Work Text:
Song recommendation: Ocie Elliott - Run To You
You looked out the large glass window of Haneda Airport. The sky was tar-black, and big pillows of cloud were forming, blotting out the old-gold color of the sun. It started as a whisper in the air. You could hear the taps on the window, and then it became a pitter-patter. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-crimson hue of the morning was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. The puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The rain was dancing on the rooftops of airplanes, as if nothing in life mattered at the moment. But unfortunately, that didn't apply to you. There were still things you cared about. As a matter of fact, one of them was sitting before you at table 13, in the coziest spot of the airport, but you preferred to listen to the buzzing murmurs of the rain rather than look at him.
"Come on, Chibi! Don't sulk. Everything will be fine," said Satoru gently, taking your hand in his. He didn't know whether it was possible, but he was willing to do anything for you. You were the best thing that ever happened to him. "Now, you better eat your strawberry cake, or I'll eat it. Do you want me to end up with diabetes?" He was joking; although it was silly, he tried to lighten your mood. But according to your facial features, his efforts seemed not very fruitful.
His thumb caressed the ring on your finger, followed by his lips. "Y/N," he called your name as if it were the only holy word he knew in the world. "No one else can have my heart because you're the only one I love."
The sound faded into a long swirling noise with so much rain falling. Clouds were churlish and Kraken-cruel. It poured into a biblical deluge, flooding the rivers, drowning the fields, and overflowing the dams, reminding you of the cataclysm of Noah's ark. You wished for an endless cataract of water sluicing from the sky. The ache in your heart wanted the trees to uproot, the cars to go bobbing by, the entire villages disappearing.
You turned your face and gazed at his eyes. God, you loved them. They held the whole ocean. When he was happy, they were a clear, radiant blue with slight wrinkles around the corners as he laughed or smiled, and there was no trace of a storm.
But when he was sad? Oh, it was a completely different matter. They turned icy, cold, totally unlike him, blazing with sorrow. There were a few clouds, but mostly just ice. They hurt you the most that you could never forget.
"Satoru, I don't -" Your sentence never ended because he was shattered enough by the sadness bathing your eyes to let you do more harm by transforming them into words. In his opinion, you were everything he wanted, but unfortunately, his family didn't think so. Those ancient walking fossils thought that the heir of the Gojo company should be with someone who would bring benefits to their family and help their business grow. Therefore, even mentioning your name, a common girl without a noble background, was considered a disgrace. Satoru, however, was not the type to retreat. He would give up everything, but not you. He interrupted your words. "I'll never let anyone take you away from me," he murmured, and cupped your face with his big hands. "I love you, Y/N." You heard him. "I'll love you forever." You believed him. "I'll never leave you." You took his words for granted.
Eventually, the noise lessened, and the drops faded into a musical chime. The sun came out again, casting diagonal beams of light across the airstrip.
Fear crept through you, so you kissed him. With love. With lust. With…
You felt his hands surrounding your body, but you wanted more. You needed more. You knew you had to save him for your future days. The days that you would yearn for a bit of touch from him, but a famine would devastate you. You had to scrape off that painful itch in your gut. "I love you, too, Satoru."
You felt his grip on your neck as he pulled you in to capture you for a deeper kiss. Your hands went to caress the back of his neck, tangle your fingers in his silky white locks, and feel his pulse hammering against your palm. Soon he found the taste of salt on his tongue, and the wet drops falling on his cheeks inflamed his flesh. He didn't know whose they were as he continued to try and cling onto you like his subconscious knew it was your last time together.
That day, he left Tokyo for Sendai with high hopes, and you made your way to Osaka. Your hometowns.
You were late. Too late. Why did you always wait till the last moment? You promised you would cut this vicious cycle of being late each time, but it seemed you would end yourself, but not mend.
It was raining as if it was doomsday. The torrential rains had closed the streets, and Tokyo was dealing with heavy early traffic. Cursing yourself, you stepped out of the cab and rushed to the airport with your luggage. You ran to the check-in section without wasting time and promptly put your luggage and backpack on the conveyor. Hurrying back to the control gate, you removed your watch and phone, and left them on the table for security to check.
Attention passengers on Fuji Dream Airlines flight 232 to Okinawa. The departure gate has been changed. The flight will now be leaving from gate 26.
Biting the corner of your lip, you waited for the previous person to get through the body scan, praying for the machine not to beep for you. Each beep and red signal meant a more thorough physical inspection, which would certainly make you miss the flight.
Closing your eyes, you went across the scanner. It was as if the gods were in your favor today. The machine gave no warning, and the officer let you pass by with a smile. You nodded, snatched your belongings, and raced to grab your bags. After all, every second was golden.
Like an automatic robot that memorized the process due to frequent repetitions, your body quickly moved towards the ticket counter. You were panting and searching for your ID card in your messy backpack when the sound of the announcement caught your attention.
Amakusa Airlines regrets to announce the delay of light 4022 to Osaka due to departing at 4:15. This flight is now scheduled to depart at 6:30.
Shit. Shit. Shit. The 'L' in your luck had been replaced with an 'F'.
With pursed lips, you raised your head, and your eyes fixated on the yellow DELAY in front of the Tokyo-Osaka flight information. You sighed and looked at your watch; its hands showed 4:00 am. Oh, well! You had to stay here for the next couple of hours.
