Axels and Heartstrings

You Are Music

Chapter Twelve

Hana's eyes clenched.

A noise had managed to infiltrate the deep recess of her subconscious mind, rustling her from sleep. She tried to ignore it, knowing it was still way too early to be up. Yet, she couldn't shake off the surprise of waking up at all. Lately, her nights had been filled with uninterrupted rest, thanks to the soulmate bond and the presence of Yuzuru's hand clasped in hers.

Her eyes popped open, realization dawning on her.  Yuzuru's hand was not there.

Then, she heard another noise, this one sounding distressed.

Turning over in the bed, her eyes searched through the darkness- over the row of pillows Yuzuru always felt the need to put in-between them, and to the man himself. 

His eyes were closed.  He was still asleep. And, if Hana didn't know any better, she would have thought that she was hearing things.

For the briefest of moments she marveled at how vulnerable he looked, a stark contrast to the guarded facade he wore when awake. Recollections of their earlier clash that evening flooded her mind—his unexpected burst of anger when she returned home, after her first time truly leaving the apartment in weeks.

She had gone to bed pissed at him.  She had already been hurt by his actions over the past few weeks, and then to be on the receiving side of his unjustified anger, well... she thought she would stay angry at him for a while.  But looking at him now,  she realized the futility of harboring such feelings.

Hana always had a hard time staying mad at someone, even if she had a right to be.  Why did she think she would be any different towards her soulmate?  Perhaps she really was the naive, push-over that Naomi had accused her of being before she left Japan.

Hana's anger seemed to dull even further when another sound escaped her soulmate's lips.  When his eyebrows furrowed and his chest began to rise and fall rapidly with shallow breaths, her stomach tied in knots.

Whether it be the soulmate connection, or simply genuine concern, Hana couldn't stop her hand from moving towards him on instinct.

She cradled his cheek, her fingers diving into the messy locks of his hair that draped his face in slumber.  She wouldn't dare touch him like this when he was awake, but she couldn't help herself when there was nothing holding her back.

Almost instantaneously his brow relaxed, and in his unaware state, he nestled even closer at the contact, lips parting with a sigh.

Hana's breath caught in her throat as she watched him. 

Her soulmate was beautiful. It was something she had always known, since she had laid eyes on him years ago. But it was a thought she had pushed aside, her joy towards his skating overshadowing any sort of physical attraction she had towards him.  When other girls were gushing over his features, she was gushing over his edge-work and artistry.

Her admiration stemmed from his innate ability to weave songs and stories into graceful movements, evoking emotions that captivated all who watched.

She too had been captivated by how he appeared unshackled on the ice, liberated from the constraints of the world around him, effortlessly articulating his innermost self with every glide and turn.

Before knowing him personally, Hana never would have imagined that off the ice he was entirely different.  Of the ice, he became a fortress, his true self hidden behind guarded walls.

Only on rare occasions, ones like this, was she able to catch a fleeting glimpse of what lay within—his anxiety, his intellect, his tenderness—all masked yet inadvertently revealed through his subtle gestures.