Okay. So I haven't written anything angsty in like forever, but it's my baby Taka's first birthday today (Taka is my oh so wonderful and sassy laptop), and since she was named after the equally wonderful and sassy Takako Chigusa from Battle Royale, I thought I'd give writing a shot once again.
Warning: Unbeta-ed, with glaring tense-related errors, because I'm lazy to proofread my own work. Bite me.
The first time it happened, it only lasted for two hours.
She never even saw it coming. One minute she was throwing a litany of curses at him, foul curses that no sixteen-year-old girl should know, and the next minute he had her pinned against the wall, kissing her senseless. She never even got the chance to react properly. He was gone before her brain could properly comprehend what had just happened.
Two hours later, she found him standing in front of her locker, three small buds of pink roses in his right hand. She still could not explain what had come over her, but the minute she saw him smiling that unusually shy, uncertain smile of his, she walked over to where he was and returned the kiss he stole earlier that day.
The second time around, it took him two days.
They had a stupid argument about his inability to not be a chick magnet, as if it was his fault that girls swoon whenever he passed by. She accused him of being a manwhore (but it was really just jealousy getting the best of her), and told him to screw Mitsuko Souma for all she cared, since they were both sluts anyway.
The next day, she saw hardcore Souma flirting with him, and it took all of her willpower not to march over to where they were and scratch Mitsuko’s eyes out. Instead, she grabbed Hiroki, who was the nearest person to her (thankfully), and dragged him out of the classroom, in the false pretense that she needed something to drink.
After two days, she found him with three small buds of white roses in his right hand, waiting for her outside the track and field common room. She had wanted to smack him hard on the head, but for some weird reason, she allowed him to apologize, and to explain that nothing had happened between him and Shiroiwa’s infamous whore (he didn’t want to risk getting STDs anyway, but that’s beside the point), and wonder of all wonders, she actually forgave him.
It took him two weeks to come back to her the next time.
They were fresh out of high school and in their third week of college, and she felt him slipping away. She wasn’t too surprised; she knew that college was a different environment, and it was only natural for someone like Shinji Mimura to want to take a look-see if he had other options. She broke up with him, told him that she’s setting him free, so that he wouldn’t have to feel guilty in the event that he set his eyes on someone he thought was more worthy of his time.
Two weeks later, she found him waiting outside her Math classroom, with three small buds of red roses in his right hand. He told her that he tried, oh he tried looking at other girls—other more pleasant, less aggressive, less sadistic girls—but he could see her face in each and every one of them, could hear her voice in each and every laugh. She threw her arms around him and apologized for breaking his heart.
The fourth time, it lasted for two months.
They were in their third year in college, and he asked some time to cool off, to sort out things, and she let him go, not wanting to suffocate him. A few days after that, he came back to her and told her he would like to date someone else, if she would allow it. She told him she wasn’t his mother, and he could go screw anyone for all she cared. She was hurting inside, but she’ll be damned if she would show how vulnerable she was at that point.
She was walking home with Hiroki when she saw them—him and Chisato Matsui—holding hands, like they were the happiest couple in the world. She felt her heart constrict, and Hiroki had to support her to the nearest bench, because she suddenly felt her knees give way, and only Hiroki’s strong arms prevented her from crashing down the cold university sidewalk. It took her two hours of nonstop crying on Hiroki’s shoulder before she finally had the strength to curse Shinji Mimura to death.
On the second month, she found him with half a dozen peach tulips, standing in front of her house’s gate. At first she tried to ignore him, walked right past him and fumbled with her keys, but when she dropped the whole bunch and he had to pick it up for her, she knew she was done for. Minutes later, she found herself nestled in his arms, cursing him for leaving her and then coming back and why oh why won’t you let me move on for real?
It was two years after that.
Fresh out of college, he got a job offer out of the country. He made no promises, and she expected none. She went with him to the airport, kissed him goodbye, and told him to have a safe trip and a happy life abroad. He didn’t tell her that he’ll be back, or asked her to wait for him. He simply kissed her a second time, thanked her for being just the way she was, and reminded her not to start fights that might land her in jail.
They kept in touch for the first few months, and then the calls became less and less, the emails got fewer, until all communication stopped. She waited for another six months before she told herself that she had to move on, because he was not coming back this time. She needed to spread her wings and fly, just like he had.
Two years later there was a knock on her door, and she left what she was cooking in the kitchen to see who it was. There he was, standing in her doorway, with a bouquet of white tulips and the happiest smile on his face. Tears fell down her eyes, and he thought they were tears of joy. It was only when Hiroki appeared from behind her, carrying a little bundle of a baby girl in his arms, that he understood what the tears were for. Hiroki seemed happy enough to see him, even invited him inside the house, but he felt it was too awkward, and declined the invitation, and instead handed over the bouquet to her and wished them all the happiness in the world.
She cried to sleep that night, Hiroki holding her close. He wasn’t accusing, because he knew their history, knew of their past, knew that Shinji Mimura will always hold a special place in her heart. The following day, she cooked her husband a hefty breakfast, apologized for the way she had acted the previous day, and promised that she will never be affected by his appearance again. She had chosen him, and that was all Hiroki needed to hear.
The last time it happened, two decades had passed.
She was past her prime, with two grown up children, and a deceased husband who succumbed to cancer five years past. She was content, and had accepted everything that had happened in her life, believed that everything happened for a reason, and that the lessons she learned along the way helped shape who she was today.
She found him in front of Hiroki’s grave when she drove over for her regular visit, with a bouquet of red and pink carnations in his arms. He turned around when he felt her approach, and smiled that charming smile of his. She smiled back and walked over to where he was, and they both looked at Hiroki’s tombstone, both of the mourning the loss of such a wonderful man. A few minutes later, he placed the bouquet on top of Hiroki’s grave, and gently took her wrinkled but still firm hand. They said no word, but as they walked away from the cemetery, hand in hand, they both felt that everything was finally in its proper place, that there would no longer be any throwing and catching to do.
The boomerang had finally found its way home.
END
