[01/01] Crossings

Feb 28, 2012 11:12


Crossings
Nino. Chance. Probability.
February 2012

Summary
Based on Arashi’s Meikyuu Love Song,
“It seems like I knew you before we were born… Because longer than anyone, I’ve known about the shining you.”

A/N
[12 February 2012] Once upon a time, two of my friends had a cool off because they felt their relationship was too perfect. Maybe they were together only because they weren’t able to meet other people yet - given they’re together all the time, yeah? What if they met other attractive people? What if there was an opportunity to fall in love with someone else? Hence, their attempt to challenge The Test for the Universe. This story tries to encapsulate that.

The Shibuya Scramble Crossing is infamous for the ordered chaos that takes place in it each day. It is efficient in its crazed simplicity, and has inspired several similar pedestrian lanes all over the world, notably the version in London. (We have one in the Philippines, too.) Please check YouTube for an idea of what it’s like. Thanks!

Disclaimer
The mastermind behind this plot derives no material profit from it. While several people, places, and events exist in reality, everything that follows should be digested with a healthy dose of suspicion.

Warning
I cannot write bromance or erotica to save my life.
Also, please be careful of the transitions.
This fic is non-linear in terms of chronology.

Words 3, 556


Crossings
For Arashi

And so here she is again, the sun peeking softly from the skyline, the headaches of youth a vague memory walled off within school gates. Blinking dazedly, she looks up at the pedestrian light across the Scramble Crossing - the way she has been glancing up at it the last few days at exactly this hour. Mildly thinking through the haze in her mind, she ponders. How had she gotten into skipping classes again? She can’t say it began long ago - this longing to escape - although she has no memories of starting this addiction either.

But maybe all addictions are like that, she comforts herself. Maybe all addictions have no reason, no end.

More than the sight of the light turning green, she senses the flow ebbing forward through a hard jab at her back. Wincing, she pushes on crookedly, uneasily, elbows and shoulders a barrier around her, the warm bodies of strangers compelling her onward to the other side where she knows not what waits. She pulls at her bag straps, eyes on her mindless feet. Where will she go this time? What is there to take off her boredom, the boredom that knows no boundaries?

But Lord. She is so tired of everything.

Halfway through the Scramble Crossing she makes the mistake of looking up from the safe lines at her feet, her eyes meeting a pair of brown orbs sharply watching her every move. She blinks. His eyes are the lightest she’s ever seen, the deepest she’s ever seen, and it barely registers that he’s looking at her, because she’s too distracted by the enigma of his gaze.

He smiles. He smiles at her, she’s sure of it. He approaches, closer, ever closer, until he walks right past her as men like him are wont to do. And as she feels the slightest tickle on her cheek, the faintest gush of breath as he steps past her in his casual, easy gait, she is taken. Despite herself she takes a short peek. And she sees him move on just in time for his dark jacket to disappear among a crowd of similar, nondescript cloaks. He does not look back. She should have known he would not look back.

And so she walks on. She walks faster.

__

He is playing Mario Kart again.

Watching him trying to beat his own best score, she frowns at the television, and hugs her pillow tighter. “Say,” she speaks, knowing through his peripheral hearing he listens, “Have you ever wondered how it would be like if we didn’t have each other?”

The flashes from the television, made even brighter by the darkness of his room, flickers softly in his eyes. He keeps pushing the right buttons, but does not reply.

“Let’s break up,” she suggests, dropping her chin to her raised knees. “I suddenly have this feeling we might not really be meant for each other, you know? Like maybe we’re meant to be with other people, only we’re together so much we don’t give anyone else a chance.” She pouts. “Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

He sighs and puts the controller down. The level has been cleared, as expected, but the best score has not been beaten. He turns to her with tired eyes. “That’s just stupid. Where on Earth did you get that idea?”

Their eyes meet. She shrugs. He sighs again.

“Fine. Let’s break up if that’s what you want,” he concedes. On screen, the music for the next level cues in. He picks up his controller, stretches his arms to prepare for another thirty minutes of virtual futility. “You still have to come for video games though.”

“Hmm,” she mumbles noncommittally. He goes back to his game. Somehow, she thinks he is frowning.

__

The following day, during Physics, Akiko suddenly leans over and tells her she wants to see the Penguins at Marui Annex. Whatever for, she remembers asking with her head low, they’re just stuffed toys in a corner museum, she can just check them online. But Akiko insists on seeing the dratted things for herself, in person - in Penguin? - and so she is literally dragged out of school for the first time, her first skipped class against her own volition.

She minds, but not that deeply. At least she’ll have a destination, today.

