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veronicaphoenix · 2 months ago

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zutto — chapter eleven | wc: 5.9k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Noah and Lia get answers from Noah's Grandma to all the questions they've had since Koi No Yokan.

Reading time: 25mins aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings: established relationship, slight angst, japanese folklore*, chinese folklore*, magical realism, fluff, a few tears, therapy, mentions/allusions to everything that has happened until now, including lia and noah's troubled childhood, lia's abusive relationship with mitch, and the time noah and lia slept together when they were drunk. Answers to all the mysteries that happened in Koi No Yokan.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

The house welcomed them with the earthy, lingering fragrance of incense. It was a scent neither Lia nor Noah could identify yet, for it was unfamiliar—perhaps it was woven from cedarwood. Perhaps sandalwood. Nevertheless, the scent and warmth of the house wrapped them in a sense of home despite knowing they were far from their own. It was an odd mix of comfort and respectful distance; they knew they were guests in a house where every detail was arranged with thoughtful care by someone else, and yet, it felt like being home in a way. But it wasn’t the place which gave them that feeling, no.

It was Grandma.

They slipped off their shoes at the entrance, following tradition, and as Lia wiped her eyes, Noah leaned into a hug to envelop his grandmother, a gentle but steady wrapping of arms that worked as a reminder of everything she had quietly done for him. As a boy, he had been unaware of it all, but now, as a grown man, he was aware and full of gratitude and admiration.

“Why don’t you let Emi take your things upstairs?” Hana suggested, a familiar sparkle in her eye that meant she felt very joyful at having them home, finally. “I’ll prepare some tea, and we can sit in the tea room.”

At that, they both turned to see Emi, who had appeared with graceful timing at the entrance. She was a woman with short black hair in her late forties who had been assisting Hana for years. Noah and Lia knew her from their previous visits, and once again, as she stood with her hands neatly clasped and she nodded politely in their direction, her expression remained the same as always: serene and carrying a formality that made her seem both close and reserved at once. Though Hana managed the house alone, Emi’s help had become essential as of lately. The house was spacious and slightly too big for a woman alone. There were countless small details to tend to, and Hana, with her body aging with every passing day—that pain in her right leg, the backache—found herself struggling with certain tasks. Emi was there to lend her hands, as she had likely done for others throughout her life.

Emi’s presence had taken on a near-reverent quality since the moment she was hired, and that attitude applied not only to Hana but also to any guests arriving at the house. Her English was very poor, and that had led to some awkward exchanges between her and Noah and Lia in the past. Once, Lia had tried to bridge the gap and she’d asked Emi to sit with them at the tea table. But Emi, polite and respectful as ever, had simply smiled, bowed, and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Lia feeling guilty at the thought that, while they were indulging in pastries and warm teas, the woman was cleaning the kitchen. Perhaps it was a cultural legacy of deep-seated respect, rooted in the tradition of servitude where service was considered a quiet honor, but it still didn’t sit too well with neither Lia and Noah. Hana told them, after a few times, there was nothing they could do and they had to accept the way she was, and so they never really said much else, not even when they felt a tinge of guilt.

Noah thanked Emi gently, shaking his head when she made to lift one of their heavy suitcases. There was no way he was going to let that woman carry those heavy bags upstairs. But as expected, Emi insisted, saying something in Japanese and bending down. Noah exchanged a look with Lia, as if asking for a help she couldn’t provide. Emi attempted again to lift one of the bags, her intent clear even without words and ignoring Noah’s hands.

“Can you tell her I’ll take care of it?” Noah asked Hana. “They’re too heavy. She’ll hurt her back. I can manage.”

Hana nodded, understanding, and with a sweet voice but reverence in her tone, indicated to Emi—in Japanese, of course—to leave the task to Noah. Emi listened to Hana with more will than she had listened to Noah, for she nodded in understanding immediately and retreated after offering Noah another nodding and a smile that he tried to weirdly reciprocate.

Lia trailed behind Noah as he took both suitcases upstairs at once, her carrying their backpacks, and once they reached the top of the stairs, she paused in front of the guest room door where she had always stayed.

Noah kept walking towards his room until he noticed Lia standing far from him.

“You don’t think we’re sleeping in separate beds, let alone in separate rooms, do you?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head, but her voice softened as she glanced toward the stairs. “I just don’t want to be inconsiderate. Maybe we should talk to Grandma about it first.”

After a brief pause, Noah nodded.

“Yeah. Sure. We’ll talk to her.” He extended a hand to her, and he waited until Lia took it to lead her into his room, sliding the doors open.

The room was bigger than the guest room, square in shape, with a big futon laying on a wooden tatami, clean soft bedding drapped over it and an array of pillows. There was a small desk next to the door, facing the bed, and two more sliding doors on one side that led to a cozy balcony overlooking the distant mountains. Noah had never really stopped to appreciate how cozy the room was, but now he imagined how much warmer it would feel, having Lia lying in his bed.

Noah set the suitcases in one side and Lia placed their backpacks on the desk.

After spending a few minutes sorting through her toiletries and hanging up some clothes in the wardrobe, Lia slipped away to the bathroom for a quick break. Just then, a knock on the door startled Noah, causing him to turn around. He found Emi by the threshold, carrying more pillows in her arms and two colorful blankets. A sigh escaped him; he couldn’t find a way to explain they didn’t need so many, and he didn’t want to discharge her and offend her, so he simply stowed the extras in the wardrobe, thanking her.

Lia came back from the bathroom with her hair gathered in a comfy bun, and both headed downstairs.

Grandma was in the kitchen, a space that carried the comforting smell of teas being prepared and food being cooked. Hana was placing an iron kettle on a tray and arranging three delicate porcelain cups beside a plate of traditional sweets when both stepped into the room.

As Hana looked up, her eyes softened, the faint creases at their edges deepening. She paused, noticing the way Noah and Lia lingered at the door as if feeling shy about something.

Before she focused on that, a surge of disbelief spread through her. It was always a little surreal to see them grown up, these two who had shared so much, tethered by a bond she had always sensed. To her, they were still the children who’d once sought refuge in her kitchen after school, where she would braid Lia’s hair and smile at Noah’s pleas to grow his hair long like hers, that little girl with torn clothes and that boy who used to escape the struggles of his family by playing guitar.

“Is everything to your liking?” Hana asked, her gaze soft but searching.

“Yes,” Lia replied quickly. Noah nodded in agreement, but then Lia glanced at him before adding, a hint of hesitation in her voice, “We were wondering if… if Noah and I could… share a room?”

Hana’s attention drifted downward, catching the subtle movement between their bodies. Noah’s fingers reached for Lia’s, and she quietly laced hers with his. Hana’s eyes lingered on their joined hands for a moment, before her lips curved into an understanding smile.

With a quiet satisfaction that neither Noah nor Lia fully comprehended, Hana lifted the tea tray and moved gracefully around the kitchen island, gesturing for them to follow without saying a word. Despite her petite frame, there was an elegance and authority in her movements.

Noah and Lia exchanged a look, then followed her into the tea room.

Hana’s tea room was minimal yet spacious, containing a square wooden table in the center surrounded by floor cushions. A single cabinet along the wall held a modest assortment of teacups and plates and a bouquet of dry flowers that had been there since she moved into the house, crafted by Lia, of course. On the left, the panneled windows made of washi paper let in the soft, diffused light from the garden at the back of the house. The room had always felt like a sacred space.

Noah and Lia sat side by side, waiting in a reverent silence as Hana kneeled down in front of them across the table and poured the tea, the steam unfurling in delicate wisps that mingled with the scent of sencha. Lia wrapped her hands around the warm mug only to be warned by Hana.

“It’s hot, dear. Be careful.”

It was always the same warning, and yet, Lia never seemed to care about it. Hana would always say the same, and Lia would always keep her hands around the mug because instead of burning her hands, the heat brought a sense of grounding to her that spread from her hands to the rest of her body.

Next to her, Noah, normally patient, was growing a bit restless. He was expecting an answer. Yes. No. It had been a simple question, right? Can we share a room? Can Lia sleep in my bed? He just needed a simple “yes” or “no” —a “yes” better than the other option because truth was, he didn’t know what he would do if Hana said he wanted them to keep distance while in the house. But Hana had to be so cryptic. She had to draw things out and keep him on this toes.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hana’s old but wise eyes met his just as she finished pouring herself tea. Her expression was one almost… mischievous. There was softness in it, but she had a knowing smile on her lips that hinted at secrets only she knew.

Just as Noah opened his mouth to speak, she said, “There’s something I want to show you.”

She started to rise, and instinctively, Noah made a move to help, but she waved him off.

“No need, my dear. Just give me a moment.”

She dissappeared down the hall, her footsteps a soft patter that didn’t quite fade entirely as she retrieved what she went looking for in a nearby room. She returned moments later. In her wrinkled hands, she held a small, dark wooden box. She settled back onto the cushions.

