Dusk
The following story is actually (dare I say it?) my favourite so far. It's also my first multi-chaptered fic. Well to be technical, it's only a two-shot. But still, updates are updates :D
Title: Dusk
Character(s) / pairing(s): Blue / Green
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 5489
Note: Two chapters, for convenience placed under one LJ-cut. Both are written from a different point of view.
Summary: Five years is not enough to extinguish those feelings.
Part 1
The first time Blue sees Green again after their break-up, five years have passed. The party she's at is black-tie, and though she likes the sophisticated air that goes with it, she feels mostly sorry she can't push aside the tables and just dance. As she sits sipping her champagne, legs neatly crossed, black stilettos tapping at the rhythm of the bland background music, her eye lands on him and her heart momentarily stops functioning.
He's sitting a few tables away from her, dressed in an impeccable black suit and matching tie; and although he talks politely to the elderly man next to him, she can tell he's bored out of his mind. She smirks - some things never change.
She waits for him to notice her, twirling her glass back and forth between her fingers as she does so. After two minutes, he looks her side. He stops talking in mid-sentence - and she can't help but smirk at the expression of utter shock on his face. Then, he averts his eyes again. It doesn't take long, though, before he chances another glance in her direction; and this time, she doesn't grin. She just looks and takes in his face, the countenance she used to know so well; the face she sometimes looks up in old photo albums just for nostalgia's sake. He holds her gaze, seemingly having become oblivious to the man next to him - or, for that matter, choosing to ignore him. With a pang of delightful fondness, she decides upon the latter.
She puts down her champagne, thinking that a crowded dining room isn't the best of places to catch up. There's a constant swirl of movement and noise; and though she hadn't noticed five minutes earlier, the lack of air seems to be closing her throat. Without further contemplation, Blue stands and walks off towards the open doors on the other side of the room. She doesn't look back as she disappears between the foray of penguin suits and evening dresses because she knows Green will follow her. He will want to know why, and how, and what, because he's always been one for questioning; he's always been one for getting answers.
When she walks through the open glass doors, onto the small balcony, the fresh air envelops her. For a few seconds she stands completely still, and just breathes; then, she takes a step forward and places her hands on the stone balustrade. The sky ahead of her is darkening, pink and violet streaks in the distance fading to a misty dusk. The air is warm, pleasant, like an embrace from a dear friend; a kiss from a long-lost lover.
"Blue."
She turns her head, and looks at Green. She doesn't speak. His eyes don't leave her face as he advances, hands in his pocket, the look on his face still unbelieving and wondering.
She smiles as he comes to a halt next to her, and then returns her gaze to the mystifying sky. "If anyone would have said to me you'd be here, Green, I would have told them they were delusional. I can't believe you're at this party. You're never at parties." She looks aside. "Or were."
"Some duties you can't escape," he answers tonelessly, "less pleasant side of being a Gym Leader."
"I daresay most people would consider attending parties as one of the plus-sides of your function," Blue contradicts jauntily, grin still in place. She then wonders why the heck they are making small-talk when there is so much else to catch up on. "How have you been, Green? It's been a long time."
"Hmm." His brow furrows as he looks ahead of him. He licks his lips. "I don't know if you can summarize five years in five minutes."
"Who says we've only got five minutes?"
Their gazes meet and, for a second, there is the spark of electricity that has always been there; the spark that had always formed the basis of their entire relationship. His lips part slightly and the outline of a smirk appears around the corners of his mouth.
"How long do you plan on staying, then?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"Whether the music will get an upgrade or not."
He snorts, and she can see it is amusement that colours his face. Then he says, seemingly-conversationally, "Who you're here with tonight?" and she knows he is really asking, 'Are you seeing someone?'
She purses her lips, thinking of what to say. In the end, she decides to walk the less-travelled road and choose for the truth. Refreshment never hurts. "I've come alone," she says, "have connections to get to these kind of parties, and it's fun most of the time, really - but tonight, the company does disappoint a bit.'
He flashes her a grin, and she says, "What about you, then?"
The question momentarily hangs in mid-air, tickling their faces - before dissolving into undisguised relief as he, drumming his fingers on the balustrade once, answers, "Same."
There is a small silence in which she knows they're both wondering if it is okay to feel what they feel at the statements they'd just heard.
She decides it is. If only for her pride.
"All alone, huh?" she says at last, emerging from her thoughts. She clasps a strand of hair between her fingers and begins to twirl it. "I did see you with a nice table companion, though. Sure there isn't more going on there?"
To his credit, he doesn't even bother reacting to her insinuation, far too used to her quips by now; or that's what she likes to think, at least.
She shakes her head, smiling nostalgically, and continues to twirl her hair. It's an unconscious habit, really - as far as something can be called unconscious when you're actually aware of doing it.
Green, meanwhile, has folded his arms on the balustrade and is looking off into the distance. She wonders what he's thinking; she wonders if she can still read his mind like she used to.
"Weird, isn't it, that we haven't seen each other for so long?"
He lowers his head and looks at his sleeve-covered arms. She frowns, because she wants to see his face, she wants to see what's going on in his mind.
She wants to see if he's thinking the same things she does.
"I'd have thought we'd run into each other at least some time, really," she continues. "On a wedding, or the like."
He finally looks up, and she wonders fleetingly if wedding was the wrong noun to pick. But when he speaks, he only says, "You shouldn't have moved to the Sevii Islands."
She arches an eyebrow, slightly annoyed; slightly insulted. "I can move wherever I want to go."
"Then don't complain we haven't seen each other for five years."
"I did not complain."
Not really, she adds in her mind. Not verbally.
He shakes his head minutely and looks away, and she frowns as the disgruntle inside of her grows. It wasn't only sparks of love that made up their relationship, she now remembers again; there were also ones of irritation, of anger, of -
"You could have visited me."
He looks at her and she looks at him, and there's a swirl of emotion flaring in his emerald eyes.
"I wanted to, sometimes. But you -"
"What about me?"
"We'd broken up, Blue, and I needed to get on with my life. I have a job here, a public function, I couldn't just -"
"What, not leave for a week? Not even loose a minute of your precious life for one phone call?"
Her insults aren't fair, she knows it with her entire body; it is calling the kettle blacker than black. But she needs to out her anger - she needs to let loose all those emotions bottled up in the time left behind.
