You and I [Completed!]

April

Hanami stood at the road parting into two different directions.

Right and Left.

One would lead her to the empty apartment, the other to the cafe where Takao Otonashi waited for her. At least that was what the content of his message read. After the last meet at the cafe, she had promised herself that she wouldn't meet him. After his pitying proposal, she had no reason to entertain him. Yet, she found herself turning left, away from home, to an old, lost friend. She needed people, and that was the truth.

It was the third week after Arata left. Her hand would not lift to the phone, and it never rang by itself. At home, coffee mugs, the silly comedy show , the couch , the quiet hallway and the rack by the door where his deadbeat umbrella remained-- all of it, made a lump form in her throat.

An evening breeze gushed through the branches of trees making a deepening sunshine shimmer overhead. It shook off the dried leaves and left it on the road to be crushed beneath people's feet. Hanami stepped on a browned one as she crossed towards a cafe.

There was a tinkle of a bell when she entered. On the April afternoon, the cafe was almost deserted. A faint smell of retreating summer and wood hovered in the air. Hanami glanced around, browsing through the unfamiliar faces when a wave made her attention dart to the last table. The moment was awkward. She didn't want to smile, but managed one as she settled into a chair. Both looked down at the menu cards on the table, then the glass of water, and then finally at each other.

"Long time no see,"she said.

"Been months." He smiled. "Thanks for coming."

She lifted the card. They ordered ice cream. Vanilla with strawberry on top. She dipped a spoon into the luscious soft cream."What did you want to talk about?"

Taking the words as a consent, Takao leaned forward in his seat. Evening sun entered through the glass pane on the far side. It crept up to their table and mixed with his dark eyes turning them a shade of light brown she had fallen in love with. It lasted only a moment before he bowed his head. Hanami blinked.

"Forgive me for hurting you,"he said. "For turning away when you needed me."

"Listen."

"For disrespecting you with that proposal."

"Takao."

"For being a bad friend in difficult times--"

"Don't apologize for what you didn't feel, darn it!"

He glanced up, taken aback at the tone of her voice.

Her fingers clutched the spoon tight. "I was wrong to expect people to return what I felt. I was wrong, about you, about...others. I should've understood others, what you felt back then, what you were afraid of, but I was-- I am selfish. I am scared of being alone..." Her eyes grew moist but no tear spilled. She turned away from him, discreetly pulled out handkerchief and put it to her nose. That was supposed to be the end of conversation on her part.

He had gone still. "I understand,"he said, eventually. "I understand."

Although the heaviness of her reaction and his hesitation to converse remained in the air, something had changed. When they left the cafe, Takao's shoulders seemed relaxed of the burden of their past, and Hanami had gained a new understanding. That her need to not be alone had blinded her to what others felt. That she needed to step back and look at things from a different perspective. That she could love without expecting it back. It was a choice.

_________

Arata puffed on a cigarette as he watched the bartender shake up drinks to serve the other customers. His glass was full of amber drink that left a wet ring on the counter. He tapped the ash in a ceramic tray. A woman sitting a little distance away from him gave him a smile. He returned it.

The hotel room bored him. After his work, he'd drop by the bar on the top floor of the hotel. It was a chic place full of businessmen and women. All suits and silk ties and high heels. Conversations or meeting people was not the reason. The noise was. Silence forced him to think and it never ended well.

Close to a month and half, and not a single message, not a single ring. Hanami had chosen to leave him alone after all. He had been a brute, the way he treated her. One sorry. One word. But he didn't have the courage. Not then, not now.

He cared for her, that much was true. But did he love her? It was not a sure yes, but it wasn't a no either. Was it then, loneliness?

A tap on his shoulder made him look up. He saw a woman take a seat next to him. He knew she'd been watching him all along. She crossed her legs, gave him a look and passed her palm over to his side. Arata watched her, half knowing what she intended. Then she placed her hand on his arm and rose to leave. On the counter was the number 302 written on a perfumed handkerchief.

Arata held the soft cloth between his fingertips, thinking. He left the cigarette in the ash tray and stood.

302.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