First off, a big thank you to Qatari-sama and racoons50 for taking a look at the final chapter(s), your views were very helpful indeed. It was a very, very hard decision, and at one point I thought of just rewriting the whole thing, but I eventually went for this version. I hope no one is disappointed by it.

Though summer is gone

- Nowaki -

"I told you, you must have made a mistake! I booked a flight to America, not Australia! Look, there's someone else's name on the ticket, it's not mine!" Doctor Carter is yelling at one of the flight staff.

The man at the desk checks his computer. "I'm sorry sir but I definitely issued you a ticket to America."

"No, that can't be right!"

While I listen to Doctor Carter argue with the people at the flight desk, I sit at the benches amongst the crowds of other people waiting for their flight. I can't go to America without him anyway.

Hunched over, waiting patiently, I feel as if I've been drained of energy. I feel empty and completely calm, but it's a deceiving sort of tranquility. The slightest jolt, just a faint memory and I know I'll crumble into a hopeless mess.

Hiro-san, did you really hate me? Was I unnecessary? I wonder where I went wrong. When we kissed I thought his true feelings were in that kiss, but then he sent me away. He doesn't want to see me anymore. Is it because he can't stand my face? Was I really causing him so much pain?

I want to take my mind off of all this. It looks like Doctor Carter will be a while though, so I reach for my bag, and take out my book. It's not actually my book though; it's one of Hiro-san's. Come to think of it, I probably should have returned it. I won't be seeing him again after all.

I hate it. I hate the thought of going to America, of never being in the same place as Hiro-san, but this is a decision that he made. Even if it hurts me not to see him, I won't do anything to cause him pain. I'll stay in America.

Before I can open the book and bury myself in it the way Hiro-san used to do when he was stressed, Doctor Carter comes ambling back, frowning and yet oddly content despite the disagreeable look on his face. He mutters something under his breath, something about flight staff and 'incompetence' before gesturing towards me.

"It's sorted," he says wearily. "Let's go."

To America.

XX

I'm living in dorms again. One room is much like any other. The furniture provided is minimal – a sink, a bed, a desk, a chair, a cupboard and a bookshelf. My clothes go in the cupboard, out of sight, the books on the shelf, toiletries by the sink, and so on. That's all there is to it.

It's such an empty room.

I lean against the window ledge and listen to the flood of traffic roaring by whilst I watch the patterns of grey light shift across the carpet. I can hear water running somewhere not too far away and music, I think, faint threads of music from the room next door.

It's silent in here.

The curtains shift in the wind.

It's silent in here.

XX

I must remember to close my windows before I leave; the others warned me about thieves. When I got back this evening my books were all over the floor.

Fortunately, that was only a fierce gust of wind knocking them off of the shelf, but now I have to spend time putting them back into place. I stack them in alphabetical order – a habit I picked up from Hiro –

No, I shouldn't think about him, should I? I don't have the right to anymore.

As I get halfway through the pile, my hands stop upon that old book – How the panda got its spots – Hiro-san's book. I don't want to open it. There are too many memories in there; I'm afraid they will fly out and attack me if I open it but, as I pick it up to put it on the shelf, something falls out from between the pages. A letter? Was I carrying any letters with me?

No, wait. This is…this one of the letters I wrote to Hiro-san when I was in America. He had it with him on that day, though I can't possibly imagine how or why.

Carefully, I wriggle a finger under the flap and open the letter. I can tell that it's been opened more than once so it's an easy enough job. The moment I slip it out my eyes are immediately drawn to the writing on the back. I never wrote anything on the back before and it's not my handwriting anyway.

It's Hiro-san's.

A number, a name, and four words;

I'll wait for you.

XX

- Hiroki -

A day passes. Two days, three, before I know it a week has already gone by, yet it feels as though it's taken an eternity just to get this far.

Nowaki is gone. After he told me those things, after he told me what a great opportunity he had been given, how could he expect me to make him stay? He could be a great doctor; he could go really far if he takes this chance. How could I be the one to get in his way?

