— closed

[loyaldog]

( regret was a powerful sensation that still ate at nana as the days went on and the more time that passed between that eventful night and her current day, the more she found herself ruminating over the mistakes she made. she hadn't told anyone she was pregnant— it was guessed by that man and before she could even think of what to do or say, she was swept up in what he had to offer her. she rationalized it back then, 'this is the best thing for nobu', and 'i don't want to give up this baby so the only way this is possible is by going with him'. yet the more time she spent locked away in that apartment, being mistreated and pushed to the wayside as takumi continued on with his own endeavors and affairs, the more the relationship she had with nobu seemed to be idealized in her mind. she was doing so much better, growing to become independent and to actually provide support for someone else and yet—

like always she fell right in.

what finally broke the straw was that phone call. the other woman, or perhaps she was the other woman? nana couldn't really tell with takumi really, after all he never made promises of being loyal, of her being the only one. the other nana had warned her after all, he was a playboy. still she fell in head first for the shred of comfort he offered her back then, reeling from the emotional pain of being cheated on in such a brutal and public manner. now she was truly stuck with him so when the call came, all she could do was pretend to be the maid, someone unattached to takumi and to inform her that he would be coming to paris after all. he had told her it was a business trip but of course she quickly deduced that was a side trip.

whatever it was, influenced by the hormones or just how emotionally fragile she already was, nana found herself crying herself to sleep for nearly a week straight. she'd spend her time in bed looking at the photos she had of nobu, whatever she could recover after takumi forced her to delete and destroy whatever evidence she had of a life before him. although he didn't tell her, he wanted to be the winner after all didn't he? and yet here she was, feeling completely alone, dejected and like an utter loser.

it was finally on that final night of the week, a sunday with her lying in bed full of tears in her eyes after another particularly rough sexual encounter with takumi that she looked at her phone and at nobu's number. takumi had gone off to the airport and she was left to collect the pieces yet again, wondering if she should even stay, if she should even be loyal to a man who could only view her as a prize. as property to use and handle as he wished.

with a soft breath she lifted the phone up to her face and began to type away, over and over again deleted and re-writing before finally hitting send. )

nobu this is nana komatsu.

I wanted to apologize for how things ended, I am so sorry. I wish....I could erase the pain I caused you.

I know nothing I could say could change anything so please try and forgive me. things aren't—

( should she really tell him? should she admit it? these were the thoughts she grappled with before typing away. she would apologize to nana too she decided. )

what they seem. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

( that's the best she could do for now, the strength she could summon before she closed her flip phone and tossed it before her, hiding her face as if to hide from nobu. )

Comments

[lowtolerance]

[ as the weather only continues to get cooler, nobu finds himself missing summer more and more. it's easy enough to tell himself that it's because autumn has brought too many changes all at once, and that summer was the last time things felt easy and free. no dorms. no label. (no paparazzi.) just too-long days hopping from his job to a gig or a rehearsal (or both), but spending the rest of his free time idling away around a table with the others.

with hachi.

he struggles to swallow that name down, to call her real name if he ever has to mention her at all. if he can just compact all of their memories together down tightly enough, it might be enough to pack the wound left behind, the void of her absence. he struggles so much that, more than once, left on his own in the narrow bed of his room, he'd held his phone over his face, small screen brighter than should be possible in the dark, thumb hovering over her name in his address book.

what would he even say to her now? how's the new apartment? how's the baby? how's that guy? small talk should be the easiest thing; how many breezy conversations has he had with guests at the inn growing up, or customers looking for their new favorite record? why is it that the only thing he can think to say to her would be an outpouring of grief, of frustration, of guilt, and of hope he can only think is incredibly misplaced, no matter what nana tells him. he's lost. he fumbled the best girl he could've met, all for being too cowardly to fight for her.

and here he lies again, alone in bed after firmly, almost forcefully locking the door in yuri's face. obviously he craves the company, but...not like this. his heart aches today worse than usual, maybe because it's been just about a month since move-in, two months since it all happened. and it's enough to have him imagining the letter icon on his phone flashing on, hachi's name in the from field, subject line starting with his name.

ah, shit, wait—he clicks. he sits up. his eyes widen and he scans the text at least half a dozen times, pinches himself (a little too hard, maybe) to ensure he's not just sleeping or dazed from overwork. well...even if he is, it's better to just reply, right? while he has the courage. it's the least he can do for her, for being braver than he's ever shown her he could be. ]

You don't have anything to apologize for.

You did what's best for you.

[ For your family he writes, then erases. ]

In my heart, you're already forgiven, so don't worry about that, okay?

But, if it's all right with you, I'd like to have a talk about things.

Let me know.

[ the words come a little too easily, need revision, removal, rethinking. what he eventually sends isn't at all what he wanted to say, but it's close enough.

he snaps his phone shut and leaves it on his chest, his arm coming up to cover his face. maybe he'll just fall asleep at last instead of waiting up for a reply that surely won't come. ]