"This is stupid," he huffs. She scrambles on a few feet ahead of him, and turns back, laughing.
"It'd be easier if you were willing to get on your knees. You're tall, and it's steep," she calls back.
"I'm not doing that."
She rolls her eyes, digging her sneaker into the side of the hill; a bit of frozen dirt crumbles as she steadies herself. "Your choice. Come on, we don't have much time before the sun rises."
How she convinced him to hike up the hill to see the sunrise, he may never know. All he knows is that last weekend Kisara had taken Mokuba out for the day so he could work in peace, and they had come back with muddy clothes and dirt-caked sneakers, and after that, Kisara was convinced that he needed to see the view from the top of a local hiking trail. He hadn't particularly wanted to oblige, but then again, he rarely obliged her, and relationships were about compromises...
…right? She had conveniently left out the part where the proper trail ended a good two-hundred feet from the top of the hill, and that she intended to use a series of precarious deer trails to finish their ascent. He had almost insisted on turning around then and there, but then he would have to turn around and walk back alone, in the dark, and he didn't like the idea of Kisara alone on a dark and treacherous trail.
It didn't mean that he had to climb the damn thing like a deer. He sighs, watching Kisara's flash light beam wobble a few yards ahead. The freezing air stings on his cheeks. Kisara had also conveniently forgotten to tell him that she wanted to see the sunrise on the hill, and thus their hike had begun before he would usually be awake. It was also a Saturday, and one of his rare days off.
"Alright, here, let me help you." A beam of bright light temporarily blinds him, and losing his focus, he staggers backwards. His stomach lurches as he prepares himself for a fall.
"Eeep! Sorry." A hand grabs his arm, wrenching his shoulder but keeping him upright. The blinding light abates, and he finds himself looking into Kisara's wide eyes.
"Careful!" he hisses irritably.
She frowns, and her dark blue eyes widen. "Sorry, sorry. C'mon, you're almost there." She hoists him up, and as he steadies himself, he finds himself at the top of the hill.
There is scarcely enough room for two people to sit—no wonder the trailmakers hadn't bothered continuing the path all the way to the top. Kisara sits on the frozen ground, with her arms wrapped around the muddy knees of her blue jeans, and her hair tied into a hasty ponytail that drapes over one shoulder. "The sun's going to rise in a few minutes. Sit," she orders, patting the ground next to her. She grabs his hand and tugs downwards gently; sensing no other option, he sits beside her. She laces her fingers in his, resting her head against his shoulder.
He stares into the distance. From where they are, the city lights and the predawn sky blur into one—streetlights are giant sunbursts, and parking lots are tiny little galaxies. The highway is a winding, winking stream of stars flowing sleepily off into the distance.
The sky begins to lighten before the first rays of sun appear—first the navy blue of the sky starts to pale at the horizon, turning from navy to magenta to tangerine. Then the first rays of light appear, spreading light across Domino City. He watches as a miniature galaxy becomes a Wawa parking lot again, and the stream of stars becomes a highway again.
Then he looks to her. The light casts funny shadows across her face, bathing her in a soft and rosy glow. Her eyes are closed, and her head is tilted up towards the sky; a serene smile graces her lips. Her hair is made of beams of rapidly fading moonlight, and her cheeks have the soft glow of the morning sunrise. Then she opens her eyes, and stares at him with eyes the color of the rapidly lightening sky, and he squeezes her hand, feeling its' warmth and marveling at the fallen piece of heaven sitting next to him.
Early morning. Kisara sits on the granite countertop, holding a mug of steaming coffee. Seto tumbles down the stairs, wearing a navy suit and a pale blue tie. His hair is still messy, and he is still wearing his glasses.
She hands him a thermos. "For you," she says, pulling him in for a quick kiss. "Why are you leaving so early, again?" She grabs him by the shoulder and inches him closer to her, running her hand through his brown hair to smooth it.
He unscrews the lid to the thermos, tosses it onto the countertop, and slugs a gulp of coffee. Kisara cringes; from the amount of steam emanating from the container, she can only imagine exactly how much the hot liquid must be burning his throat. He swallows, grimacing, but manages to keep his composure. "We want to partner with a prominent university, with their medical school, and loan out our super-computing resources to them for use in medical research."
"I'm proud," Kisara says, tilting his chin upward with her hand so she can look into his eyes. "Good luck."
"You'll make sure Mokuba gets up and goes to school?" Seto asks, cautiously taking a smaller swig of coffee.
"Sure, sure. And I'll let you know when he gets home, too. I'll be here. It'll be kind of nice to have a day to myself."
Seto's eyes narrow with amusement. "Don't have too much fun, now," he warns, the corner of his lips drawing upwards into a smirk.
Kisara nudges nudges him on the shoulder. "Oh, for goodness' sake. I'll see you tomorrow. You'd better go, you know. Didn't you say you wanted to be out by five-fifteen?"
Seto looks at the clock on the microwave and sighs, leaning forwards and falling into Kisara. She pulls him into a tight embrace, inhaling aftershave and dry cleaning fluid and black coffee. His cheek presses against hers and she holds him tighter for a moment, then whispers in his ear, "Come on, you have to go."
"Alright. See you tomorrow," Seto says, heading towards the back door. "Take care of yourself, now."
