Brought to you by boring review classes, utter insanity, an overdose of inspiration, and Instant Mami Noodles. This is my first Fruits Basket fanfic, so be gentle… please?
Snow
Now that he was alone, he realized how much he hated the silence. There was no Akito throwing another emotional tirade, no Ayame to talk his ears off, no Momiji to bounce all over the place and chatter about how snow days were wonderful, no Tohru to trouble herself over nothing at all, no Kyou to complain about Yuki, no Yuki to complain about Kyou, no Shigure to share a cigarette with and contemplate on the strangeness of the world...
It wasn't that he disliked it when all was quiet. He always did express how much better he thought it was when no one said anything.
Perhaps it was because it was in the silence that the memories returned to haunt him.
Laughter in the air, tinkling like silver bells. Silken fingers across the cheek, owners of the touch of an angel.
Watching her, he momentarily forgot to breathe.
Upon shaking the memory away, Sohma Hatori discovered that the words of the report he had been reading were now playing hopscotch before his eyes. With that the doctor coolly assessed the situation, and concluded that he must have been sitting there, paralyzed by the idleness yet bound by the commitment brought about by his profession, for quite some time.
Sighing despite himself (since when he had ever felt so restless?), the doctor pushed his rolling chair away from his desk and leaned back to stare at the cracks on the ceiling. He ran a hand through his hair, and listened to the clock dutifully ticking away at his desk.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock.
One second gone. Two seconds gone. Three seconds gone. Four seconds gone.
He felt a headache coming along.
"The snow... it's beautiful, isn't it? I like it just as much as I like springtime now..."
"But it's so cold."
"Eh?"
"It's cold, and it's hurtful to touch. It covers the world up in a blanket of numbness, refusing to let the flowers grow... the only reason why I enjoy it is because I know that spring will come afterward..."
Words that trickled off into silence. Eyes that moved up to meet with a bewildered gaze.
A smile. A gleaming glance.
"Don't worry about what I said, Ha-kun. I'm just feeling a little strange today!"
Silken fingers across the cheek.
The moment went forgotten.
The cracks on the ceiling were swimming before his eyes in a sea of pain. Tearing his gaze away, the doctor swept his pack of cigarettes off the table (It's light... I need to get a new pack), perched one between his lips, and lit up...
Or at least, he tried to. What ended up happening was that he startled himself with his inability to do anything, and spent a few fruitless minutes attempting to light the cigarette up and further poison his lungs. When he succeeded, it gave him no satisfaction... he ended up sipping the nicotine, watching the blue smoke curl up and dissipate, and wishing that he was somewhere else, anywhere else, but here.
Here, with the memories.
"I love you."
His office. Immaculately clean, impeccably neat. It represented everything that he was, all that he strived to be...
It was lifeless and cold, like the snow that wrapped the world in oblivion, like the lost memories that were wiped clean from the slate of the one that he loved so much it hurt. The room's emptiness choked him, smothered the warmth, and doused the reluctant flame that he lived by, leaving nothing but ashes.
Ashes, and one too many unreachable stars...
Intellectually, Hatori knew that he was strong. He was strong, he was competent, he was handsome, he was intelligent, he was good-looking.
In the same fashion, intellectually Hatori knew that he was quite fucked.
Alone in the choking silence, the Sohma doctor raised the cigarette to his lips again and took a long drag, exhaling it slowly as though it was his sole wish to hold the killing smoke in and hope that it destroyed him, and soon.
With preternatural slowness, he lowered his hand unto the armrest, taking the cigarette with him. The cylinder of nicotine goodness hung over the ground, threatening the tatami mats with burning ash.
"You shouldn't smoke, you know."
Hatori laughed at that. He laughed, but his shoulders did not shake. It was mere laughter, amusement that lacked truth.
He laughed because it hurt too much to cry.
"Don't be afraid. No matter who or what you are, you mean the world to me..."
>If I meant that much...
The ash broke and fell away. His fists were clenched, and the iron clamp had closed over his heart again. Nevertheless, he finished the thought that he was oftentimes too scared to complete.
If I meant that much, then why? Why this...?
There was no one but an empty teacup to hear him.
"Don't be afraid..."
"...love you..."
Hatori rose to his feet and left his office with an urgency that would have startled him, had he stopped to think about it. Behind him, the perfect little room echoed with the memories turned nightmares and the longing turned dreams.
He had to get away.
***
The snow crunched beneath his boots, echoing almost ominously into the stillness and the lifelessness of the Sohma compound. Even after years of staying there and calling the place home (doing so was like calling a knife a spoon, at times), he often found it hard to believe that anyone lived in the place...
Hatori wandered almost aimlessly, letting his legs carry him wherever they will. He walked along with his hands in his pockets and the cigarette perched on his lips, letting the cold and crisp air clear his head...
February was drawing to a close, and yet the sky still retained that same pale color that was closer to white and gray than it was to blue. Spring with all its flowers and all it's promises would be coming late.
Hatori did not care.
Somewhere nearby, a cardinal broke into song.
"You mean the world..."
The cardinal faltered in his song for so brief a moment that it was almost indistinguishable, but Hatori was no ordinary person...
"I know you're there," he said, without even turning around. The snow was beginning to fall all around him again, and the doctor looked up to watch the white diamond dust cover the world in numbness. "You're bad at sneaking up on other people."
"I can do just fine with Kyou-kun and Yuki-chan, you know," Shigure said laughingly as he moved to join his friend, undisturbed by Hatori's customary iciness. "Once that cat and that mouse get at it, they don't notice a thing in the world..."
Hatori snorted at that, and took to following the idle path of the snowflakes all around him. It was cold, but it didn't not matter... not too many things did anymore.
"It's that time of the season again," Shigure went on to say, smiling that quiet smile that hinted at how much the man knew, how much the man hid. "Tohru-chan is on pins and needles as to how to celebrate it with the lot of us. Heaven knows that she won't be able to join us at the Sohma House, but I suppose it will all be fine..."
The dark-haired man's words were lost to Hatori, coalescing into a single stream of consciousness and rabble that held more meaning for him than he normally would have allowed. He let Shigure talk, using the words as a shield against the memories that kept coming and the tears he could no longer cry.
The snow kept falling, covering the slumbering world.
End.
"...shouldn't smoke..."