid of cold silence and of judgment.
She had been surprised at how easy it had turned out to be and it had given her strength. The support of her family was like a confirmation she had not thought she needed, the confirmation that yes, it was okay. She had known everything would be okay.
Outside, the light was gentle, wrapping the buildings in a lose embrace and brushing against glass façades with golden fingers. The breath of the city was caught around the tops of the multi-story buildings, glowing under the soft caress of the light. Life was flowing through a net of veins, pulsing with excitement. She could feel the vibrations in her fingertips. The city was waking from hibernation, blinking against the sunlight and letting the warmth tickle the darkest corners.
Reaching into a pocket of her jeans, she found the slightly wrinkled wrapping of a chocolate she had eaten on the flight. Absently, she began folding a paper dragonfly out of the wrapping, her fingers skillfully shaping the paper, the action carried out so many times before that she didn't need to look at her hands anymore.
Her grandma had showed her how to breathe life into a piece of paper. She connected so many things with the times she had been watching in awe how her grandmother created magic with her fingers. Her entire childhood was resting in her palm, trapped within the sparkling silver folds of the wrapping.
Placing the dragonfly on the window sill and turning away from the open window, Hitomi caught her reflection in the smooth glass and her lips turned up in a lop-sided smile. Her hair had grown quite a lot and running her hand through the honey-coloured strands, she found she needed a haircut.
On the table in the kitchen was a note by Yukari, her mail and her mobile. The sheet of paper rustled between her fingers when she picked it up. It looked as if someone had tried to drown it in some sticky substance.
Hello, oh admired friend of mine,
I welcome you to my humble apartment. Make yourself at home, it's all yours, including the dust on the shelves, the unmade bed, the vacuum cleaner that doesn't work, the dirty dishes, the empty fridge and the gigantic spider in the bathroom. If you're bored, you could tidy up a bit...I didn't bother to. It's only you, after all :P Your stuff is on the table. Give me a call when you're done reading this. Imagine that I'm enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug.
Worship the ground I'm walking on,
Your Mistress and Soon-To-Be-Ruler-Of-The-World
P.S. Do not open the closet beside the window in the bedroom! I repeat, do not open the closet beside the window in the bedroom! You could receive serious bodily harm. Noticed that all my stuff is gone? Well, guess where it went...
Hitomi grinned but only got a busy signal when she called her friend. They had spoken briefly on the phone when Hitomi had been in the airport but had only discussed pressing matters, like Hitomi getting a new flight. There was still so much to tell, so much to plan.
Her fingers were itching for something to do, so she decided to open her mail. She hardly got mail. One reason was that she was never in the same place for long, the other reason was that only a few people knew her "permanent" address.
She reached for the two envelopes on the table. The first letter was from her brother and she decided to read it later when she would have made it to the couch while sipping a coffee. The second letter didn't have a sender. Nor a stamp. She frowned. Yukari wouldn't leave her any dubious mail, would she?
The paper softly brushed her skin when she tore open the envelope, the noise disturbing the silence. She didn't like that noise. It was definite. Irreversible. Something done that couldn't be revoked. Something destroyed that couldn't be restored.
A photo fell into her palm. A heartbeat passed. Memories flashed through her mind.
Hitomi stared. She remembered everything about the moment the photo had been taken. It was the day she had explored Fanelia together with Van. He had led her to the small gallery beneath the bridge and she had met Millerna for the first time. It had smelled of paint and coconut and she had felt the warmth of the room prickle on her skin.
She had been angry and frustrated until she had met Van that day. She had been restless and undecided until he had invited her out for a walk. And in the gallery she had finally been overcome by a peace she had not known she was craving until it had calmed her. It was a quiet, faint and gentle feeling, yet strong enough to extinguish her anger, a feeling like a lullaby for her troubled soul.
She had been leafing through Millerna's sketches of Van when she noticed the image that was visible on the photograph. It showed Van standing in front of the painting of the angel. He was hiding the figure, making it seem as if the wings were growing from his own back. Now, she knew that it really were his wings. Now, everything made sense. The painted angel who looked so familiar. The feather she had found in his apartment.
Millerna was gifted beyond words. The photo had captured a wonderful moment. Van was looking at a painting, lost in his thoughts, a secretive smile at the corners of his lips. It was a black and white photo that emphasized the contrast between Van's dark hair and clothes and his lighter skin and the pure white of the wings. It perfectly portrayed the atmosphere, a serene grace mingling with calm strength, giving Van a majestic air. It was the way he was, forever stored. It was a heartbeat frozen in time. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
Van.
The mere thought of him sparked a turmoil of feelings inside her. She had missed him. She had missed everything about him like she had expected she would. She had known him for hardly three weeks, yet the impact he had had on her was all the more intense. He had left pieces of himself in her life like foot prints on a sandy beach.
She wondered how he was. What he was doing. A month had passed since she had announced her divorce. She had broken a contract. Again. But this time was different. She knew it was the last time and she would clean up the mess herself. She had given interviews, had confronted Allen's lawyers. Things had calmed down now.
She wondered if he was still in Adon with his brother. Or if he was back in Fanelia. She wondered if his life had gone back to normal, back to how it was before they had met. She wondered if he thought of her at all, wondered if he wanted her to be on his mind or not, wondered if he wanted to remember her, wondered if he had moved on. She wondered if he missed her the way she missed him.
