Chocolate Fic For holdstheace
To: holdstheace
From: frostbittenlove
Title: A Winter's Tale
Pairing: Yamashita Tomohisa x Horikita Maki x Ikuta Toma
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Because just as the seasons come and go, winter never turns to summer, nor does summer come before winter.
A/N: For holdstheace. I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed nerding over facts writing it. ♥ I'm not entirely confident that this suits your taste (and to be honest I think this sucks compared to what others may have given you Dx), but I sincerely hope you would still enjoy it! ;3 Many thanks go to my betas, J2. :D
===
It was a rare occasion for the three of them to actually have coinciding day-offs.
And it was even rarer that they had all stumbled upon each other in Ginza, of all places. She with her anonymity, he with his discreet and un-flashy clothing, and he with his perpetual incognito attire.
He had stumbled upon her first, a small smile of recognition on his lips at the view of her alluringly-tussled short hair from afar, that telltale style of hiding her massive forehead a major giveaway of her identity to his inspecting gaze. The time he had spent working with her had made his quick-witted mind pick up all her habits and little quirks, and to him, her attempt at staying undetected by the fan radar was laughable. Though being himself, he did not tell her that. No, it was not his style to be direct (it was hers!); rather, he was known to be A Very Polite Idol.
And so it was that he had taken long, purposeful strides and intentionally bumped into her-a shiver went down his spine as his hand brushed against hers ever-so-slightly, a flash of endlessly white skin and equally-white sheets behind his eyes upon contact.
Maki looked up-somehow during that moment she had been compelled to look up-, bright, round eyes behind translucently-tinted shades, an apology about to escape her lips-"I'm sor-Ara~!"
That look of recognition gave him a satisfactory feeling that he managed to hide behind his heavily-tinted glasses. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Her jovial nod made his heart skip a bit or two; made his heart stop beating for a few moments, even.
---
In his eyes, Horikita Maki was like winter.
She was a breath of cool air in his arid summer life; one that sifted through his tendrils and grazed its cold fingers on his scalp. She was shaved ice that melted into liquid at the sun's slightest touch, coloured and bright and delicious-looking while sheltered by a plastic glass, holding it prisoner and taunting a tired little kid in all its sweet glory.
She was winter in his eyes because she reminded him of wisteria. Small, white blooms that settled on the woody branches that crept up the walls of their former home, one that he had eagerly awaited to bloom while his little self sat beside the window, gazing outside of their house during cold winter afternoons.
He remembered his mother's words-Stop staring at them, niichan, or they won’t bloom!- and yet the little him could only wait, staring, occasionally opening the window a little to share warmth to its earth-hued branches, all in fascinated anticipation. Only when he had matured did he realise that they would not bloom, not in the next year, and not in another ten years, because frustrated as he may be that the plant he and his father had cultivated back then has yet to show its beautiful blooms, it would take twenty frustrating years for him to see them. (And they only bloomed, sadly, when Tomohisa had decided that their family would move to the new house he had bought for them).
She was wisteria-like. A vine that crept up his walls, sturdy but not heavy and overbearing, plain and simple but with an appeal that just grows on him. And before he knew it, he was already eyeing her, watching her every move, entranced, enthralled. Until finally she had bloomed, bloomed into a little pristine flower that complimented everything her far-reaching vines could touch.
And he can only watch from afar as her beauty becomes even more noticeable to many, her smile even more refined and brighter and meaningful now. He knew because he could see through it, had been at the receiving end of it; had even been bold enough to steal her breath away it away from her at one point. Moreover, somewhere in the deep recesses of his sinister heart, a once tiny prickle he had dismissed before had now become a throbbing pain; an inexplicable ache that had become contagious and almost benign.
She was winter in his eyes because she was white and deadly and cold and sharp and soft, her body like fresh winter snow melting under his touch; his touch that of the summer sun's.
But he knew that summer would never-ever- come close to winter, no matter how his sun would shine so bright and attempt to extend its rays to reach the cold, dark winter days.
Because just as the seasons come and go, winter never turns to summer, nor does summer come before winter.
There will always be something that will come in between them.
---
He, on the other hand, had stumbled upon the two accidentally, having just emerged from the subway. He had just been from Odaiba, off from promotional appearances work, and he had merely wanted to walk around Ginza and indulge a little; to have a seeming-congratulatory, thanks for the hard work-kind of dinner that did not involve yakiniku or gyudon. But he could easily spot them from anywhere. More than four thousand days of knowing him entitled him to that privilege, while she... She just stood out, in his eyes.
They were a little ways ahead of him but certainly right across from him, like two long-lost lovers reunited in a sea of busy and bustling population; like that of two people who had met for the first time and had been frozen in time, and had fallen in love at that very moment. His body language spoke volumes: his attention enraptured, enamoured, enchanted. Her countenance shone just as bright, her smile ever so sweet; but most of all, all these were directed at he who stood a few inches from her.
He had to stop his twitching hand from reaching up to touch his chest that now ached; this time, his drama roles seemed to have seeped through his persona. Like that of an outsider intruding on their private time, a lone spectator in a movie house that currently screened a heartbreaking love story on tonight’s last full show.
He blinked-once, or maybe twice- and swallowed, firming his resolve, and he walked toward them, making the couple that obstructed the flow of pedestrians now a company of three.
Maki had seen him even before he had bumped into her. It was a fight or flight situation: the young woman did not know whether to feint and turn back or continue walking and face the music head-on. Everything happened too fast though, as his scent drew nearer, nearer, nearer, overpowering her rational thinking, until the thought of fleeing became as absurd as snow in the middle of June.
It reminded her of days spent with him, of days spent in his shadow; of days that she would look at his back longingly, or steal glances at him, before catching herself and proceeding with what she was supposed to be doing. It reminded her of the days when she had dwelt and fantasized about what-ifs and maybes; of the days that she had actually become vulnerable to her childish desires and acquiesced to his advances. Of days she had to pick up the broken pieces of her heart all by herself, when the culprit himself was practically everywhere in Japan but still nowhere to be found.
Meisa said that she can’t be blamed for her actions (and reactions) though. He was irresistible, disarming... all sorts of charming.
You'd have to be blind to not notice that the bastard cleans up well. And cleans up pretty well, too.
True, her best friend may hate the guts of everyone in that godforsaken male idol factory but Meisa was level-headed, and assessed facts as truthfully and as without bias as she could. Funny how her bluntness usually challenged her pre-conceived notions, or entirely debunked her logical assumptions.
But still, Maki-chan, shame on him for walking away just like that.
It... had been good while it had lasted, yes. And now, if her best friend asked her about it again, she would be honest and tell her that she is almost over their child's play romance.
But him, on the other hand... Maki had seen him approach from her peripheral-what were her big, doe eyes for, really-and while her heart hammered like mad against her chest at the startling coincidence, his subtle and discreet presence did nothing to quell the quivering of her insides. Indeed he pacified the storm that threatened to ravish her whole being again into another make-believe fairy-tale, but he only served to aggravate the situation, what with his smiles and all.