Green's face twists, and she can tell he is trying not to rise to her accusation. He'd always been like that. Rather reason than pointless fights.
"Of course I could have called, Blue, and so could you. But we didn't. Alright? It was just -" He turns away and looks at the darkening sky. "It was just a matter of moving on," he finishes.
Another silence falls. Blue looks sideways at Green's dimly-lit profile. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. Past memories flash before her eyes. Green holding her in his arms - she singing a song for him, a bit drunk but perfectly happy - and he smiling despite himself, smiling the way she hadn't seen him doing since they had ended it all.
"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I'm - you're right. It was a way of moving on."
'Of forgetting the happy days we had,' she finishes in her head, 'of crossing a line through your name in the hopes I would find someone who could make the past look like a silly fantasy.'
"Do you -" She stops, not sure whether she wants to continue or not. "Have you had any relationships since?"
He looks sideways with a look that says he knows exactly what she's thinking. "Do you really want to know?"
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't, would I?" she answers, cocking an eyebrow.
He makes a funny movement with his head, as though he isn't too sure about that statement. Then he says, "A few. But none of real meaning. I mean, not -"
He stops in mid-sentence. The never-spoken 'like we had' dances before their eyes in the small space between them, sticking to the sultry summer air like thick honey.
Her fingers grip the balustrade, and she has to fight the blossoming emotions from showing. When she is sure her voice is completely level again, she says, "Neither have I. I've had a few relationships, and some of them were good - some not - but not really…"
Like we had.
Green seems to understand without in need of asking - like he always did. He looks at her with a clouded gaze, his mouth closed and his face neutral. She feels slightly perturbed that she can't read him anymore - it's unnerving not to know; not to detect automatically.
She juggles the possible emotions around in her mind (indifference; acceptance; want; loss) switching and turning them around; but never coming to a conclusion.
She frowns and looks away, because it is no fun like this. Instead, her eyes land on their hands, loosely placed on the balustrade. There's barely any distance between them - just a few centimetres.
Five.
Four.
Closer.
She takes in his light skin, soft and regal in the light spilling in from the open balcony doors. His nails are clean. His fingers are slender. Feminine, almost - and she wonders why she wants to touch them so badly; why she wants to put her hand on top of his so much she has to do everything to stop her fingers from moving. She's always been one for manly men, not for refinement, so why -
"Blue."
She looks up, quickly, and realises her mistake at once.
Too obvious, too long; eagerness is a rookie mistake, a sure way to give the power out of hands. Subtlety must always be preserved when one wants to succeed - and she, inexplicably, failed at it.
The right corner of Green's mouth is tugged upwards and now, it isn't so difficult to detect his thoughts. Enlightening when you don't need it.
"It seems like you have changed after all."
"Sorry?"
"Wait-and-see never really was your policy," he elaborates smoothly, "more like, 'I do whatever I please and the rest just has to follow'."
She twirls her hair, pushing her irritation back. "It still is, Green. And what's with the disapproving tone, by the way? You never complained, as far as I can recall."
"Except that I did."
"Except that you didn't."
Their eyes lock, and they both have to smile as if on cue - it's just so much like old times, this bantering, this subtle flirting, that the past almost becomes tangible again; almost becomes more than a rosy mirroring of happier times.
She looks down at his hand again, and this time, does give in to her desire. His smile was as good of an invitation as any.
The dimmed warmth and rough softness of his skin are just as then, and cause a twirl of recognition in her stomach; and the second her fingers are parallel with his, he intertwines them; slowly moves his thumb; strokes the back of her hand once.
It feels good. It feels better than good.
She raises her eyes to his face again, and the way he stands and breathes and doesn't speak - it's almost enough to make her turn back into a gooey sixteen-year-old school girl.
Except that she never was a school girl, and she doesn't do sloppy.
"Which hotel do you stay in?"
The unexpectedness of the question make her eyes flash to his face, but his expression reveals nothing but vague interest. She purses her lips, wondering, and changes her look to innocent-flirty.
"And why would you want to know that?"
The corner of his mouth tugs up into a grin. "Oh, I know what you're getting at."
"Of course you do. It's only the most-asked question in late-night encounters between people of the opposite sex; or the same, for that matter. I've never been one to discriminate."
"Might be," he says, his face turning neutral again but the amusement still apparent in his voice. "Still, you can't out factor the possibility that it could also be mere interest."
"Interest is never mere interest," she counters slyly, and then winks at him.
She sees something stirring in his face the moment she does. It's the wink, she realises. It's the trademark that was and still is hers, the gesture she used to overwhelm him with.
God, she's really getting emotional.
"If you're not going to answer the question," he says, "why don't I take a guess?"
She raises her eyebrow. "There are at least twenty hotels in this town, if not more. Do you really think you're able to know which one I'm staying in?"
He grins a little. "I said guess, not know. Still, when I take into account that you love luxury, yet don't have enough money to pay for the top-class," (her eyes narrow) "and probably want to be as close to the shopping street as possible… I'd say you're staying in the Fukayama hotel."
She doesn't answer. Just, screw him and his overly-developed deduction skills.
"I'm right, then, aren't I? I would have long heard if I weren't."
"Hmm. Could have been mere luck, though."
"Could also have been me knowing you very well."
"Which sounds just a little stalker-like after all this time," she answers, raising her eyebrows.
"More like proof of a good memory," he counters, and she lowers her eyebrows again because she knows he is right.
Plus, she doesn't mind it that much that he still knows her so well. Really.
The corners of his mouth lift again when she says no more - meaning she has conceded defeat - but then he turns serious and says, "It's good talking to you again, Blue. It's good seeing you."
She can see in his eyes that he means it, and she smiles. It's better than good, she wants to say - except that she doesn't, because she's not sentimental like that.
So she just says, "I agree," and leaves him guessing for the rest.
He should be able to, really - with his records.
Green smiles too, and when they continue to look at each other, their gazes locked as if though glued, the sky and the wind and the fading evening light all momentarily retreat to the shadows. It's just them, and she feels her breath being cut off; her brain clouding with a mystifying want.
He tightens the grip on her hand slightly, and she does the same. He strokes the skin with his thumb; she has trouble breathing. He steps a few inches forward. She repeats. He halts. She waits. He breaths. She looks. He searches.