He was like chocolate or cheese cake. Like a bungee jump. He was like a kiss in the rain. You don't know what you miss out until you experience it. She knew that if she had never met Van, she would still be fine. She knew she could live without him. And she also knew that she didn't want to be without him.
She had thought a lot about their situation, about what had happened between them, about what they had been about to start. She had come to the conclusion that things had happened too fast. The divorce hadn't even been through yet and she was diving head first into a new relationship. It had been bound to go wrong. But she had also come to the conclusion that she wanted Van to be a part of her life.
He was her melody, her song.
Her fingertips brushed softly across the smooth surface of the photo when the doorbell rang, making her hand still. She blinked as if waking from a daze. Frowning, she left the kitchen and pulled the door slowly shut behind her in order to hide the little mess she had caused.
"Who is this?" Head slightly tilted towards the door, eyes directed to the ground, she was listening attentively to the noises beyond the door.
A brief silence during which she could hear the ticking of the wall clock behind her, then, "Hello, oh beloved ex-wife of mine." The grin in his voice was ever so audible.
Utter surprise spread across her features, however, a slight hue of annoyance pooled around the bridge of her nose. Opening the door she found her former husband standing in the hallway, as confident as she remembered him, his lips twitching with mischief.
"Allen?" Why was he here?
"The one and only." He stretched out his arm and softly but determinedly pushed open the door. With a long stride he passed by a baffled Hitomi and entered the apartment.
Hitomi's eyes darkened and she closed the door behind him. "Why don't you come in?" Sarcasm, the essence of her words.
Allen turned to face her and flashed a brilliant smile. It was one of those smiles she had fallen for, one of those smiles that had enchanted her, warmed her. Now she couldn't feel anything. "Thank you very much."
He was still grinning when he watched her, his dazzling blue eyes searching her, testing her. She held his intense gaze and crossed her arms provocatively in front of her chest. "How do you know?"
The grin never left his face. "Yukari."
Hitomi was hardly able to stop an irritated sigh from passing her lips. She knew that his one word answers were supposed to spark her curiosity, to make her ask him to elaborate. He knew she hated when he did that. "What do you want?"
A dry chuckle. "Congratulate you on that stunt you pulled. I'm impressed. Didn't think you had it in you. And you didn't leave me time to congratulate you right away for you decided to disappear from the face of the earth for an entire month."
"That's it?" Hitomi unfolded her arms. Somehow she didn't want him to be there, didn't want him to talk to her, to tease her. Not now. "Thank you. There's the door."
A slight nod towards the door. A faint smile.
"I don't want to hate you, Hitomi."
And just like that he had managed to catch her completely off-guard once again. It was as if he was able to take all the air out of her lungs and render her speechless with just a few words.
Hitomi blinked and averted her eyes. She could deal with Allen's spite and mockery but she could not deal with the sincerity she found in his features that very moment. It made her see a side of Allen she could not despise and it made her feel guilty because, yes, there had been times when she had wanted to hate him. "Do you want something to drink?"
"I'd like that." He handed her an offer, not a sarcastic remark.
Without looking at him, Hitomi walked past Allen into the kitchen. She knew the place for she had been in the apartment quite some times before. The cups clinked in the silence when she took them out of the cupboard.
"When did you arrive?" Allen's eyes were roaming over her luggage on the ground and the pieces of clothing she had dropped on the counter, then resting on her.
"15 minutes ago."
She tried to ignore his stare and concentrated on preparing two café latte with Yukari's espresso machine. Hot air streamed noisily into one of the mugs after she had pressed a few buttons and she enjoyed the sound that was drowning the silence. The machine was busily working and soon the smell of coffee was filling her nostrils. She inhaled deeply the beloved scent and it calmed her, reminding her of the innumerable nights she had spent talking over a cup of coffee with Yukari, reminded her of comfort and friendship.
The mug was filled up with steamed milk and she watched the colors turning and twisting until they melted into one another. "I don't want to hate you either."
She didn't want to hate him. She didn't want to love him. She had to find something in between, one of the numerous hues that defined a relationship between love and hate, an interstitial space.
Turning to face Allen, she handed him one of the mugs. His smile was tentative. Maybe for the first time since their drifting apart he was feeling insecure. Maybe for the first time he was admitting that he did not want to lose her completely.
"Isn't it fascinating that not so long ago we were head over heals in love with each other? And now we're agreeing not to hate one another." He took a sip of his café latte.
"You're repeating yourself. You already said that when we met in the house by the beach." Hitomi didn't know what he was trying to get at and she felt wary.
"Hmm, so you do remember then. And do you also remember that you avoided replying just like you did now?" For a brief moment his eyes sparkled in that challenging way she knew so well.
Had she really avoided the question? "What do you want to know?"
"Were you afraid I came to destroy everything, came to meddle with the new plans you probably made while you were gone?"
She frowned. "No. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to because I do not allow you to meddle with me. Not anymore."
Allen knew exactly what he wanted her to say and he was steering her expertly to that one answer with a big, knowing smile on his face. It was what she had always envied him for. He could manipulate people in whichever way he wanted. "Then why the hostility?"
