You and I [Completed!]

A Little Bit Of Me And A Little Bit Of You

"Morning." He greeted with an effort to break the ice. The woman merely nodded and her lips pressed tight in response. Another spell of awkward silence ensued, making the narrow corridor feel cramped. She shuffled from foot to foot, insinuating him to step away and let her pass.

Arata sighed. This was going to take a while. Resigning himself to possible rejection, he ventured,"Coffee?"

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Sitting in a chair, arms folded and nails digging into the brown fabric of her sleeves, Hanami watched the man working at the kitchen counter. He reached for the coffee mugs placed on the glass shelf, paused in confusion at their displacement and retrieved a red mug from its new position. Being short statured, she had been forced to stand on her tiptoes to reach the shelf. The man however, was tall and could do it with ease. She recalled playing around with the cups when she'd found herself at loose ends after cooking. Her lashes then swept to the hapless vessel on the stove inside which the effort of her hard work remained, wasted.

"It's a good weather." He poured coffee into a mug."No rain today."

The cadence of his voice seemed artificial, as if he'd been practicing those lines for quite a while and had spoken them. Lacking a response that didn't betray the anger she felt, Hanami remained quiet.

"I noticed you cooked last night." He placed the cup on the table and took a seat across her.

"Yes. I did."

She realized he hadn't prepared a cup for himself. His eyes still held the daze of late night drinking. He reached for a sandwich he seemed to have prepared before hand, arranged it on a plate and slipped it towards her. She shook her head in refusal. A frown appeared between the apex of his brow and he leaned back into his chair. The plump sandwich remained between the two, as if marking a line of control across the table.

"Was this the first time you cooked?"he asked.

The question made her cheeks flame with vexation. Her eyebrows shifted upwards and a audible huff escaped her lips. He looked startled as if he had no inkling what went wrong with his horrible attempt at conversation.

"Do you always drink and return home late?"she questioned back instead of answering him.

"No. I rarely drink but yes, I do stay out for long. Yesterday, the company director treated me to a drink. I couldn't refuse."

Hanami lifted her cup and took a sip. It turned out to be far too hot for her tongue and she slammed the vessel back with an irritated wince. The man shifted in his seat.

"I called last night, to inform that I'll be late. There was no response from your side. "His eyes now bore into hers with accusation.

"My phone fell off the dresser and it broke. I couldn't make a call nor receive one."

"Then how did you expect me to contact you?"

"This isn't about that--"

"What's it about then?" The man leaned in his chair with a look of a person intent on winning an argument.

Hanami tugged at her bracelet, yanking at the letter 'H'. Arata Miyama was nothing more than a man-child who refused to admit mistakes.

Giving her a cryptic look, the man stood up from his chair and padded to the counter. Perhaps, the conversation was over and she had been deemed guilty. Hanami fell silent and drank down the bubbling bitterness in her heart.

Irritated by the failure of his plan, Arata went over to the counter and reached for a cup. To heck with the hangover and dehydration. He poured coffee from a carafe, added a hint of sugar and some milk.

The conversation had strayed completely off the trajectory he'd planned. He could apologize to a boardroom full of sneering seniors but placed before the woman, he felt cornered. And he lashed out.

Arata closed his eyes and took a deep breath. One last time, he thought.

With an audible clearing of his throat, he drew her attention. "About last night...I don't quite remember what happened but I may have startled you." He waited, expecting a response but heard nothing. "I have low tolerance for alcohol and usually I don't drink that much."

"You stepped on glass last night. How's your foot?"came a reluctant query from behind his back. When Arata turned around he noticed that the woman had placed her hands over the steaming coffee mug, warming them. Her palms were small and pink.

"It's fine." He offered a complacent smile, which, unfortunately went unnoticed. Arata returned to his seat. "Was there anything else I said or did, last night?"

"You broke a vase and... No, that's all."

"I see."

"Did something happen last night, Mr Miyama?"

"No,"he answered, a bit too quick. The woman nodded in silence, took a gulp of her drink and resumed warming her hands with the mug. Thankfully, her expressions looked lighter.

The dense silence reigning over them thinned, allowing him to breath. ​​​

"Sorry."

"What?"

"That's the word you were looking for throughout this conversation, Mr Miyama." Hanami rose to her feet, her expressions hidden by soft bangs. "Thank you for the coffee and the sandwich. Also, ginger tea might relieve you of a hangover."

Arata watched the woman skirt past him, and pad out of the kitchen in silence.

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