“Is that where you’ve been keeping my old baby teeth?” Noah joked, gesturing to the box with a smirk. Beside him, Lia chuckled, but Hana’s silence—her smile still serene—quickly quieted them.

“Not quite,” was her reply.

Hana placed the box on the table, facing her. Her own cup of tea steamed right next to it. She slowly opened it, but the attached lid created a barrier that made it impossible for Lia and Noah to see what was inside. Lia shifted, hands on her knees, lifting herself slightly and stretching her neck to catch a glimpse of whatever that was.

Hana grabbed whatever was inside with such care that Noah and Lia’s curiosity and confusion just increased. A moment later, she placed something in the palm of her other hand and extended it towards them, revealing a piece of red string.

The string lay delicate and faded in Hana’s palm. It was fraying slightly at the edges where time had worn it thin. Once bright red, it had softened to a muted, dusty crimson. Unbeknownst to the young couple in the room, it had stubbornly survived, first wash after wash, and then travel after travel until it was kept safe in the box that now lay on the table.

“What’s that?” Lia asked, her eyes jumping to Hana’s, for she couldn’t make sense of the mystery that a tiny worn string could hold.

She hadn’t noticed Noah going stiff, his eyes frozen over the piece of red laying in Hana’s hand.

“That’s…” Noah began. He blinked, frowning a little as if he was trying to put the pieces together. He extended an arm and as gently as Hana had done, he took the string in his palm. “That’s a lose string from one of Lia’s socks,” he responded, more to himself than to Lia or Hana.

Lia’s confusion only deepened at Noah’s words and at his reaction. He kept staring at the string in his palm as if it was made of gold.

“What?” she uttered before shaking her head. “How could that—? I don’t own red socks.”

“You did,” Noah corrected her as he snapped his head up to look her in the eye, “when you were six.”

Lia wasn’t following. Noah continued.

“It got stuck on the pedal of my bike the first day we met, when I let you ride it. I gave it to Grandma right after I went back home. I thought…” The memories hit him, one after another. He nearly chuckled at his innocence back then. “I thought it needed to be sewn back or something. I got worried you wouldn’t have any more socks or that those would fray.”

Lia’s gaze flickered between the delicate string and the grandmother’s wise, knowing expression. She understood why little Noah, with his big heart and innocent worries, would have been anxious over the lost string. But Grandma? Why had she kept it for so many years? Why had she held on to it so reverently?

Unsure of what to say or feel, Lia found herself at a loss for words. She glanced at Noah, who was just as silent, both of them looking to Grandma.

“Have you heard about the red string of fate?” Hana asked then.

Noah’s brow furrowed, and he nodded slowly. “I think I might’ve heard something about it… Isn’t that Chinese folklore?”

Grandma gave a gentle nod with an understanding smile. “Yes, it is. But that doesn’t mean it applies only to that region.”

Lia held her tea cup close, her fingers tracing the warmth that seeped into her palms. She took a slow sip, her eyes never leaving Grandma’s face as she waited.

“According to the myth,” Grandma continued, “the string of fate is an invisible red thread tied around the fingers of those destined to meet, especially soulmates or true loves. The ones connected by this thread are bound to find each other, no matter the distance, time, or obstacles. Though the cord may stretch or become tangled, it is said to never break, symbolizing a bond that is unbreakable and meant to be.”

“Folklore,” Lia concluded, a tinge of dubiety in her tone.

“Folklore, indeed,” Grandma agreed with a tilt of her head. “Life is not that simple, or beautiful. Some people are meant to be, but they never find their way to each other. However, sometimes they do. Sometimes they find each other at the strangest of times; sometimes when they are old, carrying the weight of their lives with them, and sometimes… when they are merely kids, with everything still ahead of them.”

“This is a broken string, Grandma,” Noah pointed out, extending his open palm as if trying to prove a point.

“And I said the red thread is invisible,” she replied with a soft smile touching her lips. “When you came home with that string in your hand, I kept it in a drawer for days, just because you were so concerned about Lia’s socks. But weeks later, when I found it again, I remembered the old myth, the one that had traveled from family to family, village to village, weaving its way across countries. By then, you and Lia were already inseparable, and I couldn’t help but wonder…” She trailed off, tilting her head as she looked at the thread as though it might reveal a hidden truth, as if it held the memories of years gone by. “I wondered if there was something to it. So, I kept it, out of curiosity. And as I watched you both grow—the more time you spent with each other, the more obvious it became.”

“What was obvious?” Lia asked, quietly.

Hana’s smile deepened.

“That you were soulmates.”

Noah and Lia didn’t say a thing as they absorbed her words in quiet wonder and daze.

“When you moved in with Noah on your eighteenth birthday, I remember Noah calling to let me know that you’d settled in. There was something different in his voice—a blend of joy, contentment, and peace I’d never heard from him before. And then, the day you graduated, the look on his face when you came down the stairs in that beautiful dress, with those shoes you didn’t want to wear… Do you remember that, Lia?”

“I remember,” she replied as the memories flooded back.

She recalled dancing with a classmate whose name had long since slipped her mind. She recalled Jolly telling her he was suspicious that Noah liked a girl. She remembered sneaking vodka shots with her friends in the restroom, and later that night, Noah giving her a piggyback ride to her room. And yes, she remembered the way he looked at her before any of that—a look she had assumed was the fond gaze of a best friend to whom you mean the world. Nothing more.

She turned her head to look at Noah. He was focused on Grandma, though there was a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“There was something…” Grandma went on. “It was’t just the string. There was something else, a feeling around the two of you, as if the world itself was telling me your place was with each other. When I look back, I’m convinced it all started the moment Noah first saw you, Lia. The thread may have existed long before, but the day your sock got caught on the pedal of his bike… it might have been a sign—a signal from some higher power that didn’t want you straying away from each other. I never wanted to interfere, to disturb the natural flow of things… so I did the only thing I could. I held onto this little piece of rope, believing somehow it would help keep you two together. I was afraid the thread might snap or get lost—that something would come between you and your relationship would strain.” She looked intently at them for a while. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful and intense as what you two have. I said some people are meant to be but they never find their way to each other,” she looked directly at Noah, “but you, my dear child, you never left her side.” Not even when the thread threatened to break, when there were circumstances that hinted at a separation such as when Lia moved on her own, or when other people came between them—every one night stand, every girlfriend and boyfriend, Mitch, the night they slept together when alcohol was running through their veins.

Be that as it may, Noah had always remained close to her. She had, too, in her own way and despite trying to push him away.

“So,” Noah ventured, “you’re saying that we’ve always been meant to be together?”

“Yes. Lia has always been meant for you, and you for her. That’s what I believe, even if it sounds unreasonable, fantastical—you have every right to feel that way,” her voice flattered as her gaze drifted to a spot on the floor, unfocused. Lost in thought, her expression softened, and tears welled in her eyes. “But you’re here now. You’ve come back to me, together,” she continued, a smile breaking through the weight of years past, “after everything you’ve been through, all the struggles my children have faced so far away from me… I can only imagine how difficult it’s been, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything for you. But now, you’re finally here, as you were always meant to be.”

Seeing Grandma’s silent tears trail down her cheeks was almost too much for them to bear. Even with the joy in this moment, the pain she’d carried across the years was evident, stretching from L.A. to this quiet town in Japan. She had watched, powerless, from afar as Noah and Lia overcame struggle after struggle—every little and not so little thing that threated to keep them apart. She’d been alone, helpless against the silent ache that crossed oceans—the butterfly effect.

Lia resisted the impulse to react to Hana’s tears, instead setting her cup of tea down quietly on the table. Without a word, she reached over and took the string from Noah’s hands, holding it with a calm resolve.

The moment the fabric touched her skin, she was pulled back to that morning, twenty-one years ago.

She remembered waking up alone in a crumbling house, piecing together a small breakfast from what she could find in the kitchen. She’d dressed in clothes that had piled up at the foot of her bed, unsure of how to wash them or make the machine downstairs work. Hoping to give them a different smell, she’d played in the garden among the flowers until her clothes smelled of lavender and thyme. Inside, she’d lost herself in her sketching and coloring, hours slipping by in a quiet solitude she barely noticed anymore. When hunger crept in, she’d scavenged an apple from the fridge, slicing away the bruised parts and eating what was left. Eventually, she’d perched by the window, watching the world pass outside, dogs barking in the distance, occasional cars rumbling by. Finally, she climbed the stairs back to her room to put on some red socks and boots. She’d opened the house door, stepped outside, and settled herself on the concrete. A while later, Noah had appeared.

And in that moment, her life changed.

Noah saved her.

With the back of her hand, Lia wiped a stray tear as she blinked. She rubbed the string between her fingers, its fibers stiff but delicate, like a fragile relic of the past that carried the memory of those early days—painful and sweet at the same time.

Both Hana and Noah waited for her to speak. It took a moment, but finally, she opened her mouth, her voice quivering as she looked at Hana, eyes glassy.