A drop of water dripped from your hair on your wrist, just to remind you that you had come out of the rain shower a few minutes ago. Only a fool leaves with no umbrella in the fall. All right, no argument. It sounds like you were a chump.
You turned your head around to pick your next destination. It's not like you didn't notice people's judgmental looks on your wet hair and soaked raincoat. But today, you were tough enough with yourself, and oh, to be fair, you didn't give a fuck about them. You hated all that had a bitter taste of standards and traditions.
Do this, do that.
Wear kimono, not jeans.
Walk with small steps.
Don't laugh out loud.
Only whores lick ice cream in public.
Instead of reading, start cooking.
Men prefer women with long hair.
Ugh! You were disgusted by all these dos and don'ts. So, it seemed pretty normal for you never to miss the opportunity to despise old-minded schnooks. This hatred was a daily routine. After all, you had lost everything because of those imbecile tradition sucker maniacs. You had lost him. Why? Just because you didn't fit into their boxes. And it's not like you were hard-headed. You tried to adapt yourself to everything for him, your…your love, but according to those geezers, people are born as nobles. It is not an acquired trait. Assholes!
You took off your blue raincoat, threw it on your arm, and headed to the graveyard of your memories in the company of your dear luggage. As usual, you walked into his favorite coffee shop and ordered a mocha with caramel. It tasted like the old days. Bittersweet. More bitter now, because the past had hidden nothing but pain for you, yet you never wasted time returning to it. Unfortunately, it was the only place you could be with him. You were a prisoner of the past by your own will. You had the key, but nothing was out there waiting for you.
You were successful and independent now. Exactly as you always wanted. You even captured the memory of those days and placed them in a box. You put them there with photographs, his grandmother's ring, and dried bouquets. The box was their coffin, and you set them to rest with the same reverence as a deceased loved one. The funeral came with tears and trauma, no less than actual death.
Now tell me, darling, you could hide a box under the ground and pretend that it never existed, but you knew the echo of his laughter, the blue sky of his eyes, and the sweet taste of his lips would rise from the tomb amidst the long nights to hunt you till the first rays of twilight.
While waiting for your order to be ready, you turned your head and watched the determined people carrying their bags around.
There was something peculiarly depressing about the airports for you. Maybe it was because the airports were where the final goodbyes were muttered, and it was where your lips and his met for the very last time. Airports were where tear-ridden farewells were spluttered. And it was where you looked over your shoulder one last time as you passed through the security, praying, hoping against hope that maybe it wasn't really happening, that you would see him again.
The barista called your name and snapped you out of your thoughts. Holding your precious coffee in your hands, your steps unknowingly walked you to table 13. Again. Yeah, you used to sit here with him. Every time. Even the last time.
A bitter smile appeared on your lips as you slowly ran your hand across the table, as if your fingertips could touch the past. You sat in your usual chair behind the side table, but your eyes still refused to look at his empty seat after six fucking years. Your hands wrapped around the paper cup of coffee to steal its warmth, while your heart found comfort in watching the rainy sky.
"There is something I have to tell you, Y/N." He took a deep breath, probably the deepest, which brought his lungs to the verge of explosion.
The cold breeze slipped into your room and sent shivers down to your core. You went to the window to close it. The anxiety started circulating in your veins like a deadly poison. "T—tell me," you said, closing your eyes. No good would come of "I have to tell you something".
His heart twisted at the sound of your voice. "This isn't working out for me anymore."
His emotionless monotonous tone over the phone struck you harder than a wet slap. Rubbing your forehead, you pressed your lips together, praying for him not to mean what you feared the most. "Yeah, me neither." You swallowed, and the gulp slit your throat like a broken piece of a sharp crystal. "I miss you too, Satoru."
You weren't an idiot. You just read an article in Forbes saying that thoughts can change reality. Simply put, the brain can create delusions in the mind by denying the truth until the last moment to maintain the mental health of human beings. It is considered a survival instinct, and so far, your mind has been doing an excellent job. But the silence behind the phone revealed a different story. A story that even your brain couldn't manipulate.
"You know what I mean, Y/N." His voice trembled like a flickering flame of a burning candle, but he was fast to cover his mouth with his palm. He didn't want you to get wind of anything. It was for your own good.
"What are you saying?"
Your kind tone made Satoru hate his guts. No! He couldn't do this to you. He raised his head, and his red-rimmed eyes begged for mercy from his father, but he wasn't a man of God. He wouldn't give alms for free. Everything, especially your life, had a price, and he had to pay the cost. "I—I thought," his words refused to come out, but he always wanted the best for you, didn't he? He loved you more than anything, so he had to do this. He had to go through with it, no matter how hard it was for him. "I thought I was in love with you, but it was just a lie." Unable to breathe, he made his way towards the big window of the office. The cold air hit his face as soon as his shaky hands opened it. Was it freezing in Osaka like it was in Kyoto? You hated the cold weather. Were you wearing warm clothes? He bit his fist in a failed attempt to hide the lump in his throat. "I thought it—would work, but—but I feel nothing."