Thump, thump, thump, went her heart. And why she had this nervous feeling in their midst, frankly, she had no idea (or would rather pretend not to know).
While Maki had become better at masking her emotions, she had never been that good with words. She had always had that knack for saying the most awkward things at the most inappropriate times, and now, meeting him out of the blue, it had not changed at all. Working with him in a lighter, more fun environment and circumstance had not served to make her at ease in his presence then; if any, his presence was a constant reminder of another's mistake.
Only, he was not the one at fault, and she had no right to blame it on someone who was innocent; someone who she later on discovered (and perhaps, a tad bit too late) may be very similar in social upbringing (thanks to their agency), but different in character.
(Inappropriately, she is reminded of a certain green shirt that spelled I have great character, all in its awkwardly-grammar-ed English, that she had seen worn by two people on two different occasions.)
At a loss at what should be done with her stormy emotions, the young woman then decided to just greet him, as naturally as she could, without her voice breaking. He who had just approached and had not yet uttered a word, turning from him to him. "Aah! And what a coincidence, you're here too! I-It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
---
He noticed, for the first time, how she had immediately turned her attention to the newcomer; how she had basically discarded him like some old piece of clothing that she no longer needed.
She noticed, not for the first time, how his crooked, should-have-been-confident-but-turned-out-not-to-be grin actually mirrored that of hers, and that knowledge made her heart smile, flutter a little, even.
And he... He had failed to notice for the first time how there was an awkward, tense air around the two former lovers; he was just painfully aware of how he would always, always be at the sidelines, in reel life or in real life, and how he would never ever try to cause his own best friend unhappiness.
---
To Horikita Maki, Yamashita Tomohisa was representative of summer.
Brilliant and talented, radiant and always standing out, sincere and magnanimous-such was what he reminded her of. It did not take a genius to figure it out, really, as his face can be considered one of the faces of Japan’s young generation, and his kind, respectful attitude trickled even outside of the television screen and got to the spectators, causing them to think him a good person without even seeing him in person. Both physically and emotionally appealing, what with his kind manners and sincere actions, every mother wished to have a son like him. He was beautiful, inside and out, and that's what makes him love other people and be loved in return.
But the summer season is not always about the sun, the sea, and the beaches; summer also had days when you simply cannot stand the heat of the blazing sun as it beat down your lonely back.
To her, Tomohisa was just like summer; because while his brightness brought about optimism and cheer he could just burn you with that light he possessed and willingly gave away.
And she had been burned; scalded, scorched by his summer heat.
Like a firefly drawn to the light of a lamp Maki had given in to the temptation. In a moment of weakness her wintry self had thrown self-preservation away and succumbed to his heat; she had walked out of the cold days of winter she so loved and into the testy waters of the summer sun. And the barrier of ice that she had religiously built around herself melted in his presence, sizzled; her frigid, professional self who once proclaimed that she would never see her co-actor in any other light aside from a person to work with secretly became a harping hypocrite.
She had liaised with him, and Tomohisa just knew how to tear those stalwart walls down, his sun's rays far-reaching and almost omnipotent. And before she knew it she had been reeled in-hook, line and sinker, leading herself to believe that she had finally become that princess she had loved to fit the role into during childhood; and he, her prince, dashing and valiant and would always stay by her side.
It took her a lot before she realised that all had been child's play; that the princess at the tower had merely been visited by a courageous, conquest-seeking knight who was a prince in all aspects, but not one bent on sweeping the princess away in his arms.
Tomohisa was summer in her eyes, ever lustrous, bedazzling.
But she knew that her frosted self would never-ever- be able to mingle with summer, no matter how her icy walls tried its hardest to withstand the heat of the summer sun.
Because just as the seasons come one after the other, summer cannot occur in the same season as winter, nor can its attributes dwell in harmony with the hot weather.
Summer's dazzling days would be better off without the deathly atmosphere that came with winter.
---
"Maki-chaaan~"
She was not surprised to feel a warm, solid hand slip into hers, followed by an equally-warm body sidling up next to her own. "Maki-chaaaan~"
The young woman cast a helpless gaze at their companion, who was now staring at them with what she perceived to be an expression of mild amusement, before grabbing the playful hand that slipped from her palm and inside her funnel sleeve. "Yes, Yamashita-kun?"
Tomohisa's fingers closed in, entwining itself with her soft digits, as he leaned his chin on her shoulder and whispered breathlessly (or inebriatedly, whichever way you prefer it), "Mom and Rina are complaining, asking me why you don't come over often anymore. They… They miss you." I miss you.
It still made her shiver-his actions, his words, or how her name fell out of his lips in that flippant, almost careless manner. "Oh, I’m sorry, but you know how it is… I've just been busy... I'll drop by some time soon, okay? But in the mean time, tell them that I miss them too." I miss you too.
A husky chuckle right beside her ear only served to solidify her assumption that he was drunk; way too drunk as he mumbled incoherently and blew into her ear. She had to fight the shivers cringe and caught herself before flinching away from him, but it did not stop her from looking away awkwardly, and into the eyes of-
"Ikuta-kun, do you think you can drive?"
---
He had no right to be jealous. After all, he was not the one who had a relationship with her.
Furthermore he had agreed to drive his friend home-Oi Pi, you’re drunk, I’m driving you home-and honestly, he couldn’t really just leave Maki with Tomohisa. She would topple over first while helping Tomohisa even before they could make it out of the bar, and surely, that would attract paparazzi unwanted attention and as it is, their company has already been getting a few glances here and there.
A quick look at the rear-view mirror, and he could see his friend practically all over the young woman’s lap, arms draped around her petite form, head nuzzling her neck, mumbling and laughing to himself.
It escaped him, really, what his best friend’s reasons were for breaking up with Maki, when it had been obvious that he had been happy and content; compared to his disposition now-subdued and contemplative, if not downright broody at times. Ah, but who was he to question the other’s judgment? He who had nothing to be proud of; he who had not achieved anything noteworthy for himself. He had no right to keep Horikita Maki for himself interfere nor to influence his friend, much as he would like to step in and take over on his behalf give his unsolicited advice.
As quick as he had looked at the sight behind him so did he look away, in fear that one of them might have seen it in his eyes; that green-eyed monster that threatened to eat his whole being and cause discord amongst them.
What Toma didn’t see was the gaze from the backseat that quietly watched him sigh in resignation and turn his attention back to driving.
---
He had driven his friend’s car into the parking entrance and tapped the keycard on the sensor, all the while dismissing Tomohisa’s drunk ramblings after Maki retrieved the keycard from his coat pocket (he seemed to have become much more talkative after that bout-for-the-key), then helped the petite young woman haul Tomohisa out of the car and hold the drunk idol upright as they walked to the lift.
