The car pulled unceremoniously into the driveway. It was just another night, ending a perfectly ordinary day. So why did he feel so different. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but something was off. The old car he'd been driving was off, its lights still reflecting off the garage door. Tyson wanted to go in, he loved his family, and he was sure Grandpa would be inside waiting for him too.
In roughly an hour he would turn twenty-two. Not a particularly important age in Tokyo, but a milestone none the less. A hearty feast would be awaiting him inside, and since he was a little late…probably Grandpa's kendo too. Hiro would be inside, waiting to shake his hand and congratulate him on having grown up, just to shower brotherly love.
He didn't know why but he didn't want to go inside. Hell, it's my last day as a twenty-one-year-old, he reminded himself as he backed out of the driveway knowing full well there was no rhyme or reason in his thoughts. With no particular destination in mind, he just drove away from the dojo. He didn't know where to go at this hour, but his head wasn't in it. He lowered the window, and turned on the music. It was a good feeling, a great energy. What could be the last thing I could do before I turn twenty-two?
Very soon, he found himself driving on a street where one of his close friends lived, well, not as close as they were before. As he drove, memories of her flooded his mind. Maybe I should check if Hil's back from Seoul yet. It would be great to catch up.
Exuberance radiated off him as he started speeding towards her house. And with barely any traffic at this hour, Tyson reached quickly within 5 minutes to spare. Between the drive here and his own anxiety, what he was anxious about even Tyson didn't know, he was a ball of energy by the time he got to the front door. He walked to the front door and ran the doorbell several times in his excited impatience.
It took the house's only, and rather sleepy, resident a few minutes to get herself out of bed and downstairs to the door. Who could this be she thought rather grumpily, It's 11:59 at night.
Hurry up Tyson thought. By his watch he had less than a minute to midnight. He had no plan, no reason to rush, and no impending duty, but for some reason he wanted to see her before midnight.
A tired Hilary opened the door. Her ruffled hair hung low down her back, and though she would have fiercely disagreed, to Tyson she looked beautiful in the tank top and shorts she'd been wearing to bed. He hadn't planned on unleashing his long checked feelings for the beautiful girl but somewhere between his current energetic state and her very well fitting tank top he did. Without thought or even a greeting he grabbed her head and stepped into the doorway pushing her against the frame. He wasn't exactly sure what had overcome him but one thing was certain as their breaths intertwined in the breezy evening, he was glad he was here.
At very nearly twenty-two Tyson was slightly taller than the brunette beauty he was pinning to the door frame. He felt her pulse quicken in surprise as he bent down to kiss her. For a second, he faltered, realising what he was doing and afraid of the consequences; visions of a painful punch swam in his head. Then she stretched upwards willing him to continue, her hand reached behind his head and pulled him the last bit of the way.
For a second, they stared at each other afterwards Tyson still pinning Hilary to the doorway, Hilary's hands still holding his head close to hers. "Tyson? What was that?" Hilary asked still rather dazed, half from having just being woken, and half from the rather unexpected, though no unwelcome, greeting her friend had just given her.
"I dunno..." he replied lamely. He had no good answer to give, and even if he did, the warmth of her breath this close to him drove him mad with distraction. "It was something due, I think…" He offered.
Hilary reckoned it was past midnight by now. "Do you get better with age?" she asked coyly. "Yeah, significantly," he answered as he lowered his head once more and nibbled her lip. Her coy teasing voice was driving him crazy and her laboured breaths were causing her chest to move most maddeningly between them.
"I think I may have to see that for myself," she chuckled, the coy pretext gone from her voice as she pushed him away from the door and simultaneously jumped on him. She locked her legs around his waist and kissed him hard. "Upstairs cowboy," she managed to say through breaths as she pulled away from their second kiss.
"As you say my lady," he grinned and headed towards the stairs with Hilary clutched around his body. Hilary had to admit there were advantages to Tyson's strict training regiment, and proud that she had framed it years ago.
Still, they took a little while getting to the Hilary's room, their progress impeded largely by their mutual ardour. "Took you a while," she teased in one of the rare moments her lips weren't glued to his. "I blame you," he returned "Too distracting."
They crashed onto the bed and continued kissing each other as if for dear life, pausing only to slip each other's shirts over their heads. Tyson and Hilary's passions were both bursting at the seams with years of pent-up tension. The majority of the night was a blur of ecstasy and sweat.
Afterwards they lay together. "Hmm, you may need some more ageing," she teased in a teasing voice. Tyson found it hard to be offended as the moonlight shone of her, the blueish tint giving her an ethereal beauty.
"Happy birthday," she wished more sweetly. Her voice held in it all the caring and love she'd hidden from him these last few years. "Thanks," he replied, slightly dazed, and for the first time inexplicably happy.
"So... wanna grab a drink sometime?" he asked, feigning an overly worried voice to hide his slight nervousness.
"Let me think about it... I guess..." she replied trying, and failing, to keep the excitement that was so clearly and beautifully painted in her eyes reach her voice.
"This might be the end of our friendship," he reminded. This time his true worry shone through. He didn't want her to turn back; he didn't want to save the friendship. He wanted her, as she was here, beautiful, with the moonlight glistening of her and her ruffled hair cascading behind her. He leant over and gave her a peck on the neck.
"Good," she agreed, the quickness of her words betraying the casual tone she had tried to use. "It was driving me mad."
It was late, and they had exhausted themselves. Hilary curled into Tyson and they fell asleep together for the first of many times.