And so they’re standing in front of her Scramble Crossing, the light red before them, the crowd around thickening. Akiko is jabbering on about someone dating someone from two doors down their classroom, and although she tries to listen she can’t really keep up. Akiko is talking too fast. She wishes people didn’t talk too fast.

The light’s gone green, she says suddenly, pulling her friend by the elbow before they are pummeled by the pedestrian mob. Beside her Akiko freezes momentarily, for a few moments lost in her narrative, before she lets her feet take over her head, renewing her rendition of the spiciest slander of the week.

She sighs and turns her head away. And her eyes meet a deep brown pair.

Her odd stranger is there, yet again.

He catches her looking at him. He smiles and adds a bonus wink, walking ever closer as he did only yesterday. Beside her Akiko is laughing rather loudly, conspicuously enough to attract unwanted attention, and she can only watch in anxiety as the man raises an eyebrow at her. A laugh, a light slap at her shoulder - he is smug. And then he gives her a look that clearly scoffs, Your friend?

She lowers her eyes, loops her arms together with her companion’s. Akiko does not notice, does not notice that her stranger has walked by, does not notice that her friend is upset. She just talks on and on and on.

The Penguins, this time. Akiko is talking about the Penguins again.

She tightens her hold as they reach the other side.

__

She is stacking bottled water into a push cart when she bumps into Ohno Satoshi.

Expectedly, the rest of his office pops up behind him: Aiba-chan on his standard Vitamin C overdose, Sho-san with his stiff, perfunctory smile, and MatsuJun and the Eyebrows. For a second her heart stops as she waits for him to appear. But she meets Ohno’s kind gaze, and she understand he is not there.

Is it better that he is not there?

“Not that I think I have the right to pry into your relationship,” MatsuJun presents a disclaimer as he watches her stack her thesis-writing survival kit, “but I don’t think you made the right decision. Now he thinks it’s his fault you broke up with him, like maybe he didn’t give you enough time or attention-”

“I’ve told him it’s not his fault,” she murmurs irritably as she holds the last bottle. “I just think we need to explore other options, both of us. I mean-” Sighing, she tucks her hair distractedly and puffs a short gust of exasperation. “We never meet other people. He’s an introvert, I’m an introvert, and since we’re both happy to stay at home, we don’t go out. What if there was someone else who would be a better girlfriend to him? Or a better boyfriend to me?” She frowns as she sees The Eyebrows meet. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand-”

“All I know is that you’re making things complicated,” MatsuJun replies, eyes never leaving hers. “If you want to be with him, then you have to stay with him. You’re over-thinking things-”

Her frown deepens as she slowly puts both hands on her cart. Beside her, Aiba-chan is still fussing over which size of Pocari Sweat to buy. “Thanks for the advice, but really, I’m fine the way things are now. We both need space.” She pauses. “Although please say hi to him for me. You’re going back to the office, right?”

The cart starts rolling away.

“Hey.” It is Sho-san calling her this time. She stops and whirls around to listen, if only for fear he’ll erupt if she shouldn’t. He is frowning at her most formally, his eyes worried. “At least give the situation a bit more thought. It would do you some good to realize how lucky you are. Not a lot of people meet people they wish to cherish. You’re one of the few, and you’re throwing the chance away willfully.”

She blinks back at the four men staring back at her. And she realizes he is lucky to have such good friends.

He will be fine.

“If I did that, I’d be over-thinking even more, wouldn’t I?” She tries to attach a smile to her parting bow. “Good day.”

__

The next day is a Saturday. There are no classes.

But she’s there anyway, wondering - secretly hoping - she’ll see him again. She is wearing her best dress, her hair is brushed well, and she instantly blushes as she predicts his reaction. Even she knows she is looking too pretty for just another stroll outside. Does she want him to notice that she looks different today? She does not know. She does not know anything anymore.

Although she’s sure she wants to be here. In that, alone, she is certain.

The light by her Scramble Crossing goes green. She takes a step forward, her kitten heels leading the way, her heart beating a bit faster in unwanted anticipation. She looks up.

And there he is again, still in his dark suit, still with his light eyes. But there is someone beside him, a dark-skinned man in a plain black suit - a friend? The companion looks ecstatic about something - she can see his eyes smiling, even from a distance. And as she approaches, closer and closer, her stranger - the stranger - watches her move with his lips slightly parted.

His eyes try to speak the words she can’t hear.