In some way, she wanted this conversation to end. In another way, she wanted to clear things with Allen. "At the moment, there are more pressing matters than you, Allen."
"And what would that be? Violinist boy?"
She blushed hard, heat pooling in her cheeks and she hated herself for showing her emotions so clearly. He didn't need to know any more of her weaknesses. He already knew enough, knew too many.
His grin reached from one ear to the other and she could hear the fridge hum in the silence Allen had created. "Jackpot."
"Look, Allen, this is none of your business." Hitomi took a deep breath. She wanted to get along with Allen, or at least, she didn't want to rip his head off and he wasn't exactly making it easy for her. "Why do you want to know anyway? Are you jealous?"
He gave a short bark of laughter. "Oh, Hitomi, you of all people should know that I'm not jealous. Believe it or not, I just want to help you."
A gurgling noise caught in her throat. "Allen, you've been a total jerk these last months. Why do you suddenly care?"
"Hitomi, we've been married for quite a while and I really loved you at that time. I did, Hitomi, with all my heart." She believed him. She believed him because she knew exactly what he meant, the memory of her former feelings stored away like photos in an album.
Allen gave a lop-sided, guilty smile. "I know how these things can change and well, I guess I just wanted to tell you to be careful."
"Why now?"
Reaching up, he ran a long-fingered hand through his hair, a tint of embarrassment on his cheeks. "Ah, someone talked some sense into that thick skull of mine." Hitomi frowned and Allen rolled his eyes, impatiently. "Kristen said that lately I had been a bit tense because of you and to draw that final line I could either sleep with you or have a proper talk with you. She didn't fancy the former option, so, here I am talking."
She struggled hard with a grin that was trying to break free and it made her lips twitch. She couldn't believe that woman had him whipped. "You're here because your girlfriend told you to do so?"
There was a flash of annoyance in his eyes. He briefly averted his gaze before he replied and she knew she was right. "Hitomi, I don't do things I don't want to do, okay?"
Of course. An amused grin parted her lips and she decided to let him be. She could gloat inwardly as much as she wanted. "So, this is the best I can get for a truce?"
"Yep."
Take a deep breath. "Fine."
Exhale. "Well?"
Hitomi brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and stared out of the window as if the answer to her every question was there, trapped within the clear spring air, floating weightlessly above the city. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. "I'm not going to dive headfirst into something I'm not a hundred percent sure about."
She had made that decision during the vacation from her life. It had bloomed right after things had spun out of control, right after she had noticed it wouldn't work this way. She had tossed and twisted the idea in her mind a million times. But she hadn't told anybody about it up to that moment and now that she had actually voiced that thought it sounded good to her, it sounded worth a try. And it made her smile.
"So, you're sure about him?" Somehow, he sounded doubtful.
Hitomi blinked and looked up at him. "No, I'm not which is why I won't rush things again. I've got time, I guess."
Allen looked her in the eye, searching something she wasn't sure he found, wasn't sure he wanted to find. "Good luck."
"Thank you."
A brief nod, a faint smile, the door clicking softly shut and he was gone.
So, this was it. The end of three years of marriage, one year of fighting, a shared, unprecedented career. No goodbye, no farewell. She knew she hadn't seen the last of him.
Hitomi stared at the spot he had just occupied and exhaled. She felt relieved. Not because he was gone but because of what he had taken with him. Guilt and anger and unsaid questions. There were still things left to be settled but they could wait. This time.
She went to the table at the other side of the room where she had left her mail. Looking at the photo, a smile started to grow at the corners of Hitomi's lips. Her eyes widened slightly when she turned it over in her hands and found a few words in clear, beautifully swung handwriting scrawled over its back.
Dryden and I, we are missing you. And Van does, too. Millerna
Casting a glance at her watch, she found that it wasn't even noon. She could get the next flight to Fanelia if she wanted.
Keys jingled and the noise of her footsteps bounced across the kitchen floor when she gathered her belongings. Her wallet. Her mobile. A jacket. Hope and courage.
When Hitomi opened the door and stepped into the hallway, a draught awoke in the apartment and fled to the window she had left open, stumbling over a forgotten book and ruffling the pages in its haste. The paper dragonfly rocked gently back and forth on the window sill, testing its fragile wings before rising weightlessly and gliding outside. It twinkled in the bright sunlight, carrying dreams and memories into the early morning.
It was one of those days. One of those days when you get up in the morning and you just know everything will go wrong no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try.
Van Fanel knew it when he woke up to sunlight tickling his eyelids instead of the blearing noise of his alarm clock. He knew it when he found he had overslept. He knew it when he hit his foot at the closet and almost broke the entire set of his left foot's toes. He knew it when he noticed they had run out of milk, cornflakes and every other thing that could have substituted for breakfast.
He stood leaning against the counter in the kitchen of his small apartment, a hand fisted in his ruffled hair. It was when he noticed the silence in the apartment. The only noise he could hear was his own breathing. Merle was standing perfectly still by the door, wearing her shoes and jacket and holding her little backpack in her small hands. They should have left more than an hour ago.
