Disclaimer: Standard
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STRANGERS
Chapter 5: A Week Later
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It was an odd day for him. He had finished his work, and he was too tired to go anywhere else. For the first time in a week he went straight back home with a clear head. He was tired, but he was not intoxicated or trying to run away from something. Somehow, something had brought him back into this real world. He was a happier man.
He coughed as the dusty and the musty smell came into his nose when he entered the house. He didn't clean his house for at least seven months. He didn't even realize that his house was this dirty, mainly because when he was home he was always half conscious and always went straight to the bedroom to fall asleep instantly, and when he was wide awake, he was never at home. He was always at his office, the bar, a cheap ramen shop, or his best friend's place. More than that, this week was a little odd. He was rushing over an unexpected deadline and he was forced to sleep at the office in order to finish his work.
He looked around the house. The coffee table looked quite dirty. There were a lot of his seven months old failed software plans in shapes of paper balls on the floor, and even cobwebs behind the door, in the kitchen, and near the lamp table. A broken photo frame was lying on the uncarpeted floor.
He smiled. He didn't know where it came from, but now he had the strength to face it.
He took out the picture inside the frame and stared at it. In the picture, he was smiling happily with a girl he knew back then.
He stared at the girl's dark eyes and sighed. She was long gone, and the memory was still painful, but it was bearable now. He felt that something helped him embrace it and moved on. He didn't even know when he started to pull himself together and walk away from the darkness he drowned into for the past few months.
He was going to put the picture inside his album when his eyes stumbled upon something. There was a long, wooden box was lying on his couch. As he tried to remember where the box came from, he opened the box. There were a set of three-piece traditional ink paintings.
"Right." He remembered now. He bought the paintings at the traditional market.
He then shook his head at his own stupidity. Where would a traditional Japanese ink painting fit into a western living room? These past few months were certainly too blurry for him. His work, the booze, the girls, some loud music…
A butterfly…
He frowned to himself and shook his head. Where did that thought come from? He then dumped the painting into the box, and looked around again.
"Great…" He sighed. The lastthing he wanted to do after a sleepless week was a midnight house cleaning. But instead of ignoring the fact that everything was dirty and head straight into the room, he took a broom and a duster from the cupboard and started dusting the living room. He gathered all the trash he left behind and piled them into a big black plastic bag.
His eyes caught something familiar.
Two folded pink post-its were lying on the floor, together with the rest of the crumbled up papers and empty ballpoints. The familiar feelings rushed into his brain.
The ink painting.
"The ink painting?" He asked himself loudly, confused as to how his mind worked. What does an ink painting got to do with pink post-its?
Then it struck his mind.
He remembered a sleeping figure. A slender naked body with pale skin. Her hair was long and black, and she was curled up under a white sheet. Her face was always so peaceful, and the sight of her was too beautiful to comprehend with words. She looked pale and fragile, as if a gentle touch would break her. She was a beautiful contrast of black and white, like an ink painting.
But he knew she wasn't like that. He saw her carefree smile. He saw her cute, expressive and confident body language. He saw her drowning in her daydreams and enjoying herself. He saw her attentive sapphire eyes gave out different kinds of emotions. He saw how she would make him feel at ease everytime. She was colourful, and now he remembered. He knew her from the beginning. He knew her so well.
Unconsciously he put his hand in his shirt pocket. Another pink post-it. The last piece of puzzle.
He opened the three post-its and read them.
Kamiya Kaoru.
Kamiya Kaoru.
Kamiya Kaoru.
With the same phone number written in each paper.
"…Call me sometimes when you're not busy…"
His blood stopped flowing for a split second, but when it started flowing again, the first thing he did was laugh.
Laugh.
Laugh.
Laugh.
He had met a perfect girl and he didn't even realize it. No, it wasn't that he didn't realize it. He refused to realize it. He remembered perfectly. Her curve, her taste, her heat. The way she looked at him, the way she smiled… Everything. For his intoxicated mind, her perfection was too good to be true. He never had that luxury, and that was why he chose to forget. Everytime.
Only now he realized, her quiet existence had empowered him more than he could imagine.
He started to wonder about what might happen to her. Maybe after each night, she would go back home and laughed at him, the stupid guy who was too ignorant to realize that he had found his butterfly. Maybe she would get mad at him. Maybe she would cry because of him. Or she might even forget about him, like he did each night.
Now, her face appeared very clearly in his head. Delicate face structure, pale skin, jet black hair, lively sapphire eyes, and an expressive, confident smile.
He had to laugh some more until he was half crying. His whole story started to sound like a cheap comedy.
"Kamiya Kaoru… Why bother with someone so stupid like me?" He asked the three pink post-its on the floor. Four times, he remembered. She gave him four chances, and he didn't know whether she was still waiting or not. He got up abruptly, grabbed the phone, and without thinking anymore, he dialed her number. It was the time for him to prove himself to her.
"Hello?" a feminine voice answered the phone. He choked.
"Kamiya Kaoru?"
"Yes?"
"You're still there…" He blurted out spontaneously as he sunk on the floor in relief. He thought he was too late.
He heard a long pause, followed by a cute giggle from the other side of the phone.
"Won't you tell me your name now?"
He smiled. He knew that from this moment, he didn't have to be alone anymore.
"It's Kenshin. Himura Kenshin."
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=FIN=
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AN: Finally! The last chapter! I have a severe "crappy ending" disease… So later when I'm a little matured, I would probably edit this story and come up with a better ending. But until then, please bear with this one :P Since you're done reading it, I can tell u something: no 50 First Dates! That movie didn't even cross my mind until people told me the similarities bwahaha… It's more like "sometimes we try so hard to see an ant which is miles away that we don't manage see an elephant that is right in front of our eyes"… It was inspired by a local folklore in my culture where there's a perverted prince who longed for a girl he met under the moonlight and built a temple each night for a hundred nights to tempt her to come and bathe inside the temple and he would watch her bathing from afar. The girl turned out to be an angel and they couldn't be together and apparently she didnt even know that he existed lol lol... I know this is the last chap, but please also review for this last chappie :D Thanks for reading the whole story and see ya :D