Work Text:
I’m Kota Yabu.
And I’m in the rush hour of central London.
It’s still morning, local time, but the subway is already as hectic as an ants nest. Not like it were unusual. I’ve been living here for quite a long time by now, therefore I’ve known how rush hour here is as horrifying as a nightmare on Friday the 13th. Still, this is my daily routine in my every mornings. This is my apparent life in between my loneliness, in a land far, far away from my home country.
It’s warm here. It’s in the edge of summer. I hold my cup of hot coffee tight with my left hand as I check the big hanging clock on a pillar of platform 3. My train’s schedule is after the train that is coming, so I still have time to observe. It’s not yet nine, but people have been rushing here and there with their lacking of material summer clothes, or formal suits—light grey, dark grey—unlike me, who's wearing all black and gloomy pieces on such day. Some are waiting for their train on another platform, some are half running around the hallway, some are talking with each other in corners. None of the faces I see looks delighted, however. Frowns are everywhere, furrows, youth with old visages, franticness.
No one seems happy, until I see that certain happy smile that I've known since long ago.
I dart my eyes right away to that too familiar silhouette in dark blue cardigan. And I see him; it’s indeed him; the snowy angel that I used to own, the one that is still able to freeze my feet there and then. The one that always gets my attention, that I cannot take my eyes off of him even now.
He’s running to the edge of the yellow line, two pillars away from me. Not far, and I can see his face so clearly. He’s smiling, widely, endearingly. The upward curve on his lips shows his white teeth, making his eyes a little narrowed. His skin is still as snowy as I can remember; so white and pale, and smooth, in contrast with his natural wavy black hair that mops on his head. His eyes are sparkling with content and I can see it, needless to say. God has made him as enchanting as he is in anytime. He looks so bright, like an angel coming down to earth to give human, revelation. And in my post, I can only stand still, fascinated, watching him calling someone else’s name. My heart skips beats.
In such crowded place, without hesitancy, the stretched hand of his is taken by that someone’s, of a good looking guy with long middle parted brown hair, who’s as tall as him; a guy I've never known before. As they hold hands, I see the guy entwining their fingers together. They look fit, and I don’t know how sour my face look like at the moment.
How I wish I were the one who did so, holding his hand tight with mine.
How I wish I were still the one standing in that angel’s side, the one who caused those pure smile that makes me high.
He turns his head to me, out of the blue, with no cautions whatsoever. And I’m caught off guard, I cannot move my neck to hide my already fixed gaze. He must have been aware of my tender—perhaps freaky—stare to him, that he does so. He stares back, his eyes wide, half surprised. But I can see those brown irises sparkle, like he's quite excited seeing my being. I swear I see some delight in those sweltering orbs.
The heart inside my chest had stopped beating seconds ago. But now, it beats so madly like a crazy running horse in an intensive horse race, not feel at the least comfortable. I can feel the air becomes so hot only around me. I can feel my stomach growing sick, I want to throw up. I feel my cheeks burning that it turns as red as a fire of eternity. He’s smiling at me. I swear, I swear he throws a warm smile to me. Kei Inoo is smiling at me.
He lifts his free hand and parts his raven hair behind his ear, and he looks so adorable while doing so. He opens his mouth to say something, maybe greets me good morning, maybe says a simple hallo, maybe, just maybe, he wants to ask how am I doing. But unfortunately for me who’s silently looking forward to such words slipping off of his sweet lips, at the same time the train comes and stops right in front of them.
People are dashing out of the new arrived commuter train in haste, and the brown haired guy who holds his pale hand pulls him gently into the car in front of them. Crowd and heads are blocking our vision, yet, though our gazes are eventually broken, the me who can't do anything, can still see him disappearing behind the train car’s door. I sigh pathetically as I come back to reality, feeling so lonely and sad like I’ve never been before, as half of my soul, again, flies away, away from my reach.
Hey, Kei.
How do you do?
I see you’re still as beautiful as ever.
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