“Can I keep it?”

Noah half-expected Hana to hesitate. After guarding this small piece of their past—of their beginning— for so many years, he thought she might be reluctant to let go, fearing that releasing it might somehow weaken the bond between them. But Hana’s response was instant. Her smile brightened as she nodded.

“You can keep it, darling.”

Maybe, Noah thought, seeing them together after all these years had finally soothed Hana’s fears, rather than fueling them. He was still taking it all in, not so much the fact that she’d kept this string for over two decades, but the meaning behind it.

But it made sense.

Every little thing made sense.

And if he was honest, it was exactly how he wanted it.

He’d wanted Lia since that Saturday morning when she was six and he was seven, in one way or another.

He watched her fingers play with the red string, as if she were trying to understand if it was just a scrap of her old sock or a sign of something greater. It might have been nothing more than a forgotten string. Or perhaps it was indeed the physical proof of a bond that had been with them since childhood.

His tea sat untouched, forgotten as he focused solely on Lia, watching the worry etched into her expression. He couldn’t look away. He whispered her name, hoping to see if she was all right or if all of this was becoming too much. Her big brown eyes met his, unguarded and glassy with emotion. She didn’t smile, didn’t speak, just looked at him, and then, her concern shifted toward him. Just as he was about to tell her he was fine, she turned to Hana.

“What happened to Noah?” Lia’s voice was steady but edged with urgency. “The coughing. The fever. All those flowers.”

Hana’s gaze softened, though her expression remained unreadable.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” she replied, sensing Lia’s growing distress.

But Lia shook her head. “No. Now. We need to know.”

Hana hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Lia, my darling,” she began gently, “you just got here. Maybe one story is enough for today.”

“We’re fine,” Noah interjected, his tone resolute. He rested a hand on Lia’s knee, squeezing it lightly. “We’ve been waiting months for this, Grandma. We need to know. Please.”

For a moment, Hana’s shoulders slumped as though she were carrying the weight of something long-buried. She took a slow breath, then nodded, her gaze drifting somewhere beyond the walls of the room, as if she were looking back into a distant memory.

“When you were little, Noah,” she began, “I used to tell you folklore stories… so many you probably couldn’t keep track of them all.” She offered a bittersweet smile, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “Do you remember any those?”

“Some. You even got me a compillation book one Christmas.”

Hana nodded. “Yes, I did. And you’d beg me to read them, even when you should’ve been fast asleep.” She paused, eyes unfocused as if seeing the past replay in her mind. “There was one story—the tale of a boy and a girl. This girl loved the boy, loved him so much that it seemed to consume her. But the boy…” Her voice trailed off. “He didn’t feel the same way. It was a one-sided love, and because of that… she fell ill.”

Lia’s brow furrowed. “Ill?”

“Yes. In our culture, we call it Hanahaki disease. It begins with a feeling, a weight in the chest, but then it grows. Flowers begin to bloom inside you, filling your lungs with every unreturned feeling. And the more the love festers, the worse it gets.”

Noah frowned, his mind racing. The name felt vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t recall ever hearing the full story.

“That’s not exactly what happened to me,” Noah intervened, lowering his voice. “I got sick every time Lia was physically away. But got better when she was around. And then one day, all of a sudden, the entire thing disappeared. On top of that, it was never a non-reciprocal feeling, so it cannot be the reason why I was coughing up flowers.”

“Not everything happens as its written in the books, my dear. As for the cough stopping one day and never coming back, maybe Lia can tell you more about that.”

Noah turned to Lia, surprised to see something in her expression he hadn’t expected—a trace of guilt, a hint of something she’d held back. She had listened intently, but now it was as if Hana’s words had pulled a thread that led to a long-kept secret. Her gaze met his, a small crease forming between her brows, her face shadowed by a reluctant admission.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Hana said, her voice gentle but decisive.

Both Noah and Lia looked up, startled.

“But we just sat down,” Lia protested. “The tea…”

“Don’t worry about the tea,” Hana replied, already rising with her cup in hand. She smiled warmly at them both before turning, and with a gentle slide of the door, left them in the quiet intimacy of the tearoom.

Noah turned back to Lia with a deeper frown, a look of weariness in his eyes that said he was done with so much overwhelming. There were still questions in the air and he wanted answer for all of them. Now.

“What was that about?” he asked, his voice edged with frustration.

Lia took a steadying breath, sipped her tea, and set the cup down beside the string as she searched for the right words.

“I think she’s right,” she started. “I know I brushed off all those times you mentioned Grandma’s theories—that being close to you somehow made you feel better. But after hearing about this string, that story, how long she’s held onto it… maybe there really are things beyond what we can explain and understand. Maybe this strange flower-coughing disease is one of them.”

“I’m with you on that,” Noah replied, his gaze holding hers. “But it wasn’t one-sided when I fell head over heels for you, Lia.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, meeting his eyes. “But it took me months to realize it myself and then, accept it.”

Noah’s eyes—and mind—were clouded with confusion. Sensing his need for clarity, Lia took a deep breath and tried to lay it all out, piece by piece.

She’d been in love with him for longer she could admit. Deep inside, her heart had always belonged to him, but over and over, she had refused to believe it, to accept such a thing. She couldn’t jeopardize this near-perfect friendship they shared—that meant everything to her. And they had made a promise. So, she buried those feelings, ignored her heart, told herself over and over that whatever she felt was just a passing infatuation and that it would go away in time. She lied to herself because she hadn’t been willing to admit to herself, let alone to Noah, that she was in love with him.

In the end, it was her denial that made him sick. It wasn’t that his love for her wasn’t reciprocated; it was that she couldn’t bring herself to believe in her own love for him as more than just a friend. Yet, despite her efforts to bury it, her love always found a way to surface—whenever she made him laugh, whenever she comforted him, whenever she showed up at his door just to be with him. Somehow, Noah’s heart had always known that hers belonged to him, and that was why, whenever she pulled away or tried to distance herself, his sickness would worsen.

Only after countless hours spent in therapy did Lia finally begin to admit the truth that her own heart, her own body, had been trying to show her all along. She remembered that session vividly:

“No.”

“Lia—” Dr. Reynolds insisted.

“That’s not how it is,” she assured nearly through gritted teeth. Her voice was tight with resistance.

“It is, and you know it. You’ve known it for a long time, but you refuse to accept it. For me to help you, you must acknowledge it. You have to say it out loud and accept it. I know you’re scared, but you have to admit what you feel.”

Lia felt the words crawling up her throat, her heart racing, her palms damp as she gripped the arms of the chair. Her breathing grew shallow, and she looked at the doctor with wide, glassy eyes, the truth trembling on her lips.

“Lia,” Dr. Reynolds pressed, “you are in love with your best friend, Noah. Say it.”

Her heartbeat was rapid and erratic, each beat hammering against her ribcage. She was terrified—terrified of what admitting it would mean, what it would change. But perhaps the only way to stop the ache was to finally speak the words aloud.

“I’m…” Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper. She took a shaky breath, her nails digging into the armrests of the chair as she steadied herself. “I’m in love with Noah.”

Back in the tearoom, Lia took a deep breath, her gaze landing on the steaming cup of tea. Noah's hand was no longer on her knee, and she missed the warmth it’d provided.

“The day after meeting her,” Lia continued, “Jesse called me. He said you were worried something had happened to me.”

“That was the day the coughing stopped,” Noah acknowledged. “The day before had been Hell. I’d been so fucking sick, and then… from night to morning, I woke up and felt fine.”

“It was because I admitted to myself what I’d been refusing for so long—that I loved you. You were sick all those times because of me.”

Noah hesitated, his lips parting slightly as he processed the rising panic in Lia’s voice. He shifted to face her, still seated in a lotus position on the cushions

“That’s—” After a moment’s deliberation, he shook his head and squared his shoulders, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on them. They could continue down this path, but it would only lead them to the painful memories of the past, and that was no longer what mattered. “It doesn’t matter now. That’s all in the past, Lia,” he concluded, his voice steady yet tender. They had endured so much together. Neither had been at their best; they had made mistakes and harbored regrets. How could they have paid heed to some whimsical folklore tale—much less the reality of it manifesting in their lives? Considering everything, there was no sense in revisiting those moments or blaming each other for every obstacle they had placed in one another’s way. “We got the answers we wanted, and what matters is that we’re here, and we’re real, right now.”

Lia blinked back tears, but a few slipped free despite her efforts. She brushed them away. When another tear fell, Noah reached over and caught it with his thumb. Before she could think, she climbed onto his lap, wrapping her arms around him, clutching him tightly. He quickly wrapped her in his arms and held her close, resting his cheek against her hair, and she felt his steady breath as he nuzzled into her neck. The weight of her in his lap felt so nice and natural, and the way his arms encircled her made her feel safe, almost fragile but in a good way, because she knew she was out of danger with him. Would always be.

