Work Text:
"Where does the ocean go?"
The question surprised me. Then, no matter, she always surprises me. Just when I think I've gotten her figured out, she always comes up with something else to prove that her mind works in different ways from us. From mine.
She leans close, not enough to touch, just barely a hair's breadth away. She's never really been big on physical contact. Unless she gets emotional. Which can be often. She's always so easily affected by certain things.
But still. She wants to be touched. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, leaning my cheek against her soft hair. She does not say anything, but shifts to get comfortable. She does not reject my touch, but neither does she accept it.
Sometimes she is so far away, even when she is so close. Sometimes I think it's just her. Or me.
Maybe it's just me. Because I'm afraid to reach past that perfection, and touch the real her behind all that. Because I'm afraid of how much, how far, her needs stretch. Afraid that I can't give her what she wants, what she needs. Afraid that I can't do it, that I'm not good enough.
So I am always just out of reach, always so close, needing to be close to her. Wanting to understand, but never daring to. And I scoff at her in my usual way.
"You always say such weird things! Who thinks about things like that?"
I scolded her, playfully, seriously. She smiles, her face crinkling into a frown as she pretended to sulk. She almost looks upset.
But I know her better than that. She knows that I know. And still she waits. Waiting for me to touch her.
Silence. She's thinking. Her silence is filled with the soundless noise of her thoughts. I can't read them, but they're there, nevertheless.
"It has to go somewhere, don't you think?"
She doesn't let go of a subject that easily. I roll my eyes. Far easier to fall back on routine. It hurts less than reaching into the fire of her soul. The fire of judgment, ready to pronounce a verdict. Guilty.
"And if it does? The sea is just there. We're not scientists, we're idols, we don't have to think about these things!"
My argument was simple, practical. I know she knows. She always likes to complicate things. Thinking far too much.
Then again, I think too much. We're a matched set.
More silence. It's getting cold. I'm hungry, and I say it. She nods in agreement. She does care.
We stand; her hand in mine, or mine in hers. I'm never really sure. Does it matter?
As we walk back to join the others, she turns to look back at the shore again, illuminated by the fiery sunset. Her eyes reflected the glow, and once again I'm caught off guard by her transcendent beauty. An ageless, exquisite sorrow, like an angel fallen from heaven. Lost and far from home.
"I really want to know, you know." She turns back, face once again cast in shadow. I tug her along, sand getting between my toes.
"Why bother? You can't even swim." My answer didn't even make sense. But she smiled. A real one this time.
"I just want to know."
I know. I look away.
"Let's just go." Abruptly, awkwardly. Her hand in mine stays my steps. I stop. Waiting.
I don't want her to say it.
"Let's go and eat then, Yerin-ah." And she smiles again, like the sun.
She knows. I smile back.
We walk back, hand in hand. Me and her, never saying anything, always knowing, always wanting, always needing.
Someday, someday I'll be able to tell you.
My Yuna...