Time: a difficult part of life that can never be stopped, no matter how hard one tries.
Fate: lifetimes written out in invisible ink.
Tragedy: an event that causes pain and tears, heartbreak and fears.
Love: a delicate emotion that sits on the line between reality and foolery.
I wrote these definitions out on a strange pop quiz when I was in high school. Looking back now, I realize how much I didn't know and how much of a child I was. It's hilarious really, how I didn't understand how large the border between adult and child was until I accidentally overcame it, without knowing.
Many people believe the difference between an adult and a child is not defined, because we are constantly learning from the day we are born. However, I've watched others grow and develop like I did and the line does exist. The line, though, is invisible.
I crossed the line soon after I graduated college when I was searching for a job as an assistant for a doctor. Well, a man interviewed me. He had a cold exterior, he's eyes were sharp, but he didn't treat me unkindly. He was quite gentle in fact.
Soon, the pieces began to fall into place... and I become an adult within a few months, a small portion of my lifetime, but unforgettable all the same.
--
"Sohma-san, here are those copies and your coffee," I said as I placed the items on his desk. He glanced up from his elegant writing and nodded, looking me directly in the eyes. I always looked back, even though I've been told I'm too straight-forward. Hatori's lip twitched in response and he went back to his work. I left quietly.
The halls of this new facility are an awful white. The rather boring color haunts every hall and I complained every morning to Hatori when I arrived at work. Hatori didn't seem to mind my plans to spray-paint the whole building, because his happiness over having his own walk-in clinic radiated from his body. Although he never expressed this and his exterior remained chilled, I could still see his happiness in the way he sat down carefully in his black leather chair and the way he would lean against the plastic-like counters. I didn't know him long, but whatever he went through in his past seemed to be fading from his daily life.
"Not very busy today," I muttered as I leaned back in one of the chairs facing Hatori's desk. Seconds earlier, I had shut off all the front lights and turned the "Closed" sign on. Everyone else had left before I turned the lights off. Hatori stacked some papers neatly as he nodded and then handed the papers to me. My jaw dropped as complaints rose into my head.
"No sir, I'm off duty," I said and threw the papers back onto his desk. His eyebrow rose at me and he arranged the papers precisely again. He then stood up and dropped the stack onto my lap.
"You're sitting there breathing my air. Make yourself useful," Hatori replied before he sat back down to sign more papers. I huffed and scuttled over to the blue filing cabinet, shuffling the papers into order. After a few moments, I flopped back into the chair and stared at Hatori's beautifully carved face. I leaned on my hand as I stared at him and didn't notice he was looking back at me until I blinked. Hatori didn't say anything, so I didn't have anything to reply, and we sat there for a couple, precious moments in time. Then, Hatori stood up.
"Let's go for a drink," he said, placing random things in certain drawers as a stunned silence fell over me. Hatori didn't seem like the type to like drinking, but I was always being surprised by this mysterious man. He shrugged off his white coat and replaced it with another coat, since the autumn air was chilly. I jolted up and shrugged my own off, heading to the closet outside his office to switch my own jacket.
The night air seeped through my jacket to my skin to leave wild goose bumps across my skin. We both walked briskly, the half-moon shining down, and the city was still twinkling with people and laughter. We entered a rather empty bar with nice tables and a wall made of rock-tiles, water cascading down from an invisible source in the ceiling. The bartender nodded to us with a friendly smile and Hatori ordered us drinks, his face emotionless. The bartender looked slightly frazzled under Hatori's gaze, so when he looked my way, I gave him a large grin. The bartender relaxed.
"So, is something on your mind?" I asked Hatori after we had gotten halfway through our first drink. Hatori took another swig of his golden liquid before he placed the glass on the bar, glancing at me with his brilliant eyes.
"There's always something on my mind," Hatori replied, staring off at the many-colored bottles across from us that shimmered in the blue and white lights. I sighed and wrapped my fingers around my glass, tapping a rhythmic tune. I felt Hatori's gaze on my fingers, but he didn't utter a word. So, I just waited for something to happen.
However, nothing was happening very fast.
"Sohma-san, why did you invite me out here? You must have had a reason behind it. Did you have a secret girlfriend and she broke up with you, making you want to cry? Did you get in a fight with an employee over a piece of paper? What's up?" I asked, facing him in my chair with determination. Once again, my straightness came into view. I'm sure even the bartender laughed at my straight-forward, rather childish behavior. Hatori's lip twitched again, but he looked disoriented for another second in time that I will never forget.
"You... how long ago did you interview with me?" Hatori questioned as he gazed into his glass, his eyes reflecting and mixing with the gold. His eyes sparkled with many things that night and not everything was visible.
