They saw each other again in a secluded section of the library, far away from prying eyes. “I hope the rest of the summer wasn’t too awful,” she said sincerely. She had been worrying about him and his siblings. Him being alone, like she was.
He smiled slightly. “It was like living in a graveyard, in comparison.”
She nodded. “Hmm, yes. Tokyo is a very active place.”
The silence stretched between them. “Sakura,” he started, “I know…well…what happened…” He sighed and tried again. “Staying with you was so strange; in a good way, I mean. I don’t quite know what to make of it. It was so, so different to everything I’m used to, and I…” He trailed off and looked away. “I think I just…need some time…”
She understood. Her heart was aching suddenly in her chest, but she understood. “Yes, I understand,” she said, “I don’t mind. Take all the time in the world; I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’ll find you, if you need me.”
I won’t push you, she thought as he smiled gratefully. I won’t hold you down, she thought as he walked away. Maybe if you fly away now, one day you’ll return.
She held out this hope as they lived their separate lives; as a year passed and they went separate ways. She excelled in her studies, went out with her friends, attained a new passion for watercolour painting. He saw other girls, got famously drunk at parties, published a piece that won him critical notice.
She loved him quietly, held him softly in her heart. They passed each other occasionally, and she would smile and ask him no questions. Just smile.
He was on her mind as she hugged her friends goodbye, after they’d graduated and they were returning home. She thought of him as she boarded another plane, bound back to the bright lights of Tokyo, where she’d fallen in love with him.
She remembered him in the sights and sounds of the city, in the feeling of walking the street or entering a building. Sometimes when she lay on her bed she was convinced she could smell the scent of his hair on her pillows; and one day she visited the park where she had played as a child, and the grass she had thought of when she first saw his bright green eyes.
And one morning when she opened her door to the buzz of the doorbell, he appeared before her eyes like an apparition called up from the past.
“Thank God you still live here,” he said, forgoing any form of greeting, wringing his scarf nervously between his hands. “I thought that you might’ve moved away, it’s been so long…”
She stared at him, drank him in; he seemed tired and careworn, with dark rings around his eyes. “You came back,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “I came home,” he murmured. He moved forward, hesitantly, and reached out, laying a soft hand on her cheek. “I…couldn’t keep away.”
“You didn’t have to come all this way.” She leant into the touch of his hand. “I told you I’d come looking for you.”
He laughed softly and shook his head. “No, I wanted to come home. I’ve never felt more comfortable anywhere than here, in this city, with you.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I’ve never known any girl like you.”
She didn’t want words, though his words were beautiful. She took one step and leant upwards, gripping the lapels of his worn winter coat, disregarding her bare feet on the cold concrete to kiss him slowly, welcomingly. His arms went around her waist, and he held her close until she broke the kiss and pulled him inside.
And he stayed, and she knew he would stay. She had waited for him, while he had fluttered back and forth; and the wind had blown him back to her at last.
Not the OP, but my god this is beautiful. At one point, you had me on the verge of tears. I'm not normally an England/Japan or Fem!Japan reader, but (even as a UKUS fangirl) I can appreciate a lovely, emotional fill when I read it. And, this is one of those. I'm glad I read it.
I love the push and pull between them and the startling assertiveness that fem!Japan has in this story, in daring to go after what she wants but then having enough wisdom to let it go.
That's still damn painful though, knowing from personal experience. It's cold comfort to watch someone else and letting them have their space and just hoping.
You normally don't see England characterized as a commitment-phobe but it makes quite a bit of sense. He holds people at arms-length with snark and sneers but really, he's quite the vulnerable one.
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For Your Butterfly Heart - 4/4
(Anonymous) 2013-01-27 09:35 pm (UTC)(link)He smiled slightly. “It was like living in a graveyard, in comparison.”
She nodded. “Hmm, yes. Tokyo is a very active place.”
The silence stretched between them. “Sakura,” he started, “I know…well…what happened…” He sighed and tried again. “Staying with you was so strange; in a good way, I mean. I don’t quite know what to make of it. It was so, so different to everything I’m used to, and I…” He trailed off and looked away. “I think I just…need some time…”
She understood. Her heart was aching suddenly in her chest, but she understood. “Yes, I understand,” she said, “I don’t mind. Take all the time in the world; I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’ll find you, if you need me.”
I won’t push you, she thought as he smiled gratefully. I won’t hold you down, she thought as he walked away. Maybe if you fly away now, one day you’ll return.
She held out this hope as they lived their separate lives; as a year passed and they went separate ways. She excelled in her studies, went out with her friends, attained a new passion for watercolour painting. He saw other girls, got famously drunk at parties, published a piece that won him critical notice.
She loved him quietly, held him softly in her heart. They passed each other occasionally, and she would smile and ask him no questions. Just smile.
He was on her mind as she hugged her friends goodbye, after they’d graduated and they were returning home. She thought of him as she boarded another plane, bound back to the bright lights of Tokyo, where she’d fallen in love with him.
She remembered him in the sights and sounds of the city, in the feeling of walking the street or entering a building. Sometimes when she lay on her bed she was convinced she could smell the scent of his hair on her pillows; and one day she visited the park where she had played as a child, and the grass she had thought of when she first saw his bright green eyes.
And one morning when she opened her door to the buzz of the doorbell, he appeared before her eyes like an apparition called up from the past.
“Thank God you still live here,” he said, forgoing any form of greeting, wringing his scarf nervously between his hands. “I thought that you might’ve moved away, it’s been so long…”
She stared at him, drank him in; he seemed tired and careworn, with dark rings around his eyes. “You came back,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “I came home,” he murmured. He moved forward, hesitantly, and reached out, laying a soft hand on her cheek. “I…couldn’t keep away.”
“You didn’t have to come all this way.” She leant into the touch of his hand. “I told you I’d come looking for you.”
He laughed softly and shook his head. “No, I wanted to come home. I’ve never felt more comfortable anywhere than here, in this city, with you.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I’ve never known any girl like you.”
She didn’t want words, though his words were beautiful. She took one step and leant upwards, gripping the lapels of his worn winter coat, disregarding her bare feet on the cold concrete to kiss him slowly, welcomingly. His arms went around her waist, and he held her close until she broke the kiss and pulled him inside.
And he stayed, and she knew he would stay. She had waited for him, while he had fluttered back and forth; and the wind had blown him back to her at last.
Re: For Your Butterfly Heart - 4/4
(Anonymous) 2013-01-29 01:19 am (UTC)(link)Re: For Your Butterfly Heart - 4/4
(Anonymous) 2013-03-01 09:34 pm (UTC)(link)That's still damn painful though, knowing from personal experience. It's cold comfort to watch someone else and letting them have their space and just hoping.
You normally don't see England characterized as a commitment-phobe but it makes quite a bit of sense. He holds people at arms-length with snark and sneers but really, he's quite the vulnerable one.