Back to December by Taylor Swift – Ushijima
Looking out the window, you release a heavy sigh. The shift
of your legs makes you wince as cheap vinyl pulls against exposed skin. You
cross your legs left over right, then right over left unable to find a
comfortable position but you know it has little to do with the bench and
everything to do with the reason you’re here.
Minutes tick by slowly, each shift of the clock hand feeding
into your anxiety. Will he even show up?
Each tinkle of the bell above the diner door draws your
attention to it. If you continue moving your head so fast you’re liable to get
whiplash, but every time you’re met with disappointment when the one you’re
waiting for doesn’t appear.
Five then ten minutes past your designated meeting time
passes and you’re shifting around again.
“Anything I can get you while you’re waiting?” asks the
waitress, pen poised to her pad.
“No thank you, not really hungry,” you answer, apology
implied in your tone.
She shrugs her shoulders, moving on to tend on customers
with aspirations of grease and sugar consumption.
Glancing at the clock you find he’s almost twenty minutes
late but you’re not mad. You’re not even surprised to be honest. Why would he
even want-
Your thoughts are cut off as a presence takes residence
across your table capturing your attention immediately. A startled hitch in
your breath is the first thing which greets the man now seated opposite of you.
“Go-good evening, Ushijima-san.” The use of his last name
casts a bitter taste in your mouth but you dare not use his first; you lost
that privilege a long time ago. His face, if possible, is more impassive that
ever but you can’t blame him. Silence reigns supreme, the two of you just
looking at each other. It’s broken by the arrival of your long-suffering
waitress asking if she can get anything for him. He asks for water and she
moves away to gather the requested beverage.
“So, how are things? How’s your family?” you ask forcing
geniality into your tone.
He shrugs, nodding thanks to the waitress when she drops off
the water. He sips it, eyes never leaving your face and the severity of his
scrutiny makes you twitch.
“I heard about the battle for nationals,” you can’t help
saying. “Sorry,” you add quickly, unclear if you’re apologizing for their loss
or bringing it up at all. Ushijima doesn’t bother with a response. “So, have
you thought about college?”
“_______-san, why are you here?”
Ushijima’s voice is just as you remember it; steady, calm,
seemingly indifferent but you can see a torrent of well withheld emotion
stirring up in his eyes. Seems even he’s incapable of remaining as stoic as a
mountain all the time.
You swallow once, wishing you’d had the foresight to ask for
water as well because suddenly your mouth feels like it’s full of sand.
Ushijima, being the gentleman he is, proffers his glass which you take thankfully.
After gulping a draft of the cool liquid, you clear your throat.
“I…I guess I should just come right out with it.” Your eyes
meet his. “Ushijima…Wakatoshi, I…I miss you. I miss you so much and I realize
what a stupid mistake I made letting you go and I’m so sorry for hurting you
like that. I wanted to see…I mean…is there any way you can forgive me?”
Ushijima’s jaw clenches in discomfort at your words. He
sighs, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, you can see it clearly; this
is very much too little too late.
“I have forgiven you, _______-san,” he confirms, “But if
you’re seeking reconciliation, that isn’t going to happen. I may have forgiven
you, but I can never forget what you did.”
His words pierce your heart like a knife but you know it’s
so much less than what you deserve. You broke his heart; his precious,
carefully guarded heart that he opens to so few and you’d gone and stomped on
it. All because of stupid, petty jealousy and fear.
Standing, you offer a slight bow, tears trailing down your
cheeks despite your best effort to hold them back. “I appreciate you meeting
with me at all and I understand your decision. Just know that…I do love you and
if you ever change your mind-“
“I won’t so don’t do something stupid like say you’ll wait
for me. I wish you all the best, ______-san,” he interjects gruffly.
More pain hits and it’s suddenly harder to breathe but
somehow you manage to inhale then exhale. Getting your legs to work takes a
moment longer but soon enough your back in the heat of the summer, but your mind
is months in the past remembering that fateful December day where you’d let the
worst of yourself throw away the best thing to have ever happened to you.
And you only have yourself to blame.
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