“I’m so scared of losing you one day,” she whispered, her words barely audible against his ear.

Noah pulled back just enough to look at her. Glancing at the small, coiled red string on the table beside them, he reached for it and held out his hand to Lia.

“Give me your pinky finger,” he ordered.

She looked at him questioningly but placed her hand in his. He laid his own pinky alongside hers and began to wind the red string around them.

“Help me with this?” he asked, giving her a soft smile.

She did. When they finished the knot, their pinkies were tied together with the thin red thread. He tugged gently to make sure it held, then grinned.

“Now we’re really tied together. See? Problem solved.”

Lia’s laugh came out, light and clear, the tension in her shoulders easing as she looked down at their fingers entwined by the string. The sound was so full of life, of relief, that Noah couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through his chest. He lifted his hand to her face, cupping her chin with two fingers, and leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, savoring the way her smile lingered against his own.

When he finally pulled back, he whispered,

“I told you. You’ve always been mine, Lia.”

— prev. chapter | chapter twelve

Author's note: 100 points for those who guessed it was the red string 🤭 You can reread about that moment in Chapter 1 of Ikigai (literally the beginning of the story). It's no more than a couple of paragraphs, if I don't recall wrong, right at the end, but it was a very important detail for the future. Thank you once again for reading and being with me in this journey :)

*I've done some changes to the original folklore stories mentioned in this chapter to adapt it to Noah and Lia's romance story. I hope everything was more or less clear regarding all those weird things happening in Koi No Yokan. I never had this story planned in detail before I started writing, so it got tricky at some points, but I think I managed to make everything fit reasonably within its flow.

🔖 Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lma1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

@chey-h | @ferduttini | @dominuslunae

#noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x ofc #the inevitability of love at second sight #noah x lia #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian

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uriekukistan · 2 months ago

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the angst gremlin in my brain tells me this is not the best chapter but the plot called for a chill moment so i had to deliver. dw, everything will fall apart again soon enough :D

The calm before the storm...

Warnings: heavy drinking, smoking, slightly suggestive, megumi's got some real issues ngl....

“Who was the boy who dropped you off last night?” Gojo asked, trying and failing to sound casual. Megumi shouldn’t have been surprised. Gojo was observant like that. That didn’t stop him from shooting the older man a piercing and suspicious glare. “What?” Gojo said innocently. “I heard you two talking outside. You know I have keen senses.” Megumi forced his face into a disinterested expression. It was impossible to get anything past Gojo. He should have known this by now. “He’s no one,” he answered. “Just some guy I know.” “Y’know,” Gojo replied, “when I was your age, I moved in and adopted kids with someone who I told my parents was just some guy I knew.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #itafushi #fushiita #meguyuuji #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #gojo satoru #geto suguru #itadori yuuji #yuji itadori

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hypnos333 · 1 year ago

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Koi no yokan

Kim Seungmin x reader

Synopsis: Knowing you’re going to fall for him eventually.

Koi no yokan doesn’t mean love in first sight, it’s closer to love at second sight, it’s the feeling when you meet someone that you’re going to fall in love with them. Maybe you won’t love them right away, but it’s inevitable that you will.

In your case the second you met Seungmin, you had this strange feeling you never felt before but you thought nothing of it.

You both first met in your favorite cafe, after you ordered your regular order before accidentally sitting across someone at their table. When you noticed them you instantly apologized.

He was a handsome guy, who was just stairing at you with a cup of coffee and a red velvet cake beside it.

“I’m so sorry,Sir I wasn’t paying attention and-“You can sit here” he interrupted you with a smile. You let go of your apple pie with ice cream leaving it where it was with your hot cocoa.

“What’s your name?” He asked you liking how clueless you are when you still haven’t noticed who he was.

“My name is ___, What’s yours?” You asked back making him tilt his head adorably.

“My name is Seungmin” He answered as he watched you take a bite on the pie and you seemed to noticed his glaze because you took a fork full of pie and held it to his mouth.

“This is my favorite thing to get from the Cafe, they have the best apple pie” You stated proudly making him take a bite without hesitation. For some reason he trusted you and would take your word for everything without hesitation.

He slowly chew on the apple pie before his eyes went wide with how right you were. “T-This is so good” He said craving more.

“See I told you! Try it with the ice cream it tastes even more better” You said giving him a second fork filled but this time with vanilla ice cream on it. He gladly let you feed him the pie smiling in enjoyment.

You ate the rest of the pie feeding him most of it at the end, and then Seungmin remembered he still had his red velvet cake and you were packing up to leave.

So Seungmin secretly packed the cake and wrote a little letter as you left to the bathroom and put it in your bag when you left it with him. “I’m so sorry Seungmin but I have to attend a meeting, goodbye” You said rushing for your bag and leaving him before he could say goodbye.

As you made it in your car you forgot to ask for his number, you weren’t in love but it was a different feeling. You looked in your bag for your phone until you saw a red velvet cake and a fork in a clear container with a hand written note.

I had a good time with you maybe we can hang out again and show me different foods or desserts - Seungmin

You smiled hoping you’ll see him again before pulling out the parking lot to head to that meeting.

A week pass by and your back to your favorite cafe, you been thinking about Seungmin 24/7 and you miss his smile and clueless look.

You were an absolute foodie and this time you ordered a brownie sundae. You sit at a table waiting for the waitress to bring your order till a guy sat across of you making you confuse before realizing it’s Seungmin.

You squeal in excitement before rushing over to him and hugged him. “Well someone missed me” He said jokingly.

“I did miss you” You said with no hesitation making him blush. “I missed you too Love bug” He said back.

You pulled away slightly where he can see your face “Love bug?” you asked dumb founded making him laugh.

“What? it’s cute” he whined making you roll your eyes playfully before going back to your seat. The same time the waitress came with your order, you thanked her noticing she been staring at Seungmin in shocked before she rushed away.

“What are we trying now love bug?” He asked excitedly just wanting to enjoy his time with you quickly.

You scooped a spoon full of ice cream before putting it in his mouth as he opened it slightly for you to feed him. “It’s a brownie sundae, it’s another thing I love here” You said as he swallowed the frozen treat.

“Mmm” he said enjoying the flavor.

With this Seungmin felt human around like he was a normal, regular person and he loved it. You just saw him a normal citizen instead of a famous k-pop singer.

You were falling for him and he was falling harder for you. Koi no yokan was a thing between them where they just fell in love after time.

#kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #koi no yokan

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bevswashere · 5 months ago

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Koi No Yokan

Juju Stroll: The Call

Satoru arrives late in the evening, once again dissatisfied with the overly tidy appearance of his “home.” There’s nothing out of place, no clothes strewn about, or crooked photos to line the wall. A shell, husk, for him to exist in before leaving for the outside world again. His room at Tokyo High never looked like this. It was warm and lived in, most especially after Kaede began to stay—but it’s best not to think about Kaede at all when he’s alone like this.

His phone ringing in his pocket pulls him from his thoughts, an unknown number. Ignore. Missions will come from the same few numbers they always do, probably spam or some distant relative trying to bug him for money.

Satoru lets himself fall into his couch, expensive sure, but not used often enough for the cushions to sink. He thinks to watch a movie, maybe take a nap, something to let the hours go by until he’s needed again, but he does exactly what he’d told himself not to. “I wonder what she’s doing right now.” “Graduation just happened, didn’t it?” “Should I call to congratulate her? Text?”

The phone rings again, the same unknown number. He lets it pass. “I wonder if she’s going to pay for hire.” “It doesn’t seem very like her.” The same number tries to call again. “Leave a message if it’s that important,” Satoru groans, letting his head fall back against the couch, neck craned up towards the ceiling. “Maybe I could bother Nanami to find out how she’s doing.” The phone rings once again, and this time Satoru, patience lost, answers, “Hey! Stop calling me, you have the wrong—”

“I assume you already know where our main facility is.” Satoru turns to stone in his seat. How long had it been since he’d heard that voice? “She’s waiting for you at the front doors.” The call ends before he can get a word in, before Satoru can get past his heart beating out of his chest.

Satoru throws his head forward into his palms, tugging at the roots of his hair. “Idiot,” he scolds himself. He’d given up the world in an effort to break the ties these people held to him, the restraints that kept him from truly being the strongest. And yet, every time they step back into his life, he finds himself exactly where they had left him. Even during the get-together a couple weeks ago, “Why did I run to check up on her?” “Why did I pay attention to nothing other than her movements, her voice?”

“Why am I so weak?”

#geto suguru #gojo satoru #gojo x oc #kento nanami #koi no yokan #uematsu kaede #jujutsu kaisen #shoko ieiri #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojo fanfic #satoru gojo #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #fanfic #jujutsu gojo #original character

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nowoyas · 4 months ago

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Koi no Yokan 7: it's good to have a project (Nishinoya Yuu/Reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

Summary: Karasuno High School hands back final exam results.

