sagittariusly | for asteroidbelt

Entry tags:

for asteroidbelt

For today, just for today, Tomoko was going to wear her blue dress.

Perhaps it didn't really matter, she thought, as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. The dress's shade was a blue so deep and rich it was almost black on certain angles, yet it still felt so foreign on her skin. It was a far cry from her usual selection of clothes, which was her thought when she opened this gift from Miu. She thought she wouldn't really be wearing it anytime soon.

Tomoko thought wrong.

The doorbell rang.

She hadn't even worn her headdress yet.

But there wasn't time for that - it usually took her fifteen minutes to find the perfect spot at the side of her head for it - and she really didn't want Ryusei to wait. So Tomoko did another unexpected feat, and brushed her hair and left it free of any adornments.

She rushed to the door. Smoothing her dress and calming her suddenly-frazzled nerves, Tomoko opened the door and smiled.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Where did he put the-- oh, there it was. Tomoko shuffled closer to the bag, grabbed the extra blankets from it. She swallowed nervously, then haphazardly draped one over him. The other she draped around herself. Beneath the blankets, she hugged her knees to her person and breathed.

In the quiet of the evening, when everything was silent, Tomoko became aware that she was, in fact, tired. Exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The walk back to her house and the sprint she did inside made the muscles in her leg a bit stiff, but they were nothing compared to what she'd felt earlier this evening. But she knew all her aches would ebb away. All she'd need was time.

She wondered how much time she'd need.

Tomoko turned to him. "You should eat," she said softly. "I packed you something to eat." And, just so she'd have something to do, Tomoko reached for the bag to empty out its contents. Soon, tea, bread, even natto were laid on the blanket between them. She also took out two plates and two cups for them to use.

He'd nearly flinched when she came close to drape the blanket on him. He didn't think she'd noticed, but it was hard to tell sometimes what she noticed and didn't.

With a bit of effort, he sat up, wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, and tucked his legs under him as Tomoko took the things out of the bag. It was strange to be wearing something so formal while doing this, but it couldn't be helped; they couldn't have stayed at the restaurant. Would it have been better or worse if they'd been able to? It had been warm there, but being alone here was...nice, too. For a certain value of nice. It was private, and even though it was cold, it was kind of cozy. Wrapped in blankets, noting that Tomoko had brought natto out.

The problem was the people. The kind of person he was. Suggesting they huddle together for warmth was out of the question. He would have done it once, before. Now he just pulled the blanket tighter around him. "That's thoughtful. Thank you." He wanted to say something else, but he couldn't even look up at her properly. That was the problem with the entire scenario, that he hadn't been able to foresee. He should have. "Thank you," he repeated. "... For everything," he added quietly.

She was in the middle of pouring tea for him when she heard his words. Tomoko's hands shook; she splashed the side of Ryusei's cup and she quickly lowered the mug and used napkins to wipe it away.

He shouldn't thank her for anything. This was her thought as she shook her head at him. If anything, it was she who should be thankful that someone like him would even pay attention to an outcast like her. Tomoko knew that whenever they were seen together people wondered how and why and she knew they were thinking there must be something wrong with him, or there must be something right with her. Mostly the latter, though, so when she started college she found, to her surprise, that there were others quite willing to welcome her - especially since JK, who had always been her companion, transferred to a different school. Suddenly, even when Ryusei wasn't there for her, she wasn't always alone as she'd expected.

"You shouldn't-- there's no need to thank me for anything." Especially since it sounded so much like goodbye and she didn't want to face that yet. "Maybe I'm the one who should thank you for everything you've done. When you're Meteor... and when you're not."

She grabbed her chopsticks and toyed with the lid covering her natto. "I wonder, though - Ryusei-san, do you think... do you think if you weren't Meteor, we would have met?"

Why bring that up now? "I don't...want to think about that."

Because it wasn't about him becoming Meteor, it was about Jirou. The question became whether or not Ryusei would exchange Jirou's well-being with meeting the members of Kamen Rider Club, and that was a question Ryusei never wanted to answer. How could he? The one time he had ranked his friends.... Ryusei never again wanted to be put in a position where he was deciding or felt like he had the right to decide his friends' lives.

