[Arashi Fanfic] Blue - Chapter 19
Through the sheer white curtains, rays of early sunshine beamed through, casting a soft golden glow on the two figures in the bed.
In her sleep, Yuuki sighed, and unconsciously snuggled closer to Aiba. His arms instinctively tightened around her; his nose burrowed itself deeper into her hair. The scent of her floral shampoo gently reminded him of his whereabouts; he stirred, and woke up, more aware than ever of the figure cradled in his arms.
Yuuki.
He never realised how fragile, how delicate she really was, beneath her seemingly strong exterior; she was like a glass sculpture, hard to the touch but easily broken. And no matter how well the pieces were placed back together, the marks will always remain, as proof of his actions.
Yet, ironically, peace was what he felt, as he watched her sleep in his arms. The peaceful, tranquil joy from knowing that his one love was sleeping in his arms. A fragile moment that would be broken by any movement from him, and possibly won't happen again.
Regret scorched its mark on Aiba's mind, as he drifted back into an uneasy sleep.
A faint but familiar scent of soap and musk entered her nostrils, as she burrowed deeper into the embrace.
Embrace?
Her eyes shot open at once; they were greeted by the sight of a man's chest, covered by a ribbed white singlet. She felt his arms around her waist, his hands cradling the small of her back. Immediately Yuuki's mind reeled. She lived alone: there shouldn't be anyone else in her apartment, let alone in her bed, and holding her. Did she get that wasted last night?
Panicking slightly, she looked around as much as possible, without disturbing the other being in her bed. The covers were familiar-they were hers. She breathed a small sigh of relief.
At least she wasn't in some stranger's home.
Then she noticed where her hands were: clutching his top tightly in her fists. And they didn't want to let go.
Why?
She looked up; and was greeted by his familiar face. Perhaps she should have been surprised, yet somehow she wasn't. She was supposed to scramble out of his arms, and evict him from her apartment; yet she didn't want to leave his embrace. At all. In fact, she finally realised how much she missed being in his arms. How much she wanted him. How much she loved him, still.
But in his arms was not a place she should remain. Slowly and carefully, she loosened her grip on his tank top, wriggled out of his hold, and tiptoed her way to the bathroom.
Feeling the cold water splashing on her face was the wakeup call Yuuki sought, as she tried to recollect last night's events. The task was made more difficult by her painful hangover: her brain felt swollen, and ready to implode, each and every thought only made things worse.
She saw Aiba outside the apartment block. She then went to a bar. Drinks were ordered. Lots of drinks.
Then things got fuzzy.
She remembered staring at her phone, and wanting to call someone-anyone. Did she call Hisako? She couldn't remember. But she did remember seeing Aiba's face, and thinking that Hisako had an uchiwa with her as a joke or something.
Aiba.
If she had called Hisako, why would her best friend show up with an uchiwa? It made no sense. Hisako would've showed up, and dragged her home. But Yuuki had no recollection of seeing her friend's face. The only face she remembered seeing... was Aiba's.
Staring into the mirror, Yuuki saw that she was still in her work clothes. Her hair, unsurprisingly, was quite disheveled. But what surprised her was her face. How much her cheeks had sunken. The bloodshot eyes. And the faint trace of a smile on her face.
Wet, cold fingertips trickled up to her face, and lightly danced over her lips. Her throat constricted as she realised just what she was feeling. The emotion she hadn't experienced for so long. Something she thought she would never feel again.
Happiness.
Yet it was a bittersweet sensation. Overarching this happiness was the fear of its brevity; that once she got used to the feeling, it would escape her, flow from her fingers like unstoppable water. The only thing she could be sure of was unending suffering, something she had started to get used to, and preferred that certainty over a fleeting momentary change.
Her headache returning, Yuuki quickly grabbed a new toothbrush and a fresh towel, set both on the vanity, and went into the kitchen in search of food and water.
When Aiba opened his eyes again, Yuuki was no longer in his arms. The bedroom door was now closed, though sounds of pots and pans still muffled through. The alarm clock on the bedside table pointed to 10am; time he left the apartment and headed back to his own life.
Still, reality awaited. He wasn't looking forward to the morning after, but it was something he needed to face, once and for all. Things needed to come to an end, though the end that he anticipated was not the one he wanted.
Opening the door, Aiba walked out of the bedroom, and was greeted by Yuuki's voice.
"There's a towel and toothbrush on the vanity." Her tone was clinical, almost robotic. "Breakfast will be done in a minute."
She didn't even cast a glance in his direction; her manner was civil, but showed no trace of the former familiarity they shared. The harsh reality of what transpired between them returned relentlessly; there was little chance of the situation turning back to the way it once was. But a part of him didn't want things to end. He wanted something to connect his life with Yuuki's, selfish as it may seem and be. He wanted one more chance, one last chance, even though that was probably the last thing he deserved. Sighing, he went into the bathroom: if he was going to sort things out, he might as well do that with a clean and fresh face.
But the heaviness in his heart could not be washed away, not so easily. Walking out of the bathroom, he watched silently as Yuuki brought out two large mugs of coffee, and set it on the small round dining table. Had this been four months ago, Aiba would have felt on top of the world; but it wasn't, and all his heart was filled with was the utmost sense of guilt and regret.
"Yuuki-chan… I think we should talk."
Knowing that her new short hair could not hide her face, Yuuki turned her head to hide her expression from his view.
"If it's about what I said last night, it had nothing to do with you, Aiba-san."
"Aiba…san?" The words pierced through, each a sharp needle stabbing his dignity and heart. "Yuuki-chan… when did we become so distant?"