At first, I began to wonder if he saw my note. Where would he be when he reads it? In a lonely, single room where he spends the night? Or maybe in a park somewhere waiting for his lessons to start? I wondered if he found it at all.

Then I got the call.

"It's me."

Nowaki…

"Hiro-san, I - "

"How are you?" I ask.

There's a pause, a rather long one at that, and then he says, in a much more controlled much softer tone; "...I'm okay. How are you, Hiro-san?"

"I'm okay too. I've been bored a lot, though."

We say things like that a lot.

There's a lot of silence.

"Ah, Nowaki," I say, "you've probably got a lot of things to do. I've got a lot of grading to do too. Let's talk again some other time, okay? See ya."

Our calls don't even last five minutes.

It's not that I hate him. It's not that I don't want to hear him. Every time he calls I want to know what he's doing and how he's been. Is he eating properly? Has he been working hard? Only, it's too awkward. We didn't even get back together properly before I sent him packing again.

I'm such an idiot. If I could have just stopped loving him I would have spared myself a lot of pain. No, Nowaki's the real idiot, barging into my life and saying such things! He comes in and sweeps me away without even asking permission. Why is it always like that? I always have to put my guard up around him or I won't be able to control myself.

XX

"It's me."

"Oh…Nowaki," I try to smile even though I know he can't see it. My wobbly smile keeps on trying to turn itself into a frown.

"Hiro-san," his voice is always so soft. I wonder if it's a bad line. Overseas calls are like that, aren't they? "How have you been?"

"Ah, okay, I guess. My students are getting stupider, I think."

He laughs a little at this but even I, hundreds of miles away, can tell that it's a little forced.

"How about you? You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?" I ask.

"No, I'm fine. Actually, I…" he pauses. For a moment, it's so silent I'm afraid the line has cut out or something, but then he speaks again. "I…Hiro-san, sorry for all this. Actually…I want to see you again."

I can feel my own breath hitching.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Hiro-san! I shouldn't be saying awkward things like that, should I?" he laughs nervously.

All I can manage is a sort of "Ah," sound, which could be in agreement but I'm not really sure.

He speaks very quietly, very tenderly, as if he might scare me away. "You know," he says. "It's getting quite cold here. Is it the same in Japan?"

"A little," I reply. Great, now we're talking about the weather.

After ten minutes, I hang up.

XX

Nowaki calls every day now. Honestly, is he seriously getting any work done at all? I don't want to think that he's wasting all this precious time just chatting with me!

"Are you really serious about this doctor thing? You're calling me every day!"

Through the phone line, he sounds like a lost puppy. Damn, how can he make me feel so guilty about things that aren't even my fault? This idiot just doesn't understand things at all. He doesn't understand that I want him to succeed.

"I'm sorry. Am I bothering you?"

"N - Not really!" I snap, trying to hide the blush I'm sure is creeping into my cheeks. Why do I bother? It's not like he can see it. "I'm just wondering if you've been wasting time calling me when you could be studying! If you're not serious about it you might as well come home already!"

He draws a short gasp.

What? What did I say that would make him…

Ah. Come home, I said. Home, as in Japan. Japan, as in where I am. Come back to me. That's what that idiot is thinking, isn't it?

Yet when he eventually hangs up, I stay on the phone with my ear still pressed against the receiver, listening to the high-pitched humming of the line left behind.

…

XX

Time flies. Before, I thought a month would last forever but now the time has come and gone. I pace up and down the polished hall restlessly, waiting for Nowaki's flight to come in.

Finally, I hear the announcement I've been waiting for. I can hear the sound of a suitcase rolling along linoleum and glance up to see Nowaki heading straight towards me.

I do my best to look apathetic. I cross my arms and try to seem as if I'm simply bored but I'm sure he can hear my heart beat way over the noise and the announcements around us.