He did become Meteor, and he did meet Kamen Rider Club, and Jirou did get saved, and Ryusei's mistake had thankfully been reversible. Wasn't that enough? "Tomoko-chan..." He folded his hands on his lap. He didn't want to ask this. "Do you..."

He didn't want to hear that Tomoko regretted the time they'd spent together. It had ended this way, but— Tomoko couldn't have brought him here to say that, could she?

He changed the subject. "Do you...." Something safe and light. "... Did you have plans with Yuuki-kun tonight?"

She stared at him for some moments, before taking his cup and offering it to him. "Mm," she replied. "Before you called, she asked me if I wanted to go with her and Kengo-san and Gentarou-san to watch the meteor shower. I told her I would, but then I-- I changed my mind." Because Ryusei asked her out on a date. Her cheeks burned as she recalled the sound of Yuuki's laugh, though she knew her friend didn't mean anything harsh or rude with it. Yuuki was just not that type of person.

"They didn't tell me where they're going to watch, but I'm betting they're on Amanogawa. I do wonder how they're going to sneak inside."

Pause. When she spoke next, she was whispering.

"I don't regret this, Ryusei-san. You don't have to worry about that." She had called him cruel to his face, but that was her own devastated feelings talking. Now that she was becoming more aware of his feelings as well - something hard to do earlier, given what had transpired - she was beginning to understand that this wasn't just hurting her, this was hurting him as well. And more than anything, when he's hurting, her first instinct was to soothe it away.

Edited 2012-12-18 22:09 (UTC)

If it was Gentarou, he could use Net and Rocket together to—

His hand shook; he had to grab the cup with his other hand so the tea wouldn't spill. "... Nn." That was...a relief to hear.

... Change the subject.

"Yuuki-kun called me, too." Yuuki might have sensed that something was wrong; he'd had to pause for a second to think up an excuse. She'd seemed cheerful enough when she hung up, so maybe not. Speaking of which.... He glanced up. "It's starting."

Tomoko glanced up, and for a moment all she could think of to say was, "...Oh!"

It started as a single streak crossing the darkened sky - and then another appeared, and then another, and then another. Tomoko sighed, then chose to lie on her back in order to have a better view. She sighed happily. Ever since becoming a member of the Kamen Rider Club, Tomoko discovered that she did, in fact, love all things related to space. Maybe not to the same degree as Gentarou, Kengo, and Yuuki did, but her appreciation of it was probably deeper than most. Perhaps it also helped that her favorite Kamen Rider was aptly named Meteor--

...yes, well.

"Ryusei-san, did you know that there are beliefs about meteor showers being a salute from God for the death of some famous people?" This was probably easier to talk about - something that was far from their situation, but interesting and related enough. "Some didn't have a positive look at them, though - they thought meteor showers are God's wrath raining down on Earth." Her lips curved. "If it's true, maybe we're in danger of dying where we are."

There were three seconds of silence, before Tomoko reached for one of the jars to take out her white snake skin. Then, just to be on the safe side, she shook it vigorously while looking upwards.

Edited 2012-12-19 12:35 (UTC)

Ryusei put the cup down and lay down where he was, which was a little suboptimal because he'd scooted closer to Tomoko for the tea. He didn't want to move over, either, though.

"We won't die." But where they were now, it did seem like a special send-off for the two of them. ... What a sentimental thought. Harmless, though; he could indulge in it. There was something a little sad about it—those stars had already started falling long before this phenomena became visible, so many years later. It was only the effects that were being observed tonight. Sort of like—

Happy thoughts.

"At least there's someone to mourn their—the stars'—passing." No, that was too morbid. But more importantly— "What are you doing?"

"Shh," she said, stopping momentarily from shaking her snake skin. "I'm warding off evil and unwanted energy from around us. We'll never know if these old beliefs are based on some grains of truth."

Plus, this was also to ensure that nothing but good vibes would come their way. With what was coming later on, Tomoko knew they'd need all the positive energy she could generate.