"Wh—y are you doing this, Sato—?" When you spoke, it sounded like your voice was made of gravel. Your clear tone was undercut with a choking heaviness that forced you to pause several times. As clear as spring water, a single tear flowed down your cheeks. Eventually, you stopped trying and lowered your head in a quiet sob.
Satoru leaned his head against the cold glass. He could hear your muffled weeping. God, he hated himself. He hated the sunset outside. He hated his last name. He hated everything between the two of you. "I just wanted to fool around in your bed." He fought back his tears.
"I know you don't mean that," you said, shaking your head. The Prefrontal Cortex of your brain was in denial. "It's not true." You were soft, almost fragile, as if your heart would break any minute. Perhaps it was already broken.
"You know nothing," he raised his voice, banging his fist across the wall. "Have you forgotten who I am? The bottom line is— " A tear burned his cheek as he turned his back to his father. Despite the love you had given him, he had to tear your heart apart to keep you alive. "I never loved you!"
"I don't believe you." The phrases didn't come out sharp, as if your tongue had judged your own thoughts too uninterestingly daunting and abandoned the words before their fruition.
"I don't know how to clarify this to you, Y/N L/N! You mean nothing to me. You were only one of my conquests!" He was lying. Of course, he was lying. He loved you more than words could ever explain. Now he could hear your heartbreak, for he was suffering too.
"You're such a coward! Are you breaking up with me over the phone? With crappy explanations? Is this what you promised me at the airport?" As you spoke, your voice started sharp, but then, you broke down, and before Satoru knew it, you were on the verge of bursting into tears, trying desperately to hide it and keep your words straight and stern. "Tell me the truth! You owe me this, Satoru!"
His eyes widened. You knew him like an open palm. He was always his true self by your side, never afraid to be judged. And for a second, he believed he could tell you the truth, but then he remembered how the compensation was substantial. So he added the cherry on top, the ultimate lie, to make sure you would hate him, that you would hate him and move on. Although the thought of you being with someone else, another man holding your hands, or someone other than him kissing you drove him crazy, but this way, at least you were safe from his father's harm. "I cheated on you, and— and now I am in love with her. I can't get her out of my mind. She is so much better than you in bed, and she doesn't dictate me to quit smoking or eating sweets to become something I'm not! She is not a control freak like you! She doesn't suffocate me as you do!"
After your ears witnessed his words, you bled an ocean through your eyes. Your soul felt wafer thin. Your body trembled and chilled. But suddenly, you stopped crying. Maybe the saddest kind of sadness was yours when your tears refused to drip. It was like the world had ended. You couldn't cry. You couldn't hear. You couldn't see. You became an empty shell that once was full of life. "You're completely fucked up."
"I'm—sorry, Y/N." His lungs punished him. His breaths kept coming in short gasps. His chest felt too tight. He couldn't stop wheezing. There was a hole in his chest filling with emptiness, pain, and unbearable agony. His knees couldn't carry his sorrow. He fell on the empty office floor with his back sliding down the cold wall and silent tears on his cheeks. His beloved dad had left the room, knowing there was no comeback after what his son had fed you.
You could be hurt in any way by another and still bounce back, but he… but he… he did the far worse with just a few small words. "Never utter my name again! Don't you fucking dare to say it again! No!" The bells ringing in your head, you felt terrible pain as if someone had punched you in the stomach. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and your skin chilled from the unforgiving coldness of his tone. The teeth in your mouth chattered together relentlessly and uncontrollably, and you couldn't stop yourself from shaking. The next voice you heard wasn't him saying it was another one of his dumb jokes. No. It was the beep of the phone. He hung up and never said goodbye.
Suddenly the roar of the thunder brought you back to reality, to the airport. You turned your head towards the table and noticed that your hands were clasped around your coffee cup. The sound of raindrops hitting the window made your solitude even sadder. You sighed, turned your head, and your eyes fell on the droplets, sliding on the window, sticking one to another, getting bigger and bigger till falling. Those drops and your love were doomed, destined to descend. Because even when life decided to give you another chance, you became the naive victim of fate's cruel sense of humor.
"Where did I put this stupid piece of paper?" You cursed under your breath and continued looking for a copy of your graduation certificate. You knew your messy ass would get you in trouble one day, and here you were, facing the consequences in the worst way possible. How dumb you had to be to lose your diploma?
You closed your eyes and started rubbing your eyebrows, like Aladdin rubbing his lamb for a genie to come out and help him. But you weren't lucky as that bastard. You were responsible for your shits.
You sighed and stared at your laptop's browser screen. You got rid of everything related to college and those years. You wanted to forget everything about him and his cheating. You had changed your email address, phone number, and all means of reaching you after that incident. You didn't want to be haunted by an unwanted remembrance... of him.
You took a deep breath. It had been a year. But it seemed that even years were not enough to get over what he did to you. He shot you and walked out. You had to remove the fucking bullet from your wound to let the sadness come out. He left you on your own, and to be healed, you hurt yourself in ways he never could. Undoubtedly, one year wasn't enough to fade those scars.
You remembered how you sat in silence for days with tears in your eyes. How you ached and drank enough to numb it. How you reminded yourself every day who he used to be and who he no longer was. Damn! It was one of the most brutal realization you ever had. In the end, you thought you learned to live without him, but again, you never forgot him. That was the funny thing about love, because it took you a long time to endure the pain he caused, but a piece of him always remained within you. You couldn't brush off all the good memories you shared and sweep them under the rug as if they meant nothing. And shamelessly, you missed his touch. Oh, God. You missed the timbre of his voice and the solid sense of his embrace—the curse of a lover.