Lowering her eyes, she pulls her bag closer. She hears him walk past - his footsteps, his companion’s soft voice, the way her heart is deafening for that second they stand close. But as the moment fades, as the pleasant haze parts, the world comes welling back in. The rest of the world and its noise, its mayhem, falls back in a wave of sound. She is back in familiar ground, back in familiar mindless chatter of which she plays no part. Raising a hand to her eyes, she laughs at her own stupidity.

Of course he would have work on a Saturday. Of course. She had been stupid to expect anything anyway. He was part of the workforce. She was only in high school. There were other men - there had been other men - who had wanted her time, but she didn’t think he was one of them.

She put both hands over her eyes. She does not think he is like them at all, and that is why. That is why.

__

She plays with the warm water, her fingers moving mechanically.

He watches her from his end, arms spread rather haughtily around him, his back against the white porcelain. From her peripheral vision, she sees him frown as she lets her hand fall, as she lets her hand meet the small ocean around the two of them. He is still frowning as he meets her eyes.

“You know,” she begins, hugging her knees as she leans against her corner. “I’ve realized I’ve been pretty stupid to break up with you. I mean, everything’s going great for you. You have an excellent job, and if I married you I’d never have to worry about money. I’d never have to worry.” She rests her chin on her knees, and sighs. “I was pretty impractical, right?”

Through the rising steam his expression is unfazed. “Too late. You already broke up with me.”

“You’ve found a new girlfriend then?” she asks in honest curiosity. At the back of her mind, she ignores the way her throat hurts, the way her chest feels suddenly incapable of keeping still her tired, tired heart. “Does she mind? Give me a week or two to get my things back. I haven’t really found a good place yet-”

She stops speaking as he irritably raises a hand to his eyes.

“I told you to take the apartment near Masaki’s,” he scolds her in light frustration. “The landlady already agreed to give you a discount, and it’s near your university - you seriously couldn’t ask for better conditions.”

She pauses and watches the steam rise. Why didn’t she like that place again?

But, “No,” is all she says, and she ignores his irritated grumbling. “Not there.”

And with this she decides to end their conversation. There is nothing left for her to say.

Rising from the water, she steps out of their ceasefire, pulling softly at a towel nearby. He does not stir, and she can tell, even with her back turned, that he is not looking her way.

Her smile is almost bitter as she slowly starts to walk on. The echo of her faltering footsteps is the only beat in the cold, white-tiled room.

__

It is Sunday.

Surprising even herself, she is headed for her Scramble Crossing again, only this time she is on his side of the road. He is always coming from this direction, right? He is always coming from somewhere around here.

As she walks, she glances up at the row of skyscrapers before her, and realizes she’s crossed the bounds of her sanity. There is no reason or cause to what she is doing, and still she keeps plowing on. It is futile - is it futile? What is futility as defined by impulse anyway?

Still, faintly, she smiles.

Up ahead, a crowd is already waiting. Stopping behind a group of dark-clad salarymen, she peeks at her phone for the nth time that day. It is precisely 3 PM. He should be around here somewhere.

With her eyes, she begins a quiet search. She has never realized this before, but there are too many office workers in this side of downtown Tokyo. And as she flits from one face, to another, and one more still, she starts to panic. And in her panic, she does not notice that the light has turned green.

The crowd moves forward.

Ignoring shoulders and elbows and body parts pushing her on, she stays rooted to the spot as she waits for a miracle. It is a Sunday. There should be no work on Sundays - at least for a normal person. But she is hoping, against hope, that he is here. That he is here, somewhere, waiting for her, just as she is waiting for him.

And so she waits. She keeps waiting.

__

It is Friday evening in a Tokyo Ministop.

Her palms are resting on her cheeks as he quietly sips his coffee. She has just decided to ditch a job interview, and he has just chosen to bomb a date. As she blinks at the trickle of pedestrians edging by outside, wrapped in the blanket of this cold February evening, she hears him chuckle ever so softly and say, “Remember I once said the saddest people are the ones who hang out in convenience stores?”

But she ignores him. She ignores him in favor of watching the world move on outside.

“Isn’t it funny,” she suddenly asks, “that we could be one of those people out there - just one of those people out there - if we didn’t have anything to do with each other?”

There is a pause, a soft pause, before he continues sipping his coffee. “I don’t get it. What is it you don’t like about me anyway? So I get too engrossed in hobbies, and my friends are old geezers, but I’m a generally likable person, right?”

She grins as she recognizes the whine in his voice. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop being so insecure.” But the smile softens. “There’s nothing wrong with you at all.”