He stops before me, smiling in a faint sort of way. It's a nervous, unsure smile. I know because I think I'm smiling in exactly the same way. We exchange the usual, formal greetings. His smile keeps slipping into a frown and all around me I can feel this air of awkwardness trying to drag us down.

Great, what do I say now?

"...Shall we take a taxi back?"

"That's fine. To your apartment or mine?" he asks.

"Yours. You need to unpack, don't you?"

Silence.

XX

Nowaki's apartment fills me with nostalgia. I haven't been here in such a long time yet nothing has changed at all. I draw a deep breath and close my eyes as I step inside. It's overwhelming. This place is filled with Nowaki.

"I'll make dinner," he offers and disappears into the kitchen before I can get a word out.

I stay wandering around the front room, reminding myself of everything, soaking in memories. This is what Nowaki's couch feels like, this is what my footsteps against his floor sound like, this is what Nowaki's cooking smells like when it drifts from the kitchen…

We eat in subdued silence. The sound of utensils clacking is like a bombshell barrage. Finally, I place my chopsticks over my empty bowl, saying hollow thanks for the food.

"So…how was America?" I ask the floor.

"I'd like to say that it was a lot of fun but I was studying so hard that it was very tiring," he replies to the table.

Silence. It's become so common these days that I would hardly notice it, except that Nowaki is fidgeting a little too much for me not to notice it.

"Um…" I begin, at the same time Nowaki says; "Hiro-san…" which silences both of us. I pause and wait for him to say something but he seems to be doing the same. The awkwardness makes me feel cold and uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that I cannot bear sitting around any longer.

"I – I'll do the washing up!"

I make my way to the sink to start washing the knives. As I'm just about to wet the sponge, I feel his hands flutter over my shoulder. His fingers feel like fire.

Then he suddenly grabs me.

He cries "Hiro-san!" with such fierceness that it takes me aback. His arms wrap around me so tightly that I think I might stop breathing any moment now.

You know those moments that people say made time stop for a moment? This is one of them. I think I can see the droplets of sink water float in front of my face. I can feel my body careen back as I drop the knife into the sink.

"St –Stupid! That's dangerous, you know?"

I can't see Nowaki's face. It's buried in my back. I can't see it at all.

"Hiro-san," he whispers. "I missed you!"

It is as if everything that was held back before is being unleashed. Just those words open the floodgates to everything we've ever held back in silence. I missed you. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see you. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to love you. I wanted you to love me.

It's unfair. Cheater. Liar. Idiot. Moron. Brat. Don't say things like that! What the hell is wrong with him? Don't say things like that to me! If you say things like that, how am I supposed to react? How do I stop myself from saying 'Please, tell me more'?

"When I finally arrived I was so happy to finally see you again, but Hiro-san is…" His voice quivers with the same desperate quality he had when he left me in the rain. I can feel his head buried against my shoulder, his arms around me; his hands burning through my shirt.

"I'm what?" I snap. In the end, I suppose I am angry. Yes, of course I'm angry. I feel like an idiot and it's all his fault! Why am I so hopeless; being tied to one person, unable to let go. That makes me an idiot, right? A fool who keep trying to live the same dream over and over.

"I'm not going anywhere! I'm going to stay with you. I'm not leaving you ever again! I'll work hard to make Hiro-san happy! I love you! I'll love you forever!" he cries.

It's his fault I'm like this. He says such things to me. He keeps repeating them over and over. Stop it! Don't say 'I'll work hard for you,' don't say 'I'll love you forever' because I know I'll believe you. I'll believe you every time! Don't say such things to me! Don't say them! Stupid Nowaki!

"You're an idiot. Doing something foolish like that just for me. Why are you so stupid?" Why am I so stupid? Why am I always tricked into falling over and over again?

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "But, Hiro-san, I can do these things because it's for you. I'm not giving you to anyone!"