Smiling, he kneeled down beside the cat-girl and rubbed her ears gently between his thumb and index finger. Sometimes, he would get a headache because of her screaming and other times she was so quiet he almost forgot she was there. Sometimes, she would hit him and bite him and other times she would curl up in his lap and allow him to hold her. Sometimes, she would ignore him and other times her eyes would meet his, a faint smile curving her lips and he would cherish the moment, treasuring the memory and locking it safely within his mind.
Merle was his walking contradiction. She was his soft spot and his best friend, she was his greatest weakness and his greatest strength. She would show him the boundaries of his patience and she would reward him for going so far. She would bring him to the edge, she would make him see the abyss beneath his feet and then she would stretch out her small hand and grasp his, leading him away from his downfall.
"Merle, why didn't you wake me up?" His voice was soft, the smile that turned up the corners of his lips audible in every word. Sunlight danced in his tired eyes like reflections across the surface of a lake.
A noise of disapproval left Merle's lips and twitching her ears, she tried to get rid of Van's hand on her head. Her gaze briefly brushed his, acknowledging his presence. "We must leave now," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the door again. "You shouldn't have slept for so long."
"You're absolutely right. Give me five minutes." He wanted to feel at least a bit human, even if it just meant brushing his teeth. Van planted a kiss on top of Merle's head and disappeared briefly into the bathroom.
When they stepped out on the sidewalk ten minutes later and the brisk morning air hit him squarely in the face, he felt finally awake. Merle's small, warm hand was safely tugged in his large one and he led her to the metro station, the cat-girl taking two steps when he took one.
"Are you looking forward to meeting your friends?" Van looked down at Merle's pink head, her hair flying in the breeze. She was walking stiffly beside him, her free hand fisted at her side and her head slightly inclined with her gaze directed to the ground. She looked like a pouting child.
"No." Her reply was blunt, her tone almost accusing and he had to suppress his grin. He knew what was coming next and he knew she was blaming him. "They annoy me. And Ms. Megan, too. She always force me to play with them but I don't like them."
Van squeezed her hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I don't believe you."
"I don't like them," Merle insisted and he chuckled. His hand tightened around her one when she tried to wind out of his grasp.
"Quite talkative today, aren't we." Glancing at her, he found her head turned away from him and he allowed his grin to spread fully across his features.
A breath of warm, used air was welcoming them when they descended the stairs to the metro station, the familiar draft that reigned Fanelia's metro labyrinth caught in their hair. The voices of people talking echoed around them and the sound of their footsteps reverberated from the tiled walls that were plastered with advertisement. It was a puzzle of impressions and Van knew it by heart because it made up his every morning.
Every morning from Monday to Friday they went that same way to that same metro station. And every day, everything was the same. Noises, scents, advertisements and faces changed but there always were noises, scents, advertisements and faces along the way. To him it seemed that the only thing that would change every day were Merle and himself.
His surroundings, on the other hand, were like the ticking of the wall clock in his apartment, something that he had grown so used to that he didn't hear it anymore. Van couldn't remember when he had stopped noticing what was around him on the way to Merle's daycare.
The buzz of the conversations was almost deafening when they left the hallway and stepped out onto the line 4 platform. People were filling almost the entire waiting area, laughing, discussing, arguing, the majority in their early twenties – students of the University of Fanelia.
This was the hardest part of their trip; the people. There were so many of them, too many. Merle noticed as well and he felt her growing more and more rigid with every step they took. Van began talking to her like he did all the time when she started to panic, hoping his voice would suffice in calming her.
Time seemed to slow down around him, images flashing in front of his eyes, captured moments from a hundred different lives. A joke. An animated conversation. A flirtatious smile. Leafing through the notes for the first class. Carefree. The biggest worry the upcoming exam.
He was watching, feeling under his fingertips the transparent barrier of one decision shielding him from a hundred different possibilities of how it could have been, of how it was not. But it was okay. It would always be okay.
On the train, a young woman, maybe four years his minor, offered her seat to Merle. Van smiled gratefully and sat the complaining cat-girl down, standing in front of her so that he was shielding her from the talking crowd. She slung her arms around his waist and rested her head against his stomach. He patted her head and felt his stomach growling, remembering that he still hadn't had any breakfast yet. He had forgotten just how hungry he was. He never left his apartment without a proper breakfast.
"You're hungry," Merle commented and he chuckled dryly. "Your tummy just told me."
"Oh yeah, I am." His fingers tangled in her light, soft, tresses and she let him be. "How about you?"
"Not hungry."
Van felt her slightly relax while she was clinging to his waist in an attempt to hide from the world. Almost automatically, he continued talking about her drawings, about dinner, about everything and nothing at all, knowing it would calm her. Knowing it would calm him.
He caught the reflection of Merle and himself in the stained train window, translucent like tears and transitory like a smile. They seemed frozen in comparison to the noisy crowd surging against them. Time was passing him by and he had stopped, just for this moment, watching, remembering, waiting. Waiting, for what?
Things would change. Again. They always had.
Every now and then the train would reach another station, the interior of the wagon filling with bright artificial light, the blaring of announcements coming from the loudspeakers outside, new people with the smell of cigarettes following in their wake, new possibilities.
At the fifth stop, the students were getting off, still laughing, talking, reading, and shoving past him. In a few months the two of them would get off two stations later and he would bring Merle to her school before going to college himself. And then, some day, she wouldn't need him to bring her to school anymore. Maybe by then, she didn't want him to bring her to school anymore.