She reached for the rabbit's foot and handed it to him. "Do what I do, all right? Just shake it as hard as you can and say to yourself, 'happy thoughts'."

"Okay," he said tentatively, taking the rabbit's foot. What sort of happy thoughts could he think of? He'd tried, a second ago, and it had only come out morbid. ... He'd just wave it around and pretend. Think on his happy memories, maybe.

"Does it have to be personal?" Asking about how this stuff worked was probably not a good idea, but if only for a moment, he wanted to believe in it, a little. Tomoko should be happy. And he'd punch anyone (any man, or anyone, or any...lover) who made her cry in the future, but he couldn't. So he had to settle. And he didn't want any generic happiness for her, either. But what did he know about what would make her happiest? That was up to her. "... What are you thinking about?"

...happy thoughts. She couldn't tell him that she was mostly thinking of the times they spent together, could she? That she thought of the moments when it was only the two of them. That would probably somber the mood and she didn't want this to be any bleaker than it already was.

"Remember the dinners we have with Gentarou-san's grandfather?" she said. "Or the times we were invited by Yuuki-san's parents. We had to dress up a lot for them." Good thing Yuuki had a lot of extra costumes by then, so Tomoko only needed to borrow from her.

"Un." Then he'd think of his memories as well.

Come to think of it, should he risk ruining this positivity mood? There wasn't going to be any better time to do this.... He pulled the jewelry box out of his pocket. He didn't even know if she'd like it—she probably already owned a bracelet set with blue rhinestones (girls owned that kind of thing, right?) and it was probably boring to her tastes even if the rhinestones were placed on a scorpion design. But he'd thought of her when he saw it; he'd picked it up on a whim more than a week ago and had been waiting for a good time. They weren't... They'd never quite acknowledged what they had, so gifts of jewelry had never seemed appropriate.

It was still inappropriate. They'd never dated, so what they'd done right now couldn't be called 'breaking up.' Even so. "Tomoko-chan...." He held up the box, waved it in her general direction without looking at her. This... This was not a good idea. "I wanted you to have this."

He shouldn't hold his breath. But 'should' and 'able to' were different things.

She turned her head towards him and froze. Was that--? Slowly Tomoko pushed herself up into a sitting position, still staring at the box in his hand. Then she transferred her gaze at him, found him not looking at her. "Ryusei-san..." Look at me. She abandoned the white snake skin on the blanket beside her and clasped her hands together, feeling quite unable to reach forward to get it from him. "But... why?"

Wasn't it obvious? Hesitantly, he sat up, putting the box down on the blanket between them. "Before all this happened," he started.

Maybe he'd secretly wanted to make a good impression. He didn't really know; he'd never examined his feelings for Tomoko very closely. He'd always been content to let it happen if it happened. It was frighteningly spontaneous whenever anything did strike him, but until now nothing had ever ended up badly. It still hadn't ended up badly; they'd ended up here not because of anything to do with the not-relationship but because Ryusei had chosen something over it.

So even though it was a bad idea, he'd still been willing to do it. But he couldn't take it back now. "I won't give it to anyone else. It's for you only, so...." He trailed off, embarrassed by what he was saying.

There was a tightening in her chest again, and her throat hurt just for looking at the box, and at him. Tomoko wanted to say she didn't want anything from him - though that was a lie because what she wanted from him was his presence in her life after today and he couldn't give that to her, could he? And she wouldn't ask it from him, no matter how much she wanted to, just to see how he'd react. And yet she knew he'd already made a decision, knew that if she asked him to stay, she'd only get hurt if he said no. When he said no.

She reached for the box, and with trembling fingers opened it. And inside was--

"It's--" Tomoko lifted the bracelet from the box as though it was the most precious thing in the world, and right now, to her, it was. "It's so beautiful."

She laid it on her palm, felt tears clouding her vision again. It was coming, wasn't it? His goodbye. He was going to say goodbye to her under a meteor shower and it would be the most painful thing in the world.

