The long, hot summer days were the most content Sakura had ever known. Before, the life she associated with Japan was stiff and unyielding; closeted, restricted, boring. Everything was immovable as rock and set in age-old stone. But here and now, Arthur was like a raging river come to sweep all that away in one stroke, as the rushing fury of the ocean obliterates everything in its path. Everything around her was changing with the addition of only one small factor, and it took her breath away.
They spent some evenings in packed clubs, dancing to the beat and flowing with the mass of sweating bodies around them. Arthur seemed so casual in these spaces that Sakura let her hair down more than she usually would; and on their last evening, she suggested celebrating in style at one of the most famous clubs in town. The space was huge, the music was loud, and though she usually kept a strict policy of only a few drinks, halfway through the night Sakura found that her vision was swimming a little bit and she didn’t feel quite in control. It would have been scary and unsettling for her, she who was so used to being perfectly poised, if not for Arthur’s steadying arm around her waist.
They danced until midnight, until Arthur leant in and whispered in her ear, “I think it’s time I took you home, Cinderella.”
She only vaguely remembered the details of the fairytale as they caught a taxi; as his hand rested on her hip and she pulled him in close because yes, she’d wanted this since she first saw him; as his hand tangled in her short hair as he kissed her on the stairs of her apartment building; as he kissed her neck and her shoulders and everywhere and she didn’t care if Chun-Yan could hear them in the room next door.
He packed in silence the next day, after they woke tangled together in her warm sheets, and she felt like the old silence was closing in on her again.
They got a taxi together to the airport, and he took her hand gently and traced a long, slow pattern onto it. “This was the most surreal three weeks I’ve ever had,” he murmured quietly as they stood together in the Departures Hall, after he’d lined up to collect his boarding pass.
“Is that a good thing?” she asked him, her voice a soft whisper.
He looked up into her eyes. “It was a good thing,” his voice was just as soft. “It will always have been a good thing.”
She waited in the car park for three hours, until the plane she guessed was his soared over. She gazed up at it, shielding her eyes from the glare off the tarmac runways; up at the plane that was taking him home. She wondered if what he said was true. She wondered if he didn’t regret coming here.
Or maybe the regret was all about what happened last night. ‘It was a good thing’, he said. A good thing until they had ruined it?
She didn’t know; she couldn’t say.
Only two weeks later she herself was on a plane, jetting back to America to begin her studies again. She met her friends once more, and everything started up; her life seemed back in motion again. Though, with one particular, distinct flavour missing. And she could tell what that was.
For Your Butterfly Heart - 3/4
They spent some evenings in packed clubs, dancing to the beat and flowing with the mass of sweating bodies around them. Arthur seemed so casual in these spaces that Sakura let her hair down more than she usually would; and on their last evening, she suggested celebrating in style at one of the most famous clubs in town. The space was huge, the music was loud, and though she usually kept a strict policy of only a few drinks, halfway through the night Sakura found that her vision was swimming a little bit and she didn’t feel quite in control. It would have been scary and unsettling for her, she who was so used to being perfectly poised, if not for Arthur’s steadying arm around her waist.
They danced until midnight, until Arthur leant in and whispered in her ear, “I think it’s time I took you home, Cinderella.”
She only vaguely remembered the details of the fairytale as they caught a taxi; as his hand rested on her hip and she pulled him in close because yes, she’d wanted this since she first saw him; as his hand tangled in her short hair as he kissed her on the stairs of her apartment building; as he kissed her neck and her shoulders and everywhere and she didn’t care if Chun-Yan could hear them in the room next door.
He packed in silence the next day, after they woke tangled together in her warm sheets, and she felt like the old silence was closing in on her again.
They got a taxi together to the airport, and he took her hand gently and traced a long, slow pattern onto it. “This was the most surreal three weeks I’ve ever had,” he murmured quietly as they stood together in the Departures Hall, after he’d lined up to collect his boarding pass.
“Is that a good thing?” she asked him, her voice a soft whisper.
He looked up into her eyes. “It was a good thing,” his voice was just as soft. “It will always have been a good thing.”
She waited in the car park for three hours, until the plane she guessed was his soared over. She gazed up at it, shielding her eyes from the glare off the tarmac runways; up at the plane that was taking him home. She wondered if what he said was true. She wondered if he didn’t regret coming here.
Or maybe the regret was all about what happened last night. ‘It was a good thing’, he said. A good thing until they had ruined it?
She didn’t know; she couldn’t say.
Only two weeks later she herself was on a plane, jetting back to America to begin her studies again. She met her friends once more, and everything started up; her life seemed back in motion again. Though, with one particular, distinct flavour missing. And she could tell what that was.