(Post from 16 Dec 2009,
http://theuntainted-illusionist.blogspot.com/2009/12/another-boring-day_16.html)
Cursing, he heaved himself up the narrow ledge. Admittedly, he wasn’t the same lean youngster he was before. Well still young, but at times like this he had to admit that his indiscriminate taste for all foods was getting the better of him. Still, years of gruelling dance training (among other things) could still pay off. In one quick movement he caught hold of the window ledge. Her window ledge. Yet, with his face pressed against the familiar rough surface of her wall, he knew this place belonged very much to him as well.
With that thought, gentle memories weaved through his mind, but what most amused him was that after so many years, he was still concerned about people finding out. One never knew who could be looking out of their uniformed apartment windows, even at such an hour. A place like Tokyo was so small and populated, that the risk of accidental intrusions of privacy was high. Not that there was anything private about climbing up an apartment building.
Out of habit he almost knocked on her bedroom window, before he caught himself. Technically, he remembered, they were no longer friends. At least not the kind of friends who would sneak into each other’s houses in the middle of the night, hide under the bed, and tell each other ghost stories. Not even the sort of friends who would just hang around — Doing nothing, and talking about nothing of any consequence. Maybe that was why he was here. Sometimes he felt that if he had to beg, he would. If he had to force her, he would. Anything to regain what was lost.
Relieved, he found the window unlocked, and he pushed it up carefully with one hand, while tightly grabbing on to the ledge with the other. He wasn’t about to die just when he was so close to her. He could even see her. Yep, he could see alright, with the silky fabric of her nightgown outlining the gentle contours of her back. It would’ve have been incredibly poetic, if not for the fact that he had never seen her in anything quite as womanly before. What else could have changed?
He lifted himself over the ledge, one long leg after the other. Once he reached his destination, he proceeded to remove his shoes. It may have seemed like forever, but truthfully it had only been a few months ago when they had fought in this very room — her, over things that were too foreign to comprehend, and him, over feelings that had gotten too intimate.
Maybe she was still a heavy sleeper. And she was. She never stirred as he walked towards her. She never moved even as he lifted the covers, the bed to creaking softly under his weight as he made his way next to her.
Gradually his arms reached around her shoulders, and he pulled her close. No, some things did not change. Leaning closer, he took in the familiar scent. Nothing special, nothing fancy, but still distinctly her.
His nose grazed her hair for a moment, before he settled to resting his chin on the top of her head. For the first time in a long while he found himself drifting easily into sleep, cradled by a sense of comfort that reached far beyond the physical. He was glad he thought of coming, and even happier still that he actually did. Tomorrow she would awaken, and probably attempt to push him away for good. But tomorrow could worry about itself.