Perhaps he senses the secrets in her voice. So he starts-

“And since you’ve so kindly attested to my supposed sanity, allow me to share this opinion.” He clears his throat and puts his empty cup down. “I really think this Test for the Universe is stupid.” She looks his way and he raises an eyebrow at her, cracks a supercilious smile. “There. I’ve said it. I’ve thought it for the longest time, but it’s the first time I’ve said it-”

“Is it stupid though?” she wonders, sincerely. “Hasn’t it made you realize that the girl you’re sitting with here right now might have been someone else, not me?”

He scratches his nose, looks away. “But it’s you, isn’t it?” They turn their heads as one to exchange a blank stare. “What’s the point of thinking what if, when there is only what is?”

Smiling, she turns her head away again. In the dimness outside, a drunken goukon party totters by, singing karaoke soundtracks unheard through thick fiberglass. She closes her eyes, resting both hands on her face, her lips still smiling. “Maybe you’re right. But I still don’t think I’m wrong.”

He laughs, so loudly the people around them turn to stare. With her eyes shut, she can hear people whisper, she can hear them wonder. But she has gotten too used to these instances to care.

She recovers, raises her head, and looks outside the shop again. The goukon party is gone. And so is everything else.

“Can I move back in then?” she asks the question they both want to hear. “I never did find a good apartment to move into.” She shrugs. “I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t have to carry most of my stuff around.”

“I don’t really mind,” he replies, stretching his arms and resting one hand on the back of her seat. She can feel his fingers tugging at a loop in her hair, and she’s reminded of how he used to play with it. “I didn’t throw any of your stuff. No one really came to complain about them anyway.”

She mumbles incoherently. But - though she doesn’t say it - she is thankful, grateful no one did.

__

The people around her have gone on, on to the other side of the street.

She does her best not to seem too dejected, not to seem too down as she stands on one end of the Scramble Crossing, a girl with a hopeful look in her eye. Somehow, she had always believed they would meet again, here in this intersection, despite the improbability and madness of it all. Wasn’t it nice to believe people could meet in the most unexpected places, under the most random circumstances? It had been nice to believe people could meet by chance.

It had been nice to believe.

As the final stragglers beat the blinking green light, she looks up from her reverie. An as the last couple, hand in hand, race past the lines before her - he is laughing at something she’s said, and her hand is holding on to his - a man runs to a stop on the other side of the street, a man with the lightest, deepest set of brown eyes.

He is there on the other side, but the light has turned red.

A flood of vehicles fly into her line of sight as her eyes never leave his. He looks tired, he seems to have been running, and even at a distance she can see him take in deep, halting breaths. But he has seen her, and he has seen her looking at him, and he raises a hand briefly to tell her he is there. To tell her he is waiting.

He smiles.

The traffic seems endless, as car after car after car breezes past while she’s standing, fazed, in front of her Scramble Crossing. She can see the impatience in his eyes, across the street, as he raises a hand to catch her attention. Cup of coffee?  his hands ask in gentle, fluid motions.

She raises a hand to reply, raises a hand to reach out, Yes, please. That would be nice.

I know one here, he suggests, pointing at a random spot behind him. There is a strange smile on his lips, and somehow it feels like he’s amused with her.

Or maybe he’s amused by the turn of events, the exact same way she is?

Do you expect me to cross the street for you? she retorts with a laugh - it’s the lightest she’s felt in days. Why should I be the one to cross? You come here!

But he shrugs, and he smiles, and he’s smug, and she’s helpless. So she laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and vaguely wonders if she’s dreaming. It feels too light to be real, too bright to true, and it feels like she’s just dreaming.

But the reverie ceases as the cars slow down until they come to a stop. Grinning, she looks up at the pedestrian light across the Scramble Crossing - the way she has been glancing up at it the last few days at exactly this hour. But there is something different this time. She glances at him, waiting, watching, his hands in his pockets.

She shakes her head softly, still smiling. The light turns green, and she takes the first step.

__

Crossings End.
__

A/N
Yey! It’s done! ::D I was thinking this girl might be Nozomi, only I don’t know her ‘too well’ so I didn’t want to put her name in. Halfway through the story she turned into Yoshitaka Yuriko, but oh well, that can’t be helped. That girl’s addictive.

What did you think of it though? I personally like stories like this because they’re sentimental without being too mushy. Isn’t real romance like this, in many ways? Somehow… boring? Unless you’re the one experiencing the giddiness, of course. I apologize for having gone all Mills and Boon on the writing, but I really, really like the way things turned out for both of them. Aaand! I shall stop now before I become too giddy. ::D

Thanks so much for reading. ::)
#skips across a field of field of flowers, Glenda the Good Witch-style [27 February 2012]

Edited 17.01, 07 June 2012.

length: one-shot, genre: fluff, lead: ninomiya

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