Tomoko clutched the bracelet to her chest. "Thank you. I--I'll wear it everyday."

He'd done it again. He'd made her cry again. "Tomoko-chan...."

He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't do this. He leaned forward, and wrapped his arms around her. This made it hard. He'd just made it harder. He drew away almost immediately.

"H-Happy thoughts," he reminded her. He was still holding the rabbit's foot in his other hand; he put it aside to tentatively take the bracelet and clasp it around her wrist.

Vainly, she tried to hold back her tears. The hug had shocked her; it hadn't lasted long but it didn't matter as its impact had been the same. And now he was putting the bracelet he bought for her on her wrist, and Tomoko couldn't look away.

She supposed it ought to be romantic. It must be, to anyone who wasn't the two of them. Vaguely, she wondered if Yuuki and JK would notice anything different tomorrow.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I... didn't get you anything." How could she? She didn't know. Tomoko had no inkling that tonight was--

So much for her sharp senses.

He lay back down. "... Don't worry about it," he said. What else could he say to that? He'd run out of things to say to reassure her. He'd run out of things he said to himself to reassure himself, too. He was only grateful that she hadn't pulled away.

But if he stayed any longer, he'd do something he'd really regret. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then sat up again. "Tomoko-chan, I have to...."

He had to cut short their time together. They had about an hour left, but he couldn't keep going like this, pretend they still had— He just kept making it harder for himself. He couldn't imagine what it was like for her. He had to be considerate of her feelings. Look, he'd just made her cry again. "I have to go."

Go. It was such a loaded word. Because going didn't mean he would just go home, and show up the next day-- going, for now, meant he had to disappear. Possibly for a long time. Possibly forever.

Tomoko bit her lip. She couldn't-- oh, she couldn't say goodbye to him. She couldn't say anything, or else she would just burst.

Numbly, she reached for the rabbit's foot, placed in a jar. Then she took out lizard's tail, bat wing, butterfly antennae, and the white snake skin she'd so carefully kept all these years, and placed it in the same jar as well. A morbid concoction, maybe, but she knew Ryusei understood and that he knew this was who she was. Perhaps he knew this was her own way of saying goodbye. Her own way of making sure he didn't forget her. If, by some lucky chance he didn't lose the jar anywhere, then maybe he'd even come back.

"Take care," she said softly, moving the jar closer to him. "Please--" come back to me. "--stay safe." Pause. "And, and if you can... write to me?"

"I can't. I'm sorry." He wasn't sure he was allowed to take something like this jar, either, but he was already thinking of ways to stick it into his bag so that it wouldn't be noticed if anyone checked.

He got up, took the blanket from his shoulders and moved to drape it around hers. "Thank you for tonight," he said.

He had to leave now, immediately, or he'd linger. He felt like he should say something final. He'd already said good-bye so many times tonight; surely there was something stronger he could say to convey his feelings. The only phrase he could think of was very unfair. That and he'd already said it.

He shouldn't linger. He turned and started walking quickly to his bike. Don't look back. Don't look back.

Tomoko felt as if she should say something. But she'd forbidden him from saying the words even if he would only be voicing what she felt for him. She wondered why she never said anything earlier. Would it have changed anything if she did?

She felt as if she should do something. Maybe run up to him. Hug him. Even kiss him goodbye. But that would make it harder, wouldn't it? Because she wasn't sure if she could let him go, and she knew she had to. This was his decision, and there was nothing she could do to change his mind. Nothing she could do to make him stay.

He forced her to let him go, and a part of her knew it was understandable if she were to hate him. If she were to think of him as the one who hurt her. The one who left.

But she couldn't.

She wouldn't.

Tomoko looked up, saw the last traces of the meteor shower streaking across the sky. Then, it was gone, and the sky seemed all the more dark and bleak without the storm of light. It looked sadder as well. Emptier.

She glanced behind her, found that she was alone. Finally, finally alone. She drew her knees to her chest, bowed her head, and sobbed. It would be a good thirty minutes before she could draw enough strength in her bones to pick up after herself and go home.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

for asteroidbelt

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject