rare gems and common stones galore

You sighed as you hauled your luggage off the conveyor belt, merging back into the crowd headed towards the arrivals gate. It was early in the morning and you hadn’t slept a wink on the flight, but your brain hadn’t caught up with the time change yet. You returned the excited wave your parents directed at you from halfway across the floor with a relieved smile, speeding up your pace to meet them. Your mother instantly held you in an embrace, only lasting an instant as she pulled away to observe how you’ve changed since you left. An arm, your father’s, slung across your shoulders once your hug ended, gently guiding you to the parking lot exit.

“You’ve grown up so much!” your mother exclaimed, a wide smile splitting her cheeks.

“Have I?” you said with a laugh, lifting a hand to the side of your face as if you could feel the difference a couple years has made on you.

The trip back to your childhood home was filled with stories from university on your end and how life has been on your parents’ side. Sunlight was peeking through the blinds of your old room when you finished unpacking, jet lag suddenly catching up to you as you flopped onto your mattress.

You blearily woke up sometime later, your father knocking on your door to tell you that lunch would be done soon only a few minutes after. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you hauled yourself into a sitting position, eyes taking in the memories as your brain started to work again. You stood up without exactly knowing why but you felt a pit in your stomach as you reached for an all to familiar box. It seemed that no matter how much time passed, you’d still be thinking of him. Thumbing through the pictures filled with smiles and beauty marks and shining brown eyes, you wondered if he ever did the same with the pictures he had of you-- that is, he even kept them. You felt dumb for even thinking back on those times, there was no chance you to be happy with him again. You hoped he couldn’t be happy without you either.

Your hand froze as something dry and flat grazed your touch. True love. With a shaky breath, you closed the box and headed towards the dining room with a bittersweet taste on your tongue.

The hunt for a job was no doubt difficult, yet another interview passed without any promise of making progress. You couldn’t wait to make it home and change to comfier clothes as you trudged through the streets. There didn’t seem to be any end to the phone calls and copied resumes and you found yourself longing for an easier time. Close friends, simpler days, afternoons listening to squeaks on linoleum and palms hitting spikes and… him.

Memory has a funny way of guiding you as you had mindlessly walked to Sakanoshita, only a step away from triggering the doors’ sensor. You rolled back your shoulders with a sigh, it seemed your stroll down memory lane had been less metaphorical than you originally planned. The doors opened with a whoosh! of cool air and you stepped in before you could psych yourself out of it.

“Long time no see,” a gruff voice called to you from behind the register. It was Ukai, his hair no longer bleached but still pushed back by a wire headband. “How’ve you been?”

You bowed your head to him in greeting, feigning choosing between the nikuman to avoid looking at him. “I’m still adjusting back to life here, I guess. How has everyone been?”

“A lot’s happened, but they’re all still the same as they were in high school. The biggest surprise was when Tanaka actually got Kiyoko to marry him.” He picked up the bun you pointed at with parchment paper and handed it to you, already beginning to ring you up. “I’m doin’ fine too, thanks for askin’.”

“I’m glad you are, coach,” you replied with a small laugh.

“And,” he continued without even looking up, “before you ask he’s doin’ fine too, took him ages but Daichi got him to move on.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you lied breezily, ignoring the itch in your throat as you quickly paid in silence.

It seemed you had to rely on the fact that you’d lived overseas to get a job, teaching English at the elementary school was the only fruitful option you had at the moment. It was your first day and the kids were nice enough as you guided them through sounding out the syllables and tracing the letters, but you still felt tired as you stepped into the break room-- before feeling a flush of regret. He’d already met your eyes so there was no hope of pretending this didn’t happen. The blankness in his stare felt like it was festering inside you, nothing like the adoring glances as he handed you half bouquets or held your hand or laid in your lap.

“Sugawara-san.” It felt weird to say his name after so long, and formally at that, but it felt even worse for him to do the same to you. You hadn’t realized that seeing him again would have to be like meeting him as a stranger again and you hated how much you longed to close the gap that you had forced between yourselves and wanted to feel the familiarity there had once been.

An awkward silence permeated the air as you sat on opposite sides of the room, trying so desperately to ignore each other’s presence. You decided that you hated it, that you never wanted to feel this again. You were grateful as more teachers pooled in, some greeting you before heading over to chat with Sugawara while others remained to get to know you. Hearing his laughter made your heart twist and you were suddenly very aware that it would be a long year, a burning sensation lighting in your lungs.

You couldn’t count how many nights you spent hating that you were falling in love with him all over again, but it didn’t stop the fondness from growing and the burn in your chest from intensifying. All of those nights of feeling like an idiot to still love someone who’d slipped away before you even realized came spilling out after one too many drinks at a company dinner. It was the last weekend before summer break and all the staff had pooled into an izakaya; things only got out of hand when the principal had a few too many and insisted everyone have a few more as well. A small collection of teachers that you had grown close to eventually brought him up and your slipping filter let through that you’d been together for most of high school and the fact that your heart had never quite moved on. There was a small moment of cheers, some insisting that you repeat everything to him, but you refrained. You knew why you couldn’t.

“Did things not end well? He seems like he’d be so sweet as a boyfriend,” one of your nosy seniors prodded.

“He was,” you stared down your glass. “But it’s not his fault he fell out of love.”

A silence quickly spread and you felt your throat close.

“He used to give me flowers before every date. His favorite were daisies, said they meant true love.”

As everyone began filing home, one of your friends (one of the few people who refused to drink that night) insisted you all carpool home for safety. Waiting for everyone to get situated in the car before entering yourself, you could see a head of gray hair from around the sedan. You had half a mind to walk up to him, say something to him, finally ask him why, until you heard a voice you’d only encountered once before, this time layered with admonishing worry than adoration towards a gray-haired colleague, though their laughter rang through the air just before the slam of a car door.  The itch in your throat turned into a cough, you brought your elbow to your face as it racked your body three, four more times. Your coworkers sounded off their concerns you might have a cold. You insisted you didn’t.

You fell into your barely moved-into house, taking the time to chug a glass of water and refill it before traipsing towards your bed. The itch in your throat insisted even as you felt your tired eyes droop.

Petals covered your bathroom floor, hangover made worse by the way the dreaded white things kept forcing their way up through coughing fits. Sobs filled the space and you mindlessly swiped beneath your eyes when you weren’t clawing at your lungs. It felt like an eternity before you gasped enough air, the spasming in your lungs finally stopping. Groaning, you shakily stood against the wall and reached for a broom. You made up your mind.

You hated yourself for this, hated the cold sweat that wouldn’t stop, hated the taste of daisies on your tongue, hated your own heart for only beating for him after all this time. The irony was not lost on you as the dainty, white blooms growing in his front garden stared back at you, the same flowers that he used to present to you with an endeared smile and the same flowers you’d swept off your bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath, you knocked.

His surprise was evident as he answered the door, in his eyes, in the way he said your name, in the way his mind seemed to be working a mile a minute to find something to say. “I thought you still hated me.”

“The issue is that I don’t think I ever could.” The confused stare you received in response tightened your chest. It felt dumb, confessing to him all over again. “I know you stopped feeling things for me years ago, but I still love you, no matter how much I wish I could stop. I just thought you should know, but you don’t have to do anything about it. Just… make sure you get your happy ending soon.”

You sighed as you hauled your luggage off the conveyor belt, merging back into the crowd headed towards the arrivals gate. It was early in the morning and you hadn’t slept a wink on the flight, but your brain hadn’t caught up with the time change yet. You returned the excited wave your parents directed at you from halfway across the floor with a relieved smile, speeding up your pace to meet them. Your mother instantly held you in an embrace, only lasting an instant as she pulled away to observe how you’ve changed since you left. An arm, your father’s, slung across your shoulders once your hug ended, gently guiding you to the parking lot exit.

“You’ve grown up so much!” your mother exclaimed, a wide smile splitting her cheeks.

“Have I?” you said with a laugh, lifting a hand to the side of your face as if you could feel the difference a couple years has made on you.

The trip back to your childhood home was filled with stories from university on your end and how life has been on your parents’ side. Sunlight was peeking through the blinds of your old room when you finished unpacking, jet lag suddenly catching up to you as you flopped onto your mattress.

You blearily woke up sometime later, your father knocking on your door to tell you that lunch would be done soon only a few minutes after. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you hauled yourself into a sitting position, eyes taking in the memories as your brain started to work again. You stood up without exactly knowing why but you felt a pit in your stomach as you reached for an all to familiar box. It seemed that no matter how much time passed, you’d still be thinking of him. Thumbing through the pictures filled with smiles and beauty marks and shining brown eyes, you wondered if he ever did the same with the pictures he had of you-- that is, he even kept them. You felt dumb for even thinking back on those times, there was no chance you to be happy with him again. You hoped he couldn’t be happy without you either.

Your hand froze as something dry and flat grazed your touch. True love. With a shaky breath, you closed the box and headed towards the dining room with a bittersweet taste on your tongue.

The hunt for a job was no doubt difficult, yet another interview passed without any promise of making progress. You couldn’t wait to make it home and change to comfier clothes as you trudged through the streets. There didn’t seem to be any end to the phone calls and copied resumes and you found yourself longing for an easier time. Close friends, simpler days, afternoons listening to squeaks on linoleum and palms hitting spikes and… him.

Memory has a funny way of guiding you as you had mindlessly walked to Sakanoshita, only a step away from triggering the doors’ sensor. You rolled back your shoulders with a sigh, it seemed your stroll down memory lane had been less metaphorical than you originally planned. The doors opened with a whoosh! of cool air and you stepped in before you could psych yourself out of it.