She reaches forward.
Their lips meet.
***
Part 2
Green is pretty sure that when it comes to 'do's and don'ts' when stumbling upon your long-lost ex, kissing falls into the last category.
Then again, his ex is named Blue, and he doesn't do lists.
He'd unconsciously probably already known something along these lines would happen when he first saw the girl, dressed elegantly in evening dress and heels but lips curled up in a smile not befitting a society event like this. The notion had increased in strength when they stood on the balcony, secluded from everyone else but mere inches away from each other; the light from inside making Blue's lips gleam like glass. He couldn't do anything else but give in to the feeling when her hand was cupping his, and her mouth (eyes, lashes, gaze) had made it unable for him to let his reason restrain his movements.
It was stupid, and he should have known better, really - but it was Blue, and that made things almost justified. Almost.
When their lips part again, Blue's lashes flutter from her cheek to her eyebrow. Her mouth glistens and her cheeks are hot (he thinks - he doesn't know) and her eyes, they shine like they used before they pulled the plug from it all.
Then it's gone, and a guarded expression veils her face again. She wants to know his reaction first, he realises; she'll say something -
"I never took you for the guy who'd a kiss a girl on the first evening, Green."
- flirty to break the tension. Yes.
He decides against wondering whether it's a good or a bad thing he's still able to read her like a book, and instead forces himself to comment on her remark - an ever-recurring pattern of conversation he's afraid is cyclic and incurable.
"It's hardly our first evening, Blue."
"After five years of not meeting? I'd say yes."
She puts a strand of hair behind her ear as she looks off into the distance, and he knows she's not looking at him because she's unable to keep the unwanted emotion out of her eyes. Just like old times.
"Blue -" He pauses; frowns. "Look at me, will you? I know that that kiss probably shouldn't have happened, but it did. So let's not make any more fuss about it than strictly necessary."
He decides against adding, 'It wasn't so bad, and we probably couldn't have stopped it anyway,' because that would reek a little too much of the sticky romance novels he remembers Blue reading.
"Hmm." The girl raises her hand to her hair - absent-mindedly, almost - and starts twirling it. Habits don't change, it seems; and he feels both strangely relieved and perturbed because of it. No change means stagnation, and the innocent, half-unconscious gesture blurs the dividing lines between past and present in a way that is more dangerous than reassuring. But still, to know that some things have stayed the exact same as back then - to know that not everything changes and changes and changes in this mad, ever-moving world… it's a relief he can't quite cast aside.
"Well, you're right about that," Blue says, and for a moment he has trouble focussing on her voice. His eyes are still fixed on her hand; half-cast in shadow, clasping the strand of chestnut hair that has been smoothened so many times the number seems almost negligible.
Making an effort to put all disconcerting thoughts to the back of his mind, he raises his gaze to her face. The corners of her mouth are slightly turned up as she continues smoothly, "To be honest, you've made me quite nostalgic. I'd almost forgotten what a great kisser you were."
She grins at him, and there is the old cheeky Blue again in all her glory; the one he had so dearly loved (loves). He instinctively averts his gaze to the almost black sky, and refrains from giving an answer. It's probably not like Blue expects one, anyway; their talks had always been more one - than two-way. And besides, words with the purpose of just filling silences - of merely producing the small talk that seems conventional and indispensable to all but him - are words that are better off left unsaid.
So he just looks ahead of him, already not able anymore to discern the silhouettes of pine-trees and far-off houses from the blackened sky behind them. The dusk surrounding them is thick, sultry, and yet feather-light. It almost seems to breathe in synchrony with the growing silence between them, absorbing the unspoken words and promises with every turn. It isn't uncomfortable - it feels naturally, like everything had always felt with Blue.
Feels.
Felt.
Either way.
Just then the girl sighs, and he looks sideways in time to catch a look of dreamy contentment on her face. Her pupils travel swiftly to the right when she feels his gaze on her, and then an almost guilty smile creeps up her face.
"What?"
"I'm just happy to be here," Blue answers nonchalantly, and Green knows it is a deliberate understatement. "It's almost like then, you know," she continues thoughtfully (musingly, almost); and it's as if she's talking to herself and has forgotten about him. But the woman next to him would never forget about a person's presence; so whilst her gaze is fixed on the darkened horizon, and her voice is introvert and low, Green knows the brunette is observing him with other methods than gaze and speech.
Instead of feeling perturbed, he is weirdly reassured by that knowledge.
In answer to her assertion, he makes a confirmative sound, because he doesn't know what else to do. He could point out that, back then, they almost never stood together in such peaceful silence, because there was always something to argue about. But - the past isn't there to be dragged up (upon that thought, his mind smartly remarks that this whole evening has been nothing but a reliving of the past - something he ignores with deft and experience) and besides, there is no need to ruin a good moment when it's there.
Blue looks at him again and smiles, and he can't help but return the gesture. She's one of those very few people who can break down his self-defences with nothing more than a pair of glossy lips and a sparkling in the eye.
When he thinks of it, she's the only one who's capable of such a feat.
She then breaks the renewed silence in a completely innocent (and thus completely suspicious) voice, "So, you know which hotel I'm staying in. What about you?"
He pauses for awhile before he answers, "Doji Hotel."
The corners of her mouth turn. "Suits you, that. Still, in a recent rating, the Fukayama hotel ranked much higher than the Doji. Something about bad room service and wonky mattresses."
Her eyes gleam when they meet his, and without intention, his breath stills for a moment. She hasn't said anything (yet) but the implications of her statement are quadruple. The sultry air surrounding them absorbs every single syllable until the night is pregnant with irrational expectations and desires. In the perfect silence that reigns between them, he can almost hear it buzzing (paradox, his mind whispers automatically).
Then Blue adds seemingly-casually, "Fukayama would have been a much better choice for you," and all pretence is gone.
He doesn't know what to say except for the rational, so he asks, "Where do you base that on?"
"Internet; common knowledge; intuition. Take your pick."
He raises an eyebrow, intuitively and out of sheer habit. "I'd hardly call that solid information."
"I never said it was. It's merely my biased opinion." She smiles sleekly and then continues, "The Fukayama is also closer from here out. Weren't you the one who wanted to bail on this party as quickly as possible?"
"I never said such a thing."
"Your body language sure did."