It was a good thing that Tomohisa’s apartment complex valued its clients’ privacy, and as such the receptionist had granted them exclusive use of the executive lift. Out of curiosity (and perhaps, force of habit), Toma looked up once he boarded the lift, almost expecting a camera at the upper corners of the lift car, but funnily, there was none. Not there, nor behind them, nor anywhere at all.
(And it would seem unlikely that the mirror walls-he noticed how the lift actually had reflective mirrors for walls rather than fancy wallpaper or woodworks or the boring and dull metal ones-would actually serve as one-way mirrors. Surely no one is that twisted?)
It didn’t take even one second, or even a moment’s reprieve for the young man, for the sound of a low moan to reach his ears.
What Toma didn’t really think was a very good thing about this was the fact that the lift had mirrors for its walls and ceilings; try as he might to avoid looking at what was transpiring only a few feet from him he could see, oh so clearly, from the reflective surface, how Tomohisa had pinned Maki against the wall with his lean body, one hand holding onto her shoulder while the other caressed her face, kissing her without abandon.
Maki’s eyes fluttered open, responding to Tomohisa’s advances but at the same time casting him what looked like a challenging an apologetic glance, her arms hanging limp on her sides as she tilted her head up to the tall young idol, meeting him halfway.
A deep breath, and Toma decided to ignore what was happening (and what he was currently feeling), closing his eyes as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned his head back against the wall. At least he could not see what was happening, even if the acoustics of the small space hid nothing to his imagination.
He could only hope that the sound of his traitorous heart shattering ever so slowly wouldn’t be magnified in the confines of a small elevator, too.
---
"Oof”"
The muffled sound of a chuckle followed immediately after, as one drunk Yamashita Tomohisa started to flap his arms in glee at the cool sheets that greeted his alcohol-heated face. "Aah, this feels nice~" Two loafers landed on the carpeted floor, discarded haphazardly, as he turned in his bed and smiled up at his long-time buddy.
"Thanks Toma. I owe you again." Was what the younger idol murmured, "You don't have to go home though, do you want to sleep on the couch? O-Or Rina's room, mom's room, the kitchen, the living room-" by then Tomohisa had been chuckling, deep and resounding like that of the tick-tock of the wall clock in the hallway.
Toma broke into a small laugh, ignoring his best friend's incoherence. "I'll just go use the loo for a while, okay? In the meantime, Maki-chan will keep you company."
His gaze then landed on the lone female presence in his room; one who was now picking up his discarded shoes.
The young woman froze as the sound of the door closing shut echoed in the bedroom.
"Maki-chaaannn."
"... Hmm?" She responded, still busying herself with menial tasks that she had gotten used to doing whenever she was at his apartment. She didn't exactly expect that it'd become awkward tonight; though considering the circumstance earlier it had been awkward, what with his advances on her and she, the fool, accepting and responding. But Maki certainly did not expect to be left alone with him, in his bedroom, of all places.
"Maki-Marina, what... What happened?"
The right foot of the pair of blue trainers she had bought for him a little over half a year ago fell on the carpeted floor with a dull thud.
"W-What are you talking about?"
"... You know what I'm talking about."
He sounded awfully sober-and looked sober, she thought, as she drew up to her height to face Tomohisa, who was now sitting on the bed, wide awake.
Her heart went erratic as she walked barefoot and across the room to hear him better, sitting on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as the familiar sleeping space would allow. "I... I don't know, Tomo."
The young man moved forward, his action pulling the sheets with him as he took her hand in his, placing a soft kiss on her knuckle. "I miss you."
At Maki's unresponsiveness, Tomohisa drew nearer and, placing her hand over his heart, continued: "I miss you, Marina..."
"Tomo-"
"I-I like you-no, I don't just like you, I love you."
She sniffled, shaking her head. "Even if you do, even if I do, isn't it a little too late, Tomohisa?"
He reached out and locked her into an embrace, frowning, head shaking repeatedly as he murmured his negation.
---
In his eyes, Horikita Maki was like winter.
She was the cool powder snow of his hometown, neither heavy nor gloomy, cold in nature but nonetheless harmless, innocent and pure. Her presence was that of powder snow, always present; a constant occurrence that he could look forward to whenever the autumn breeze turned harsher, chillier. Smooth and elegant like that of powder snow, one fine specimen that his rust-hued self would always yearn to touch.
And, as if Fate had heard his darkest and innermost wish, touch her, he did.
She reminded him of winter because her silver-white presence made everything around her shine; reflected everyone's luminescence and increased it ten-fold. Even his dreary, lackluster and third-wheel self shone its best around her. Her demeanour was that of a white palette that brought out the best in everyone, simple and sweet yet blinding in its glory; always, always sharing the sparkle and shine with the people around her willingly and unselfishly.
And she was winter because her pure white snow was bright and reflective of the shining sun. She made the sun shine, made the sun smile brighter, enabled the sun to have a more cheerful disposition in his life. A thing that his failure self may have been able to do, too; only, she had succeeded in a few-if not just one-tries. He on the other hand, had to work maybe more than five hundred days to achieve the same results, only to come up with a hit-and-miss record that may or may not even surpass a certain baka's incorrigible, dim-witted logic that always came off as effortless humour.
Her eyes, doe and hazel and tantalizing, lured him out of his shell; alluring, inviting. Until finally he was unable to stop himself-sun-kissed hands reached out for the fragile and the fleeting. Unlike with the sun she did not melt; rather, she was molded: from the ugly duckling she was first made out to be, (an ugly duckling that undermined her talent and beauty, but thankfully also became the key to her recognition) into a beautiful swan, whose fabulous feathers had given her wings to fly higher and away from the lake, away from the sun’s shadow; a masterpiece of nature.
She reminded him of winter because she was like a plum blossom. She was among the plum blossoms that were befitting of the season; though the quaint blooms are said to be both a symbol of winter and a harbinger of spring. One whose presence is steadfast amidst the winter chill; one whose flowers bloomed vibrantly in the harsh season's adversity and lasted well into the next season, unlike other blooms that wilted and died at Boreas' door. A plum blossom, because as the flower signified, she was like nobility: wit, tenderness, and elegance personified.
But he knew that autumn would never-ever- reach winter, no matter how his leaves would purposefully turn rusty and crisp and submit to the cruel wind’s ministrations just to announce winter's arrival.
Because just as the seasons turn from one into another, autumn's melancholic hues paled in contrast to summer's joyous spirits, and always chased after winter's steep solitude.
And chase as it may, the autumn days would always be lulled into a deep slumber before winter can even make its presence known.
---
When Toma opened the door to Tomohisa's bedroom, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sleeping form of his best friend. He, however, couldn't stop the sad, wry smile that formed on his lips as he opened the door further, revealing Maki, who was also asleep while sitting, held onto her place beside his lightly-snoring best friend, with said friend's arms looped around her waist almost protectively.
