✍🏻See You Again

17 🫐 Chapter 17

When we get home I sink down on the sofa and pull a pillow on my lap, not knowing what to do with my hands, my body, or my life. Yuzuru sits down next to me and doesn't say anything, just holds my hand and joins me in staring at the dark TV. I don't know how long we're like that but when he shifts in his spot and takes the pillow from me, I finally look up at him. His eyes are teary and so visibly sad that it makes me wonder how much he knows, but mostly why it's not me who's crying. He puts the pillow on his thighs and scoots away a little, patting the soft cushion to give an explanation in response to my puzzled look. I don't need to be prompted twice and let my head drop on the pillow, curling into a ball and resuming staring blankly into the void of my living room.

I clear my throat to speak but my voice still comes out raspy as if I haven't talked for years. "How much do you know?"

"Quite a bit. I think," he replies with an equally strangled tone. "When you ran away Marco went back inside and everyone started to ask him what happened. He ignored them but told Brian and Tracy that he'll speak with them later." I recall how everyone gathered in the hallway and watched the scene of my pathetic life falling apart but to my surprise, I don't feel even a hint of embarrassment over what state they witnessed me in. Probably for the first time ever, not giving a shit about what people think of me or of my behavior. "He went straight to me and asked if I could come with him to find you and get you home."

"You understood his English?"

"No," he replies with a weary chuckle and starts gently pulling on the elastic band holding my ponytail together. I frown and stiffen a little, waiting for him to finish whatever plan he has. Once the hair comes loose he starts combing it with his fingers and the tender movement is so soothing I soon relax while he resumes speaking again. "I figured it must be something serious, so in the car, I called my translator and Marco was telling her what happened while she translated."

"Hm, makes sense," I hum and close my eyes, glad that Marco was considerate enough to pick Yuzuru and not Nam or worse, himself.

"It doesn't though," Yuzuru says and his fingers in my hair stop moving, "I don't get why you guys can't go to these or the next Olympics. Nobu also competed even though his wife had children and--"

"Marco isn't like that," I breathe out, never expecting that what I admired about Marco the most will also be what ends my hopes and dreams. "He has his principles and that's something he'll never break."

"But--"

"There's no point, Yuzu."

"What if--"

"Leave it be."

He inhales to say something more but I turn on my back, staring up at him with a warning frown and he nods, closing his mouth. His hand comes to my forehead and starts brushing my hair back while I shut my eyes tight, wishing to cry it all out and let it take away the heavy weight on my chest but not a single tear comes to the rescue. Eventually, I turn to the side again, drawn to the view of the emptiness of the room and wishing it could swallow me whole.

When I wake up it's already morning, the faint sun rays are hitting the floor of the living room and I first register the shallow puffs of air landing on my back before I see Yuzuru's arm with his multiple bracelets draped over me. I don't remember when I fell asleep or how I got into this position but I'm reluctant to move from the warmth of his body that's enveloping me better than the blanket that's thrown over us. I cautiously roll around not to wake him up and end up face-to-face with him, suppressing a giggle. His hair is sticking up in all directions, giving the impression he changed his sleeping position multiple times throughout the night but given how narrow the sofa is, I would surely end up on the floor if he tossed around in his sleep. I remember we were talking till late at night, trying to have a conversation on anything but the elephant in the room and he ended up doing most of the talking to keep me occupied from my dark thoughts. The more I think back, the more the reality of yesterday starts to come back and I give one last look at his dozed-off face before gently taking hold of his hand and removing it from my arm. I first head to the bathroom and take a quick shower, struggling to divert my thoughts to various random things that keep me company whenever I want to suppress something unpleasant. But no matter how hard I try, there's nothing comforting I can run to.