"That was before I saw you, then," he says, and then wonders why the heck he can't keep his mouth shut.
Blue naturally and quite predictably grins in response. "An actual compliment. You're growing on me by the minute."
"Better shut it down now, then," he drones, but still does not break the eye-contact. There has always been something about her eyes: perhaps it is the colour; perhaps the vividness. Or maybe it's the simple fact that it is the only part of herself that the woman in front of him can't completely manipulate at will and wishes.
"Oh, Green." Blue smiles as she shakes her head, and then extends a slender arm to place her hand on his. "Still denying yourself all the fun in life, are you?"
He raises an eyebrow, about to give a retort and at the same time shake off her hand; but for some reason, finds himself unable to do so. It feels… right, her hand on his and them standing here; an equilibrium that'd be distorted when changed, a moment ruined when broken. He doesn't know whether it's the past or the present that's making itself heard, and then decides it would be wiser to stay in the dark.
In the small time he fails to either retreat his hand or utter anything resembling an answer, Blue has breached the distance between them and is suddenly standing very close. He can feel her body warmth get through him: irreversible and unyielding. Her breath on his skin; her hand encompassing his - he can't look away.
He doesn't want to look away.
"You know we can't," he says finally, and is surprised to find out his voice doesn't sound strained. Her proximity makes it almost impossible to breathe.
There's a flicker of well-disguised regret in her eyes before she half-sighs, half-whispers, "I know."
Neither needs more words. They look at each other for a long time - her hand cupping his, he unable to pull away and break the ever-growing tension. When Blue slightly tightens her grip, he returns the gesture; more out of instinct than anything else. His reason has largely left him, like only she can make it leave. It are mere inches that separate them, and he can feel her breath on his skin; feel her slender fingers intertwined with his; almost feel the body he used to know so well.
He wonders if it has changed much; wonders - hopes - whether it is still the same like he remembers. He then has the fleeting, unwanted thought whether it is good memory or something else entirely that he's still able to conjure the image of her nude body right in front of him - the beauty-spot on her thigh, the rounding of her breasts, the scent of her skin… she always smelled like roses, he remembers rather fondly and rather wishfully. It were her favourite flowers, she had explained when he once asked after it; delicate and beautiful, yet threatening when you weren't careful around it. She'd liked to think of herself that way.
Green himself dislikes to phrase his sentences with 'if' and 'whether', words that occupy his current train of thought more than they should. But Blue brings back the past to his mind's eye; makes him re-think things he'd thought were forgotten and neatly left behind. It's enough to make him dislike her - if only he could.
Then, as if the tension has become too much for her, Blue suddenly breaks the eye contact and reaches forward. In one fluid movement, she wraps her arms around his torso and brings her body close to his. Green is startled for the skip of a heartbeat; but then, slowly lifts his arms and places them around her upper-body. It feels more like a gesture of goodbye than an action of passion, and is almost sure Blue is having the same line of thought.
While they stand there, his eyes fixed on the ivy growing on either side of the balcony, and her body warmth slowly mixing with his, he slightly moves his head so that strands of chestnut come to brush his face. While half-buried in her hair, the scent of her perfume slowly reaches his nostrils. With a pang he realises she smells like -
Jasmine.
While he might feel disappointed by that knowledge (and he does - he can't deny he does) Green fully realises at once that it is an irrational response. He knows that five years is a long time in which a lot can change; knows that this Blue and… his Blue, for lack of a better term, aren't the same person.
Or he should know, at least.
If anything, the soft, deep fragrance makes him realise that the embrace is one of goodbye. The scent stupefies his senses, so much so that he can't do anything but tighten the grip on her body. He dimly feels Blue return the pressure, but isn't fully aware of it; there's a swirl of thought in his head (dreams of past and present, so neatly intermixed he doesn't know where one ends and one begins) and besides that - there's only the warmth of their bodies.
After a long moment, they let go of one another. There isn't any awkwardness in the air like there was before; it's more a sense of loss, and, perhaps, of regret.
"Well, I should go," Blue says at last, not bothering to hide the lie in her voice. She probably doesn't have any rush to leave; she probably doesn't have any wish for it either.
"…yes," he answers after a moment, slowly, because in moments like these it's best to play along with the universe's wishes and not look back. To not rethink.
They look at each other for a long time, thoughts and doubts and resolutions almost visible in the impenetrable night air.
Then she smiles, and turns around.
Green watches her walk towards the folding doors, a feeling of loss making his heart contract without warning. His fingers grip the balustrade, tightly, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to suppress the words forming in his throat; wouldn't be able to keep himself from walking over towards the woman at the threshold and stop her - persuade her to not be rational, but follow their stupid desires.
(Four steps. Two seconds. One heartbeat.)
He doesn't. He merely takes a shaking breath and tears his gaze away, directing it to the scenery in front of him. If he doesn't see anything, it's because it's dark; not because his thoughts are with the girl now retreated into the dining hall, walking towards a night and a future he won't know anything about.
He clenches his teeth, hard. It might have been a mistake to
(let her go)
see her and meet her and kiss her.
Then -
"Green."
He stands quite still for a moment, not knowing whether he heard right and not wanting to be disappointed. Then, he turns around.
Blue is still standing on the threshold. Perhaps she had walked back; perhaps she hadn't moved at all. He simply doesn't care. Her face and dress are aglow in the benevolent light spilling in through the doors, and he fleetingly (stupidly) thinks of angels and heaven and sun-lit clouds.
"You will give me a call sometime, won't you?"
The tone of her voice shatters the image of heaven, but does give him back the breath he'd unintentionally lost. The first logical thing that comes to his mind finds its way out, constructed in tones more level than any of his current feelings or thoughts.
"Didn't you have your number changed?"
She smiles at his answer, a tad flirtatiously and a tad something else. "I know you'll be able to find out regardless, Green. I'll be hearing from you, then, hmm?"
She gives him one last wink (his stomach produces a feeling he'll claim anytime and anyplace wasn't there) and then turns around, walking away through the open doors. He watches the spot where she disappears between the crowd for a long time, before returning his gaze to the view. There's a light smile around his lips he doesn't particularly bother to hide; and not only because it is dark and no-one else is around.
He thinks of her smile and her eyes and her scent (jasmine - no roses) and can't help but wonder of things to come - of dreams to be. When Green finally draws himself up again and makes for the exit, the dusk has been replaced by an almost starless night.