She was growing up and he noticed that he was afraid of it. For these last six years Merle had always been there with him, always. They had shared the few square meters they called their home, had shared food and laughter and tears. He had grown so used to it. He knew she wouldn't be gone within the blink of an eye and he knew that she would never be gone completely, however she would be more independent.
There was nothing he wished her more than her independence, her own life, her own decisions, her own mistakes. But a part of him would always worry, would always miss her.
A computer generated voice announcing their stop startled Van out of his thoughts. He blinked, slightly confused, as if he had been sleeping. There was a soft tug at his leg and when he looked down he found that Merle had already slid off of her seat and was now standing beside him, a small hand fisted in the fabric of his jeans.
They were washed out of the wagon and onto the platform like driftwood upon a shore with a tidal wave, the noise of a thousand words fading in the hallways like the sound of the surf. Everything was the same and it would be for a little while longer.
"I don't like them," Merle murmured against Van's jacket when they neared the daycare and he chuckled, patting her head.
"You already said that."
There was a moment of silence when Merle thought about a reply. "I know. Don't forget I told you."
When they reached the daycare, they parted at the front door, always the same. The same warm, welcoming smile, same quiet, muffled noises from inside, same scent of cold breakfast and children.
"The school."
It was a statement, not a question. She always came to his school even if he wasn't rehearsing with his choir. He would wait for her, he would watch her go on with her ritual, he would smile. As long as she was okay, he was okay.
He kissed the top of her head. "Of course. Bye, little one."
Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants, Van stepped onto the sidewalk again, sunlight bathing his features. He steered towards the first coffee shop he sniffed in the air and got himself a coffee and breakfast. He chose to ignore the fact that it was already eleven and that he was going to meet his brother at twelve for lunch.
It was odd. One month ago, he hadn't even known where his brother was or what he was doing and now they had been meeting on a regular basis for these last weeks. Not that he didn't like it, it was just odd. Somehow, it seemed unreal and Van dreaded the moment he would wake up and Folken would be gone again, without a note, without saying goodbye.
Their family had broken apart more than ten years ago. And even though Van had been a lot younger then, he had known that the moment Folken had left the house, the moment the door had been so violently slammed shut behind him, nothing would be the same anymore.
During these last times he had met Folken, there had been moments when it had almost seemed as if nothing of that had ever happened, as if the door had never been slammed shut that day. Almost.
Folken was already there, seated outside the restaurant, waiting. A newspaper was folded on the table, casting the tablecloth in shadows. The metal of his artificial arm was glinting in the sunlight, sending blurred reflections dancing across the pavement. He reminded Van of the times before his parents got the divorce, the times when they had lived in the same house, the times when they had laughed about the same things. Folken had left when things got out of control. He wondered if Folken remembered these times as well when looking at him.
As if sensing him, Folken looked up when Van was approaching the table. A slow smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. It was like a promise. "You've looked better."
Van sat down across the table, the chair scratching over the pavement. He ran a hand through his hair, knowing it looked more disheveled than usual. "Gee, thanks, brother. Good to see you, too."
"Someone's gotten out of bed with the wrong foot, I guess." Folken put down his newspaper and seriousness replaced the laughter in his eyes when he noticed Van's scowl. "You alright?"
"Yes, I am." Van sighed and dropping his head on the backrest of the chair, he closed his eyes, his eyelashes casting feathery shadows across his cheek. "I overslept, no major disaster, don't worry."
"Okay." The newspaper whispered when Folken proceeded to stow it away in his briefcase and Van could feel his eyes on him. "Do you want to order? I just did."
"No thanks, I just had breakfast." The sun was warming his skin and he heard the noises from the street, engines, footsteps, people talking. He heard plates clinking, cutlery, glasses. He heard his brother's silence.
Van rolled the words in his mouth and they tasted old, used, chewed so often that the flavor had worn out. It had become bitter but familiar, the words tasted of cowardice. He had wanted to ask this for a long time. He should have asked a long time ago but he had feared rejection, feared that if he asked that question, they would grow even more apart.
They had drifted apart even without him asking and they were both to blame for it. Folken had hardly ever called but Van hadn't been any better. If he had really tried, he would have found his brother.
With a grunt, Van straightened in his chair and opened his eyes. They were clear and dark when he looked at Folken, like the air before a thunderstorm. "Are you going to stay in Adon? For good?"
The question caught Folken off guard. He hadn't expected that. They had talked about his life, his job, all kinds of stuff he had been doing while they had lived apart. But they had never talked about future plans. Why now? "I don't know."
Something flashed briefly in Van's eyes and Folken thought it was anger but it disappeared before he could be sure. The surprise that had shown on Folken's features was like a mirror, letting Van know that his emotions were showing. He was angry. He was angry at Folken for being undecided, for being afraid of commitment, for being about to back out and he was angry at himself for letting it happen.
Their family had broken apart because they had been too proud to say sorry, too proud to say they needed help. "If you do stay, I would ask you to become a part of Merle's life. You're her brother as well. It would be good for her and for me. I told you I want to start college in autumn and Merle needs to have more people around her. It's not good that she's focusing so much on me."
Van was honest, his words cutting Folken where it really hurt. Van wasn't accusing him, wasn't reproaching but he was right with everything he said. Folken had known it all this time and yet he had never done anything. Maybe because that was the one thing he was afraid of: making mistakes. And yet he had made so many.
They were staring at each other and the silence seemed to stretch until it was unbearable to maintain any longer, painful even, the words unsaid too strong. His arms started shaking under the weight. "Van..."
"What, Folken?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, deep and quiet and powerful. "This isn't rocket science. All I want from you is a simple yes or no."
The sunshine and laughter that was filling the air did not reach them. It pattered against their tension like rain against a window, not a single drop of warmth reaching them. "It's not simple, Van."
His hands curled into fists on the table and he felt his temper rising, quick, hot, like burning magma ready to cause an eruption. Folken was more laid back than Van but nevertheless he would bark back if he had to and Van knew a harsh argument wouldn't get them anywhere close to what he wanted. Exhaling, he relaxed back in his chair and flexed his fingers. Only his eyes were still as hard as stone.
"The consequences of your decision are not, that's right. But the decision itself should be easy. Either you want to be a part of her life or not." Van's gaze did not waver and Folken averted his eyes. "You knew I was going to ask you sooner or later."
"Okay."
Van had become used to Folken so fast, too fast. "Okay what?"
Folken looked up and smiled, faint and unsure. "I can't promise anything, Van, but I want to try."
Van sighed and was surprised at the relief he felt. He hadn't known how much he wished his brother back in their lives, he hadn't wanted to admit it.
"That's enough." Van had offered forgiveness, again and again, and Folken had finally accepted it. "Thank you."
A disbelieving snort left Folken's lips. His brother was doing it again. "Please, do not say that. You know as much as I do that there is nothing to thank me for. I should be the one to do so. You're offering me another chance." And once again, Folken realized how little he actually knew about his brother. "Why? I never understood."
Somewhere inside the restaurant a glass shattered, shards tinkling over the tiled floor. "I was never a big fan of giving up."
"But I disappointed you!" The words sounded frustrated and almost desperate. Folken wasn't able to forgive himself for what he had not done, wasn't able to look at Merle without feeling guilty. So, why could Van? "Why are you still believing in me?"
"You did not disappoint me." The words were easy to voice, the simple truth, nothing to pretend or hide.
Folken crossed his arms in front of his chest and the sunlight that was reflected on his artificial limb briefly blinded Van, making him squint. "And you did not answer my question," Folken replied, watching his brother quietly.
Van smiled that same smile which had curled around Folken's lips earlier. The trust it showed was answer enough. Folken shook his head and looked up at the sky before adding, "This is something dad always did. He had mastered the art of diverting from a subject."
A whirlwind of emotions twisted Van's insides at the mentioning of his father. "Have you talked to him?"
Folken chuckled, his lips curled in a cynic smile. "Not in eight years. You?"
"Not since I chose to take care of Merle." Van averted his eyes, looked at the people walking by, the street, searching, finding. "But he's good. I read something in a magazine about him. He's pretty successful with his company, married again. They don't have kids though."
"I know." Van's head snapped up, surprise written all over his features. He hadn't known his brother was interested in their father's life, hadn't thought Folken capable of caring. Immediately, he felt guilty. Folken shrugged at Van's incredulous look. "Will you talk to him one day?"
"I don't know."
They were so different and yet so much alike. They didn't talk to each other, didn't even try to talk to each other. But he knew that his father was keeping track of their lives somehow, just as they did.
Folken suddenly chuckled. "If you think about it, it's pretty amazing that we didn't end up attending weekly therapy sessions with such a screwed up family background. Not exactly a good basic to develop a stable and well-balanced personality."
Van had turned away from him, yet Folken saw the grin twitching at his brother's lips. "Who says we have?"
Folken faked a hurt look. "I do and I thought you believed in me."
Van turned. Their eyes met. Understanding. "Touché."
A waiter walked into their silence, serving Folken's lunch. The scent of fish and fried vegetables filled Van's nostrils. He felt calm and somehow relieved, a feeling he hadn't had in a while. Most of the time he was just too busy to notice it. Most of the time he needed someone to remind him.
They were silent while Folken was eating, no words necessary. For the moment, they had said everything there was to be said. It wasn't a new beginning. There was no such thing. They couldn't make undone what had happened, couldn't forget it. The memories would always be there, would always remind them. It was more like a second chance, not to do it better this time but to do it differently.
Folken was watching Van, his little brother who seemed so much older than himself, who would always watch out for him. He felt guilty every time he looked at Van, knowing he had abandoned his brother, had left him alone with a broken family, had left him alone with bringing up a little girl. Such a heavy load of responsibility for shoulders so young, so inexperienced.
And yet it was okay. Van had said it was okay.
"Shit!" He dropped his fork when Van suddenly started. He was out of his seat in a second, casting a quick glance at his wrist watch. "What's the time?"
"Quarter past one. Why, did your watch break?"
"No, but I'd hoped it was. I'm late for my class." Van checked his pockets for his wallet and keys. "This just isn't my day. I should have stayed in bed."
Folken chuckled amusedly and Van cast him a glare. "Call me, Folken! If you don't, I swear I'll hunt you down!"