Warnings: blanket series warnings

Words: ~2700

It's a bit of a good news-bad news sandwich on test result day. Two rows ahead of you, you watch Yachi physically vibrate in her chair. It takes until she gets her exam back and she neither despairs nor sighs in visible relief that you connect that she's not worried about her own results.

Good news: you passed all your exams well enough. Your scores are more than comfortably high, not exactly topping the class but not embarrassing if someone were to catch sight of your paper. You've even got a few points over Yachi when you compare scores, a fact which makes you swell just a touch with pride.

That was the first set of good news.

The bad news comes when classes let out. You follow the dark aura and scent of despair out of the classroom with Yachi, and the source of her anxiety makes itself known: Tsukishima is openly laughing at Hinata and Kageyama while Yamaguchi is silently disappointed beside him. Hinata looks dead. Kageyama looks as grumpy as usual, if not a bit more so.

At the sight of both of you, Hinata visibly flinches. "Yachi-san… [surname]-san… How'd you do?"

"Fine," you shrug. "What's the damage?"

"One failed exam each," Yamaguchi says. "Hinata failed English, Kageyama Modern Lit."

"What!?" Yachi goes pale. "B-but—but we worked so hard on English! You were so confident!"

He refuses to meet her eyes. "I… I pleaded my case with Ono-sensei, but… I accidentally filled in the answers off by one and didn't realize until it was too late to fix it…"

"Oh, no. Let me see."

She looks over the test paper, looking closer to tears by the second. "But… Hinata… they're all correct… They would've been right…"

"I'm so sorry, Yachi-san… all your hard work went to waste…"

Tsukishima just laughs. "Looks like the king and the shrimp won't be coming with us to Tokyo after all. How sad."

"D-don't make fun of them!" Yachi cries. "They worked so hard for this!"

You nod to Kageyama. "Show me?"

As the others bicker, you look over Kageyama's paper. "So, what, you spent all your time focusing on the stuff you were already sort of good at and didn't spend any time on the other areas you'd be tested on?"

You don't get a response. When you look up, mysteriously both Hinata and Kageyama have disappeared.

A long sigh. "Which way did they go?"

Yamaguchi points down the hall. "I think they were headed towards the faculty floor."

"Got it. Hold this." You pass off Kageyama's test paper and march after them.

You find them—where else?—harassing the vice principal.¹⁴ Without a second thought, you've grabbed both by the necks of their uniforms and roughly pulled them back. "You're both acting stupid. Stop that."

"B-but [surname]-san—if he doesn't take it off—"

The VP looks increasingly distressed by the second. You shove your way between the two boys, press a hand firmly to each mouth. "I am so sorry, Sensei. They're a little stupid, but I promise they're good people. Just, uh, a bit panicking right now. I think they're asking if you'll make an exception for them for when they have to take their make-up exams so it doesn't conflict with club activities."

He clears his throat, adjusts his toupee. You pointedly avoid looking at it. "There will be no exceptions. What club is this that they're so worked up about? Volleyball?"

You bow your head. "Yes, sir. I understand. It's a shame, but—"

Kageyama struggles under your hand, whatever protest he has muffled. You smile at him coldly, pressing your hand against his mouth harder.

"—as I was saying, it's a shame, but we're just going to have to work hard together so you two do well on your makeup exams, right?"

The two nod reluctantly.

"I'm so sorry for the trouble, Sensei. It won't happen again. Are you two going to behave if I take my hands off your mouths?"

Two more reluctant nods. You remove your hands from their mouths, but keep them resting on their shoulders. "Now apologize for troubling him."

"We're sorry…"

You bow to him, drag the two off before they can protest or bother him any more than they already have. By the time you get them back to where you'd all been before they ran off, the other three haven't dispersed. Yachi is still despairing; Yamaguchi is looking over Kageyama's exam. Tsukishima apparently just doesn't have anywhere better to be.

"Why do they look like you just ripped them a new one?"

"I found them harassing the vice principal," you say.

"If he won't rescind it, then…"

You bap the back of his head. "Whatever's going on in your head, quit it. Use that energy to figure out how you're going to pass the retakes. Okay?"

"Right…"

"For now, pretty sure all of us need to get going. Practice and all that. And…" Fuck. Practice, where you'll hear from Tanaka and Nishinoya about their exam scores. You can't take any more bad news today. "…once we know the extent of the damage, we'll come up with a game plan after practice."

You step into the gym with a heavy heart. Hinata and Kageyama gave their news, sure, but you're genuinely sort of afraid for the news from Tanaka and Nishinoya.

No. They'll be fine. I mean, they were working so hard, and—

Still. Hinata and Kageyama worked hard. So—

The third step into the gym sees your breath leaving your lungs and your feet leaving the floor, a full tackle that you were neither expecting nor prepared for.

"[name]-san! I passed!"

The world spins around you—you yelp as you're fully spun and set back down, bracing yourself against an exuberant Noya. "Hello to you too—you what?"

"I passed!"

You blink, the realization taking a moment to sink in. Then, you're flinging your arms around his shoulders with a squeal, hugging him tight. "You passed! That's amazing! I told you you were gonna be fine!"

The noise that comes out of his mouth is stammery and stilted, and you pull away. "Uh, Senpai? You good?"

Ah. A forbidden red stains his cheeks as he collects himself. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, no, I—I'm good, uh—"

You arch a brow. "You're being weird."

"Not weird! Just—you know. Marry me."

You stifle a laugh, put a step or two of distance between you. "Keep working hard, ask another nine hundred and seventy-three times, and sure. I'll think about it."

The other bit of good news is that Tanaka also passed his exams. That leaves you with just Hinata and Kageyama to drill for the next week. As the other first years talk in Sakanoshita, you lock in, dutifully copying their exams by hand. Noya's here, too, as is Ennoshita—every now and then, someone tries to pull you into the conversation, but you're busy and they're just going to have to get that.

Yachi is in the middle of some heartfelt speech about how this must be the reason she's in the advanced courses and of course she'll help when you rip a page out of your notebook. She startles—quite comically—and you sort of feel bad for interrupting her as you hand a paper over to Hinata.

"Here."

"Here…?" He looks it over slowly.

You're already scribbling the same thing for Kageyama on the next page. "It's a list of focus points for studying and a suggested amount of time to spend studying on each topic. I based it on the composition of the original exam and what you got actually wrong, after re-grading your exam based on you marking answers correctly. Study lengths are based on a rough idea of how much free study time you actually have between now and the make-up exam, assuming a decent sleep schedule and going to bed early the night before your retake. Also, assuming you actually take regular breaks and only get sidetracked once or twice. If you have any questions you've got my number also. I can make some practice exams for you guys, but I need more time for that."

"[surname]-san…"

"Kageyama-san, if you'll hold for a little, I'm making up a list for you, too. They're personalized so I can't just give you both the same list. Also, you know, different subjects."

"This is amazing," Hinata breathes. "You did all that that fast?"

A shrug. "I was working through them in my head a little during practice, since I got to see your tests right after class let out."

"I'm not quite as good at studying, but I can help out, too," Yamaguchi offers.

"R-right, yeah, we'll all help out!" Yachi says. "I want to go to Tokyo with everyone, so, I mean, if [surname]-chan needs any support—"

"I'm not, like, supplanting you," you say mildly, not looking up from Kageyama's list. "Just giving direction. It'd actually be useful to have multiple of us working on helping out. I can't host for studying or anything, and these two tend to get distracted with proximity and are working on different subjects, so it's better that we split them up anyways."

"Oh, that makes sense! Then…"

"Who do we actually have to help?"

You glance up. Yamaguchi, Noya, Ennoshita, and Yachi are on board to help out. "Cool. We'll split up, then. Yachi-san, you're good with English. You take Hinata?"

She nods.

"Great. I'll handle Kageyama-san. As for the rest of you—"

"I'll help with Kageyama!" Noya interrupts, speaking quickly.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, you would say that. You did do a good job with Modern Lit when you were focusing on it, anyway, though I think you're probably better at language learning in the long run."

Yamaguchi raises a reluctant hand. "Um, I could probably… help Hinata?"

Ennoshita glances between you and Noya, looking tired. "Are you able to handle Nishinoya?"

You scoff. "He's hardly an issue."

"Guys, I think that means she—"

"If he gets in the way, I'll go for the gut," you finish.

Noya freezes, looking at you like he's experiencing just the slightest twinge of fear. You smile sweetly, turn your attention back to the others. "In any case, if your only worry is whether I can corral this one and tutor Kageyama while actually being useful, go ahead and help out Hinata."

"Alright then. I'll help with Hinata."

So it becomes this again: you, getting rid of your time by tutoring another easily-frustrated volleyball guy. Noya makes it fun, you keep it on track, and you walk away from Sakanoshita that night with the promise given that you'll have practice exams ready for them as soon as possible.

"You can, like, sleep at some point, you know?" Ennoshita comments as you begin the slow walk home.