He quashed that traitorous feeling that blossomed in his chest at the sight, exhaling heavily to rid himself of the negativity.
He was no longer needed here, he knew; and much as he was welcome to stay and spend the night there Toma felt incredibly inappropriate to be barging in on their privacy. In retrospect he felt a little relieved, glad, somewhat, that they had made up; he knew that against Tomohisa he was nothing, and that even if he did have the edge, he would not willingly break their friendship, however much he had felt for the woman who would come in between them.
As quickly and as silently as he could he walked to the bedside table, placing the car keys and the keycard on top of the glass surface, careful not to make any type of noise. Successful in leaving them there, he turned and made his way back to the door. He could always catch a cab home, he figured.
The unexpected hand that held onto his wrist made him stop in his steps.
He turned his head and saw Maki looking up from her awkward position on the bed, eyes a little bleary but clear with her silent plea:
Stay.
Powerless against her, Toma’s lips curved into a small, nervous smile, before he gave her a small nod of acquiesce. He settled on getting a chair from the corner of the room and pulling it up beside the bed, where Tomohisa currently laid, his hands clinging onto the young woman like she was his lifeline.
The young woman then pushed herself up from her awkward prop against the bed's headboard and, much to Toma's surprise, enclosed his hand in hers. And in passing, Toma wondered if his palms were sweaty, or rough, or-
"These hands, Toma-kun... They're kind, beautiful hands. " Maki started, staring at their joined hands. “Always ready to help, always open to everything that comes its way...”
He should have been blushing, or at least feeling a little flushed at the compliment he had just received, but he didn't know what possessed him to actually be bold enough to lift his gaze up, from their joined hands to her face, and right now, all Toma could think of was-
She knows.
Unwittingly he had pulled his hand away, whether in shame, guilt, or pride he wasn’t sure.
Only for Maki to pull it back, slowly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, before placing it above her left chest, where he could feel her heart beating; for a moment there was only she and her heartbeat, and his heartbeat, and how, for that perfect moment, their hearts were beating in sync.
The pale, doe-eyed woman leaned over, pressing her lips against his; like butterfly wings that brushed past his skin, fleeting and effervescent.
And then, she pulled away.
"Toma-kun, thank you."
Love shone in her eyes.
But it wasn't the kind of love he had expected from her; not the kind of love that leaked out of her eyes whenever he saw her look at Tomohisa before, or the kind of love that she projected whenever she portrayed the role of a loving leading lady. It was warm and welcoming, tender and compassionate, caring… and filial.
And at that moment, he understood.
Toma shook his head, smilingly, and as he spoke, he could feel the small lump in his throat, getting in the way of expressing himself. "N-No, thank you, Maki-chan."
---
To Horikita Maki, Ikuta Toma was the embodiment of autumn.
Mellow but happy, skillful and hardworking, discreet and not flashy but noticeable (if one stared hard enough). That was how Maki thought of Toma. She had seen him in television shows, both of present and of the past, and while she was never really a fan of any Johnny’s group, such was the trend that every little/pre-pubescent/adolescent girl had to go through. And it didn’t really take a genius to figure it out-he was talented, is talented, and while he may not seem like the biggest star on the rise, Maki thought that he did deserve what he had achieved for himself right now.
He reminded her of autumn because he was brightly-hued; though not in the shades that blinded her eyesight. More of, he was bright and colourful in a warm manner, and one cannot help but be drawn to his positive disposition, and yet see the shadows of doubt and melancholy in his eyes.
Like autumn Toma had different shades to his character: fire red for the passion in his craft, rusty orange for his unassuming stance in his career and his life, earth brown for his middleman, down-to-earth personality when it came to his colleagues, and golden yellow for his brilliance-talent that is not placed in a showpiece mantle nor placed under a spotlight just to be noticed and laurelled.
He was an oxymoron, to an extent-noisy and lively and a definite mood-maker, but it was not difficult to spot the cloudy, hazy lull that he would sometimes slip under. Toma was fun to be with, never one to make you feel left out, even if at times, one couldn’t help but wonder if he’s doing it for your sake or his sake-that he, too, didn’t want to feel left out, never again, ever.
Just as the green leaves lose their ability to generate chlorophyll at the cold wind that introduced autumn, Maki thinks that Toma is like those rustic leaves of the season, of which the colours, bright and lovely as they may seem, were not leaves that represented youth and impulsiveness. They spoke of depth and maturity; of seeing the pros and cons of the brighter days of yonder. To her, the carotenoid that turned greens to yellows and oranges and reds was that of the events in his life-he had matured, from a brash, bouncing ball of energy during his younger days, to a subdued, well-mannered young man that strove hard to earn the respect and recognition of the people around him.
Like the crisp leaves and sweet scent of harvest during autumn Toma was, in his own way, an attention-seeker; though not in any way persistent nor insistent. And who was she to resist the lure of harvest and fallen leaves? Not her wintry self, indeed, who had, since knowing him, always depended on his presence; in fact, she had no idea when exactly she had started to seek him out and had grown to believe in his inner goodness too much, all too much, that he would even sacrifice harvest in exchange for her time; at the expense of losing himself in the process.
But Maki knew that winter would never-ever- be able to love autumn hard enough, no matter how her wintry self would try to reciprocate the same gentle attention and willingness he shared as she embraced the fragrance and admired the breathtaking hues of autumn.
Because just as the seasons turn from one into another, winter’s harsh and frigid exterior brought about sleet and snow and harsh climate; it hastened the death of the lovely scenery that autumn painted for everyone to see.
And try as it might, winter would always become winter after autumn; and after the dead season of snow had entirely sucked the life out of the trees and fruits that autumn willingly shared to winter, there would be no way for autumn to come back into life.
---
When Toma woke up just before dawn, she was already gone.
Not a word, not a note, or an email in his mobile (or even to Pi's, he noticed, as his indicator was not blinking at all) as to where she had gone and when she had exactly left.
The only thing she left was her lingering scent in the air, the faint taste of her lips, and the patterns she had traced upon his hands.
---
Tomohisa woke up to an empty bedroom, an equally-empty apartment, and a cold mattress beside his place, where he expected someone else to be, sleeping peacefully and dreaming of little Yamashitas padding around their quaint little home.
This time around, though, his heart didn't feel as empty, or as sinister, because as he had looked down at the world below him, he could see tiny pink blooms on once-wilted trees, adding colour to the soft light of the early morning sun; the chill of winter fading into the days of spring.
～おわり～
Notes:
*Obsession of the seasons came from PRIDE, a j-drama starring your Highness Kimura Takuya as Satonaka Haru and Takeuchi Yuuko as Murase Aki.
* Factual references to wisteria and plum blossoms taken from wikipedia, here and here.
* In case anyone had been wondering, yes, Hokkaido, Toma’s hometown, has powder snow.
