I Help You. (Sakusa Kiyoomi)

41. Me and He.

November 29th, Day 15/30

At the end of this monumental silence I was enduring, he stopped in front of a small lawn where a small house sat. Its wooden paneling was black, and the traditional Japanese style was quietly crumbling from winter's frigid winter weather.  Strangely, a beautiful woman was fiddling with the corner rose bushes, and when she saw me exit the car she immediately perked up.

"Y/n?" She said.

"Mom...." I responded, really just as confused. 

She only needed a glance before shoving her fluffy coat around me, as well as her arms, and gave a standard bow to Omi, who was awkwardly standing at the foot of the driveway.  He couldn't bare either of our gazes for whatever reason.

His body language yearned for communication--I saw it-- but his mind just kept stopping his mouth. Leaning away from my mom's heat, I asked him, " Can you come inside?"

As expected, silence.

So I asked again. "Will you come inside?" I took a step forward. " Please?"

His pickets crinkled as his fists balled, and he let out a hefty beath before decidedly throwing himself into the car once more.

His cheeks were as red as ever.

My mom and I watched him gradually speed away until he was a black dot of the setting horizon. The wind picked up strands of my hair, and they caressed my cheeks, a single piece soaking up a single, pitiful tear.

What had just happened?

Why did I shed a tear? And for him?

My mother, using context clues to her best extent, pulled me into the house. It's not as if I wasn't compliant, but the world seemed to move at a snail's pace, and my mind seemed to follow suite.

I barely even registered when the cold air was shut out and my body was handed a soft blanket. At this point I was sitting on the couch and my mom was situated at the kitchen island. She was preparing hot drinks in the open area which connected to the living room. The absence of a separating wall enabled her to watch my movements subtly.

Though all I did was stare at the shiny TV screen. The longer I stared, the more the black surface reflected to me the inevitability and answer to the recent events. It was me.

All along, it was me.

Y/n was the reason all of this happened. My big mouth, my disrespectful ears, my hothead temper, my self.

But, despite feeling like the problem, I couldn't help but sigh frustrated at him. Omi could've offered an explanation. A reason. A goodbye.

Maybe I didn't deserve one in his eyes.

Or maybe, all along, it was he.

"Maybe I should stop looking for someone to blame." I whispered to myself. I suddenly looked to my mom, whose eyes were already on me. "There's nothing to worry about."

"...Are you sure?"

I looked away quick and popped my knuckles individually. " Of course."

41.