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“My love, you know I love spending time with you,” Kurapika says, his gaze never leaving the window, “But where are we going?”
The young woman smiles softly and shrugs, “You said you had the weekend off, right?” she says and relaxes against the backrest as she adjusts her grip on the steering wheel, “So why not make the most of it?”
He sighs deeply, resting his head against the window.
“Just relax, we’re going for a drive,” she says and glances over to him, “Or would you rather stay home?”
He shrugs, sighs again, “It’s fine,” he answers and takes a deep breath, “I’m just tired.”
“Exactly,” she says, a tone of proud confidence now to her words, “You’ve been feeling a bit down for a while now… a change of pace would be good for you, getting out of the city should help.”
He looks out at the landscape, certainly familiar but also strangely different. The trees have turned a deep scarlet and vibrant orange. The last time he remembers looking out into the fields was when it just turned spring. So much time has passed. So many months. The fact that so much time had passed, and so overlooked to him, was a bit discomforting.
“It’s autumn,” he notes, sitting up a bit straighter to see the rest of the landscape passing by.
“It’s almost winter,” she replies with a soft smile this time, “I’ve been bringing you hot chocolate after work each time it gets cold.”
It makes sense. He guessed at that time it was only because she noticed he was having a bad day. But, that’s practically every day these days. Everything just felt like an unending loop. She must’ve noticed. She always does.
“Just for a little while… try to forget about work, okay?” her voice breaks through his thoughts, “I’ve got you something, check in the glovebox.”
He takes it out. It’s chocolate covered marshmallows. He chuckles tiredly and opens it up, “You know me too well,” he says and takes out one, reaching over to hand it to her.
She opens her mouth and glances at him expectantly.
He grimaces at the thought of the awkwardness that would follow, but before he could even react, she’d bent down and popped the chocolate into her mouth. He immediately snatches his hand back and groans, “Really??”
“Yes, really,” she answers, words warbled by the chocolate.
He stares at her for a moment before taking hold of her hand, bringing it up to his lips and slowly kisses it, “You’re much too troublesome,” he murmurs and kisses her hand again, “Way too much.”
“Can’t be too much if you’re being so affectionate,” she says and squeezes his hand in return.
For the first time in what feels like forever, he takes a deep breath and sits back. Absentmindedly sharing the snack with her as the miles go by. The soft jazz music she’s had put on when they started slowly seemed to seep into his bones, relaxing and forgiving. The lilting notes of the violin, the trills of the piano and the soft reverberations of the cymbals. It was divine. Such an off-beat relaxing tune.
He takes another breath, deeply this time.
He sits up, awkwardly stretching out at odd angles in the car, working his neck side to side. He can feel the strain of his back and neck etched deeply in his muscles. But the stretch felt good. With slow twists he works his back until he finally feels the pressure giving way. An unexpected yawn escapes him when he finally sits back against the backrest.
He looks out the window again, smiling a bit. The soft rhythm of the car, the sways, the slight bumps. It was calming, the repetitive rocking.
“You can sleep if you want to,” she says reassuringly, gently turning the steering wheel as the road meanders through the countryside.
“You won’t mind?” he asks, getting comfortable all the same as he knows she wouldn’t have asked otherwise.
“Not at all. I’ll wake you up when we need a gas station, okay?” she says and smiles as she softly runs her fingers through his hair, “Just relax for now.”
She’s strong. A generous person. Someone who remains kind, no matter how many times life seems to try and break them. She’s much more adventurous than he is, less inhibited, fearless. Yet, she’s so polite, so sweet, so incredibly thoughtful, no matter what happens.
“Thank you for this,” he says, so very very aware of how softly her fingers keep combing through his hair over and over again. So warm and soft. So gentle. Just like her.
“Of course,” she says, finally taking his hand in hers.