It is only the beginning.
Title: Dusk
Character(s) / pairing(s): Blue / Green
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 5489
Note: Two chapters, for convenience placed under one LJ-cut. Both are written from a different point of view.
Summary: Five years is not enough to extinguish those feelings.
Part 1
The first time Blue sees Green again after their break-up, five years have passed. The party she's at is black-tie, and though she likes the sophisticated air that goes with it, she feels mostly sorry she can't push aside the tables and just dance. As she sits sipping her champagne, legs neatly crossed, black stilettos tapping at the rhythm of the bland background music, her eye lands on him and her heart momentarily stops functioning.
He's sitting a few tables away from her, dressed in an impeccable black suit and matching tie; and although he talks politely to the elderly man next to him, she can tell he's bored out of his mind. She smirks - some things never change.
She waits for him to notice her, twirling her glass back and forth between her fingers as she does so. After two minutes, he looks her side. He stops talking in mid-sentence - and she can't help but smirk at the expression of utter shock on his face. Then, he averts his eyes again. It doesn't take long, though, before he chances another glance in her direction; and this time, she doesn't grin. She just looks and takes in his face, the countenance she used to know so well; the face she sometimes looks up in old photo albums just for nostalgia's sake. He holds her gaze, seemingly having become oblivious to the man next to him - or, for that matter, choosing to ignore him. With a pang of delightful fondness, she decides upon the latter.
She puts down her champagne, thinking that a crowded dining room isn't the best of places to catch up. There's a constant swirl of movement and noise; and though she hadn't noticed five minutes earlier, the lack of air seems to be closing her throat. Without further contemplation, Blue stands and walks off towards the open doors on the other side of the room. She doesn't look back as she disappears between the foray of penguin suits and evening dresses because she knows Green will follow her. He will want to know why, and how, and what, because he's always been one for questioning; he's always been one for getting answers.
When she walks through the open glass doors, onto the small balcony, the fresh air envelops her. For a few seconds she stands completely still, and just breathes; then, she takes a step forward and places her hands on the stone balustrade. The sky ahead of her is darkening, pink and violet streaks in the distance fading to a misty dusk. The air is warm, pleasant, like an embrace from a dear friend; a kiss from a long-lost lover.
"Blue."
She turns her head, and looks at Green. She doesn't speak. His eyes don't leave her face as he advances, hands in his pocket, the look on his face still unbelieving and wondering.
She smiles as he comes to a halt next to her, and then returns her gaze to the mystifying sky. "If anyone would have said to me you'd be here, Green, I would have told them they were delusional. I can't believe you're at this party. You're never at parties." She looks aside. "Or were."
"Some duties you can't escape," he answers tonelessly, "less pleasant side of being a Gym Leader."
"I daresay most people would consider attending parties as one of the plus-sides of your function," Blue contradicts jauntily, grin still in place. She then wonders why the heck they are making small-talk when there is so much else to catch up on. "How have you been, Green? It's been a long time."
"Hmm." His brow furrows as he looks ahead of him. He licks his lips. "I don't know if you can summarize five years in five minutes."
"Who says we've only got five minutes?"
Their gazes meet and, for a second, there is the spark of electricity that has always been there; the spark that had always formed the basis of their entire relationship. His lips part slightly and the outline of a smirk appears around the corners of his mouth.
"How long do you plan on staying, then?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"Whether the music will get an upgrade or not."
He snorts, and she can see it is amusement that colours his face. Then he says, seemingly-conversationally, "Who you're here with tonight?" and she knows he is really asking, 'Are you seeing someone?'
She purses her lips, thinking of what to say. In the end, she decides to walk the less-travelled road and choose for the truth. Refreshment never hurts. "I've come alone," she says, "have connections to get to these kind of parties, and it's fun most of the time, really - but tonight, the company does disappoint a bit.'
He flashes her a grin, and she says, "What about you, then?"
The question momentarily hangs in mid-air, tickling their faces - before dissolving into undisguised relief as he, drumming his fingers on the balustrade once, answers, "Same."
There is a small silence in which she knows they're both wondering if it is okay to feel what they feel at the statements they'd just heard.
She decides it is. If only for her pride.
"All alone, huh?" she says at last, emerging from her thoughts. She clasps a strand of hair between her fingers and begins to twirl it. "I did see you with a nice table companion, though. Sure there isn't more going on there?"
To his credit, he doesn't even bother reacting to her insinuation, far too used to her quips by now; or that's what she likes to think, at least.
She shakes her head, smiling nostalgically, and continues to twirl her hair. It's an unconscious habit, really - as far as something can be called unconscious when you're actually aware of doing it.
Green, meanwhile, has folded his arms on the balustrade and is looking off into the distance. She wonders what he's thinking; she wonders if she can still read his mind like she used to.
"Weird, isn't it, that we haven't seen each other for so long?"
He lowers his head and looks at his sleeve-covered arms. She frowns, because she wants to see his face, she wants to see what's going on in his mind.
She wants to see if he's thinking the same things she does.
"I'd have thought we'd run into each other at least some time, really," she continues. "On a wedding, or the like."
He finally looks up, and she wonders fleetingly if wedding was the wrong noun to pick. But when he speaks, he only says, "You shouldn't have moved to the Sevii Islands."
She arches an eyebrow, slightly annoyed; slightly insulted. "I can move wherever I want to go."
"Then don't complain we haven't seen each other for five years."
"I did not complain."
Not really, she adds in her mind. Not verbally.
He shakes his head minutely and looks away, and she frowns as the disgruntle inside of her grows. It wasn't only sparks of love that made up their relationship, she now remembers again; there were also ones of irritation, of anger, of -
"You could have visited me."
He looks at her and she looks at him, and there's a swirl of emotion flaring in his emerald eyes.
"I wanted to, sometimes. But you -"
"What about me?"
"We'd broken up, Blue, and I needed to get on with my life. I have a job here, a public function, I couldn't just -"
"What, not leave for a week? Not even loose a minute of your precious life for one phone call?"
Her insults aren't fair, she knows it with her entire body; it is calling the kettle blacker than black. But she needs to out her anger - she needs to let loose all those emotions bottled up in the time left behind.
Green's face twists, and she can tell he is trying not to rise to her accusation. He'd always been like that. Rather reason than pointless fights.