"No! Don't start again! He never loved you, Y/N!" You bumped your head, dispersing the suffocating thoughts, but like a miraculous blow that makes broken things work again, your brain also began working. The light bulb on your head lit up. Yeah. You had a backup of your documents in your academic email.
Proud of the discovery, your fingers started typing. Thank goodness you could remember your email info. Okay. It wasn't that difficult when the username was the combination of your first and last name, password, and ID number.
Once the green checkmark appeared on the screen, you happily started scrolling through your inbox until you noticed an unread email of a familiar name. A name you buried alongside his. Suguru Geto.
You swallowed and checked the date of the email. It belonged to the aftermath of the doomed incident. While your hands were frozen, your fingers began shivering on the mouse. It seemed like you could flee your past, but it would always catch up. Without noticing, you realized you had been biting your bottom lip the entire time. What was that email about? There were two options. One was to delete it without reading and keep on with your life. The next one was... You clicked on the mail.
Your pupils were moving quickly between the lines. The more you read the email, the tighter your grip on the mouse. Your other hand was on your thigh, clutching your dress firmly, to the extent your nails almost made holes in its soft fabric. With each word read, your right foot subconsciously tapped on the floor.
Satoru— tap.
Loves— tap.
You— tap.
But—tap.
His father— tap, tap.
Threatened—tap
Him—tap
With—tap
Your—tap
Life ….
Your foot froze in place. A chill ripped through your spine when you reached the end of the email. Your eyes widened from the shock, and your palm in front of your mouth couldn't cover your bewilderment.
You should have known. You had heard from Satoru how wretched his father was. You should have guessed that he would do anything to achieve his purpose. You should have doubted that he wouldn't spare even his child and wouldn't be afraid of getting his hands dirty. But you were the one who never wanted to believe in the ill-disposed nature. You thought even evils would have a red line they would never cross. But you didn't know parents would break all boundaries on the pretext of wanting the best for their child. Understandable. If he saw you as a snake coiled on his son's shoulders, he would obviously cut your head off. It was unfair, though. You were no snake. You never asked Satoru for anything. You never forced him to do anything. You took all his bad days with your good and walked him through the storm; because you loved him. You loved him unconditionally.
Tears poured from your eyes. All those endless pains, sleepless nights, and restless sorrows were all due to his father, not him. Satoru loved you. He must have suffered the whole time, as you did.
Your hand went to your phone, and your fingers dialed the number they refused to forget after a year. Your heart was a madman, beating the hell out of your chest. You couldn't wait to hear his voice and watch the heartache fade.
"The number you have dialed has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service. Please check the number and try your call again if you feel you reached this recording in error."
You lowered the phone and looked at the screen. It wasn't possible that you got the number wrong. Was your mind playing tricks on you? You dialed again.
"The number you have dialed has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service. Please check the number and try your call again if you feel you reached this recording in error."
You closed your eyes and pressed the red end button. He had changed his number. You turned your head and stared at the browser's blank page. Silly but possible, suddenly, a thought occurred to you. Something you had banned yourself from doing for a whole year. You looked up Satoru Gojo with the name of Gojo Holding on Google, and as you expected, you found what you were looking for:
Satoru Gojo – Chief financial officer – Gojo Group / LinkedIn
Your eyes were stuck on the monitor. So after you, he agreed to the position. You ran your finger over his name. Your eyes shifted slightly downward. There were pictures of him in suits shaking hands with different people. You looked at his face, white hair, blue eyes, and pale lips. He had changed. There was no trace of his favorite casual clothes.
Subconsciously, your hand moved toward the monitor, and your fingers attempted to caress his cheeks. His usual messy hair was combed in some photos and on the side in others. You smiled sadly. He looked handsome. You had no right to deny it. But something was missing from him. Your fingertip shifted to his lips. There was no smile on his face. In neither of the photographs. What had happened to that goofy Satoru whose grins were his signature?
You clicked on his LinkedIn page, and after finding his contact number, you dialed without hesitation.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Good day, you've reached Satoru Gojo's office. My name is Nitta Akari. How can I assist you?"
"Yes! Hello. My name is Y/N L/N. I'm calling for Mr. Satoru Gojo," you said and bit your nails.
"Concerning?"
"Yes, ma'am, I need to talk with Mr. Satoru Gojo." Every time you spoke his name, your heart skipped a beat. You had called him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named instead of saying his name aloud.
"Do you have a pre-arranged appointment?"
"Um, no. I—" You were interrupted in the middle.
"I'm sorry, Ms. L/N. I can't transfer your call if you don't have an appointment."
You sighed. "I appreciate that, but this is an emergency. Please, Ms. Alkari, I'm sure if you inform Mr. Gojo that Y/N L/N is calling, he would want to talk to me," you almost pleaded and placed your hand on your pounding heart, praying for the receptionist to accept your request.
"Hold on a second."
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You were going to talk with him—your love of life. You were going to hear his sweet voice. What did you want to tell him?
"Ms. L/N? Are you on the phone?"