From: frostbittenlove
Title: A Winter's Tale
Pairing: Yamashita Tomohisa x Horikita Maki x Ikuta Toma
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Because just as the seasons come and go, winter never turns to summer, nor does summer come before winter.
A/N: For holdstheace. I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed nerding over facts writing it. ♥ I'm not entirely confident that this suits your taste (and to be honest I think this sucks compared to what others may have given you Dx), but I sincerely hope you would still enjoy it! ;3 Many thanks go to my betas, J2. :D
===
It was a rare occasion for the three of them to actually have coinciding day-offs.
And it was even rarer that they had all stumbled upon each other in Ginza, of all places. She with her anonymity, he with his discreet and un-flashy clothing, and he with his perpetual incognito attire.
He had stumbled upon her first, a small smile of recognition on his lips at the view of her alluringly-tussled short hair from afar, that telltale style of hiding her massive forehead a major giveaway of her identity to his inspecting gaze. The time he had spent working with her had made his quick-witted mind pick up all her habits and little quirks, and to him, her attempt at staying undetected by the fan radar was laughable. Though being himself, he did not tell her that. No, it was not his style to be direct (it was hers!); rather, he was known to be A Very Polite Idol.
And so it was that he had taken long, purposeful strides and intentionally bumped into her-a shiver went down his spine as his hand brushed against hers ever-so-slightly, a flash of endlessly white skin and equally-white sheets behind his eyes upon contact.
Maki looked up-somehow during that moment she had been compelled to look up-, bright, round eyes behind translucently-tinted shades, an apology about to escape her lips-"I'm sor-Ara~!"
That look of recognition gave him a satisfactory feeling that he managed to hide behind his heavily-tinted glasses. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Her jovial nod made his heart skip a bit or two; made his heart stop beating for a few moments, even.
---
In his eyes, Horikita Maki was like winter.
She was a breath of cool air in his arid summer life; one that sifted through his tendrils and grazed its cold fingers on his scalp. She was shaved ice that melted into liquid at the sun's slightest touch, coloured and bright and delicious-looking while sheltered by a plastic glass, holding it prisoner and taunting a tired little kid in all its sweet glory.
She was winter in his eyes because she reminded him of wisteria. Small, white blooms that settled on the woody branches that crept up the walls of their former home, one that he had eagerly awaited to bloom while his little self sat beside the window, gazing outside of their house during cold winter afternoons.
He remembered his mother's words-Stop staring at them, niichan, or they won’t bloom!- and yet the little him could only wait, staring, occasionally opening the window a little to share warmth to its earth-hued branches, all in fascinated anticipation. Only when he had matured did he realise that they would not bloom, not in the next year, and not in another ten years, because frustrated as he may be that the plant he and his father had cultivated back then has yet to show its beautiful blooms, it would take twenty frustrating years for him to see them. (And they only bloomed, sadly, when Tomohisa had decided that their family would move to the new house he had bought for them).
She was wisteria-like. A vine that crept up his walls, sturdy but not heavy and overbearing, plain and simple but with an appeal that just grows on him. And before he knew it, he was already eyeing her, watching her every move, entranced, enthralled. Until finally she had bloomed, bloomed into a little pristine flower that complimented everything her far-reaching vines could touch.
And he can only watch from afar as her beauty becomes even more noticeable to many, her smile even more refined and brighter and meaningful now. He knew because he could see through it, had been at the receiving end of it; had even been bold enough to steal her breath away it away from her at one point. Moreover, somewhere in the deep recesses of his sinister heart, a once tiny prickle he had dismissed before had now become a throbbing pain; an inexplicable ache that had become contagious and almost benign.
She was winter in his eyes because she was white and deadly and cold and sharp and soft, her body like fresh winter snow melting under his touch; his touch that of the summer sun's.
But he knew that summer would never-ever- come close to winter, no matter how his sun would shine so bright and attempt to extend its rays to reach the cold, dark winter days.
Because just as the seasons come and go, winter never turns to summer, nor does summer come before winter.
There will always be something that will come in between them.
---
He, on the other hand, had stumbled upon the two accidentally, having just emerged from the subway. He had just been from Odaiba, off from promotional appearances work, and he had merely wanted to walk around Ginza and indulge a little; to have a seeming-congratulatory, thanks for the hard work-kind of dinner that did not involve yakiniku or gyudon. But he could easily spot them from anywhere. More than four thousand days of knowing him entitled him to that privilege, while she... She just stood out, in his eyes.
They were a little ways ahead of him but certainly right across from him, like two long-lost lovers reunited in a sea of busy and bustling population; like that of two people who had met for the first time and had been frozen in time, and had fallen in love at that very moment. His body language spoke volumes: his attention enraptured, enamoured, enchanted. Her countenance shone just as bright, her smile ever so sweet; but most of all, all these were directed at he who stood a few inches from her.
He had to stop his twitching hand from reaching up to touch his chest that now ached; this time, his drama roles seemed to have seeped through his persona. Like that of an outsider intruding on their private time, a lone spectator in a movie house that currently screened a heartbreaking love story on tonight’s last full show.
He blinked-once, or maybe twice- and swallowed, firming his resolve, and he walked toward them, making the couple that obstructed the flow of pedestrians now a company of three.
Maki had seen him even before he had bumped into her. It was a fight or flight situation: the young woman did not know whether to feint and turn back or continue walking and face the music head-on. Everything happened too fast though, as his scent drew nearer, nearer, nearer, overpowering her rational thinking, until the thought of fleeing became as absurd as snow in the middle of June.
It reminded her of days spent with him, of days spent in his shadow; of days that she would look at his back longingly, or steal glances at him, before catching herself and proceeding with what she was supposed to be doing. It reminded her of the days when she had dwelt and fantasized about what-ifs and maybes; of the days that she had actually become vulnerable to her childish desires and acquiesced to his advances. Of days she had to pick up the broken pieces of her heart all by herself, when the culprit himself was practically everywhere in Japan but still nowhere to be found.
Meisa said that she can’t be blamed for her actions (and reactions) though. He was irresistible, disarming... all sorts of charming.
You'd have to be blind to not notice that the bastard cleans up well. And cleans up pretty well, too.
True, her best friend may hate the guts of everyone in that godforsaken male idol factory but Meisa was level-headed, and assessed facts as truthfully and as without bias as she could. Funny how her bluntness usually challenged her pre-conceived notions, or entirely debunked her logical assumptions.
But still, Maki-chan, shame on him for walking away just like that.
It... had been good while it had lasted, yes. And now, if her best friend asked her about it again, she would be honest and tell her that she is almost over their child's play romance.
But him, on the other hand... Maki had seen him approach from her peripheral-what were her big, doe eyes for, really-and while her heart hammered like mad against her chest at the startling coincidence, his subtle and discreet presence did nothing to quell the quivering of her insides. Indeed he pacified the storm that threatened to ravish her whole being again into another make-believe fairy-tale, but he only served to aggravate the situation, what with his smiles and all.