"Um... that was definitely... four and a half months ago when you first opened the clinic," I muttered carelessly, wondering if my calculations were correct. It was at the beginning of summer, so the number sounded about right.
"Really..." Hatori remained still as stone for a short time, which felt like another year to me. However, this time I waited with a pinch more of patience, but just a pinch.
"Sohma-san, I'm going to leave if--"
"Please don't call me Sohma-san out of the office," Hatori interrupted as he rested his head against his hand, exhaustion written across his features. My eyebrows shot into my hair and I spun to face him.
"What do you want me to call you then?" I asked quietly, my eyes narrowing. Hatori wouldn't raise his gaze to mine and I sat impatiently, awaiting the answer.
"Hatori-san or whatever you prefer," he muttered. I could only blink as I stared at him, a realization coming across me. The reason for changing what I should call him has nothing to do with intimacy. He hated hearing his family name: Sohma.
"Tori-kun then," I said enthusiastically, trying to draw away his morose mood.
"Not that."
"Oh, well... Hatori-san it is," I said dejectedly, poking him in the ribs. He jolted up from his seat, almost whacked his drink to the floor, and finally locked eyes with me. My stomach filled with jumping nerves and my heart skipped a beat, my fingertips frozen from the lack of blood. Hatori seemed to be stuck as well in my gaze. We both tried to gulp a deep breath of air, but still remained short of air. Finally, Hatori broke a barrier.
"Miyagi," he whispered, his voice vibrating through my eardrums. "Would you like to go to dinner sometime, like Sunday after work?"
For whatever reason, I felt the urge to cry at that moment. Perhaps it was an emotional overload or some kind of leftover, teenage hormones, but I wanted to cry. Hatori just knew how to ask what I wanted the most.
"Yes."
--
The night came where I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to grab me and pull me into his arms. I wanted him to tell me how much he liked me, how much he need me.
We had been dating for about three weeks. His words drove me up the wall and around the corner. His eyes sent shivers to my toes into the center of the earth.
"It sure is beautiful tonight," I said as we walked down the street, his hand warming my own. Hatori smiled as he pulled me in another direction, leading me somewhere unknown. I grinned as I looked up at the waxing moon, the moon that represented my affection for Hatori at that instant.
Following Hatori's back, I watched his muscles move through his shirt as he walked. This simple movement sent a fluttering butterfly soaring through my stomach. For a second, I didn't notice he had stopped until I ran into him from behind. He raised his eyebrows with wonder at me while he yanked me forward, nodding to the scene in front of us. A fountain was lit up with multi-colored lights that reflected off the spewing water and multitude of coins under the rippling surface. I couldnt help but gasp.
"Aimi, I've been thinking... about how much I want you," Hatori began softly. "You're a beautiful girl and I'm lucky to have met you. However... I don't want you to get hurt by being with me. I'm not that wonderful, but... I need to know how you feel."
I felt like I couldn't answer fast enough that day for some reason. It felt like Hatori was slipping away with every second I said nothing, because my breath was knocked out of me. Although, when I did answer, I felt a little more grown-up.
Why?
Well, because I actually thought about it for a second.
When someone is in love, they tend to answer things immediately. No questions asked, because they love that person too much to resist. This goes for adults and children alike. It wasn't that I wasn't in love with Hatori that I didn't answer immediately.
It was because I was in love with him and knew what he wished that I thought about it.
"I like you Hatori."
The truth spilled from my mouth that night easily and it tasted like sweet melon. His arms wrapped around me faster than I could blink and I was so happy, extremely happy, that I could be apart of him.
So, somehow, I crossed that invisible line between an adult and child that night.
I crossed it because I understood how love is not, in fact, blind.
--
Love is blind.
I can't stop crying.
Fate has screwed me over.
The tears won't stop.
I'm hurt.
Hatori had said I might get hurt. He said I might not always like him. I just never thought that this is what he meant. It doesn't make any sense.
He can't say it.
He can't say he likes me.
It hurts him, his past hurts him.
My stomach churns as I lay tangled in my sheets, the tears streaming down my red, splotchy face. Angry music blares from speakers around my room and pillows and clothes are thrown around in messy piles. I scream repetitively into my only remaining pillow until my voice breaks from the effort, causing me physical pain.
His name comes to my lips over and over again, but I can't say it.
I can't even say I like him anymore.
I'm erasing him from my life and I'm going to run away again.
Just like a child, I'm running and not coming back.
The moon is waning and winter is coming.
I'm not coming back.
Rating is Love.
Messaging is Devotion.
Both is Childish.
