[ dn angel ] how the heart bends.
how the heart bends
(satoshi/risa, dark/risa.) there should be how-to guide on moving on.
One day he just disappears.
Just-
No letters, no notes promising another successful robbery, no more rides on ferris wheels, no more meetings in the night, no more anything; just the legend he left behind with the anticipation of his return. All she has left of him is one note and her memories, and even those are fading. How long until she forgets the sound of his voice? How long until she forgets his face? How long until she forgets how to love him?
She steals a journal from a convenience store. The rush floods her head and her fingers quiver as she stuffs it inside her bag. Risa pauses just before she crosses the threshold and-
-and nothing.
“Close the curtains, Risa,” her sister yawns from the bed next to hers, stretching languidly and rubbing her eyes. Riku tries to understand, tries to tell her that you’ll get over that pervert, just a boy, don’t worry but what she doesn’t understand is that Risa doesn’t want to get over him. She never wants to.
Risa curls her fingers around the drapery and stares out the window, out at the night, trying to make out silhouettes with her eyes.
“Risa.”
“I know,” she says, and draws the curtains together.
She leaves the window open.
Hiwatari knows something.
She can see it in the way his expression slips sometimes and he looks a breath away from disappearing. Almost as if he would just stop existing. He looks like he wants to. She isn’t the only one who lost Dark.
So when graduation rolls around and leaves them breathless and independent and frightened, Riku turns to Daisuke, Daisuke turns to Riku, and Risa-
Risa walks up to Satoshi and drags him along for food.
“Harada-san, why are we here?”
“Because I’m hungry, obviously. And you’re hungry too, don’t deny it.”
“But-”
“Oh, and I got my first pay check last week, so we’re totally splitting the price.”
“Harada-”
“Please,” she whispers, just that one word, and he stares at her for a long time before finally looking down at the menu. He can pity her, sympathise with her, mock her in his mind, she doesn’t care, but he is her one connection to Dark-and the only one who will understand.
“I suppose this is better than eating your food,” he says distantly. She’s surprised he can remember that far back.
For a moment, she forgets how to be normal. She forgets how to respond to an innocent jibe. She forgets how to speak, how to have a conversation. After Dark disappeared, an invisible sort of melancholy had fallen over them all, and she missed having this kind of banter. “I suppose it probably is,” she says awkwardly, with a self-deprecating smile and laugh.
“I was joking, Harada-san,” he says after a moment, glancing up at her.
“Ah… I knew that.”
She doesn’t want to move. And it’s more than just leaving behind her childhood home, more than just moving on to university and living alone. It’s just that-that Dark won’t know where she is, anymore, if she leaves. If he ever comes back, how will he find her?
There should be a how-to guide on moving on. It’s as if the past has swallowed her whole, trapped her within its clutches and keeps her captive. The term moving on never touches her, never gets near her, because it can’t; not while she doesn’t want to.
Nostalgia is a cruel thing, Risa thinks, for making her relive her memories and second-guess every decision she’s made.
Risa starts calling him Satoshi, first names and familiarity, and she knows it startles him but he doesn’t object.
But he will never call her Risa. Just Harada-san.
Risa catches him staring at her. Her lips curve into a smile at how he clears his throat and looks pointedly away, but his eyes follow the movement of her mouth. She reaches around him for the magazine on the table, and then his eyes are on hers again, calm and steady and determined, and her gaze darts down to his lips, and-and she isn’t ready for this.
She’s the first to look away.
They never talk about Dark. It’s an unspoken rule between them, a boundary that neither of them want to break. They toe the line, at times (screw the rules and boundaries, I love Dark but that isn’t a secret, we are what we are, you knew him better than I, did you know that?) but they never cross it.
One day, she says, “Imagine a young girl. This magical, handsome man with wings appears before her like an angel. He shows the entire world before her, makes her reach farther than the sky. Can you imagine what that would do to her?”
“I don’t have to,” Satoshi says quietly.
“You can’t go saying things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like-like what you said. You just-you can’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because it’s a lie. Because you don’t love me.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t-I can’t love you.”
“I know.”
You don’t get to want me because I’m the only one left, she wants to say. It’s unfair. But she remains silent, the guilt kicking her in the back of her throat, bile rising in her mouth. He knows, and he’s the only one that does.
This is her home now. Plain white walls, red drapes, coffee table, one sofa and a television in the corner. Satoshi moves in. He doesn’t comment on the tasteless food or her obsession with cleaning all the time, or her nightly ritual of staring out the window before going to bed. She doesn’t comment on why he insisted on moving into her apartment when his was much bigger. There are some secrets that need to be kept.
“You all right?”
“Yes,” Risa says, after a pause.
She looks back. Satoshi stares at her steadily before nodding once and then lying back, tugging up the covers.