Unconsciously, it must be unconsciously because I don't remember moving my arm, at some point I've been gripping his wrist. I feel his arms tighten around me and his lips press against my collar bone, trailing kisses up my neck. I turn my face to meet his, hand trambling, taking shallow breaths as we kiss.

When he chuckles softly, I can feel his breath against my neck. I close my eyes and breathe him in. Nowaki. This is what Nowaki feels like. This is how he smells. This is what it's like to run my hands over his. This is what it's like to love him.

He whispers about how much he loves me and all sorts of embarrassing things as he buries his head in my shoulder, nuzzling it gently and, as I reach out to hold him, for a moment I think I can hear this strange sound.

It's a piano. Just one piano. But it's not Satie's Gymnopedie or even Chopin's Raindrop Prelude. It's something else. Some other song, striking chords that resounds across the world.

XX

Despite the time that passes, some things never change. Takahashi got a bright red D for his next paper, although if he keeps giving me food to pass on to 'Kusama-san' then I could always turn it into an F.

The director's brat remained in Tokyo after all. I didn't even know he was thinking of leaving. He's aiming for Tokyo University - apparently Miyagi convinced him to go for it - but he keeps dropping by to pester us. To pester Miyagi actually.

Whenever Miyagi's teaching, the brat's mood always gets so foul and he throws himself onto the couch as if he owns the place, which I suppose he might do one day since he's the director's kid.

At times like these, I wish that either Miyagi or Takahashi would show up to take him away. If Takahashi pokes his head in, Shinobu catches him and drags him out to get a drink, shooting back glares at me. Brat.

When neither do, we argue about literature and current affairs as if there's no tomorrow. I swear there's something wrong with that kid. How the hell did he grow up with such backwards logic?

Our arguments about Akihiko's works are especially fierce. I know the brat just does it to piss me off - I tell him Miyagi throws away his cabbage bento boxes just to piss him off - but sometimes it's as if he's got a personal grudge against the man. Brats can't appreciate good literature these days.

Nowaki is sitting in the front room of our new apartment watching TV. I feel like an old married couple when I think about how we decided to live together. An old, very gay married couple.

Ah, Akihiko is on TV and looking completely bored, probably because Takahashi is at university right now. He turned the whole mess we made into his next novel, although he made some major changes. Apparently, I'm a girl now. My name is Hiromi and I have boobs.

The whole thing was a roaring success. I'm thinking of asking for a percentage of the earnings since he wouldn't have wrote the damn thing otherwise. It won him the Kikukawa book award, though the real celebration and award festival will take place in some fancy hotel. Popular novelists sure have it easy.

Too bad for Akihiko; he hates going to award festivals. Well, he gets to stay in an all-expenses-paid hotel suite so what's he complaining about? I'm sure he can drag his boy-toy along if he really wants to.

"All this fuss! It wasn't as if it was his greatest book," I grumble at the TV set. Perhaps I'm being a little bit biased.

Nowaki gets up behind me and drapes his arms around my waist. "Usami-san is amazing though, isn't he? To be able to write something like that. Maybe I should borrow it from you. What's it called again?"

I snort at the idea. I don't want him to read about all that embarrassing stuff.

"I don't know," I mumble, trying to ignore the fact that his hands are wandering too far south for this time of day.

It's another lie. Unfortunately for me old habits die hard and, once again, I've purchased three copies of Bakahiko's latest work, so of course I know the stupid title of his stupid book.

There's no need to tell Nowaki that though, because the news reporter is already reading out the list of nominees.

"And last week the winner of the prestigious Kikukawa book award went to," she draws out a long, suspenseful pause. "Usami Akihiko and his latest work, Sayonara our Summer Solstice."

And that's all folks! The end! I must say, the hardest part was choosing the ending, I can't even remember how many times I rewrote this. If anyone's interested in the second version of the final chapter, I could upload it somewhere, though it ends pretty much the same way this one does.

Anyway, a big Thank you to everyone who reviewed and thank you for sticking with this fic until the end.