Work Text:
The gentle sway of the boat does not match the pounding of your heart, nor the lullaby of the waves that slowly drift both of you far away from the shore.
The summer sun gleams on Mifune’s skin, light caressing the beautiful wrinkles on his face as he fondly stares at you with deep dark eyes. The movement of the water reflects on them, a warm stare embracing you.
You wouldn't be lying if you said you didn't see his kiss coming because that one strand of his hair out of place demanded all of your attention. But then the softness of his lips erases everything from your surroundings and although you've closed your eyes, the few drops of water still attached to his face make sure to remind you with a shiver the memory of your bodies swimming close not long ago.
Mifune heard you whispering his first name in a shaky breath after he departed his face from yours and you thought you could die from the sweetness of his laugh. The amusing glint in his eyes only increases the heat in your cheeks as you process what you just said.
“No need to be so shy. Although you look quite cute. But…”
His hand finds his place on your cheek and his whisper finds his place running down your body.
“I'm not moving until you say it again.”
Your hand grasps his arm as an anchor and a plea —please, there’s only so much I can take— before you realize the word comes out of your mouth.
Toshiro.
He tastes of salty water, desire and the promise of a love that will shape your heart forever.
And you might be afraid this is only a summer fling, that all those night walks you took side by side under the knowing look of the moon will see their end in your weeping at the end of August. Afraid that you’ll eventually forget the touch of his skin under his yukata when your arms naturally link one evening.
But the reason Mifune always smiled at you so sincerely is because he knew since that day at the station where you met with your suitcases on your feet that he would keep writing and reaching out to you even when leaves start falling. That’s why he frowned and stared at you —with this mix of concern and bafflement you always found adorable— when you halted and broke into tears one day as the sunset light illuminated your hands anxiously clutching your dress, the path your footsteps engrave every night long forgotten ahead of you.
That last day of summer you no longer shyly mutter his name but say it over and over again with your breath against his chest as he tightly hugs you with strong arms and with even more affectionate words.
That last day of summer neither of you will allow the other to sleep alone.
You hold his letter to your chest with the care of having read it dozens of times since it arrived at your desk, just like the rest of his mail during the past months, as you look across the multitude stepping out of the train. The not so chilly air of March announced the coming of spring, but that wasn’t the reason for your goosebumps.
He finds you first, beaming with his hand raised.
You wave back and run to him.