"Of course I could have called, Blue, and so could you. But we didn't. Alright? It was just -" He turns away and looks at the darkening sky. "It was just a matter of moving on," he finishes.
Another silence falls. Blue looks sideways at Green's dimly-lit profile. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. Past memories flash before her eyes. Green holding her in his arms - she singing a song for him, a bit drunk but perfectly happy - and he smiling despite himself, smiling the way she hadn't seen him doing since they had ended it all.
"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I'm - you're right. It was a way of moving on."
'Of forgetting the happy days we had,' she finishes in her head, 'of crossing a line through your name in the hopes I would find someone who could make the past look like a silly fantasy.'
"Do you -" She stops, not sure whether she wants to continue or not. "Have you had any relationships since?"
He looks sideways with a look that says he knows exactly what she's thinking. "Do you really want to know?"
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't, would I?" she answers, cocking an eyebrow.
He makes a funny movement with his head, as though he isn't too sure about that statement. Then he says, "A few. But none of real meaning. I mean, not -"
He stops in mid-sentence. The never-spoken 'like we had' dances before their eyes in the small space between them, sticking to the sultry summer air like thick honey.
Her fingers grip the balustrade, and she has to fight the blossoming emotions from showing. When she is sure her voice is completely level again, she says, "Neither have I. I've had a few relationships, and some of them were good - some not - but not really…"
Like we had.
Green seems to understand without in need of asking - like he always did. He looks at her with a clouded gaze, his mouth closed and his face neutral. She feels slightly perturbed that she can't read him anymore - it's unnerving not to know; not to detect automatically.
She juggles the possible emotions around in her mind (indifference; acceptance; want; loss) switching and turning them around; but never coming to a conclusion.
She frowns and looks away, because it is no fun like this. Instead, her eyes land on their hands, loosely placed on the balustrade. There's barely any distance between them - just a few centimetres.
Five.
Four.
Closer.
She takes in his light skin, soft and regal in the light spilling in from the open balcony doors. His nails are clean. His fingers are slender. Feminine, almost - and she wonders why she wants to touch them so badly; why she wants to put her hand on top of his so much she has to do everything to stop her fingers from moving. She's always been one for manly men, not for refinement, so why -
"Blue."
She looks up, quickly, and realises her mistake at once.
Too obvious, too long; eagerness is a rookie mistake, a sure way to give the power out of hands. Subtlety must always be preserved when one wants to succeed - and she, inexplicably, failed at it.
The right corner of Green's mouth is tugged upwards and now, it isn't so difficult to detect his thoughts. Enlightening when you don't need it.
"It seems like you have changed after all."
"Sorry?"
"Wait-and-see never really was your policy," he elaborates smoothly, "more like, 'I do whatever I please and the rest just has to follow'."
She twirls her hair, pushing her irritation back. "It still is, Green. And what's with the disapproving tone, by the way? You never complained, as far as I can recall."
"Except that I did."
"Except that you didn't."
Their eyes lock, and they both have to smile as if on cue - it's just so much like old times, this bantering, this subtle flirting, that the past almost becomes tangible again; almost becomes more than a rosy mirroring of happier times.
She looks down at his hand again, and this time, does give in to her desire. His smile was as good of an invitation as any.
The dimmed warmth and rough softness of his skin are just as then, and cause a twirl of recognition in her stomach; and the second her fingers are parallel with his, he intertwines them; slowly moves his thumb; strokes the back of her hand once.
It feels good. It feels better than good.
She raises her eyes to his face again, and the way he stands and breathes and doesn't speak - it's almost enough to make her turn back into a gooey sixteen-year-old school girl.
Except that she never was a school girl, and she doesn't do sloppy.
"Which hotel do you stay in?"
The unexpectedness of the question make her eyes flash to his face, but his expression reveals nothing but vague interest. She purses her lips, wondering, and changes her look to innocent-flirty.
"And why would you want to know that?"
The corner of his mouth tugs up into a grin. "Oh, I know what you're getting at."
"Of course you do. It's only the most-asked question in late-night encounters between people of the opposite sex; or the same, for that matter. I've never been one to discriminate."
"Might be," he says, his face turning neutral again but the amusement still apparent in his voice. "Still, you can't out factor the possibility that it could also be mere interest."
"Interest is never mere interest," she counters slyly, and then winks at him.
She sees something stirring in his face the moment she does. It's the wink, she realises. It's the trademark that was and still is hers, the gesture she used to overwhelm him with.
God, she's really getting emotional.
"If you're not going to answer the question," he says, "why don't I take a guess?"
She raises her eyebrow. "There are at least twenty hotels in this town, if not more. Do you really think you're able to know which one I'm staying in?"
He grins a little. "I said guess, not know. Still, when I take into account that you love luxury, yet don't have enough money to pay for the top-class," (her eyes narrow) "and probably want to be as close to the shopping street as possible… I'd say you're staying in the Fukayama hotel."
She doesn't answer. Just, screw him and his overly-developed deduction skills.
"I'm right, then, aren't I? I would have long heard if I weren't."
"Hmm. Could have been mere luck, though."
"Could also have been me knowing you very well."
"Which sounds just a little stalker-like after all this time," she answers, raising her eyebrows.
"More like proof of a good memory," he counters, and she lowers her eyebrows again because she knows he is right.
Plus, she doesn't mind it that much that he still knows her so well. Really.
The corners of his mouth lift again when she says no more - meaning she has conceded defeat - but then he turns serious and says, "It's good talking to you again, Blue. It's good seeing you."
She can see in his eyes that he means it, and she smiles. It's better than good, she wants to say - except that she doesn't, because she's not sentimental like that.
So she just says, "I agree," and leaves him guessing for the rest.
He should be able to, really - with his records.
Green smiles too, and when they continue to look at each other, their gazes locked as if though glued, the sky and the wind and the fading evening light all momentarily retreat to the shadows. It's just them, and she feels her breath being cut off; her brain clouding with a mystifying want.
He tightens the grip on her hand slightly, and she does the same. He strokes the skin with his thumb; she has trouble breathing. He steps a few inches forward. She repeats. He halts. She waits. He breaths. She looks. He searches.
She reaches forward.
Their lips meet.