When you cut off all contact with me! Yuuki's mind screamed, but her mouth silent.
"Gomen ne Yuuki…" Aiba apologised earnestly, "Your pain, it was all my doing. I'm responsible for everything that happened-"
"Don't think so highly of yourself, Aiba Masaki." Yuuki cut him off icily.
Surprised, Aiba was taken aback by the sudden shift in her tone. "Yuuki-chan…"
"I'm not asking you to take responsibility for what happened in any way," Yuuki said, her tone softening a little. "I mean, it's the twenty-first century; we're grown adults and free to do whatever we want. And if that means you prefer to be with someone else, or alone, I'm fine with that. I can live with that. And I'll deal with it. There's no need to force yourself to be with me just because-"
A strong pair of arms hugged her from behind, the contact surprising Yuuki.
"It was you all along, Yuuki-chan. It was always you. And it's always been you," Aiba whispered, his voice full of emotion. "I want to be with you because I love you."
She felt his warm breath against her ear, the words causing tears to stream down Yuuki's face almost immediately. "But what if …what if I don't love you? Will you let me go?"
He spun her around, so that they faced each other, his gaze piercing through her. "If you can look me in the eye and say it, then yes."
"I… " Yuuki felt her chest constrict painfully. "I don't…"
She couldn't say it; the words refused to come out. Not while she was in his arms, not while looking into his desperate, fearful, loving eyes. No matter how hard she tried, the words refused to come out: because it would be a lie. She didn't want him to let her go. She didn't hate him, not a single bit.
She was still in love with him.
The realisation didn't surprise Yuuki: it was merely acknowledging, finally, what she truly felt. Yet there was still a void in her heart and mind, a black hole that sucked all feelings of happiness and hope from her soul, leaving behind only fear, and panic, and desperation.
Tears fell, one by one, leaving their watery trails on Yuuki's ash-white cheeks. Aiba pulled her into his embrace, pressing her face into his chest. She resisted, at first; her fists punched his shoulders in protest, but that only made Aiba tighten his hold. Finally she relented; her fists uncurled and her hands rested on Aiba's shoulders, for physical and, in a way, mental support. Her sobs crescendoed, as each painful memory came back: the loneliness, the fear, the vacuum that had consumed her from not knowing but not daring to search for the truth… and the sheer and utter pain of losing someone and something precious. Each tear that fell seared like a red-hot spike on Aiba's skin, burning right to the depths of his heart.
Yuuki hated herself: this blatant display of her weakness, the relegation on her determined will. It was not supposed to be so: she had been so resolute on her own position, on her game plan, on her battle strategy; that she would be out of his life, as he was out of hers, and they would have nothing more to do with each other. Yet her determination, her world, those careful walls she thought she had constructed so carefully, came tumbling down the moment she rested her eyes on him again, proving once again just how fragile her bubble really was.
"Why do you have to make things so hard, Aiba Masaki? Why?" She sobbed painfully. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
No words came out of Aiba; he merely tightened his hold.
"You bastard. Jerk. Moron. Idiot." Each word Yuuki spoke, she punctuated with a punch on his shoulder. Though they were soft, and not at all painful, they fell like rocks upon a still lake; the ripples resonated and amplified the pain and bitterness in Aiba's heart.
Perhaps it was time. Time to stop picking at old wounds, and time to recognise the past and acknowledge the consequences his actions-and inactions-held. The past few months only proved how much he didn't deserve Yuuki; in return for her love, her affection, her attention, he gave her pain, suffering and injuries… she didn't deserve any of it. He didn't deserve to love anyone. Nor could he forgive himself for what he had done. If this was the way he loved, then it was better for him not to love at all. Perhaps, it was time to let her go.
"Why can't I let you go? Why are you making it so hard for me to let go?"
Her words, nothing more than a whisper, stunned him. They came suddenly, just when he had lost all hopes of reconciliation and rectification, when he thought he could follow her wishes and no longer be a part of her life. It was what she wanted…wasn't it?
"Why did you leave me all alone when I needed you most?!" She screamed, her previous anger, frustration and fear returning, as she felt her heart and soul being shattered once again. "Nande…"
"Gomen…" Aiba cradled her wet face in his palms, and tried to wipe away the traces left behind by her tears. "Hontouni…gomen…"
He didn't know what else to say. Or whether he could say anything else. He had hurt her, scarred her, then reopened the wounds, stinging them with salt; yet deep in his heart, his mind, his soul, there still remained a flicker of hope that she will forgive him, that she will return to his side, that she still, perhaps…
Her watery eyes turned up, when she felt the first of many of his tears on her hair. Her hand reached up, unconsciously, and mirroring his actions a moment ago, her thumb tried to remove the watery trails. It did nothing to stop the tears. Instinctively, impulsively, her arms curled around his neck, she leaned up and kissed him.
It seemed have surprised them both. But was probably the best action she had ever taken on impulse. The contact reawakened emotions that had lay buried under guilt, the feelings that were previously suppressed by uncertainty. She had been too cautious, and doubted too much. She had thought, up to that point, she knew just what she wanted; but it was all just a silly attempt at fooling herself. Of course she would fail miserably. It was inevitable that she would have to be honest to herself. And a matter of time before she realised what she truly desired. And the answer was right before her eyes. Only she was much too blinded by her insecurities, her fears, and lack of confidence to see it. He, on the other hand, hid behind his shame and self-humiliation that followed the exposure of his wrongdoings. It was a betrayal, certainly: one that had tested most strenuously the limits of their tolerance; but it also indicated the depths of their love. How important they were to each other. How much the relationship meant to their lives.
And how wrong they had been.