"Hey—wait." Kisara picks up the lid to the thermos and tosses it underhand at him. "Don't forget this."
Seto smiles, adjusting his tie, and takes a long look at her. "Goddamn, I hate leaving."
Tonight is a late night, and not a very good one. He parks his car in the driveway because he can't find the clicker for the garage—it's supposed to rain tonight, hail maybe they say, but who has the energy to find the garage-door opener? He sighs, locking his car. In the distance, far up the walkway, the yellowy lights inside his house flicker with laughter. Tonight the lights in the window are mocking him for being too stupid to find his garage remote, and for having such a stupid-long walkway to the house. He hadn't designed it, he thought grumpily to himself, Gozaburo had. He had never liked the long driveway in the first place. He should just burn it all to the ground.
He stayed late at the office because there was a marketing meeting, and then there was a traffic accident on the freeway. Someone's silver sedan had hydroplaned on the freeway, and skidded straight into the center divide, but at least nobody got hurt. The freeway was a mess of lemon yellow tow truck lights and blue-and-cherry highway patrol lights and a long, angry stream of red brake lights for miles. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and thought about moving to a penthouse suite in downtown Domino City, like a proper bachelor would do.
By the time he gets home, as he's walking towards his house, tiny droplets of frost are already beginning to form over the dead grass. Ominous, dark clouds already cover the sky, and the moon is but a smudge of feeble light, hidden behind a swathe of gray clouds as thick and dark and wool. He huffs with frustration, sending a puff of white smoke swirling up to join the stormclouds.
A light appears in his line of sight; a beam of golden splashed across his path. She is standing in the doorway. At this distance she is just a silhouette of soft lines and lights reflected on long, silvery hair. As he approaches, he can make out the soft contours of her body under cozy winter clothes, and he staggers wordlessly towards her. Exalted is a good word, he thinks to himself, as she swims into focus. Light emanates from her cheekbones and the tips of her hair, beckoning him closer. A gust of wind kicks dead, frozen clippings of grass at his heels. He walks a little faster.
She has a gravitational pull that reels him closer to her. She is a veritable force of nature that grows stronger and stronger as he approaches, until he is almost running towards the door. As he gets closer, she her face breaks into a smile. He is so busy that sometimes he forgets to look at her face, forgets to admire the graceful curve of her lips and the startling dark blue of her eyes and the gentle warmth of her cheeks. She is beautiful—so beautiful, how could he forget to look? The question halts him mid-step, and he stands on the porch with her in the doorway, hit from behind with light.
He wishes he could say something, or move, but he is frozen in place. He watches, disarmed, as her lips part into a soft smile.
"I love you," she says. Maybe he's tired, or hallucinating, but he can see her words. They bloom in the air like sparks of silver light. He stares, dumbfounded, as they float past his face, drifting lazily towards the clouds. Her words are particles of moonlight, and slowly but surely they are returning from whence they came, dancing their way into the darkness and burning tiny pinpricks into the gloom for moonlight to shine through.
She rarely outlasts him when it comes to working into the night, but she has midterms, and he doesn't. At midnight, he calls it quits and folds his glasses and places them on top of his laptop case. "I'm going to bed now," he says with a yawn. "Are you coming?"
Kisara frowns. "Debugging," she murmurs, leaning forwards and squinting at her computer. "Go ahead. I'll be in later."
Hours pass, with Kisara in the same place. She rubs her eyes. She moves into Seto's favorite spot on the couch. She changes the colors of her text editor, but nothing will stop her eyelids from growing heavier and heavier...
...it's almost morning by the time she's finally done, but it's worth the wait. She smiles to herself, and glances out the window—no traces of light on the horizon yet. The wind rustles the oak tree outside. The mirror image of the pale half-moon reflected into the lake ripples in the breeze, sending spirals of light towards the shore. She sighs, pushing herself up onto her feet, and heads up the stairs towards the bedroom.
Seto is a lump in the bed, a cocoon of pillows and navy blue comforter. She sinks wearily down next to him, sighing softly with relief as her cheek sinks into a soft, cool cushion. Inching herself closer to him, she wraps her arm around his body, wriggling herself deeper into the covers. She worries about the nightmares, sometimes, because some nights he still wakes up screaming, but tonight she can feel the calm, rhythmic inhale-exhale of his breathing. She brings herself closer to him, and her body wraps its way around his. She drapes her leg over his, pressing her weight on top of him.
She feels his warm hand grasp hers, interlacing his fingers around hers. It is the last thing she feels before she drifts peacefully to sleep.
HAPPY VALENTINES' DAY EVERYONE! In lieu of having a plot or timeline, at least I can be seasonally relevant.
RE: Seto meeting Kisara's parents...yes, that should happen, I agree! It'll be tough to convince Seto to ship off to suburban Northern California to meet Kisara's parents, but I'm sure they can work something out, in due time ;)
This collection was loosely inspired by "You In January" by The Wonder Years. After over three years of being with the same person, it is in fact the only love song we both agree really conveys how a relationship feels ;) Also, in general, I love the Wonder Years in a way that has woven itself into everything I think and do. I could go on for hours about how great they are but I...don't think that's really of general interest? You're always welcome to message me if you want to know more about pop punk music :)
~Mei