NOTES: Future timeline. Pseudo Sanada x Yukimura. Lurking symbolisms. Lurking plot. Lurking pairing. Sanada POV.
Refuge
The winds swiped at their house from all different directions, trying again and again to destroy it. All the rattling from paper doors and windows made it appear as if it had been an earthquake instead of a category 2 typhoon.
Sanada was safe and sound inside the house. But his mind, his focus mentally circled the structure outside that protected them now. He was worried that the wind might break through all the preparation he had made before the hurricane hit.
On TV, the reporter interviewed a fortunate citizen who still had his home.
"The town is basically destroyed. I mean, maximum damage. People are displaced. Everybody's staying at friends' houses. We have people staying with us because their house is gone."
"It's unfortunate all those people lost their homes." Sitting beside him at the low table, Yukimura's voice sounded ghostly and hollow.
He nodded. "Aa. Though it is a relief that they found refuge in other homes."
Secretly, he was relieved that the Hurricane became more mellow at where they resided, relieved that they still had their residence.
Yukimura didn't reply to his comment, didn't smile in relief. A certain air encompassed him like a fog, making him appear more distant even though he sat right there beside him. The bluenet was strangely unfazed about the hurricane.
"The people who seek shelter after the hurricane will quickly adapt to their surroundings. Because the situation demands it of them. It does not mean they have given up their homes. If anything, they are thinking of a way, the best way, to recover what they have lost." After a period of awkward silence, Yukimura finally spoke again. In that same hollow voice.
When he turned to look beside him, Sanada saw his companion staring out the window. He saw the storm's turbulence reflected in the other's eyes of dark sea. He didn't know if it was from the squall outside or from inside of Yukimura's mind.
...
The hurricane subsided.
Their house was safe and sound. Unlike the other areas in the country, they did not lose electricity, their streets were not flooded.
The one misfortune that befell them, or rather, that befell Yukimura, was that the garden he spent years refining ended up in a destroyed mess.
The garden had no hope of revival. Sanada knew this even though he was no gardening expert. Because Yukimura made no effort at cleaning it up, made no effort at reorganizing the setting. He merely sat on the veranda, fingers stroking slowly a large, tattered white summer blossom resting in his palm.
Yukimura stared at the mess of a garden before him.
Sanada stared at the mess of a person before him. The damage in the garden had been bad enough. But for some reason, he thought the damage his companion sustained might have been worse than the chaos in the garden.
...
Night.
They lied together on a single futon.
He wrapped a work-calloused hand around Yukimura's more smooth and delicate hand in an attempt to comfort him.
Yukimura twitched as if pulled abruptly from his thoughts. He slipped his hand from Sanada's grip. Sliding towards the edge of the futon, the other turned his back to him for the first time in their three year cohabitation.
Sanada thought it to be strange. He recalled the gesture to have successfully comforted the other in the past as the other always replied with an appreciative smile whenever he cradled the other's cold hands in his warm ones.
...
Morning.
Clothing littered the floor of their room as if a hurricane had swept through. In amid the chaos, Yukimura picked up all the clothes, shoving them into a suitcase.
He rushed over to him, placing a hand over his shoulder intending to stop him. "What are you doing, Yukimura? It's no use going out now. Most of the roads are still blocked off."
Yukimura didn't say anything. Instead, he paused in his packing and looks at him with determination contrasting greatly from yesterday's blankness. His palm slipped from his shoulder.
Sanada was struck speechless. He knew the look too well. He had seen such a look nine years ago, in junior high when the other struggled to stand and walk at the start of his rehabilitation. It meant: there was no use trying to change his mind.
Yukimura left. His sudden departure made him realize that the hurricane didn't only break homes and sever bridges, it also seemed to have ripped apart the fake content they had constructed.
Yukimura left. He wasn't sure whether the other was even coming back at all.
For, the other's refuge was here, and his home, elsewhere.
END NOTES:
Where is Yukimura going? I think that "white summer blossom" answered that question. :)
This formally concludes this drabbles collection. :)