bring your blue sky back

It was the Sixties- a decade for dalliances for Shinji Hirako. Hidden behind the smoke of back-alley bars and lost somewhere between the lyrics of The Beatles, he was there. Cropped hair with bell bottom jeans and even larger belt buckles to accentuate his thin waist. His life spun faster than a disc on the turntable, taking lovers between beaded curtains and leaving in hazy mornings. The typical laissez-faire man.

Wearing a lazy grin as he nodded his head to the latest tunes in the record store. You caught his eye as he peered over the vinyls, nails catching in the plastic grooves before it slipped from his fingers. Your floral skirt and loose knit top left him feeling as if he was chasing the last of a high through the aisles. His breath caught when you peered over your wire framed glasses glancing at the record in his hands, he was transfixed till you broke the silence-

“Oh, groovy. That’s my favorite record. Wanna come over and listen to it?” you said with a wink.

He’d be a foolish man to say no.

He was in euphoria between your soft curves and sweeter tongue. Staying up all night on your couch arguing over lyrics and politics, only finding peace in each other’s arms. He learned in time you had loose lips and even looser legs. When he questioned it, you’d pause before saying, “Gotta make love not war, Shinji.”

He watched you shrug on your favorite silk robe from your favorite second-hand thrift shop, twirling your fingers around the phone cord like a loose lock of hair. He watched you giggle with whoever invaded this post sex peace. A cigarette perched between his fingers, lips pursed, and the nicotine doing little to soothe his nerves.

“Shinji baby don’t be jealous,” you sighed, brushing the bangs from his forehead.

“Don’ know whatcha mean doll,” he responded quickly. His jaw ticked as he watched the lava lamp bubble up and fall like the anxiety that roiled in his stomach. He proclaimed to the world he'd be a laissez-faire man. But he found you, he couldn’t share any longer.

You tied the strings of the robe before straddling him, locking him into the bed between your knees. “C’mon babe you know I’m a free spirit, can’t be rushing this life. Got so much of it left,” you spoke, the cherry ChapStick felt sticky on his lips as you leaned into him. He knew that, knew what time meant and he also knew when he met you was the first time he felt grounded in decades.

“Heh. I know that know yer a free spirit n’ all. But yer just too perfect to ferget ‘bout.” he looked at you with that levelheaded gaze as he stroked your cheek. You rolled that over on your tongue for a moment then reached down to undo the ties on your robe, exposing yourself to his hands once more. He complied, running a hand down your curves before finally settling it on your hip. He rubbed small circles idly with a thumb, putting out his cigarette in the ash tray on the bedside table and grabbing the small trinket.

“Wanna give yah a lil’ somethin’ though. Food fer thought.” He placed a ring in your hand, running his fingers over your knuckles. You stared at a loss for words. It was a cheap little band no different from you. A small little diamond just to your liking, it was an oddity found in a thrift shop no less.

“You knew my ring size?” you smirked, placing the ring on your finger and staring at it in the dim light. He smiled back not daring to respond that he knew it since the day you met, no he wouldn’t push it, wouldn’t push you.

“I think we’re onto something good, Mr. Hirako.” You nestled your head into the crook of his neck, his sweet scent calming your racing heart.