Thump, thump, thump, went her heart. And why she had this nervous feeling in their midst, frankly, she had no idea (or would rather pretend not to know).
While Maki had become better at masking her emotions, she had never been that good with words. She had always had that knack for saying the most awkward things at the most inappropriate times, and now, meeting him out of the blue, it had not changed at all. Working with him in a lighter, more fun environment and circumstance had not served to make her at ease in his presence then; if any, his presence was a constant reminder of another's mistake.
Only, he was not the one at fault, and she had no right to blame it on someone who was innocent; someone who she later on discovered (and perhaps, a tad bit too late) may be very similar in social upbringing (thanks to their agency), but different in character.
(Inappropriately, she is reminded of a certain green shirt that spelled I have great character, all in its awkwardly-grammar-ed English, that she had seen worn by two people on two different occasions.)
At a loss at what should be done with her stormy emotions, the young woman then decided to just greet him, as naturally as she could, without her voice breaking. He who had just approached and had not yet uttered a word, turning from him to him. "Aah! And what a coincidence, you're here too! I-It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
---
He noticed, for the first time, how she had immediately turned her attention to the newcomer; how she had basically discarded him like some old piece of clothing that she no longer needed.
She noticed, not for the first time, how his crooked, should-have-been-confident-but-turned-out-not-to-be grin actually mirrored that of hers, and that knowledge made her heart smile, flutter a little, even.
And he... He had failed to notice for the first time how there was an awkward, tense air around the two former lovers; he was just painfully aware of how he would always, always be at the sidelines, in reel life or in real life, and how he would never ever try to cause his own best friend unhappiness.
---
To Horikita Maki, Yamashita Tomohisa was representative of summer.
Brilliant and talented, radiant and always standing out, sincere and magnanimous-such was what he reminded her of. It did not take a genius to figure it out, really, as his face can be considered one of the faces of Japan’s young generation, and his kind, respectful attitude trickled even outside of the television screen and got to the spectators, causing them to think him a good person without even seeing him in person. Both physically and emotionally appealing, what with his kind manners and sincere actions, every mother wished to have a son like him. He was beautiful, inside and out, and that's what makes him love other people and be loved in return.
But the summer season is not always about the sun, the sea, and the beaches; summer also had days when you simply cannot stand the heat of the blazing sun as it beat down your lonely back.
To her, Tomohisa was just like summer; because while his brightness brought about optimism and cheer he could just burn you with that light he possessed and willingly gave away.
And she had been burned; scalded, scorched by his summer heat.
Like a firefly drawn to the light of a lamp Maki had given in to the temptation. In a moment of weakness her wintry self had thrown self-preservation away and succumbed to his heat; she had walked out of the cold days of winter she so loved and into the testy waters of the summer sun. And the barrier of ice that she had religiously built around herself melted in his presence, sizzled; her frigid, professional self who once proclaimed that she would never see her co-actor in any other light aside from a person to work with secretly became a harping hypocrite.
She had liaised with him, and Tomohisa just knew how to tear those stalwart walls down, his sun's rays far-reaching and almost omnipotent. And before she knew it she had been reeled in-hook, line and sinker, leading herself to believe that she had finally become that princess she had loved to fit the role into during childhood; and he, her prince, dashing and valiant and would always stay by her side.
It took her a lot before she realised that all had been child's play; that the princess at the tower had merely been visited by a courageous, conquest-seeking knight who was a prince in all aspects, but not one bent on sweeping the princess away in his arms.
Tomohisa was summer in her eyes, ever lustrous, bedazzling.
But she knew that her frosted self would never-ever- be able to mingle with summer, no matter how her icy walls tried its hardest to withstand the heat of the summer sun.
Because just as the seasons come one after the other, summer cannot occur in the same season as winter, nor can its attributes dwell in harmony with the hot weather.
Summer's dazzling days would be better off without the deathly atmosphere that came with winter.
---
"Maki-chaaan~"
She was not surprised to feel a warm, solid hand slip into hers, followed by an equally-warm body sidling up next to her own. "Maki-chaaaan~"
The young woman cast a helpless gaze at their companion, who was now staring at them with what she perceived to be an expression of mild amusement, before grabbing the playful hand that slipped from her palm and inside her funnel sleeve. "Yes, Yamashita-kun?"
Tomohisa's fingers closed in, entwining itself with her soft digits, as he leaned his chin on her shoulder and whispered breathlessly (or inebriatedly, whichever way you prefer it), "Mom and Rina are complaining, asking me why you don't come over often anymore. They… They miss you." I miss you.
It still made her shiver-his actions, his words, or how her name fell out of his lips in that flippant, almost careless manner. "Oh, I’m sorry, but you know how it is… I've just been busy... I'll drop by some time soon, okay? But in the mean time, tell them that I miss them too." I miss you too.
A husky chuckle right beside her ear only served to solidify her assumption that he was drunk; way too drunk as he mumbled incoherently and blew into her ear. She had to fight the shivers cringe and caught herself before flinching away from him, but it did not stop her from looking away awkwardly, and into the eyes of-
"Ikuta-kun, do you think you can drive?"
---
He had no right to be jealous. After all, he was not the one who had a relationship with her.
Furthermore he had agreed to drive his friend home-Oi Pi, you’re drunk, I’m driving you home-and honestly, he couldn’t really just leave Maki with Tomohisa. She would topple over first while helping Tomohisa even before they could make it out of the bar, and surely, that would attract paparazzi unwanted attention and as it is, their company has already been getting a few glances here and there.
A quick look at the rear-view mirror, and he could see his friend practically all over the young woman’s lap, arms draped around her petite form, head nuzzling her neck, mumbling and laughing to himself.
It escaped him, really, what his best friend’s reasons were for breaking up with Maki, when it had been obvious that he had been happy and content; compared to his disposition now-subdued and contemplative, if not downright broody at times. Ah, but who was he to question the other’s judgment? He who had nothing to be proud of; he who had not achieved anything noteworthy for himself. He had no right to keep Horikita Maki for himself interfere nor to influence his friend, much as he would like to step in and take over on his behalf give his unsolicited advice.
As quick as he had looked at the sight behind him so did he look away, in fear that one of them might have seen it in his eyes; that green-eyed monster that threatened to eat his whole being and cause discord amongst them.
What Toma didn’t see was the gaze from the backseat that quietly watched him sigh in resignation and turn his attention back to driving.
---
He had driven his friend’s car into the parking entrance and tapped the keycard on the sensor, all the while dismissing Tomohisa’s drunk ramblings after Maki retrieved the keycard from his coat pocket (he seemed to have become much more talkative after that bout-for-the-key), then helped the petite young woman haul Tomohisa out of the car and hold the drunk idol upright as they walked to the lift.