"Yes?" You opened your eyes, and they fixated on his picture in front of you.
"Mr. Gojo has left the office."
You checked the clock. It was 11 am. "When is he going to return?"
"According to his schedule, he will not return to the office today, Ms. L/N."
"How about tomorrow?" You clenched your hand and felt your nails digging into your palm.
"I'm sorry. He won't be able to visit the office till next week, since it's his wedding. Do you want me to make an appointment for the next Tuesday?"
Your heart stopped. The second hand of the clock stayed steady. The leaves of the tree facing your window didn't move. The bird in the sky didn't chirp a wing. The air lost its way to your lungs. You wanted to grasp for oxygen, but the ache in your chest folded your knees. No tears pierced your eyes as your brain digested the words coming out of the receptionist's mouth. Your hands trembled. Your feet tingled. Your vision disfigured as though you were looking through a foggy window. You fell to the floor.
"Or, if you want, I can deliver your message to him on Monday morning."
You felt your heart would burst. Your chest was one minute away from crushing. The torture was so intense and all-consuming that you no longer knew where you were. You wanted to scream, to shout, louder than you had ever done in your life, but no sound left your throat.
"Ms. L/N? Are you there?"
You weren't sure which was worse, the fact that he was going to marry someone so early, or the fact that you thought he never would. It tore you apart; the way he forgot you like you never mattered.
For you, he was a bittersweet fairytale with a grey ending. He was your hamartia, your tragedy, your addiction. Frankly, he was also the only ray of sunlight in your aphotic world. He consumed every existing part of your soul, leaving you with the crippled remains. You couldn't take it anymore. You surrendered and let it all disappear.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Turning your head away from the glass, you laughed at your misery. He didn't love you. He didn't miss you. He was happy without you, busy living his life while you were still stuck wondering where things got out of hand. You had to stop trying to find closure with someone that obviously didn't care to give it to you. You had wasted years searching for the answers you could never get. You had to put an end to it, Y/N.
This table was doomed. It didn't matter how many times you sit behind it and try to make it a usual, boring place by making new memories. It would never work. This gravestone had your names, carrying the heaviness of your last kiss. So it didn't matter how much you would kill yourself to write a new story on top of your hurtful one. You would fail; because the ink of the bad story hadn't faded away yet for the only good one to remain.
Rising from the table, you shook your head, scattering all the sad thoughts. You grabbed your luggage, picked up your cold coffee, and headed to the nearest trash can at the corner of the airport terminal. You stood there for a while, enjoying the faint sun rays on your skin and the pale rainbow colors in the sky. You delivered your luggage and checked your watch. Huh! You still got a lot of time to kill. So you tried to pass it by reading the magazine covers, hanging around the gift shops. It didn't go unnoticed by you that the airport was getting crowded with the sunrise. Ughh. You sighed and made your way through the crowd, unaware of the ridiculous farce of destiny for you.
Amakusa Airlines flight 4022 to Osaka is now ready for boarding, with all the passengers for this flight proceeding to gate 13.
As you walked past, your eyes fell on table 13, and all of a sudden, your footsteps froze. There was a huge mob moving between you and that table, but after all these years, there was still no way for you to mistake him. You could recognize him by a look alone, by a glance. You would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his fingers touched his hair. This big airport and the packed crowd were nothing when you would know him in death, at the end of the world.
His fingers tapped slowly on the table, and time fell away for you. You had never gotten so lost in a sight before. And then the space between you two exploded to nothing. After being away from him for so long, just standing under the same roof as him felt like you were kicked in the stomach, and your whole breath was gone. Before you knew it, you were already biting your lip from the inside to stifle your tears. No more tears for him, you had promised yourself years ago. But promises were like your heart; they were meant to be broken.
You felt cold like that day. You felt like concrete drying in your chest. There was a shard in your guts that never left, though perhaps in time, the edges dulled. It felt like death, just the same as bereavement, and in a quiet moment, it choked the life from your body. You had longed to see him for so many years that he was beginning to feel fictional, but he was real. He was sitting at table 13. Was it a coincidence? Or did he still remember it? There was a part of you that was desperate to know if your absence had done any damage to him. Did he too, experience long, restless nights due to the thought of you? Was his heart broken in the same places as yours? You wanted to know that you weren't the only one hurting from this. You needed to know that you actually meant something to him.
Your legs wanted to run away, run until they bleed, until they drove you out there, from him. But your eyes didn't allow it. They were filled with regrets; the more they looked, the more they thirsted.
You watched as his hands grabbed the coffee, raised it, and that lucky cup touched his lips. You saw how he turned his head toward the glass window and stared for a while. Without realizing, you took a step in his direction. All the cells in your body cried out for you to let go, but the thought of him was consuming you.