“Long time no see,” a gruff voice called to you from behind the register. It was Ukai, his hair no longer bleached but still pushed back by a wire headband. “How’ve you been?”

You bowed your head to him in greeting, feigning choosing between the nikuman to avoid looking at him. “I’m still adjusting back to life here, I guess. How has everyone been?”

“A lot’s happened, but they’re all still the same as they were in high school. The biggest surprise was when Tanaka actually got Kiyoko to marry him.” He picked up the bun you pointed at with parchment paper and handed it to you, already beginning to ring you up. “I’m doin’ fine too, thanks for askin’.”

“I’m glad you are, coach,” you replied with a small laugh.

“And,” he continued without even looking up, “before you ask he’s doin’ fine too, took him ages but Daichi got him to move on.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you lied breezily, ignoring the itch in your throat as you quickly paid in silence.

It seemed you had to rely on the fact that you’d lived overseas to get a job, teaching English at the elementary school was the only fruitful option you had at the moment. It was your first day and the kids were nice enough as you guided them through sounding out the syllables and tracing the letters, but you still felt tired as you stepped into the break room-- before feeling a flush of regret. He’d already met your eyes so there was no hope of pretending this didn’t happen. The blankness in his stare felt like it was festering inside you, nothing like the adoring glances as he handed you half bouquets or held your hand or laid in your lap.

“Sugawara-san.” It felt weird to say his name after so long, and formally at that, but it felt even worse for him to do the same to you. You hadn’t realized that seeing him again would have to be like meeting him as a stranger again and you hated how much you longed to close the gap that you had forced between yourselves and wanted to feel the familiarity there had once been.

An awkward silence permeated the air as you sat on opposite sides of the room, trying so desperately to ignore each other’s presence. You decided that you hated it, that you never wanted to feel this again. You were grateful as more teachers pooled in, some greeting you before heading over to chat with Sugawara while others remained to get to know you. Hearing his laughter made your heart twist and you were suddenly very aware that it would be a long year, a burning sensation lighting in your lungs.

You couldn’t count how many nights you spent hating that you were falling in love with him all over again, but it didn’t stop the fondness from growing and the burn in your chest from intensifying. All of those nights of feeling like an idiot to still love someone who’d slipped away before you even realized came spilling out after one too many drinks at a company dinner. It was the last weekend before summer break and all the staff had pooled into an izakaya; things only got out of hand when the principal had a few too many and insisted everyone have a few more as well. A small collection of teachers that you had grown close to eventually brought him up and your slipping filter let through that you’d been together for most of high school and the fact that your heart had never quite moved on. There was a small moment of cheers, some insisting that you repeat everything to him, but you refrained. You knew why you couldn’t.

“Did things not end well? He seems like he’d be so sweet as a boyfriend,” one of your nosy seniors prodded.

“He was,” you stared down your glass. “But it’s not his fault he fell out of love.”

A silence quickly spread and you felt your throat close.

“He used to give me flowers before every date. His favorite were daisies, said they meant true love.”

As everyone began filing home, one of your friends (one of the few people who refused to drink that night) insisted you all carpool home for safety. Waiting for everyone to get situated in the car before entering yourself, you could see a head of gray hair from around the sedan. You had half a mind to walk up to him, say something to him, finally ask him why, until you heard a voice you’d only encountered once before, this time layered with admonishing worry than adoration towards a gray-haired colleague, though their laughter rang through the air just before the slam of a car door.  The itch in your throat turned into a cough, you brought your elbow to your face as it racked your body three, four more times. Your coworkers sounded off their concerns you might have a cold. You insisted you didn’t.

You fell into your barely moved-into house, taking the time to chug a glass of water and refill it before traipsing towards your bed. The itch in your throat insisted even as you felt your tired eyes droop.

Petals covered your bathroom floor, hangover made worse by the way the dreaded white things kept forcing their way up through coughing fits. Sobs filled the space and you mindlessly swiped beneath your eyes when you weren’t clawing at your lungs. It felt like an eternity before you gasped enough air, the spasming in your lungs finally stopping. Groaning, you shakily stood against the wall and reached for a broom. You made up your mind.

You hated yourself for this, hated the cold sweat that wouldn’t stop, hated the taste of daisies on your tongue, hated your own heart for only beating for him after all this time. The irony was not lost on you as the dainty flowers growing in his front garden stared at you, the same flowers he’d once presented to you with an endeared smile and the same flowers you’d swept up. Taking a deep breath, you knocked.

His surprise was evident as he answered the door, in his eyes, in the way he said your name, in the way his mind seemed to be working a mile a minute to find something to say. “I thought you still hated me.”

“The issue is that I don’t think I ever could.” The confused stare you received in response tightened your chest. It felt dumb, confessing to him all over again. “I know you stopped feeling things for me years ago, but I still love you, no matter how much I wish I could stop. I just thought you should know, but you don’t have to do anything about it. Just… make sure you get your happy ending soon.”