"Huh? I'm sleeping fine."

"You're just taking on a lot, aren't you?"

You shrug. "It's fine. I don't sleep a lot anyway."

And you don't: you're going to be up, sitting with your bedroom door cracked and the light off, listening out until you hear your dad's keys in the door, heart not slowing enough to sleep until you know he's home. You've got plenty of time between dinner and then, and it's more than enough to dig up a few practice exams and cobble them together into something closer to what the boys need.

It's better than your normal night. Better than cooking and cleaning until the house sparkles, better than studying until you give yourself a headache, better than moving to set down your pencil and remembering no words, just the disappointment that came with a bad report card, just the tragedy that followed.

Keep your grades up, keep him alive, keep vigilant.

And now: keep being useful for the team.

So you keep working hard. You earn another joking marriage proposal tying your shoes, still more at random, and get detailed reports from the others on how Hinata's doing and what areas it would be good to test him on. You lock in hard, determined to prove… something. That you're just as good as Miss Professional Posters, maybe. But the less-than-two weeks you get to get these boys ready for their retakes is used well enough. Lunch on the roof when the weather's good, Noya being serious in his aid as the two of you lean over Kageyama and his notes and help him out. Noya takes him before practice in the club room—a realm you are not to enter—and afterwards, you pile into Sakanoshita with the blessing of the coach and continue drilling him.

Each night, more work. You get Yachi's number, talk on the phone with her over dinner or scrubbing a bathtub or making sure your father's futon is clean about how Hinata's doing, and for a week and a half, you don't have time to think and life is easy. Your birthday comes and goes, you selfishly request another Soba picture from Noya as your one and only birthday present and don't mention why.¹⁵

So you're actually a little sad when the day comes to leave for the Tokyo camp. For a week and a half, you had a project. You leave a reminder note in the genkan, right next to where your father usually puts down his keys: leaving for Tokyo tonight. Be back the day after tomorrow.

You don't expect him to notice.

Kageyama and Hinata show up to the departure. It's five in the morning, and they're here. Their exams are in four hours, and they're here to watch the rest of you leave for Tokyo.

"So what part of 'get good sleep the night before' means 'be here at five AM' to you two?" you ask, rubbing sleep from the corner of your eye. "Just for future reference so I can avoid it."

"W-we're going to study before the exam!" Hinata protests.

You sigh. "I can't fault you for enthusiasm, I guess. But the sleep advice was for a reason. You two went to bed early last night?"

Two determined nods. "Of course!"

"Good. You've both been working hard, so mark your papers carefully and don't rush, alright? You have enough time, and rushing is just going to screw you up."

"Right."

"You hear that, Hinata—"

"Kageyama-san," you interrupt sharply. "No fighting before six AM. You boys ate breakfast?"

Half a second's guilt has your hand plunging into your bag. "Ridiculous, both of you. Here."

"You're like, really responsible," Hinata comments as you thrust two protein bars at them. "Are you really the same age as us?"

"Not unless we share a birthday, I'm not," you reply.

They each take a protein bar, nodding their thanks.

"We'll see you later today. Make it count."

You climb onto the bus, sit away from Shimizu and Yachi in the single seat across the aisle, and pull out a book.

There's no way in hell you sleep on the way.

Footnotes

14. OVA content, baby! They're technically non-canon but they're fun so I'm keeping what I like and scrapping the rest.

15. I waffled on this one for a bit but for later plot purposes I did actually need to establish this reader's birthday. Officially, it's July 7th. I did like, a whole birth chart and shit for this reader that I immediately lost and then made different decisions about her personality as a reader, but what I do know for sure is that I did all that work to come up with the ideal date (shit like wanting her to have a doubled birthday like Noya's on 10/10 and her needing to be a certain age by certain plot points) and then looked at the date on my monitor and it was, in fact, 7/7. In a sense it's sort of neat that the reader's birthday was also the day I did a lot of the work making her into a real character.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

#my fics #nishinoya yuu/reader #noya/reader #yuu nishinoya/reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #noya x reader #yuu nishinoya x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu/reader #haikyuu reader insert

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thegigilwriter · 8 months ago

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01 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, Inaccuracies of the Navy and Marine Biology

01 | Koi No Yokan 🎐

1 year after Top Gun: Maverick

Sunday May 28, 2023

Bradley

It was a sunny mid-morning in San Diego, and Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace were taking the Bronco for a drive down a palm-adorned boulevard.

“Thanks again Rooster,ˮ Nat grinned as she basked in the daylight of the open air. “SʼAlways nice takinʼ a ride in the olʼ girl.ˮ

“Quiet now,ˮ Bradley replied, mocking hurt. “Sheʼll hear you, you know?ˮ

Nat rolled her eyes playfully, untucking her shades from the hem of her tank top and covering her eyes. Seagulls flew overhead, the taste of salt was in the atmosphere, and a lovely shade of blue began to appear on their horizon. Bradley licked his lips and stepped on the accelerator. He reminisced to himself about the beaches in Okinawa from his previous deployment. Sure, they were great but there is something about the California coastline you canʼt just feel the same way about anywhere else.

“You arrived at your destination,ˮ Google announced. “The Umi Research Center. ˮ A crystal dome came into view and steadily emerged as this enormous limestone edifice that was akin to the Parthenon.

Bradley pulled up by the docks and Nat jumped out as soon as the Bronco was in park.

“Wanna come with?ˮ She asked him.

“Iʼll stay put,ˮ Bradley reclined his seat. “Unless this Sam guy, needs to be forcibly removed from the premises?ˮ

“Well in that case, I can handle it myself, canʼt I?ˮ

Bradley turned on the radio and tugged at his Hawaiin-print shirt to fan himself. He watched as Natʼs figure disappeared into the entrance of the building. His attention was then directed towards the sea and the pristine boats that thudded against the docks. Natʼs own sedan was in the shop, so she called in a favor from Bradley to borrow his Bronco. Since there was no way her wheel was to be steered by any other set of hands other than his, Bradley opted to be a personal chauffeur to Nat and her first cousin, Sam, for the day.

The heat of the sun was beginning to wear down Bradley, so he took his keys from the ignition and hopped out for a quick walk on the dock. The cool sea breeze helped soothe the sunʼs scalding presence. It was on days like this when his parents used to take him to the beach as a little boy. But thatʼs all what those moments are now—memories. He stopped to stare at the water. A lot of people like to say he looked a lot like his father, and he agrees. But on some days, it feels like the man staring right back at him was a stranger.

Thud.

Bradley felt something collide against his back, and heard a clatter of things falling against the wooden walkway and a small gasp. He quickly turned around and beheld two boxes filled with audio tapes and folders tipped on their sides, and beside them, a young woman rose to her feet.

“I apologize,ˮ she breathed out as her frame got on her knees and began to return the contents to her boxes. “Iʼm afraid I wasnʼt watching where I was going...ˮ

She was wearing a navy-colored bathing suit underneath a white, fitted, cropped tee-shirt, and a sheer floral shawl tied around her waist. Her feet were clad in copper-colored slippers, her wrists were adorned with braided bracelets, her right ankle with a dainty metal chain, and her neck with a cross underneath a string of little, iridescent pearls. Bradley did not even realize he was on his knees with a tape in his hand, for his eyes simply could not part from her face. Mahogany waves framed her lovely visage and her dark-caramel eyes were cast to the floor beneath them.

“Um... do you mind?ˮ She smiled kindly at him.

“Huh?ˮ

“The tape — in your hand,ˮ she pointed.

“Oh — uh... Sorry,ˮ Bradley scratched the nape of his neck as he reached the tape over to her. Their fingers met and so did their gazes. Bradley chuckled and she shyly looked away.

“Again,ˮ she spoke, as she put one box on top of the other. “I apologize.ˮ

“None needed,ˮ Bradley finally collected himself. “Those look quite heavy, need a hand?ˮ

“If you donʼt mind, please.ˮ She sighed. Bradley eagerly lifted the boxes in his arms.

“Lead the way,ˮ he grinned.

“Thank you,ˮ she replied as they proceeded to cross the dock towards the research center.

“I donʼt recall seeing you around here,ˮ the woman stranger spoke. “Are you new?ˮ

“Nah, Iʼm here with a friend whoʼs picking up a cousin who works here. Apparently, he just came from Antartica.ˮ

“How intersting,ˮ she mused. “I was just stationed there.ˮ

“Youʼre a researcher?ˮ Bradley raised a brow.

“You seem amused.ˮ

“I didnʼt mean to—“ Bradley blushed.

Her laugh resonated, it was as clear as a spring and as sweet as her eyes. It was the kind of sound you wanted to play on repeat.

“I was simply kidding. I know fairly well the distresses of a woman in a man's world... I just choose to make the most fun I can out of it.ˮ

Bradley chuckled.

“You make ‘em underestimate you, then you pull the ground from under their feet like a riptide.ˮ

She looked at him with great consideration.

