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Namiki looks back on small little moments.
Not because he's sentimental or anything, but the larger-than-life love that he has for Yae is built on the soft, shy first touches and the memories they made together over months.
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Yae sits on the grass with her legs crossed, her hair tumbling down her back, free of its tight ponytail. She stares up at the sky, a soft pale salmon pink, with so much admiration that Namiki almost feels jealous of the clouds.
Namiki flies a kite beside her, his back to the wind, holding the handle to his chest, but his eyes aren't on the sky. He looks down at Yae.
The breeze lifts Yae's hair, but she just lets it. She shrugs her jacket off and carries it in her lap, over her thighs. She is filled with grace, elegant. Beautiful. Yae doesn't even have to do anything to look pretty. She just is. Just is.
The wind takes Namiki away. Namiki stumbles on his own two feet, but Yae reaches her hand out to Namiki for Namiki to take. Namiki holds her hand in his, running the pad of his thumb across her knuckles, threading their fingers together, warmth connecting the two of them.
Yae grins up at Namiki. Namiki's brows raise just a titch higher up his forehead, confused, and then Yae's pulling herself up to her feet with his hand and throwing her jacket over Namiki's shoulders, and Namiki is stunned.
Namiki can just about hear his heart singing. He's happy, happy, happy just to be here. Here, with Yae, her face shining like the sun.
When Namiki thinks of Yae, he thinks of borrowed jackets flung over shoulders during the snow, skies turned pink by sunsets, and the last time he was ever happy. He thinks of their pink hour, when the breeze was cherry-sweet and Yae was rosy-cheeked, beret over her bangs, fingers turned blue from the cold.
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Namiki talks to Yae on the phone.
Namiki had let out an excited howl the first time he ever talked to Yae because he just couldn't believe how he was now talking to someone he thought he would be resigned to only being allowed to look at and think of.
Even now that he is in regular communication with Yae, he still feels himself wanting to let out that happy little howl and pinch himself, because Yae is here, even if she's on the other phone-end, and he's so happy he could float.
Nervous giggles are all Namiki could manage when talking to Yae before, but now that he isn't with her, he wishes he had talked more, said more, told more. He likes her so much he could never think of being separated from her, but he is now, and the loneliness is a reality, and he can only wish he could have told her then all the cheesy stuff they say in movies.
Yae speaks again, saying something about a movie she caught on the weekend with her mother, and Namiki's heart beats faster than ever, happiness building up inside of him like condensation bubbling in a shaken soda can.
It's almost surreal, hearing Yae's disembodied voice through the phone, but it's better than nothing. Namiki will take all that he can get.
Yae's voice is soft, like a whisper in the wind, and Namiki thinks of her voice the whole time he holds his hand to his forehead in a salute.
Namiki lets out a soft sigh. He peeks his head out of the window and looks up at the sky, his head filled with thoughts of Yae, Yae, Yae.
The sky is peach-pink. Namiki hopes that they are looking at the same sky, the same sun. At least at night, though, he would be sure that they are looking at the same moon and stars.
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The first time that Yae and Namiki were intimate together, Namiki was so nervous that he could barely breathe.
He could feel his head spinning and his heart pounding and his ears splitting, not because he's anxious to be seen bare but because he feels so warm with the sheets thrown over him and Yae beside him, pretty and soft all over, her beating heart against his beating heart.
He was happy for that, though, happy for his heart to be beating so fast and pounding in his ears like a drum beat, because it reminded him that he was alive, that he was there on Earth with Yae, that he was lying with Yae.
Namiki didn't want to be too rough. He didn't grab. He didn't grope. He barely even touched. He traced the pad of his finger along the bump on the bridge of Yae's nose, the cupid's bow of her lips, the line of her jaw, her collarbone.
Namiki counted Yae's moles. The mole on his cheek matches the one on Yae's wrist, the one on her shoulder blade, the one on her chest.
In bed they talk about finding a way to live out their personal life dreams together and taking out a mortgage and traveling abroad and talk about simpler things like eating Naporitan and shrimp for dinner, an in-between compromise, and just doing laundry together in the future.
Yae pulls her hair out of the loose ponytail she had tied it into before getting in with Namiki. Namiki slips Yae's hair tie on his wrist before leaning in to catch her mouth in a soft kiss.
The way Yae and Namiki kiss and make love and touch each other is soft. Chaste. Gentle. Loving. Nothing at all like the porn centerfolds that Namiki's friends used to show him back in high school. They bloom in each other's hands like flower petals. They sink and drown into each other's heat like twin swimming pools. They lose each other in the beat of their drum.
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Namiki meets Yae again later in adulthood.
They cross paths unexpectedly, like something out of a movie, and it makes Namiki believe in fate again. Makes Namiki believe in love again.
Yae is surprised that Namiki knows her name. Namiki is overjoyed to learn that Yae even so much as remembers fragments of him, even if it's just his first name, where he used to live.
Namiki is even happier when Yae wants to get to know him more. Even just the small things are enough to make him want to keel over with happiness. Even just the small things make him feel like he's floating through space.
The sky is baby pink when they meet. Gentle and innocent. Namiki squeezes Yae's hand. Yae squeezes his hand back. Three times.
Yae and Namiki lost each other, but they find their way back to each other again, somehow, because their love is enough to bring anything back, enough to summon the other person.
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When Namiki thinks of Yae, he thinks of love, miracles, and a non-mathematical six billion to one probability of meeting his soulmate.
Namiki thinks Yae is his soulmate. Maybe she is. Maybe she isn't. All he knows is that, this time, he isn't ever going to let go of her hand now that she is back in his life and he in hers.