***
Part 2
Green is pretty sure that when it comes to 'do's and don'ts' when stumbling upon your long-lost ex, kissing falls into the last category.
Then again, his ex is named Blue, and he doesn't do lists.
He'd unconsciously probably already known something along these lines would happen when he first saw the girl, dressed elegantly in evening dress and heels but lips curled up in a smile not befitting a society event like this. The notion had increased in strength when they stood on the balcony, secluded from everyone else but mere inches away from each other; the light from inside making Blue's lips gleam like glass. He couldn't do anything else but give in to the feeling when her hand was cupping his, and her mouth (eyes, lashes, gaze) had made it unable for him to let his reason restrain his movements.
It was stupid, and he should have known better, really - but it was Blue, and that made things almost justified. Almost.
When their lips part again, Blue's lashes flutter from her cheek to her eyebrow. Her mouth glistens and her cheeks are hot (he thinks - he doesn't know) and her eyes, they shine like they used before they pulled the plug from it all.
Then it's gone, and a guarded expression veils her face again. She wants to know his reaction first, he realises; she'll say something -
"I never took you for the guy who'd a kiss a girl on the first evening, Green."
- flirty to break the tension. Yes.
He decides against wondering whether it's a good or a bad thing he's still able to read her like a book, and instead forces himself to comment on her remark - an ever-recurring pattern of conversation he's afraid is cyclic and incurable.
"It's hardly our first evening, Blue."
"After five years of not meeting? I'd say yes."
She puts a strand of hair behind her ear as she looks off into the distance, and he knows she's not looking at him because she's unable to keep the unwanted emotion out of her eyes. Just like old times.
"Blue -" He pauses; frowns. "Look at me, will you? I know that that kiss probably shouldn't have happened, but it did. So let's not make any more fuss about it than strictly necessary."
He decides against adding, 'It wasn't so bad, and we probably couldn't have stopped it anyway,' because that would reek a little too much of the sticky romance novels he remembers Blue reading.
"Hmm." The girl raises her hand to her hair - absent-mindedly, almost - and starts twirling it. Habits don't change, it seems; and he feels both strangely relieved and perturbed because of it. No change means stagnation, and the innocent, half-unconscious gesture blurs the dividing lines between past and present in a way that is more dangerous than reassuring. But still, to know that some things have stayed the exact same as back then - to know that not everything changes and changes and changes in this mad, ever-moving world… it's a relief he can't quite cast aside.
"Well, you're right about that," Blue says, and for a moment he has trouble focussing on her voice. His eyes are still fixed on her hand; half-cast in shadow, clasping the strand of chestnut hair that has been smoothened so many times the number seems almost negligible.
Making an effort to put all disconcerting thoughts to the back of his mind, he raises his gaze to her face. The corners of her mouth are slightly turned up as she continues smoothly, "To be honest, you've made me quite nostalgic. I'd almost forgotten what a great kisser you were."
She grins at him, and there is the old cheeky Blue again in all her glory; the one he had so dearly loved (loves). He instinctively averts his gaze to the almost black sky, and refrains from giving an answer. It's probably not like Blue expects one, anyway; their talks had always been more one - than two-way. And besides, words with the purpose of just filling silences - of merely producing the small talk that seems conventional and indispensable to all but him - are words that are better off left unsaid.
So he just looks ahead of him, already not able anymore to discern the silhouettes of pine-trees and far-off houses from the blackened sky behind them. The dusk surrounding them is thick, sultry, and yet feather-light. It almost seems to breathe in synchrony with the growing silence between them, absorbing the unspoken words and promises with every turn. It isn't uncomfortable - it feels naturally, like everything had always felt with Blue.
Feels.
Felt.
Either way.
Just then the girl sighs, and he looks sideways in time to catch a look of dreamy contentment on her face. Her pupils travel swiftly to the right when she feels his gaze on her, and then an almost guilty smile creeps up her face.
"What?"
"I'm just happy to be here," Blue answers nonchalantly, and Green knows it is a deliberate understatement. "It's almost like then, you know," she continues thoughtfully (musingly, almost); and it's as if she's talking to herself and has forgotten about him. But the woman next to him would never forget about a person's presence; so whilst her gaze is fixed on the darkened horizon, and her voice is introvert and low, Green knows the brunette is observing him with other methods than gaze and speech.
Instead of feeling perturbed, he is weirdly reassured by that knowledge.
In answer to her assertion, he makes a confirmative sound, because he doesn't know what else to do. He could point out that, back then, they almost never stood together in such peaceful silence, because there was always something to argue about. But - the past isn't there to be dragged up (upon that thought, his mind smartly remarks that this whole evening has been nothing but a reliving of the past - something he ignores with deft and experience) and besides, there is no need to ruin a good moment when it's there.
Blue looks at him again and smiles, and he can't help but return the gesture. She's one of those very few people who can break down his self-defences with nothing more than a pair of glossy lips and a sparkling in the eye.
When he thinks of it, she's the only one who's capable of such a feat.
She then breaks the renewed silence in a completely innocent (and thus completely suspicious) voice, "So, you know which hotel I'm staying in. What about you?"
He pauses for awhile before he answers, "Doji Hotel."
The corners of her mouth turn. "Suits you, that. Still, in a recent rating, the Fukayama hotel ranked much higher than the Doji. Something about bad room service and wonky mattresses."
Her eyes gleam when they meet his, and without intention, his breath stills for a moment. She hasn't said anything (yet) but the implications of her statement are quadruple. The sultry air surrounding them absorbs every single syllable until the night is pregnant with irrational expectations and desires. In the perfect silence that reigns between them, he can almost hear it buzzing (paradox, his mind whispers automatically).
Then Blue adds seemingly-casually, "Fukayama would have been a much better choice for you," and all pretence is gone.
He doesn't know what to say except for the rational, so he asks, "Where do you base that on?"
"Internet; common knowledge; intuition. Take your pick."
He raises an eyebrow, intuitively and out of sheer habit. "I'd hardly call that solid information."
"I never said it was. It's merely my biased opinion." She smiles sleekly and then continues, "The Fukayama is also closer from here out. Weren't you the one who wanted to bail on this party as quickly as possible?"
"I never said such a thing."
"Your body language sure did."
"That was before I saw you, then," he says, and then wonders why the heck he can't keep his mouth shut.