“You just see right through me, donʼt you?ˮ she teased.

“I think you did, otherwise we wouldnʼt be talking right now. Which would be unfortunate, of course.ˮ

She laughed once more, and Bradley smiled as they stepped into the marble-floored foyer after a swipe of her card at the door. For a research center, this was far grander than Bradley had imagined from the outside looking in. Tall, corinthian, columns lined the limestone walls on either side. In every space, oil paintings of founders with solemn and peaceful expressions resided there. The glass dome above filtered the sun rays into iridescent shards of light that danced on the cylindrical and tremendous aquarium in the center of the room. It housed vibrant schools of reef fish and brilliant coral, all so dramatically composed to evoke in every beholder pure awe. Bradley whistled, head tilted skywards with a gaping mouth.

“Glorious, isnʼt it?ˮ She chuckled at his expression. “Wait ‘til we really get inside.ˮ

Bradley trailed behind her as they crossed the foyer and climbed up the steps just a little bit past the elevators. The space alone was fit to be a ballroom for a grand royal celebration. Shelves and shelves of books lined the limestone curved against concave walls except in the very middle where a tall, rectangular window allowed a picturesque view of the ocean. In the center of the circular facility, a behemoth, holographic globe floated above a ring of conjoined computers. The remaining space was lined with bench tables and plush chairs.

“Welcome to Umi,ˮ The woman stranger smiled.

“The lights on the globe,ˮ Bradley asked her. “Are those your other branches?ˮ

“Every light represents a team of researchers from all divisions, all around the world.“

“Impressive,ˮ Bradley nodded.

“Umi is that and everything else,ˮ She sighed, as she turned towards the elevators.

“You must love working here with that shine of yours and all,ˮ He mused as they waited for a lift up.

“I do,ˮ she replied passionately. “The sea is my first love.ˮ The elevator doors parted open and Bradley followed her in.

“Do you have anything youʼre passionate about, Mr.—?ˮ She spoke to him. “Iʼm sorry I should have asked for your name—“

“Itʼs Bradley, Bradley Bradshaw. And if I may know yours?”

“Lucy,ˮ the woman smiled at him. “Lucy Mitchell.ˮ

“Lucy,ˮ Bradley repeated. “Like light.ˮ

“What?ˮ

“Thatʼs what your name means,ˮ he told her. “Explains the shine.ˮ

“Do you know the meaning of the names of every woman you meet, Mr. Bradshaw?ˮ Lucy raised a brow playfully. “I hate to admit how clever that is of a way to disarm any of us women.ˮ

“Oh yeah,ˮ Bradley played along. “I read about one name every day from my dictionary, yours just happened to pop up recently.ˮ

“Is that so?ˮ She chuckled. “Then I should warn the others, ‘There is a serial flatterer on the loose with an intent to charm!ʼ“

Bradley laughed.

“Iʼm surprised Iʼve kept up a conversation with you this long at all, to be honest.ˮ

“Now what makes you say that?ˮ Lucy cocked her head to the side.

Bradley wanted to say it was because Lucy Mitchell was beautiful and smart and young and hilarious and sophisticated despite the casual comfort her disposition exuded. That Bradley was old and truly awkward when it came to the really pretty girls that make him laugh. How he desired to so effortlessly make her know that she had a slot in his schedule for a dinner with him. Yes she was a stranger, but this entire interaction surely trumped any small talk he had over the previous online dates he set up and the lonesome evenings at the bar bench when women sauntered over to him to have a little fun for the night

Get off your perch and take the fucking shot, Rooster! He could hear Jake Seresin ringing in his ears.

“Lucy—“

“Lucy!ˮ

The elevator doors parted ajar once more, and in front of them, Nat and her cousin Sam were.

“What are you still doing here?ˮ Sam asked her as they stepped off the lift.

“I just remembered that we left some material on deck,ˮ Lucy replied as she gestured towards Bradley. “And this gentleman is helping me get them to my office.ˮ

“Gentleman, huh?ˮ Nat smirked as she leaned her elbow against Samʼs shoulder. She reached out her hand to Lucy.

“Nice to meet ya, the nameʼs Natasha Trace, but itʼs Nat for everybody.ˮ Lucy shook her hand.

“Likewise. Iʼm Lucy, Lucy Mitchell.ˮ

“I see youʼve already met my friend, Lieutenant Bradley,ˮ Nat had a Cheshire grin stretching across her face. Beyond Lucyʼs periphery, Bradley directed Nat a stern look. Nat quickly cocked her head towards Lucy.

“Sheʼs cute,ˮ she mouthed at him. Bradley raised his eyebrows in agreement.

“You must be Samʼs cousin,ˮ Lucy smiled at her. “He talks a lot about you.ˮ

“Aw, Sam!ˮ Nat cooed as she tucked her cousin under her arm and affectionally rubbed his hair. “My little cousin misses me that much?ˮ

“Only how annoying you are!ˮ Sam groaned. He was a young-looking fellow despite his age, a 23-year-old new grad looking like he just celebrated his 16th birthday. He was tall, lanky, and freckled. His dark and bold features are similar to Natʼs, but Sam’s looked a little softer around the edges, like a muted color compared to Natʼs natural exuberance.

“You—ugh.ˮ Sam struggled against Nat. “Must be Bradley, right?ˮ

“Nice to meet ya,ˮ Bradley confirmed.

“Donʼt let Lucy take those to her office,ˮ Sam finally escaped from Natʼs grasp. “Sheʼs been working non-stop in the expedition and I've been given strict orders that she shouldnʼt be here until next week.ˮ

“Oh come on, Sam!ˮ Lucy whined. “These are the mourning recordings! Weʼve never seen them sing like this! If Foster asks, just say I wasnʼt here!ˮ

“Sheʼll have my ass, that woman!ˮ Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lucy, go home. Compression Sickness is no light matter. Youʼre still recoveri—! You literally just went for a dive, did you?ˮ

“Perhaps,ˮ She replied nonchalantly. Sam groaned.

“Workaholic, huh?ˮ Nat remarked. “Listen, why donʼt you come out with us? Weʼre hitting the Pier today and catching a movie later. That way, Samʼs ass isnʼt grounded and I get a new girlfriend. Iʼm sure Rooster wonʼt mind, do you Rooster?ˮ

Natasha grinned at him smugly, as Lucy chuckled. They were both resigned to Natʼs insistence.

“Of course not,ˮ Bradley replied.

“That settles it,ˮ Nat smiled. “Meet us in the foyer.ˮ

They exchanged places, Nat and Sam towards the lifts and Bradley and Lucy towards the offices. As the doors closed, Natasha sneaked a quick wink in Bradleyʼs direction. In addition to that, her signature, ‘donʼt screw it upʼ look.

“I'm sorry about her,ˮ Bradley spoke as they walked the sun-lit hallways together towards her office. “She doesnʼt get to meet a lot of women in our line of work, and when she does theyʼre often not nice.ˮ

“I think your girlfriendʼs sweet,ˮ Lucy replied. “Sam thinks really highly of—“

“Sheʼs not my girlfriend,ˮ Bradley interjected.

“Oh,ˮ she closed her eyes briefly and shaking her head. “Iʼm sorry, I shouldnʼt have assumed. The both of you just seemed really comfortable with each other.ˮ

“Yeah we get that a lot,ˮ Bradley sighed, a wave of embarrassment washing over him at his premature response. “Sheʼs one of my best friends, thatʼs all. Weʼve known each other for over 15 years.ˮ

“Are you a naval aviator, yourself?ˮ

Lucy noted the swell in his chest and the small proud smirk that settled on his lips. “That I am.ˮ

They finally arrived at the office and Lucy promptly turned her key in the lock. The translucent door swung open and she quickly gestured towards the side of her desk where Bradley deposited the boxes.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.ˮ Lucy smiled.

“At your service,ˮ Bradley replied. As he bent down, she noticed a small, transverse cut in the inside of his left bicep. He was carrying them for much longer than she had anticipated and the upper corner of the top box must have done it. She opened the top cabinet on her table and retrieved a small metal box with a biscuit label.

“Those look good,ˮ Bradley remarked.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant,ˮ Lucy laughed. “Iʼve already ate them all. You cut your arm, by the way.ˮ

“Oh would you look at that,ˮ he mused at the prickle of blood that began to emit. “The horror.ˮ

Lucy laughed again.

“Now, now,ˮ she played along as she ripped an antiseptic wipe open from its paper container. “This will all be over soon.ˮ

She pressed the wipe into his bicep. Her hands were dainty and soft and cool against his skin. He watched her eyebrows furrow just a little as she encountered a little resistance from placing a bandaid decorated with small, little fish— and regarded the way her tongue would poke from her lips. Bradley felt a searing heat in his chest and her touch had become so much more apparent to his senses.

“There we go,ˮ Lucy chuckled. “Crisis averted.ˮ Not quite, Bradley thought. Not quite.