His ocean blue eyes, peeking at you at the sunrise. His childish smiles, gifting you the butterflies. His smooth skin, touching your body like a sin. His vanilla smell, filling your nostrils well. His big feet, touching yours under the sheet. His warm hands, conquering your naked body's lands. His pounding heart, feeling it like a fine art. His naughty desire, red lingerie hugging you like a fire. His tender touch, laving your crutch. His cocky smirk, naming him as the biggest jerk. His rigid muscles, giving you rough hustles. His soft hair, becoming your finger's lair. His overwhelmed sweats, pounding you for sets. His shy groans, getting lost in your loud moans. His spit on your cunt, his cock ruining your front. His throbbing length, taking away your strength. His whispers in your ear, shooing away your fear. His peace in your arms, pushing away all of the harms. His never-ending need, revealing his hidden deed. Your endless meekness, turning into his greatest weakness. Your lullaby as a song, driving away every wrong. His peaceful dreams, hiding his painful screams. His contagious laughter, calling down every disaster. His favorite food, exchanging it with your nude. His favorite movie, turning out to be Snoopy. Reading him books, his kisses on your crooks. His goofy attitude, giving him latitude. His insights about pudding, having no idea about cooking. His eye-blinding light, forcing your soul to ignite. His aspiring ambitions, all dying because of traditions. His family troubles, bursting your happiness bubbles. His gloomy demeanor, rooting in you like a malignant tumor. His brutal fights, giving hell to the nights. His cold distance, ignoring your existence. His habit of being late, keeping your eyes on a wait. His unforgivable mistakes, leaving you with heart-wrenching aches. His deadly silence, slitting your throat with violence. His no victorious wars, gifting you countless scars. His yesterday a history, his tomorrow a mystery. His walking away steps, echoing with sound effects. His beautiful lies, leaving you with cries. His broken bond like a Knife…a knife…knife…k…n…i…f…e…w…i…f…e…wife…his wife…
You stopped. Your eyes followed his gaze, and the ache in your heart grew more painful as they saw a black-haired woman with a bow, wearing a traditional white and red kimono and approaching him with slow steps. This was the girl who ticked off all the boxes that suited Satoru Gojo. Not you. Never you.
You looked up to the ceiling in an effort to prevent tears from falling on your face. A quivering sigh escaped your throat. But wait a little. Whoever created your story was crueler than you thought.
This is the last call for passengers traveling to Osaka on Amakusa airline slight 4022, due to leave at 6:30 am.
"Dad! Look what mommy bought me?" A little girl, maybe 4 -5, with white hair, waved a small package of mochi in her hand and then ran to throw herself into Satoru's arms before your shocked eyes.
As you saw his child, what was once a whole was shattered, where once was peace was emptiness, echoes of a love you put your everything into. If only you could hold your heart in your hands and squeeze it yourself, the pain would be more bearable. Your chest felt tight, like someone was ripping your rib cage open and pulling your heart out of your chest. It just hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt your mind wondering why you weren't good enough, why it wasn't you, why you weren't in that woman's place. Why she wasn't your daughter, and it slowly broke you apart. You never thought he would be able to wound you so deeply, cut to the core again. But you got it now. Only the one you loved so much could be your assassin. Of course, it would take an inside job to attack you so resilient. He was the tool of your greatest pain. You knew he didn't mean it, you knew, but in a way, that made it even worse.
You choked back something welling up in your chest. Every few minutes, the pain renewed itself. Your palm flat against the wall by your side, you clenched your eyes shut. "Please turn your head," you said quietly. He couldn't hear you, but it didn't stop you from wishing he would come and save you from the terrible pain you felt without him.
After wallowing in your despair in the lonely corner of the airport, you took a few deep breaths and got yourself together. You always had this constant fear that you were never going to forget him. The way his blue eyes pierced yours or his goofy grin that always made your heart beat ten times faster. And what sucked the most was that he was never yours, to begin with. But you remained desperately in love with him. Damn! It had been six years, and a person could only endure pain for so long. You had to let it all go. The way he kissed you, the way he smelled, the way he touched your waist and pulled you in. You had to let it all go, and you had to let him go. Yes! He was the sweet taste on your tongue of sugar, but he was also the dense smoke that crept into your lungs and choked you. He was the venom in your veins, the tree root that tripped you. He belonged to his family, to his wife and daughter. Continuing to love him was like chasing after the clouds. It was wishing for the moon and the stars to appear in your arms. He was your impossible.
You took one last look at him and the smile on his face as his daughter was in his arms. Your last bit of willpower was lost, and tears began to trail down your cheeks, as you turned and walked away.
To be frank, hearts don't break. It's just another thing the poets say. Hearts are not made of glass, bone, or any material that could splinter, fragment, or shatter. They don't crack into pieces. They don't fall apart. No! You knew it better now. Hearts don't break. They just stop working like yours.
This is the last call for passengers Y/N L/N, Mikasa and Eren Yeager, Kento Nanami travelling on Amakusa Airlines flight 4022 to Osaka departing at 6:30 am. Will passengers L/N, Yeagers, and Nanami, please go to gate 13, where the flight is ready to depart.
Upon hearing your name, Satoru coughed and spilled coffee over his blue shirt. The hot liquid burned his chest, but not as sour as your name, opening the old, closed wounds. His mind rejected all possibilities. You were there, in the airport, and then it all flowed into his brain, the memories of his youth.
He first saw you sitting in the first row, like a nerd ready to glow.
Brushing your hair behind your ear, you bit all your nails without keeping them dear. You got your score, but he couldn't see anyone anymore.
You were in a hurry to catch a bus when he asked you out. You missed the bus. But instead, you found a new way to your house.