Blue naturally and quite predictably grins in response. "An actual compliment. You're growing on me by the minute."
"Better shut it down now, then," he drones, but still does not break the eye-contact. There has always been something about her eyes: perhaps it is the colour; perhaps the vividness. Or maybe it's the simple fact that it is the only part of herself that the woman in front of him can't completely manipulate at will and wishes.
"Oh, Green." Blue smiles as she shakes her head, and then extends a slender arm to place her hand on his. "Still denying yourself all the fun in life, are you?"
He raises an eyebrow, about to give a retort and at the same time shake off her hand; but for some reason, finds himself unable to do so. It feels… right, her hand on his and them standing here; an equilibrium that'd be distorted when changed, a moment ruined when broken. He doesn't know whether it's the past or the present that's making itself heard, and then decides it would be wiser to stay in the dark.
In the small time he fails to either retreat his hand or utter anything resembling an answer, Blue has breached the distance between them and is suddenly standing very close. He can feel her body warmth get through him: irreversible and unyielding. Her breath on his skin; her hand encompassing his - he can't look away.
He doesn't want to look away.
"You know we can't," he says finally, and is surprised to find out his voice doesn't sound strained. Her proximity makes it almost impossible to breathe.
There's a flicker of well-disguised regret in her eyes before she half-sighs, half-whispers, "I know."
Neither needs more words. They look at each other for a long time - her hand cupping his, he unable to pull away and break the ever-growing tension. When Blue slightly tightens her grip, he returns the gesture; more out of instinct than anything else. His reason has largely left him, like only she can make it leave. It are mere inches that separate them, and he can feel her breath on his skin; feel her slender fingers intertwined with his; almost feel the body he used to know so well.
He wonders if it has changed much; wonders - hopes - whether it is still the same like he remembers. He then has the fleeting, unwanted thought whether it is good memory or something else entirely that he's still able to conjure the image of her nude body right in front of him - the beauty-spot on her thigh, the rounding of her breasts, the scent of her skin… she always smelled like roses, he remembers rather fondly and rather wishfully. It were her favourite flowers, she had explained when he once asked after it; delicate and beautiful, yet threatening when you weren't careful around it. She'd liked to think of herself that way.
Green himself dislikes to phrase his sentences with 'if' and 'whether', words that occupy his current train of thought more than they should. But Blue brings back the past to his mind's eye; makes him re-think things he'd thought were forgotten and neatly left behind. It's enough to make him dislike her - if only he could.
Then, as if the tension has become too much for her, Blue suddenly breaks the eye contact and reaches forward. In one fluid movement, she wraps her arms around his torso and brings her body close to his. Green is startled for the skip of a heartbeat; but then, slowly lifts his arms and places them around her upper-body. It feels more like a gesture of goodbye than an action of passion, and is almost sure Blue is having the same line of thought.
While they stand there, his eyes fixed on the ivy growing on either side of the balcony, and her body warmth slowly mixing with his, he slightly moves his head so that strands of chestnut come to brush his face. While half-buried in her hair, the scent of her perfume slowly reaches his nostrils. With a pang he realises she smells like -
Jasmine.
While he might feel disappointed by that knowledge (and he does - he can't deny he does) Green fully realises at once that it is an irrational response. He knows that five years is a long time in which a lot can change; knows that this Blue and… his Blue, for lack of a better term, aren't the same person.
Or he should know, at least.
If anything, the soft, deep fragrance makes him realise that the embrace is one of goodbye. The scent stupefies his senses, so much so that he can't do anything but tighten the grip on her body. He dimly feels Blue return the pressure, but isn't fully aware of it; there's a swirl of thought in his head (dreams of past and present, so neatly intermixed he doesn't know where one ends and one begins) and besides that - there's only the warmth of their bodies.
After a long moment, they let go of one another. There isn't any awkwardness in the air like there was before; it's more a sense of loss, and, perhaps, of regret.
"Well, I should go," Blue says at last, not bothering to hide the lie in her voice. She probably doesn't have any rush to leave; she probably doesn't have any wish for it either.
"…yes," he answers after a moment, slowly, because in moments like these it's best to play along with the universe's wishes and not look back. To not rethink.
They look at each other for a long time, thoughts and doubts and resolutions almost visible in the impenetrable night air.
Then she smiles, and turns around.
Green watches her walk towards the folding doors, a feeling of loss making his heart contract without warning. His fingers grip the balustrade, tightly, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to suppress the words forming in his throat; wouldn't be able to keep himself from walking over towards the woman at the threshold and stop her - persuade her to not be rational, but follow their stupid desires.
(Four steps. Two seconds. One heartbeat.)
He doesn't. He merely takes a shaking breath and tears his gaze away, directing it to the scenery in front of him. If he doesn't see anything, it's because it's dark; not because his thoughts are with the girl now retreated into the dining hall, walking towards a night and a future he won't know anything about.
He clenches his teeth, hard. It might have been a mistake to
(let her go)
see her and meet her and kiss her.
Then -
"Green."
He stands quite still for a moment, not knowing whether he heard right and not wanting to be disappointed. Then, he turns around.
Blue is still standing on the threshold. Perhaps she had walked back; perhaps she hadn't moved at all. He simply doesn't care. Her face and dress are aglow in the benevolent light spilling in through the doors, and he fleetingly (stupidly) thinks of angels and heaven and sun-lit clouds.
"You will give me a call sometime, won't you?"
The tone of her voice shatters the image of heaven, but does give him back the breath he'd unintentionally lost. The first logical thing that comes to his mind finds its way out, constructed in tones more level than any of his current feelings or thoughts.
"Didn't you have your number changed?"
She smiles at his answer, a tad flirtatiously and a tad something else. "I know you'll be able to find out regardless, Green. I'll be hearing from you, then, hmm?"
She gives him one last wink (his stomach produces a feeling he'll claim anytime and anyplace wasn't there) and then turns around, walking away through the open doors. He watches the spot where she disappears between the crowd for a long time, before returning his gaze to the view. There's a light smile around his lips he doesn't particularly bother to hide; and not only because it is dark and no-one else is around.
He thinks of her smile and her eyes and her scent (jasmine - no roses) and can't help but wonder of things to come - of dreams to be. When Green finally draws himself up again and makes for the exit, the dusk has been replaced by an almost starless night.
It is only the beginning.