A silence fell between them from the moment they left Lucyʼs office; to the moment Natasha elbowed Sam into the back seat with her (even though Sam wanted to call shotgun, but was then dismissed as Nat was playing wingman); to the moment they placed their orders at a nearby Shake Shack; to the moment they sat side by side through two movies at the theatre; and until now as they watched Sam and Nat board the Devilʼs Drop at Ruby Pier. It wasnʼt the awkward, painful kind of silence that say two middle school sweethearts would experience at a secret, last-minute first date as one or other try to make the first move. It was peculiar kind that was quite comforting.

Lucy tugged Bradleyʼs sleeve. He turned to her, very much endeared by this gesture.

“Wanna take a walk?ˮ She suggested.

“Might as well,ˮ he agreed. “Phoenix is an adrenaline junkie, sheʼs gonna try a couple of those kind of rides before sheʼs done.ˮ

“I feel bad leaving Sam,ˮ she frowned. “Heʼs terrified of dives, let alone those rides.ˮ

“I donʼt,ˮ Bradley kidded. “I get you all to myself.ˮ Lucy chuckled.

“Iʼm afraid I donʼt have a lot to offer with my companionship, Lieutenant, but I think those girls do.ˮ She cocked her head towards a herd of girls giggling in Bradleyʼs direction as they stared at him with glinting eyes.

“I gotta say,ˮ Bradley drawled. “Iʼm a bit offended that you think of me that way.ˮ

“How so?ˮ Lucy challenged with a smile.

“I think I can tell for myself the sort of woman I find interesting, little lady.ˮ

“And you happen to find me interesting?ˮ Lucy laughed.

“Very much so.ˮ

They stopped at a saltwater taffy stall as they began to cross the boardwalk. It was by far the grandest saltwater taffy stall on the Pier, decorated with exuberant colors and classy old-time fonts. The vendor was a short, Asian man in what appears to be his 50s, with smile lines and youthful eyes. His skin was the color of chocolate milk and his eyes were piercingly gray.

“Hello Manong,ˮ Lucy grinned at him.

The old manʼs eyes did not shift, but his lips broke into a great smile.

“Lucy!ˮ He exclaimed in a coarse voice. “How are you? Where have you been, silly girl?ˮ His English was perfectly American, but it did betray some intonations of his own mother tongue. Bradley watched as Lucy reached out her palm to his and pressed his knuckle against her forehead.

“Iʼve been well,ˮ she smiled. “I just arrived home today. Where is Victor? Have you been here all day?ˮ

“Now donʼt you worry sweet girl, I just came here for a short shift. Victor is at the hospital with Sherry. I think theyʼre going to have their third kid. His sisterʼs gonna pick me up in an hour.ˮ

“Itʼs the third one already?ˮ

“I know, Iʼm getting old!ˮ He raised his hands laughing as he proceeded to pack a bag for Lucy, working skillful behind the counter. “Youʼll have the usual one, yes? Now whatʼll your friend be having?ˮ

Bradley without having uttered a single word yet, stared at him. “Well, young man?ˮ

“Iʼll have the caramel swirls with raspberries please,ˮ Bradley replied. The old man chuckled as he got to work.

“This your girl?ˮ

“Manong!ˮ Lucy scolded, a blush quickly staining her cheeks.

“I tell you now that sheʼs a keeper!ˮ He laughed as he handed them their taffy. Bradley was ready to swipe his card, when the old man shook his head.

“On the house for sweet Lucy and her new friend!ˮ He said cheerily.

“Thank you Manong,ˮ Lucy smiled. “Youʼre a gem!ˮ

The old man waved at them as they walked farther down the boardwalk. Lucy gently opened her taffy, inhaling its delicious strawberry and vanilla fragrance before enjoying a pair of them. Bradley followed suit.

“That man was blind, wasnʼt he?ˮ Bradley asked her. Lucy nodded.

“Itʼs not just because of his age. His eyesight just suddenly began deteriorating,ˮ she explained. “His family is one of the oldest saltwater taffy makers in California. Victor is his eldest, and took over when his vision got worse.ˮ

“Iʼd say that heʼs one of the most clear-sighted people I ever met,ˮ Bradley said.

“I agree,ˮ she chewed on a vanilla taffy and covered her mouth as she spoke. “I didnʼt think he could tell that you were even there, much less a man. But he probably should never drive a plane, donʼt you think?ˮ

“Absolutely not,ˮ Bradley laughed. “But he did prove you wrong.ˮ Lucy gazed at him.

“That you, Lucy Mitchell, are indeed interesting.ˮ

They arrived at the near end of the boardwalk in silence. Lucy leaned against the railing, staring out into the ocean. The shards of rich light from the opalescent sky above glimmered all around them, and Bradley saw them dance in the irises of her eyes. Her tongue poked out from her smooth lips just as he had seen this morning. Her hair, like the sea before them, trembled at the wind. Then her gaze finally met his.

“I would say the same Lieutenant,ˮ she said to him. “If you spoke truthfully.ˮ

Bradley did not speak. There was a seriousness in the way she looked at him. He would wait for his turn.

“I am not a fickle woman or one who is easily flattered,ˮ she whispered. “But your words today meant greatly to me, and I canʼt help but think of your intentions. You say that Iʼm a riptide. That my passion shines through. Then you say that I am unexpectedly easy to talk to, and now you say that Iʼm interesting. But you’ve only just met me…”

“I donʼt want to you to misconstrue my intentions or yours, Lieutenant,ˮ she spoke bravely. “And I donʼt want to get my hopes up. But aside from all the things youʼve learned about me today, there is something else you should now... “

“Iʼm not one for casual relations. If someone must have me, then he must earn me first.ˮ

Lucy had fired the first shot.

At Natʼs insistence, she persuaded Lucy to let Bradley take her home instead of the taffy-manʼs daughter. To be fair, it was not too far from her apartment and the fact that Bradley got seven more minutes with Lucy was a bonus on account of Natʼs wingman game. She gave a thumbs up to Bradley before assisting a nauseated Sam from the backseat of the Bronco. Lucy and Bradley were once more enveloped in silence, but it was not as comfortable as it had been during their day out together.

“Hereʼs me,ˮ Lucy told him, hopping out of the Bronco.

Bradley turned the ignition off and walked her to the gate of her quaint, little apartment complex. Three rusty-colored brick buildings surrounded a small courtyard with flower gardens and a concrete fountain with small koi.

“I guess this is it,ˮ Lucy smiled. “It was nice meeting you, Lieutenant. Thank you for the ride home.ˮ

As she turned towards the gate to unlock it, all Bradley could think about was the shots he was too reluctant to take — both in the air and his life. So in that moment, in the crimson light of dusk, his fingers instinctively bound themselves around her wrist. She looked at him in surprise, her sweet, caramel eyes glowing in the sunset.

“This morning you asked me what I was passionate about,ˮ he told her. “Even if I did have the time to answer, I wouldnʼt have known what to say to you because as much as I love to fly and...play music—I donʼt— I donʼt think thereʼs anything I love like how you love the sea. I havenʼt found it yet. A-Anyways, Iʼm probably talking stupid right now, but all Iʼm trying to say is... do you want to help me find out?ˮ

“What?ˮ Lucy uttered in a small voice, stunned.

Bradley tried breathing, but suddenly found it very hard to with the thunderous beating in his chest.

“Will you, Lucy Mitchell, go on an official date with me?ˮ

Her silence made him quiver. Despite how clear her gaze was, there was no telling of the tumultuous thoughts that ran behind it.

“Is it because you felt bad for me? For what I said at the Pier?ˮ Lucy asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Not at all,ˮ Bradley insisted. “If anything, it just made my intentions for you clearer.ˮ

“I date to marry Lieutenant and I donʼt settle for less,ˮ she told him firmly.

“Is that supposed to scare me?ˮ

Lucy gazed at him considerably before speaking.

“Is this Saturday okay for you?ˮ

“You can have me by tomorrow,ˮ Bradley grinned.

“Wow Lieutenant,ˮ she chuckled. “Donʼt you think this is going a little too fast?ˮ

“Iʼm a pilot,ˮ he smirked. “Iʼm basically supersonic.ˮ

God, he loved the way she hid her giggles behind her dainty fingers.

“Alright then,ˮ Lucy spoke. “Tomorrow at 1400, come pick me up. Weʼll go to Sitaʼs on Newport Avenue at Ocean Beach and go from there.ˮ

“Itʼs a date,ˮ Bradley smiled.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.ˮ

“Itʼs Bradley, for you.ˮ

“Goodnight, Rooster.ˮ

Bradley laughed again.

“Goodnight, Angel.ˮ

Fun Fact! “Koi no Yokan” is a Japanese saying, which means love at second sight. It is described as a feeling of inevitably falling for someone. Jump to their first date at 02 | Halo-Halos by Beach! DM to be tagged!

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