Chapter Text
v. scent
Yae has always loved purple lilacs.
She knows this. But as with most things in her life, she can’t, for the life of her, remember why.
She searches her memories – what’s left of it anyway – but can’t seem to ever find them there. Sensei had always gifted her red roses, from Tsuzuru, pink carnations. On a whim, she searches their meaning – first emotions of love, hatsukoi – and can’t understand the overwhelming ache she feels in her chest.
In those early days, she might have thought it was because of Sensei, but that life is a distant memory to her now. It doesn’t hurt her, can’t even compare to the sob she feels rising up her throat at the first scent of that beautiful bouquet.
why
It’s so painful but like a fool she takes a deep whiff anyway, breathing it all in, hoping that it cleanses her lungs. She can’t help it, she likes what she likes (even when it caused her pain – father, sensei, and…)
She knows that she’ll find purple lilacs in the blank spaces of the jigsaw puzzle that is her life – if only she was brave enough or fool enough to take the plunge.
She doesn’t jump (at least not yet) but at the edge she smells a whiff of…tomatoes? And pasta? Napolitan.
It goes perfectly with shrimps so she adds plenty.
Delicious, if she can say so herself. Or maybe, she thinks as she gazes at the man in front of her and smiles. Meals are always better when you’re not alone.