Risa closes the window. But she doesn’t lock it.
(satoshi/risa, dark/risa.) there should be how-to guide on moving on.
One day he just disappears.
Just-
No letters, no notes promising another successful robbery, no more rides on ferris wheels, no more meetings in the night, no more anything; just the legend he left behind with the anticipation of his return. All she has left of him is one note and her memories, and even those are fading. How long until she forgets the sound of his voice? How long until she forgets his face? How long until she forgets how to love him?
She steals a journal from a convenience store. The rush floods her head and her fingers quiver as she stuffs it inside her bag. Risa pauses just before she crosses the threshold and-
-and nothing.
“Close the curtains, Risa,” her sister yawns from the bed next to hers, stretching languidly and rubbing her eyes. Riku tries to understand, tries to tell her that you’ll get over that pervert, just a boy, don’t worry but what she doesn’t understand is that Risa doesn’t want to get over him. She never wants to.
Risa curls her fingers around the drapery and stares out the window, out at the night, trying to make out silhouettes with her eyes.
“Risa.”
“I know,” she says, and draws the curtains together.
She leaves the window open.
Hiwatari knows something.
She can see it in the way his expression slips sometimes and he looks a breath away from disappearing. Almost as if he would just stop existing. He looks like he wants to. She isn’t the only one who lost Dark.
So when graduation rolls around and leaves them breathless and independent and frightened, Riku turns to Daisuke, Daisuke turns to Riku, and Risa-
Risa walks up to Satoshi and drags him along for food.
“Harada-san, why are we here?”
“Because I’m hungry, obviously. And you’re hungry too, don’t deny it.”
“But-”
“Oh, and I got my first pay check last week, so we’re totally splitting the price.”
“Harada-”
“Please,” she whispers, just that one word, and he stares at her for a long time before finally looking down at the menu. He can pity her, sympathise with her, mock her in his mind, she doesn’t care, but he is her one connection to Dark-and the only one who will understand.
“I suppose this is better than eating your food,” he says distantly. She’s surprised he can remember that far back.
For a moment, she forgets how to be normal. She forgets how to respond to an innocent jibe. She forgets how to speak, how to have a conversation. After Dark disappeared, an invisible sort of melancholy had fallen over them all, and she missed having this kind of banter. “I suppose it probably is,” she says awkwardly, with a self-deprecating smile and laugh.
“I was joking, Harada-san,” he says after a moment, glancing up at her.
“Ah… I knew that.”
She doesn’t want to move. And it’s more than just leaving behind her childhood home, more than just moving on to university and living alone. It’s just that-that Dark won’t know where she is, anymore, if she leaves. If he ever comes back, how will he find her?
There should be a how-to guide on moving on. It’s as if the past has swallowed her whole, trapped her within its clutches and keeps her captive. The term moving on never touches her, never gets near her, because it can’t; not while she doesn’t want to.
Nostalgia is a cruel thing, Risa thinks, for making her relive her memories and second-guess every decision she’s made.
Risa starts calling him Satoshi, first names and familiarity, and she knows it startles him but he doesn’t object.
But he will never call her Risa. Just Harada-san.
Risa catches him staring at her. Her lips curve into a smile at how he clears his throat and looks pointedly away, but his eyes follow the movement of her mouth. She reaches around him for the magazine on the table, and then his eyes are on hers again, calm and steady and determined, and her gaze darts down to his lips, and-and she isn’t ready for this.
She’s the first to look away.
They never talk about Dark. It’s an unspoken rule between them, a boundary that neither of them want to break. They toe the line, at times (screw the rules and boundaries, I love Dark but that isn’t a secret, we are what we are, you knew him better than I, did you know that?) but they never cross it.
One day, she says, “Imagine a young girl. This magical, handsome man with wings appears before her like an angel. He shows the entire world before her, makes her reach farther than the sky. Can you imagine what that would do to her?”
“I don’t have to,” Satoshi says quietly.
“You can’t go saying things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like-like what you said. You just-you can’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because it’s a lie. Because you don’t love me.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t-I can’t love you.”
“I know.”
You don’t get to want me because I’m the only one left, she wants to say. It’s unfair. But she remains silent, the guilt kicking her in the back of her throat, bile rising in her mouth. He knows, and he’s the only one that does.
This is her home now. Plain white walls, red drapes, coffee table, one sofa and a television in the corner. Satoshi moves in. He doesn’t comment on the tasteless food or her obsession with cleaning all the time, or her nightly ritual of staring out the window before going to bed. She doesn’t comment on why he insisted on moving into her apartment when his was much bigger. There are some secrets that need to be kept.
“You all right?”
“Yes,” Risa says, after a pause.
She looks back. Satoshi stares at her steadily before nodding once and then lying back, tugging up the covers.
Risa closes the window. But she doesn’t lock it.