lemon flavored scones | ushijima wakatoshi.
summary: he is forty five, and love tastes like lemon.
the word love dissolves in his mouth at age forty five, for what feels like the nth time. only now, he tastes it. the consonants and vowels of your name, and the aftertaste of lemon from that scone he always hears you talk about from that corner store down the road.
ushijima doesn’t remember the name or the specifics, the look of the scone, but he tastes it now.
love is a burst of lemon, the first and last letter of your name, and the scent of your scarf bundled up to your neck at this winter. and this morning, upon the daily five minute reminiscing he has over his morning coffee, he was seventeen and sounding out love, thinking the face is his classmate who sat in front of him during his last year. it wasn’t. love was the illusion that spring’s sakura brought in shades of pink. and over lunch, he was twenty five, and clapping at satori’s wedding, thinking that perhaps all love would ever be are the fruit of his passions staring at him in front of a mirror, hanging as gold on shelves. then at the stoplight, on the way to you, he was thirty seven, walking alone down the same road that he walked just an hour ago, thinking that the height of his love, in this world, would just be a word in his mouth that dissolves and stops. that there would never be a taste at the moment, and an aftertaste to be remembered. a flicker, a sample, a light tug, but never that pull.
so it’s funny, that at forty five– today, and right now, love is sparked with a taste and a sight. love is this start. a fumble of words, like, “did i kiss you okay?” “shall i walk you home?” and a quiet minute, before taking your cold hand in his pocket and walking with you, giddy, like he’s twenty again and on his first date.
but then again, forty five is just a number, and love can be sakura or lemon scones regardless of the season or decade. and ushijima thinks that more than anything he wishes to walk through this slowly, around the block, right beside you, so he can savor the lemon he’s never tasted until today.
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