He grinned broadly. "See you, dearest brother."
"Soon," was all he said and Folken believed him.
Van arrived at the school where he gave afternoon choir class thirty minutes late. When he burst through the door of the secretary's office, the elder woman simply smiled at him and reassured him that his class had been taken care of.
The halls were empty when Van jogged to his classroom, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the walls around him. He passed by class pictures, world maps, posters that told the history of the school, glass cabinets containing trophies. It still smelled of lunch. The doors along his way were closed, light filtering through a slit above the floor as well as muffled voices. Afternoon classes had already begun.
Suddenly, he stopped. The expression on his face was one of utter surprise, his mouth slightly agape. Frozen to the spot he stood, listening.
And there it was, above the soft humming of the ventilation, a melody. It was weaving gently through the air, like a scent, leaving a fragile but remarkable trail in the hallways. His breathing increased. He knew that melody.
It was Air on a G String played on a flute.
As if this thought had broken his petrifaction, he tore down the hallway in search of the melody's source. It couldn't be a coincidence. He didn't want it to be one.
After Hitomi had left that day in Folken's apartment he had tried to contact her, had tried to get a hold of her somehow, in vain. Yukari told him that she had left for some kind of vacation and did not wish anybody to contact her, no exceptions made.
He had stood there, baffled, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. And for a moment, he had thought he had lost her. His words had been harsh but he had needed her to know, he had needed her to know what would await her if she chose to stay with him. He had needed her to know that he couldn't give her a fairy-tale like the one she had lived the first years of her marriage.
It had hurt. Standing there, alone, and it had made him angry. He had explained himself to her, so, why couldn't she? He had sulked for days, angry about her and angry about himself. And it was when he had realized how strong he actually felt about her. It had never been so clear to him before and it felt as if he were spreading his wings, powerful and releasing.
He had made his decision and he would wait until Hitomi had made hers. The waiting had come to an end.
He came to a halt in the doorframe of the room where he was supposed to practice with his choir, slightly out of breath. It was more because of nervousness than because of running. His right hand tightened around the doorframe. His heart was beating strongly against his ribcage.
Hitomi was sitting on a chair, eyes closed, playing his favourite piece on a transverse flute. His pupils were gathered in a wide circle around her, watching with wide, glowing eyes.
Could it be true
Can life be new
Could it be all that I am
Is in you
Van had thought he had missed her but seeing her there, sitting in his classroom surrounded by his pupils, seeing her so close he knew he had missed her so much more. It was as if the picture he had kept of her in his mind had faded without him noticing and now that she was there, he noticed that the colours were more intense, that the air around her was more vibrant, that her smile was brighter than he remembered.
His throat closed when their eyes met. He did not know her decision but he knew he would change her mind if necessary. He would not let her walk out of his life again.
The room seemed to shrink, the children vanished, colours blurred when she stood up and walked towards him. He fisted his hands to stop them from shaking and he tried to concentrate on his breathing so to calm down his erratic heartbeat. He was too busy staring at her that he didn't notice that her knuckles were turning white while tightly gripping her transverse flute.
Hitomi had prepared her little speech, had practiced it in her mind uncountable times so that she knew the words by heart. But when she spotted him standing in the doorframe, breathing hard, cheeks flushed, all thoughts had left her mind like dry leaves in an autumn storm, twisted and turned before being blown out of sight. She had completely underestimated the impact he had on her. His mere presence was enough to make her heart jump.
She felt like a sixteen year old with her first real crush. She had almost forgotten how it felt. Heavily beating heart. Flushed cheeks. Sweaty hands gripping her flute.
"Hey." Soft, slightly rough and cautious, like a shy, tender caress by calloused hands. She had missed his voice.
Sprinkled with shimmering dust from the wings of a butterfly, the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. "Hi."
His eyes were intense, a deep burgundy searching her, diving into her soul, trying to read her very thoughts. She felt stripped, naked, bared and heat was flooding her cheeks. She was about to lose herself in his eyes, drowning in a maroon sea, when he suddenly broke their eye contact.
She exhaled.
"Hey, guys, please excuse us for a moment. I'll be right --"
"No, it's okay." Hitomi interrupted him quietly, hardly able to stop herself from touching his arm. "This will need a bit longer. Finish your class, I'll wait here. Do you have time after your class?"
"Yeah." His voice was hushed and it sounded even softer.
She brushed a strand of hair out of her forehead although it wasn't even bothering her, just so she would busy her hand. "Okay, I'll be here."
"Okay." So, he had to wait a few minutes longer to hear her answer. He knew he would be okay.
She nodded briefly and slid past him out of the room, the scent of jasmine following her, fluttering like a veil in the wind. Van turned around but she had already closed the door behind her. He hadn't even heard it.
A class period could be a very long time. Hitomi was alone with her doubts. In her mind she went through a hundred possibilities of how the conversation could go off, should go off, should not go off. She was pacing up and down the hallway, kneading her flute. After ten minutes she was ready to tear her hair out.
She sat down on a bench and tucking her hands under her thighs, she stared into space, her flute lying calmly beside her. It was difficult not to think. She was nervous.
