Written for the picfor1000 Four Seasons theme; prompt picture at the end.
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The sunlight pouring in through the kitchen window is so bright that for a moment all he can see is an outline, figures silhouetted against the light. Then he blinks, and his eyes adjust, but his brain still stutters for a moment. What he sees is this: Sano and Mizuki, entwined, his dark head bent down to her upturned face, her small pale hands clutching his shoulders. Their eyes are closed, and Nakatsu gets the distinct impression that the rest of the world has been put on hold indefinitely.
Then time starts up again, and they sense his presence and jump apart, turning toward him with identical guilty expressions. It's almost comical; they look like kids who've been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. But somehow Nakatsu can't find it in himself to laugh. So this is how it ends, then: on a warm spring afternoon in a sunlit kitchen with the birds chirping outside and everything.
"Sorry," he stammers, backing into the hallway. "I-- Sorry." And then, before anyone can make the moment worse with a friendly gesture, he turns and flees, his books hitting the floor like the bang of the starting gun.
It was probably a bad idea from the start, Nakatsu thinks; but then, he and bad ideas have what you might call a history. He's never been one to resist his impulsive nature, so when Mizuki had asked did he want to maybe share an apartment with her and Sano after graduation, he'd gone with his first impulse, which was to say: Yes, yes. Of course. Because the alternative was to say Goodbye, and that was hardly an alternative at all.
In hindsight he can see how wanting something just out of reach is maybe even worse than wanting something that's impossibly distant. Funny, he's never been a masochist before now.
He's only managed as long as he has by pretending. Sano and Mizuki are considerate, of course, not to mention shy; in return, he pretends that he doesn't see the shared smiles, the matching blushes, the way their bodies curve around each other. His mind conjures up the image of them kissing in the kitchen again, and his mouth tastes sour. He feels like a voyeur, like he's gone and tracked dirt into some place pristine and private. He thinks: The way they fit so close together, there's no room for anyone else.
He's twirling a single lonely flower between his fingers and thinking about how soon he can move out when Mizuki finds him. She's wearing a skirt today and he can see on the very edge of his vision where it brushes the tops of her knees. She sits down on the grass next to him without a word, folding her legs beneath her. He can't look at her; he thinks he might break if she tries to comfort him.
They sit in silence for a moment. Oddly, Mizuki doesn't seem embarrassed or tense, not like she's trying to come up with an apology or consolation. She seems content just to sit there, running a hand back and forth through the grass, and gradually, Nakatsu feels his shoulders relax; he stops bracing himself.
Finally, she says, "That's a nice flower."
Nakatsu looks down, surprised--he'd forgotten he was holding it. The stem is a little worse for wear, and it's starting to wilt; but she's right, there is a kind of beauty in its fragility.
"Still," she continues, "I think I like those better."
Nakatsu looks. She's pointing at a clump of daffodils that have sprung up on the hillside: three of them, in varying heights, leaves wrapped around each other. They're so close together it's hard to tell where one ends and another begins; and he looks back at Mizuki, eyes wide. She can't really--
She stands up, brushes grass from her skirt.
"Yes," she says, smiling at him; and after a moment he takes the hand she offers and lets her lead him back inside.
He can't believe it's happening even though he can see for himself that it is; Sano's eyes are dark and serious, and all Nakatsu can think to say is, "Are you sure? I mean, this is really okay?" Sano shuts him up with a look that says he really thinks Nakatsu should stop asking stupid questions.
They end up in Mizuki's room, sitting on the pale yellow bedspread, her favorite stuffed bear temporarily relocated to the floor. Sano leans forward to kiss her, hands resting on either side of the bed, and they look so right together that for a moment Nakatsu feels like an intruder again; but Mizuki reaches out for him, blindly, so he gathers up his courage and puts his hands on her waist. She gives a little sigh, so it's definitely worth it.
He puts his mouth on her neck, the curve of her ear, places he's spent a little too much time looking at in the past. After a minute she shifts, turns to face him, and puts her arms around his neck; so of course he has to lean down and kiss her on the lips. It's every bit as nice as he's always imagined. When Sano's hand brushes against his, a moment later, his heart leaps in his chest. He can't remember if he was expecting that or not.
It's slow and lazy, just kissing and touching with the sun through the window warming their skin. They undress each other slowly, bits and pieces, getting distracted in between. At some point Nakatsu meets Sano's eyes and realizes that he'd really like to kiss him; so he does. Sano makes a noise and pushes him backwards, down onto the bed; and then there are two pairs of hands on him, two of his very favorite people in the whole world here in this bed with him, and when he closes his eyes he can still see sunshine and somewhere, on a green hill, three golden daffodils, waving.
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