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— Intentions —

34# - Beyond Tears
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"The word 'happiness' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness."
― C. Jung

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— U. Takumi

"I'll get her out of there."

Adrian Solvei was a man of honor. And I wondered what Misaki had done to rise in such good graces of his. Granted, it was a good thing. Because as intent as I was on fixing the mess I had left in my wake, I knew I needed all the assistance I could gather in the meantime.

"Why? Didn't she kill your father?" I asked over coffee as if it was a simple matter of weather.

The man looked out, eyeing the tall government edifice standing in the main plaza. We were sitting in a nearby coffee shop. Days ago, I had been released on bail, my judicial dent seemingly becoming a faraway concern for the law house, so far.

Not that I've been complaining, since I had some other complains to advocate for.

Adrian cut me a sharp glance, before exhaling.

"She didn't. She killed a police officer."

"How so?"

"The fool held a gun on my father's head. She killed him. Unfortunately, he had already pressed the trigger."

"My apologies for your father," I offered back. Despite my good-willed appearances, what I cared most about wasn't the death of his father. Unfortunately, Adrian must've acquired himself quite a decent discernment through life, because he then said:

"I don't need your feigned sympathy, Usui Takumi."

I chuckled with nonchalance.

"No disguises are needed, I suppose."

"We won't collaborate for long. I just have to take her out of there and I'll be done paying back my debt."

"It's a deal."

"Sealed."

Short-lived and to the point, this was the kind of transaction two men thrived to have. Little did we know that no matter how affluent we could've been, life certainly wasn't that easy to overrule.

―

She was withering.

I was everywhere, trying to put the pieces together, to glue them until they made sense. But Gerald had scattered them, blown them with a wind too strong to follow.

The case was taking way too long. It was dragging onto days, weeks, and months now. I hated how time mercilessly trickled between the creases of our palms. The policeman-turncoat had an unbelievable clean record and no potential links with Gerald. Despite Solvei's legal teams efforts, nothing was of much help. Misaki had ―according to the law― killed an agent of the government.

And she was now sentenced heavily for her initially well-intentioned deeds.

The corrupted judges had also been clear of trouble. A fact that both unnerved and angered Sotaro. It was the least of my priorities, though.

"Misaki."

I'd been visiting her as often as I could, never allowing my visits to space out. I believed we both needed it.

A constant in this mess.

She was there, sitting across from me behind that thin glass that separated us for the past weeks. Her gaze was downcast to her hands, heavy dark lines etched underneath her tired eyes. Even her body was thinner than it used to be, I passively noted, as she lifted her delicate wrists up to lay on the surface.

"Takumi," she voiced back.

My mind came back to the first day I visited her.

"I'm a lawyer. I guess, I know better than anyone how to survive... this." She had chuckled, her ambers full of life and hope shining back at me. I had wanted to kiss her so hard, right then. "So don't worry about me, Takumi. Just take care of Suzuna for me?"

The next day, her sister had moved to my flat with her cat. I wasn't exactly rich, per se. I couldn't put body guards here and there with a flick of my fingers or have a condominium on the reach whenever I wanted. Misaki had a decent wages, supporting her family without much hassle.

But fortunately, I benefited a great pay myself. Supporting her mother's house was the least I could do for her. It didn't come to a scrape of the extent I'd go for her.

My love was asking for so little of me.

Not once had the sentence "Get me out of here, Takumi," ever came out of her lips. She had just sat there, looking at me with her usual confidence I fell for. If that damn glassy wall had not separated us, I'd have crushed her into my body in a needy hug already.

But now?

She was withering away, and it was all my fault.

Months in jail had taken its tool on her more severely than she had expected.

And quite rationally, I was sure she could hardly blame it on anyone other than me. Ever since the day I came into her life, I had wrecked everything for her. She had gotten hurt in my stead. Her sister got assaulted solely because of me. She ended up in jail in lights of my case. Taking the blame. For me.

The forced separation we were undergoing made us contemplate our lives.

At night, I had reached a dreadful conclusion that haunted my sleep.

Do you hate me, Misaki?

Because I'd have hated myself.

The question was on the tip of my tongue, sticky and tenaciously lingering in the room. Akin to a hindering ghost, I could feel second thoughts swirling in her eyes. How would the answer turn like, was I to ask her those destructive words? Something akin to a war was charring my mind, splitting it in two. Indecision was not my forte, and yet, I was head down into it, drowning in deep waters.

It was desperation at its best.

"Are you... alright?" I tentatively asked, before wanting to punch myself in the guts. "No. That was... irrelevant to ask."

When she turned her head away, I caught the faint watery shine of her eyes; the slight wobbly smile she planned to give me. Eventually, she peered up at me, her face now void of any trace of distress. The perpetual knife in my heart twisted spitefully at the view.

What had I done?

"Love," I breathed, my palms coming up, clasping against the thick glass. "I'll get you out of here. I really will. Please."

She softly shook her head. "It's okay, no harms, Takumi." A pause. "―It's not all that bad here. I get some food. It's not exactly as good as yours though," she joked with a dry chuckle.

And I wished she'd have yelled on me instead, telling me that she was starting to break rather than those condescending words she was serving me.

But she didn't.

"Really, it's fine, Takumi," she said, staring at me intently. Her palm came up to where mine laid on the glass. A small contact. I longed to feel her warmth.

Her eyebrows arched down as she began to frown at my raw expression.

It was no use concealing my misery; it would've leaked anyway. Like blood would when a sharp cut rips through one's skin. Trying to stop the flow only triggered the inevitable, for the white clothe will only turn red with time.

"Please... Don't," she breathed softly, her chair scraping the floor behind her as she stood up.

"Why are you crying, Takumi?" She whispered, her make-believe smile slipping. "You can't cry... You don't have... the rights to..." A sob sliced through her voice.

"I'm not crying, sweetheart." I could faintly taste salt on my lips. "We're strong, aren't we? We won't cry for so little..." The last words were so low, even a murmur couldn't come close to its fragility.

"Yes, we are..." Tears streaming down her face, we both longed for each others' arms but they wouldn't let us. I wanted to cleft the thin surface that managed to separate us so effectively. It was laughable, how a puny slab of glass managed to keep us away from our respective emotional shelter.

Agonizingly so.

When I looked back up, she was a wounded mess, kneeling on the floor as she cried her raw heartache away. I wanted to tenderly scoop her up in my arms. I wanted to protect her. Murmur sweet words against her skin, in her hair. I wanted to comfort her.

I couldn't stand still, doing nothing. Not when my heart was breaking right in front of me.

Before I knew it, I found myself violently hammering my fists against the transparent surface, trying to shatter it down.

The wardens came in a rush, pulling us both away toward the opposite exits. They picked her up without caution, harshly dragging and shoving her away as another set closed on me to stop me. It all made me go insane. Made me see red for the way they were treating what was most precious to me.

It enraged me.

Because it kept us away from where we belonged.

―

Author's note:

"She's imperfect, but she tries.
She is good. But she lies.

She's broken but won't ask for help..."

A little shout-out to Sara Bareilles' fragile and heartbreaking song, She Used To Be Mine. It inspired me to write lately. Somehow, I always find myself in a sad mood when I write these past days?

Thank you for following me always and putting up with my sporadic latest updates, my lovelies.

Much Love,

-J