The school bell suddenly startled her out of her thoughts and merely a second later the doors along the hallway opened, clearing the way for a noisy crowd. A tidal wave of pupils washed down the hallway, little mouths chatting, laughing, arguing, their voices mixing until Hitomi could hardly make out conversations. Lockers banged shut, books fell to the ground, the sound of youth slowly dissolved in the hallways.
Hitomi watched everything with a smile on her face, remembering the time when she was that age. At that moment it seemed like a life-time away.
Some young girls were staring at her when passing her by and one of the teachers bumped into a group of chatting pupils for her eyes had been glued to Hitomi sitting on the bench. They recognized her from magazines and concerts and from innumerable TV shows. Hitomi, however, did not notice.
Her eyes focused on the room where Van had given his class and she rose slowly when he stepped into the hallway, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. She tried hard not to concentrate on the way he was moving, the way he was watching her, the way he slightly inclined his head, the way he made her feel.
Before silence could wrap itself tightly around them like a blanket, before she could lose herself again, she reached out and grabbed his hand, shaking it. "Mr. Fanel, nice to meet you. My name is Hitomi Kanzaki and I'm the soon-to-be president of the yet still to found Kanzaki Foundation." Confusion clouded his eyes. It was hard to ignore the warmth of his hand while it was resting between her ones.
"I'm here to ask if you're interested in partaking in a benefit concert. We're gathering money to support music therapy and music classes for physically challenged people."
A smile grew at the corners of his lips and slowly spread across his face. "So, you've found what you were searching for."
Hitomi marvelled at how easily he found words for the feeling she hadn't been able to describe to herself. His hand was still resting in her palm, warm and calm. "Yeah, I did and I even found something I did not know I was searching for."
"What happened?"
One simple question and yet it meant so much. Decisions. Changes.
"Come on, let's sit." She tugged at his hand and led him to the bench she had been sitting on before. Allowing his hand to slip out of her grasp, she sat down.
She was quiet, clasping her hands together, something missing between them. Turning her head away from him, Hitomi stared down the hallway. "I was right, you know. I cannot do anything apart from music. I tried to think of so many things to do, anything, but nothing seemed to fit. I was really frustrated at that point, ready to tear my hair out."
She had been at a point when she had wanted to throw it all away, just give up. Nothing had seemed worth fighting for. She had wanted to prove to herself and to everyone else that she was more than what she had been on the stage and on the title pages of various magazines. She had wanted to prove that she could be something else, someone else. She had failed at that but she had succeeded in realizing that music was a part of her, it had always been. And she knew that if she would ban it from her life, a part of her would die.
Hitomi turned to face Van and found him listening attentively, resting his back against the wall behind him. She couldn't read his features. "And then, I realized I could do everything with music. And I want to do everything with music. But most of all I want to teach music, so that everyone can have the opportunity to find what I did in music. Does that sound good?"
Van chuckled. She didn't need his approval and he knew that. She would do what her heart was telling her to do. But she wanted his opinion. "Sounds good. What made you change your mind?"
"I never changed my mind, I just needed time." The hallways were almost empty now but their voices were so quiet they didn't have any echo, the words so soft that they shattered when they hit the walls, the shards fading before they reached the ground.
Van averted his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The words prickling on his tongue meant so much more, an army of thoughts and feelings standing behind them. It was okay to tell her. She probably already knew. Their eyes met. "You know I would have never given up on you, don't you?"
A chuckle escaped her lips. "I wasn't so sure about that. I'm sorry about leaving without saying anything, without leaving a note. I simply had to do that." She grinned. "So, what do you say? About the concert, I mean."
"I'm in." But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to answer all the questions he just asked her, to clear his confusion, to calm his heartbeat. It was a shimmer of hope but nothing more. And he needed more. His clothes rustling, he bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees, giving her a sideways glance. "But what does it mean, Hitomi?"
The silk blouse she was wearing felt as if she were taking a bath, smooth, weightless, the fabric running over her skin like water. When it was sliding down her arms it was that light, tickling feeling as if she were lifting her arms out of the water. She rubbed her fingers across her lips and sighed.
"It means we started off really fast the first time and things got out of control. I don't want to make mistakes, Van. I don't want to rush things. I want to take it slowly, one step at a time."
Van ran his hands through his hair. "There is no guarantee for not making mistakes."
"I know." Yes, she did know. She just didn't want to make the same mistakes again. "What do you say?"
He let out a low chuckle. "Are you going to ask me that for the rest of the day?"
"Sorry." A grin flashed across her features before she bit her lip. Why was it so hard to say it out loud? The words had probably been burned into her mind for she had mulled over them so many times. Why hesitate? This was what she wanted. This was what she was afraid to lose.
"I want this to work out, Van. I really do. I realized that even before I left."
Van turned his head and his eyes were dancing, twinkling at her from behind dark strands that had tumbled across his forehead. That was more than he had expected to get. "I'm in."
The school bell rang. Voices drifted down the hallway. The noise of shoes clicking over the tiled floor.
He straightened and ruffled his hair, grinning broadly. "I've got another class."
Hitomi read the question in his eyes, shy, yet so very clear. Her heart was beating strongly against her ribcage. This was it.
"I'll be waiting for you."
Could it be this
Could it be bliss
Can it be You
Can it be You