It was a good thing that Tomohisa’s apartment complex valued its clients’ privacy, and as such the receptionist had granted them exclusive use of the executive lift. Out of curiosity (and perhaps, force of habit), Toma looked up once he boarded the lift, almost expecting a camera at the upper corners of the lift car, but funnily, there was none. Not there, nor behind them, nor anywhere at all.
(And it would seem unlikely that the mirror walls-he noticed how the lift actually had reflective mirrors for walls rather than fancy wallpaper or woodworks or the boring and dull metal ones-would actually serve as one-way mirrors. Surely no one is that twisted?)
It didn’t take even one second, or even a moment’s reprieve for the young man, for the sound of a low moan to reach his ears.
What Toma didn’t really think was a very good thing about this was the fact that the lift had mirrors for its walls and ceilings; try as he might to avoid looking at what was transpiring only a few feet from him he could see, oh so clearly, from the reflective surface, how Tomohisa had pinned Maki against the wall with his lean body, one hand holding onto her shoulder while the other caressed her face, kissing her without abandon.
Maki’s eyes fluttered open, responding to Tomohisa’s advances but at the same time casting him what looked like a challenging an apologetic glance, her arms hanging limp on her sides as she tilted her head up to the tall young idol, meeting him halfway.
A deep breath, and Toma decided to ignore what was happening (and what he was currently feeling), closing his eyes as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned his head back against the wall. At least he could not see what was happening, even if the acoustics of the small space hid nothing to his imagination.
He could only hope that the sound of his traitorous heart shattering ever so slowly wouldn’t be magnified in the confines of a small elevator, too.
---
"Oof”"
The muffled sound of a chuckle followed immediately after, as one drunk Yamashita Tomohisa started to flap his arms in glee at the cool sheets that greeted his alcohol-heated face. "Aah, this feels nice~" Two loafers landed on the carpeted floor, discarded haphazardly, as he turned in his bed and smiled up at his long-time buddy.
"Thanks Toma. I owe you again." Was what the younger idol murmured, "You don't have to go home though, do you want to sleep on the couch? O-Or Rina's room, mom's room, the kitchen, the living room-" by then Tomohisa had been chuckling, deep and resounding like that of the tick-tock of the wall clock in the hallway.
Toma broke into a small laugh, ignoring his best friend's incoherence. "I'll just go use the loo for a while, okay? In the meantime, Maki-chan will keep you company."
His gaze then landed on the lone female presence in his room; one who was now picking up his discarded shoes.
The young woman froze as the sound of the door closing shut echoed in the bedroom.
"Maki-chaaannn."
"... Hmm?" She responded, still busying herself with menial tasks that she had gotten used to doing whenever she was at his apartment. She didn't exactly expect that it'd become awkward tonight; though considering the circumstance earlier it had been awkward, what with his advances on her and she, the fool, accepting and responding. But Maki certainly did not expect to be left alone with him, in his bedroom, of all places.
"Maki-Marina, what... What happened?"
The right foot of the pair of blue trainers she had bought for him a little over half a year ago fell on the carpeted floor with a dull thud.
"W-What are you talking about?"
"... You know what I'm talking about."
He sounded awfully sober-and looked sober, she thought, as she drew up to her height to face Tomohisa, who was now sitting on the bed, wide awake.
Her heart went erratic as she walked barefoot and across the room to hear him better, sitting on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as the familiar sleeping space would allow. "I... I don't know, Tomo."
The young man moved forward, his action pulling the sheets with him as he took her hand in his, placing a soft kiss on her knuckle. "I miss you."
At Maki's unresponsiveness, Tomohisa drew nearer and, placing her hand over his heart, continued: "I miss you, Marina..."
"Tomo-"
"I-I like you-no, I don't just like you, I love you."
She sniffled, shaking her head. "Even if you do, even if I do, isn't it a little too late, Tomohisa?"
He reached out and locked her into an embrace, frowning, head shaking repeatedly as he murmured his negation.
---
In his eyes, Horikita Maki was like winter.
She was the cool powder snow of his hometown, neither heavy nor gloomy, cold in nature but nonetheless harmless, innocent and pure. Her presence was that of powder snow, always present; a constant occurrence that he could look forward to whenever the autumn breeze turned harsher, chillier. Smooth and elegant like that of powder snow, one fine specimen that his rust-hued self would always yearn to touch.
And, as if Fate had heard his darkest and innermost wish, touch her, he did.
She reminded him of winter because her silver-white presence made everything around her shine; reflected everyone's luminescence and increased it ten-fold. Even his dreary, lackluster and third-wheel self shone its best around her. Her demeanour was that of a white palette that brought out the best in everyone, simple and sweet yet blinding in its glory; always, always sharing the sparkle and shine with the people around her willingly and unselfishly.
And she was winter because her pure white snow was bright and reflective of the shining sun. She made the sun shine, made the sun smile brighter, enabled the sun to have a more cheerful disposition in his life. A thing that his failure self may have been able to do, too; only, she had succeeded in a few-if not just one-tries. He on the other hand, had to work maybe more than five hundred days to achieve the same results, only to come up with a hit-and-miss record that may or may not even surpass a certain baka's incorrigible, dim-witted logic that always came off as effortless humour.
Her eyes, doe and hazel and tantalizing, lured him out of his shell; alluring, inviting. Until finally he was unable to stop himself-sun-kissed hands reached out for the fragile and the fleeting. Unlike with the sun she did not melt; rather, she was molded: from the ugly duckling she was first made out to be, (an ugly duckling that undermined her talent and beauty, but thankfully also became the key to her recognition) into a beautiful swan, whose fabulous feathers had given her wings to fly higher and away from the lake, away from the sun’s shadow; a masterpiece of nature.
She reminded him of winter because she was like a plum blossom. She was among the plum blossoms that were befitting of the season; though the quaint blooms are said to be both a symbol of winter and a harbinger of spring. One whose presence is steadfast amidst the winter chill; one whose flowers bloomed vibrantly in the harsh season's adversity and lasted well into the next season, unlike other blooms that wilted and died at Boreas' door. A plum blossom, because as the flower signified, she was like nobility: wit, tenderness, and elegance personified.
But he knew that autumn would never-ever- reach winter, no matter how his leaves would purposefully turn rusty and crisp and submit to the cruel wind’s ministrations just to announce winter's arrival.
Because just as the seasons turn from one into another, autumn's melancholic hues paled in contrast to summer's joyous spirits, and always chased after winter's steep solitude.
And chase as it may, the autumn days would always be lulled into a deep slumber before winter can even make its presence known.
---
When Toma opened the door to Tomohisa's bedroom, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sleeping form of his best friend. He, however, couldn't stop the sad, wry smile that formed on his lips as he opened the door further, revealing Maki, who was also asleep while sitting, held onto her place beside his lightly-snoring best friend, with said friend's arms looped around her waist almost protectively.