He kissed you under the pouring rain, you standing there wholly drenched without any complain, your eyes closed like a droplet free of every chain. How could you be aware of his bane?
You ate a double burger in less than five minutes on your second date after your third cigarette. Why? Just not to lose the bet. What did he say? Unlucky in cards, lucky in love.
Moaning his name, your fingers grabbed his hair locks, and your holes caught his heaviest flux.
In the darkness of the movie theater, he leaned to utter, "I love you, Y/N." You choking on your popcorn, survived to say, "Tell me that again."
Your laughter the best melody filling the house, when the artist tickled you crazily on the couch.
You left your shellfish-shaped soap on his bathroom side. The reason? It just smelled like the tide. Damn! You never lied.
Your colorful cute little notes in the pocket of his coat, his dad clearing his throat, staring at his son digging his own moat.
You in the kitchen, his hands on your waist, his hums in the air, danced with him there and bare.
Tears fell on the ring that he proposed despite knowing that his dad was opposed.
He waking up with a nightmare, sweats covering his white hair, he would have died if you weren't lying next to him right there. Your fights very not rare, but you were always fair.
Your hands were frozen cold the last day they were in his hold.
He wished you would yell at him on the phone, but you just cried, trembling him to the bone.
Broken pieces of your coffee mug, empty bottles of your favorite wine, his stumbling on the dusted rug, no, you were no longer around.
He walked down the aisle with a woman he had never loved. Thank God you were somewhere alive.
One hand still holding the coffee cup, the other gripped the side of the table firmly, turning his knuckles white. Six years. Six fucking years! And you were here.
"Satoru? Are you okay?" The familiar voice snatched him out of old memories. Turning his head slightly, his wide eyes fell upon a woman bent before him, trying to wipe the coffee stain off his shirt with a napkin. Oh, his allegedly beloved wife, having no other purpose than to please him in her life. The poor woman was unaware that all her efforts were in vain. For not only her white napkin, but there was nothing in this world strong enough to erase your remnants off Satoru's existence. You were eternal, engraved in his soul.
Grabbing her wrist, Satoru pushed his chair back and stood up. Across the airport stood the woman he loved, hurt, betrayed, and forsakened. Across the airport was you, the one who trusted him for years, stayed with him for years, and loved him for years. Unconditionally.
"Satoru, where are you going?" His wife's suppliant voice didn't reach him. Of course, his wife wasn't stupid. She knew that nothing was enough to stop his long steps from running to gate 13, to you, to his lost paradise, but just like Satoru, she endured the marriage for the sake of her loved ones.
You wiped your cheeks with the back of your sleeve and tried your best to take another step in the line. The emptiness in your chest was getting heavier by the time, making it hard to move forward, and holding your shit together seemed impossible when the gate appeared that far away with every passing moment. So you did what you always did. You split the colossal task of surviving into baby steps. All you had to do was, reaching the gate. It was your ultimate destination for now. After that, you would walk to the plane, sit in your seat, and fly away, never to book a ticket from this airport again.
You took a deep breath and begged your legs to drag you one more time as the black-haired couple before you moved forward. You convinced yourself that you were fine, hoping that you might believe the perfect lie, that the scene from a few minutes ago hadn't brought you to your knees.
"Y/N?"
They say different things about the soul leaving the body, but you witnessed with your own eyes how life left you in one breath, just hearing a voice. His voice. You could taste the acidic agony on the tip of your tongue, scorching you to the bone marrow.
An invisible hand forcibly turned your head towards the source of the sound. There he was. Your love. Your murderer. Your salvation. Your deity. Your death. Your hell. Half of your soul, as the poets said.
Your Satoru was standing there with his tall stature, his hands slumped on his sides, a big coffee stain on his shirt, and his white hair ruffled like in the good old days. But it seemed that life wasn't easy on him either. His once bright, bubbly, and even ambitious eyes were gone. There was no shine in them, as if they were blue plastic marbles in a daze. Who had stolen his radiant smile?
But for him, you were still the same Y/N he had lost. Your tear-stained face was puffy and swollen with grief. Your eyes looked tired, and the dark circles under them carried the news of sleepless nights. Yet, in his eyes, you were still the same sun, holding the whole universe together. One glance at you, and his heart started pounding. It constantly pounded, stomping on the shattered remains left of you in his heart. He couldn't stop himself from dreaming of the endless possibilities where you could be together.
He opened his mouth, but none of the words were courageous enough to come out. He stepped forward and raised his hand slightly toward you. There was a long way between you, the bars separating him from you. He could jump over the bars and bridge the gap, but something in his heart was well aware that no matter how far he stretched his hand, it would never reach you.
Hot tears flowed over his face, and he pressed his eyelids shut, hoping his tears would cease. His agitated breathing and tearful eyes remained for a long time as he stood there, statue-like.
God knows how he wanted to say that he missed you, how he wanted to call your name and start a silly conversation the way he used to do. How he wanted to ask you something ridiculous like do you still like cats more than dogs, like what do you think of the color blue, like did he hurt you so much, like were you able to forgive him, do you still love him as he does?
He wanted to hold you tightly, squeeze you between his arms and kiss away all the tears in your eyes. He wanted to sit on the floor of your room again, and you let him kiss you, let him kiss you, and let him kiss you. He wanted to tell you that in all these years, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, that watching you cover your yawn with the back of your hand took his breath away, that he was sometimes so immersed in the music of your tone that he couldn't understand what you were saying.
