Yoake

A short scene about separation and young love.

Floating in the air around them that night, like the flitting butterflies they had seen together once in the Gardens, was an aura of suspense, an almost eager anticipation, for the sunrise. They felt it then, the two of them, the impatience to stride into the future, and the rest of their lives, yet it was tinged with a palpable sadness as well. Not like the grief one feels when a beloved family member or close friend had passed away, nor the blueness of a bad day. No, this was a gentle wistfulness that dangled in the air that night, an almost careful silence hanging on a thread. The Japanese had a term for it " “Mono no Aware” " the pathos of things.

They sat at the top of a hill overlooking the town, the dazzling lights like overzealous fireflies below them, blazing away despite the surrounding darkness. This was their spot. Quiet. Serene. Safe. There, sat on the shadowy, grassy peak, illuminated only by the glow of the town, they bathed in each other’s scent. They, each with one arm across the other’s shoulder, the other hand tightly interlocked in their laps, her head on his shoulder. They had been here for hours now, soaking in each other’s company, with only a couple of hours to daybreak, soaking in the silence.

“I’ve said this way too many times, probably, but I’d still like it if you stayed,” he murmured, soft, so as not to pierce the tranquility of their haven, the rumble of his voice like the comfort of a cradle.

“Yes, you have said it too many times, what was your first clue?” she smiled, a gentle reproach stapled to the twinkle in her eyes, her resolve burning steadily underneath.

“It’s just….... I wish you’d told me earlier.”

“Would it have helped?”

“Maybe. I don’t know… All those years away from home… Who knows what could happen in that time?”

It was a most unfortunate circumstance. For him, leaving was the only possible choice. His life was here, and everything he knew, everything he had, everything he would have, was in this town. For her, staying was not an option. She needed to see the world, to explore, to grow. Cooped in a one-horse town, never knowing what the world outside was like, never experiencing it for herself, was a thought more horrifying to her than the possible hardships she would endure living alone overseas. She might never come back; who knew whether she would ever adapt to life in a small town again after having seen whatever it was she was heading towards?  Still, she would go.

It was not an easy choice, but it was the only one. Uprooting herself, leaving everyone she had ever known behind; she had hesitated at first, and when her mind came to that inevitable conclusion that the small town wasn’t for her, she had cried.

A breeze picked up atop the hill, a gentle caress at first, then a fierce gale. The roaring wind brought a sudden chill, and the two of them nestled tighter in each other’s grasp. This close to each other, she was reminded again of all she was giving up. She would miss this. The way her head rested perfectly on his shoulder; the way her body relaxed when he ran his hand down the back of her head and neck. He was already missing this. The intoxicating aroma of her lustrous hair, the soft touch of her hand in his rough hands, and the way she loved to trace the calluses on his palms. She closed her eyes and tried to remember everything they had ever done together as a silent tear rolled down her cheek, soaking into his shirt without a trace.

“Hey, look: meteor shower,” he said, nudging her with his chin. She glanced up at the sky, now just barely brighter than before, through her teary eyes, even as she blinked those tears away. A stream of flaring pinpoints darted across the firmament, scintillating arrows of radiance upon an infinite field, winking out of existence almost as abruptly as they appeared.

“You’d think they might have mentioned an upcoming meteor shower on the news or something,”

“In this town? Who would care?” he laughed.

“We would.”

There was an ease to the company of each other, that familiarity which meant they could just be with the other without a word, and if they spoke they could often complete each other’s’ sentences. Some people felt the need to fill every silence with noise or chatter, every pause with a nervous cough, but they had been together long enough to understand the serene comfort of simply immersing in each other, like leaves in the sunlight.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I hope I do.”

“Otherwise this would be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” she thought but didn’t say.

Too soon, the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, an unrelenting harbinger of the future. The glow of daybreak roused the sleepy little town they had both grown up in, and they each knew they were out of time. Shakily pulling themselves up, they steadied themselves on each other, their legs having started to fall asleep in the time they were there.

One last sunrise. They gazed into each other’s eyes one last time, and settled into a tight embrace. He remembered the first time he had found this place. Here, overlooking the town, high above everyone else, they had felt invincible. They had smiled quietly to themselves, embracing as they did now. She had whispered in his ear, “Never let me go.” “Never,” had been his firm assurance. They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms for what felt like a long time, but not long enough. Never long enough. Still, it was time to let go, and they gently untwined themselves from each other.

“Goodbye.”

And she was gone.

He sat down by the tree again. And the dam in his eyes broke.

Author's Note

Give me your honest feedback! I've never written something like this.

Reviews

[Willow Clark]

I love the line, a gentle reproach stapled to the twinkle in her eye. I was confused by the line, "For him, leaving was the only possible choice"
This piece is darling and heart breaking. As someone who has experienced separation from a lover this really hits home. It is truthful.

[Biggles]

"For him, leaving was the only possible choice"

That was a typo, oops. Rushed this out so I didn't proof read...