He quashed that traitorous feeling that blossomed in his chest at the sight, exhaling heavily to rid himself of the negativity.
He was no longer needed here, he knew; and much as he was welcome to stay and spend the night there Toma felt incredibly inappropriate to be barging in on their privacy. In retrospect he felt a little relieved, glad, somewhat, that they had made up; he knew that against Tomohisa he was nothing, and that even if he did have the edge, he would not willingly break their friendship, however much he had felt for the woman who would come in between them.
As quickly and as silently as he could he walked to the bedside table, placing the car keys and the keycard on top of the glass surface, careful not to make any type of noise. Successful in leaving them there, he turned and made his way back to the door. He could always catch a cab home, he figured.
The unexpected hand that held onto his wrist made him stop in his steps.
He turned his head and saw Maki looking up from her awkward position on the bed, eyes a little bleary but clear with her silent plea:
Stay.
Powerless against her, Toma’s lips curved into a small, nervous smile, before he gave her a small nod of acquiesce. He settled on getting a chair from the corner of the room and pulling it up beside the bed, where Tomohisa currently laid, his hands clinging onto the young woman like she was his lifeline.
The young woman then pushed herself up from her awkward prop against the bed's headboard and, much to Toma's surprise, enclosed his hand in hers. And in passing, Toma wondered if his palms were sweaty, or rough, or-
"These hands, Toma-kun... They're kind, beautiful hands. " Maki started, staring at their joined hands. “Always ready to help, always open to everything that comes its way...”
He should have been blushing, or at least feeling a little flushed at the compliment he had just received, but he didn't know what possessed him to actually be bold enough to lift his gaze up, from their joined hands to her face, and right now, all Toma could think of was-
She knows.
Unwittingly he had pulled his hand away, whether in shame, guilt, or pride he wasn’t sure.
Only for Maki to pull it back, slowly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, before placing it above her left chest, where he could feel her heart beating; for a moment there was only she and her heartbeat, and his heartbeat, and how, for that perfect moment, their hearts were beating in sync.
The pale, doe-eyed woman leaned over, pressing her lips against his; like butterfly wings that brushed past his skin, fleeting and effervescent.
And then, she pulled away.
"Toma-kun, thank you."
Love shone in her eyes.
But it wasn't the kind of love he had expected from her; not the kind of love that leaked out of her eyes whenever he saw her look at Tomohisa before, or the kind of love that she projected whenever she portrayed the role of a loving leading lady. It was warm and welcoming, tender and compassionate, caring… and filial.
And at that moment, he understood.
Toma shook his head, smilingly, and as he spoke, he could feel the small lump in his throat, getting in the way of expressing himself. "N-No, thank you, Maki-chan."
---
To Horikita Maki, Ikuta Toma was the embodiment of autumn.
Mellow but happy, skillful and hardworking, discreet and not flashy but noticeable (if one stared hard enough). That was how Maki thought of Toma. She had seen him in television shows, both of present and of the past, and while she was never really a fan of any Johnny’s group, such was the trend that every little/pre-pubescent/adolescent girl had to go through. And it didn’t really take a genius to figure it out-he was talented, is talented, and while he may not seem like the biggest star on the rise, Maki thought that he did deserve what he had achieved for himself right now.
He reminded her of autumn because he was brightly-hued; though not in the shades that blinded her eyesight. More of, he was bright and colourful in a warm manner, and one cannot help but be drawn to his positive disposition, and yet see the shadows of doubt and melancholy in his eyes.
Like autumn Toma had different shades to his character: fire red for the passion in his craft, rusty orange for his unassuming stance in his career and his life, earth brown for his middleman, down-to-earth personality when it came to his colleagues, and golden yellow for his brilliance-talent that is not placed in a showpiece mantle nor placed under a spotlight just to be noticed and laurelled.
He was an oxymoron, to an extent-noisy and lively and a definite mood-maker, but it was not difficult to spot the cloudy, hazy lull that he would sometimes slip under. Toma was fun to be with, never one to make you feel left out, even if at times, one couldn’t help but wonder if he’s doing it for your sake or his sake-that he, too, didn’t want to feel left out, never again, ever.
Just as the green leaves lose their ability to generate chlorophyll at the cold wind that introduced autumn, Maki thinks that Toma is like those rustic leaves of the season, of which the colours, bright and lovely as they may seem, were not leaves that represented youth and impulsiveness. They spoke of depth and maturity; of seeing the pros and cons of the brighter days of yonder. To her, the carotenoid that turned greens to yellows and oranges and reds was that of the events in his life-he had matured, from a brash, bouncing ball of energy during his younger days, to a subdued, well-mannered young man that strove hard to earn the respect and recognition of the people around him.
Like the crisp leaves and sweet scent of harvest during autumn Toma was, in his own way, an attention-seeker; though not in any way persistent nor insistent. And who was she to resist the lure of harvest and fallen leaves? Not her wintry self, indeed, who had, since knowing him, always depended on his presence; in fact, she had no idea when exactly she had started to seek him out and had grown to believe in his inner goodness too much, all too much, that he would even sacrifice harvest in exchange for her time; at the expense of losing himself in the process.
But Maki knew that winter would never-ever- be able to love autumn hard enough, no matter how her wintry self would try to reciprocate the same gentle attention and willingness he shared as she embraced the fragrance and admired the breathtaking hues of autumn.
Because just as the seasons turn from one into another, winter’s harsh and frigid exterior brought about sleet and snow and harsh climate; it hastened the death of the lovely scenery that autumn painted for everyone to see.
And try as it might, winter would always become winter after autumn; and after the dead season of snow had entirely sucked the life out of the trees and fruits that autumn willingly shared to winter, there would be no way for autumn to come back into life.
---
When Toma woke up just before dawn, she was already gone.
Not a word, not a note, or an email in his mobile (or even to Pi's, he noticed, as his indicator was not blinking at all) as to where she had gone and when she had exactly left.
The only thing she left was her lingering scent in the air, the faint taste of her lips, and the patterns she had traced upon his hands.
---
Tomohisa woke up to an empty bedroom, an equally-empty apartment, and a cold mattress beside his place, where he expected someone else to be, sleeping peacefully and dreaming of little Yamashitas padding around their quaint little home.
This time around, though, his heart didn't feel as empty, or as sinister, because as he had looked down at the world below him, he could see tiny pink blooms on once-wilted trees, adding colour to the soft light of the early morning sun; the chill of winter fading into the days of spring.
～おわり～
Notes:
*Obsession of the seasons came from PRIDE, a j-drama starring your Highness Kimura Takuya as Satonaka Haru and Takeuchi Yuuko as Murase Aki.
* Factual references to wisteria and plum blossoms taken from wikipedia, here and here.
* In case anyone had been wondering, yes, Hokkaido, Toma’s hometown, has powder snow.