He wanted to tell you that if you stay by his side, nothing bad will happen to you. He was about to ask you this at that crucial point, but a sudden certainty struck his chest like a cold fist. He knew he had caused so much pain that probably you wished you were fortunate enough never to know him, that you were one of the billions of people in the world that didn't know he existed. He was sure that you wanted to turn back the clock, go to the beginning, to the day he approached you. Maybe you would want to leave so he could never tell you his name, and you would never fall in love.
"Satoru." Your words broke up, and all you could say were stuttering sounds. You never expected to see him here, with the same longing you had buried in your eyes. Suddenly everything seemed possible to you. How could anything be impossible with him still wanting you? Turning back from this line seemed nothing when you would climb every mountain and swim every ocean just to be with him.
A seed of hope sprouted in your heart, and a faint smile blossomed on your lips. Now with a thing you wanted to name enlightenment, you could see the meaning behind every pain you had borne all these years, and martyrly, you were ready to take more pain, take it all the way if it meant you would be safe in the embrace of his arms. You were in love. You would run to him, even if it were going to ignite you alive. You would still call to him even if you were going to lose your sight. You were ready to let go of your broken heart even if it was going to break you apart.
Your hand took hold of the rod, and as if a new soul had been breathed into you, your legs turned to take the path to him. Satoru's spell broke upon seeing your smile, and a nubbin of happiness slipped over his eyes. He started walking around the bars to get to you. His heart was racing like crazy, couldn't wait to feel you, to take you in his arms.
But suddenly, you stopped, like someone woke you with a slap in the face. The color drained from your face, and joy withered away. The thing you called enlightenment turned out to be an illusion.
"Y/N! Don't run in the airport!" The panting voice of a woman reached you while chasing after a child. Not just any woman, his wife.
"Nooo! I want to stay with my dad!" The white-haired girl reached for her father and grabbed his coat sleeve firmly. "Where have you gone, Pa? I got scared." Pouting her lips, not only did she not let go of Satoru, but she also hugged his knee tightly with her other hand.
His shocked gaze turned from his daughter to you. "Please, Y/N," he mumbled, begging you with desperation glooming in his eyes. He stood there like the whole world was breaking crumble apart around him. It no longer existed, and he knew he had to bid farewell to any chance of being with you. The ache in his heart became more unbearable when he realized he hadn't lost you years ago on the phone; he lost you today, before his eyes. He could see the flames of the wildfire he had thrown you in, because it was also turning him to the ashes. Even on your worst day, you didn't deserve any of the hell he gave you.
And on the other side, you were ready to give it all up — everything. You were half out of your mind with love, and you didn't think twice about throwing yourself into a fire, as long as you could keep him by your side. That was how you loved him. How pitiful.
The researches indicate ways for the human mind to cope with grief: sleep, forgetfulness, insanity, and death. Sleep allows people to take a step back from painful things. Like when someone gets injured or bad news, they often pass out. But at times, the wounds are so deep they don't heal. The saying that time cures pain is a fallacy. Yes, time heals most pains, but the rest are doomed to be forgotten. Rarely it happens that the mind suffers such a heavy blow that it takes refuge in insanity. Because most of the time, the truth is nothing but pain, and the mind abandons it to rid itself of murderous pain. Here comes the last escape way, aka death. When someone dies, nothing can hurt them anymore. At least that's what's being said.
Holding the rod firmly, you stared at him with grief, unsure which of these doors you would walk through after today, but you were well aware that he must have chosen the insanity by naming his daughter after you. You couldn't imagine the anguish he had to go through every time he wanted to call his own blood and bone your name. You had no idea whether he did it to preserve your memory or to torture himself. You didn't know. You couldn't say. Your head was dizzy, and everything hurt so much that it felt like you hurt for everyone who had ever been hurt this way.
You looked at him for the last time, trying to savor the moment. You knew you might not get another chance like this. Then you turned back to him, because you were afraid your chest would cave in and the only thing stopping it was the gasps of air you were taking between your tears. Before you knew it, you were sobbing, muffling your quiet screams of anger, frustration, and sadness.
You used your last remaining strength to walk straight, not to faint. Because you didn't want to give him any reason to come after you, to follow you. You loved him. You had fallen madly in love with what could never be, and no matter what your reasons were, you had to stay away from him. You just couldn't allow yourself to be a homewrecker.
"Mama? Why is dad sad?" The little girl pressed her lips together and looked at the black-haired woman with her big blue eyes. She had heard from her uncle Suguru that his father was once the funniest and goofiest person on earth, but no matter how much she strained her ears, she never heard his laughter. The only thing she remembered from him was the sleepless nights and the stench of alcohol. It gradually evolved into a dilemma in her mind, and sadly, she was too young for her mother to give her answers, to talk to her about the cruelty of her grandpa and her father's old, never-forgotten love.
"Everything will be fine, Y/N," he whispered in a distant, flat, quiet, and lifeless voice like he had promised you years ago on table 13. Still, this time standing there, staring at the gate you left, wondering how many lives it would take for him to finally experience a happy ever after with you.
"Of course it will, Papa."
