overture - sentimental.
[prologue]
word count: roughly 2k.
disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is my first time writing in english (also my first post on tumblr). iâm sorry if there are any mistakes and iâm also open to recommendations and constructive comments.
thank you so much for reading!
flights back home always feel different.
you thought youâd gotten used to it already. this feeling of suddenâŠnostalgia? a vague and ambiguous sense of longing, a glimmer of yearningâŠbut somehow, it always managed to catch up to you, almost subconsciously, in the most random moments possible even. could be right after youâd just finished the check-in, or when you found yourself settling down somewhere in the terminal area, patiently (or not) waiting for the attendants to announce your departure. or it could so happen to be that, only when youâd peacefully found your seat on the plane, with your bags neatly put in the bin above your head, your eyes absentmindedly gazing out to the small view you got from the porthole as the plane took offâŠand, in a moment of distraction-blocking out all the background noises of other passengers and the safety instructions that youâd probably heard more times than you could count (you swore you could almost recite it accurately by now), you let your mind run wild and zone out; only then would the feeling finally hit.
slow yet hard, most of the time you werenât even aware that it was coming. like a worm, it subtly and sneakily crept up your spine and went for a headshot like that. or maybe, maybe it had always been that one parasite stubbornly sticking in the back of your mind.
personally, it made you feel more sentimental than necessary.
the act of leaving and returning has, should have, become a familiar routine for the likes of you - those kids who chose to soar their wings and reach for the sky high above, now looking back to their old tree in the hope of catching sight of whatever remains of the nest they once called home.
...
itoshi sae could say the same - about the feelings - in his own way, but it wasnât like he would admit it anytime soon. not in such a specific way that you would feel, not so hopeful, and yearning or longing would definitely be an overestimation. it was more like that of a strange and twisty sensation that would shoot up from the pit of his gut and send a shiver up and down his spine.
frankly, he didnât have much hope or regrets for anything, home being one of them. he hadnât been there for so long anyway. in that same way, he didnât have much spare time, like you did, to pause his constant train of thoughts and reminisce either. whether it was on the way to the airport or during the waiting time, sae would either be asleep (that daily 8-hour sleep record couldnât be achieved merely overnight for someone with such a tight schedule like him) or have to sit through his managerâs going on and on about the upcoming events and reminding (begging) him to please try to be a little more easygoing with the public. as much as he found it annoying, sae didnât entirely blame the poor man as he was the one who, no matter how many times his manager repeated them, would easily come to forget trivial (as he put it) events of the day unless they were training or purely soccer-related. he simply thought it was a waste of time and energy to memorize unimportant stuff. whatâs the point of having a manager again?
it is almost impossible for most people, including his own manager, to imagine the sae itoshi having any prominent thoughts aside from soccer. and, in fact, they arenât wrong. they just arenât accurately right either, because while soccer certainly dominates his mind, it is only the majority of the time. there are still those rare moments where he lets himself loosen up a little bit and allows the sentiments to settle in.
thoughts of the old days would come rushing back, like tidal waves hitting against the seemingly calm shore. the images of familiar faces, the taste of the shared ice creams, the crispness and saltiness in the air by the cliffâŠthey kept popping up one after another at such a pace that was too much for his liking.
âŠtoo much, he thought.
for someone like sae, emotions surely were a handful. he would start to feel overwhelmed, even having the subtle urge to throw up sometimes, if he stayed like that - sentimental - for too long. he didnât exactly feel bad about it, though it was rather uncomfortable.
another thing; he had the habit of randomly stopping dead in his tracks or just walking until he bumped into a surface while in such a trance-like state. it was as if his body was on autopilot; it might take more than just a call, maybe a gentle push to snap him out of it. certainly a sight to behold, catching itoshi sae when heâs the closest to being vulnerable.
____________________________________________
this would be the first time you do connecting flight.
while you hadnât exactly done flying that often, those few last times were all direct flights. it was fair to say they cost a fortune each and every time even if youâd carefully booked the tickets two months ahead to avoid the holiday seasonâs price surge. a notable downside of studying abroad by yourself, along with other fees as well, and you could still keep wondering why your pocket was always empty.
obviously, connecting flight would be the more economical choice. a few more hours wouldnât hurt anyone and youâd have all the time in the world to let the feelings sink in. to feel them seeping through layers of fleshes and nerves, dripping down the bones of your rib cage before they finally come back to rest somewhere deep within your chest.
fortunately for you, sentiments seemed to linger for far longer than usual todayâŠand perhaps a little deeper too.
so much so you barely noticed how the plane had already landed. you could still catch it when the captain broadcasted what seemed to be their thanks on the speaker, but before you knew it, your legs had automatically led you out of the plane, your bags in your hands since god knows when. as soon as the exits were opened, the attendantsâ thank-youâs barely reaching your ears and the roar of the engine slowly dissipating, passengers hastily made their way through the jet bridge into the airport. making a quick look around and taking in your surroundings made you feel mildly restless. maybe rushed. maybe excited. but you didnât find it in yourself to actually quicken your steps to match the others. distracted, still.
somewhere along the way, you ended up getting stuck and squished among the crowd until you decided to just slow down and retreat to one side of the bridge so youâd soon be walking behind everyone instead of squeezing your way through. space, at last. or so you thought. aside from the one brief look-around youâd taken earlier, you kept your eyes low the whole time. too focused (distraction in disguise) on how the floor was looking a little too much interesting than it should have been, you werenât even aware that you were soon approaching the end of the bridge.
but before you could trip over the stoop leading to the insideâŠ
ââŠhuh?â
âhuh?â
the sudden contact caught you off guard, and you immediately snapped out of your daydreaming. and here youâd thought you were the slowest one already.
looking up at the other one whoâd you just bumped into, you were met with a, in all honesty, strange combination: magenta haired and a pair of teal colored eyes. such sharp gaze like those eyes could pierce right through you, but boy was he such a pretty one too.
âsorrââ
âyouâre staring.â
maybe at least let you finish your apology first?
ââŠand youâre in my way.â
âsimply move aside, idiot.â
you took that back. this one was hella ugly. and rude. and whatâs with the slick-back bang anyway? it was even more infuriating that he seemed as if he was looking down on you from over his shoulder. like you were barely worth the briefest of a glance.
âthanks, genius. and what if i donât want that?â
at that point, he finally turned back to properly face you and the silence that stretched on afterward was rather awkward. on the one hand, you were probably thinking if that was sassy enough of a comeback to his insult; you swore you could have come up with better ones if it were your friends. on the other hand, though, it felt weird that both of you would occur to be walking on the same lane and bump into each other like this. it wasnât crowded anymore, it hadnât been for a while now given how you had been taking your time, and there was plenty of space too. what were the odds youâd actually run into someone, much less bickering with them over an accidental contact?
well, life sure is full of surprises. but câmon, it couldnât have been entirely your fault, right? yes, you werenât focusing at all but just who would stand rooted to the spot in such a random place like a jet bridge? there was nothing to look at, and he wasnât even looking anywhere or checking anything (in case one might think he was going through his phone or something, no, he wasnât at all), merely staring into whatever he saw in the wall ahead of you both.
âthen youâre just plain stupid.â
and he was just plain autistic, standing there like that.
despite the composure and that stiff expression he incessantly kept on his face, you caught the faintest rumble escaping his throat, like an annoyed grumble. for a second, you suddenly got hyper-aware of the proximity that you two were sharing, which would only heighten the awkwardness for you. with a clear of the throat, you quickly stepped back, your hands unconsciously tightening their grip on your bags. this one sure was good with his eye contact. you swore you could feel it, there were already several holes pierced all over you the moment you looked away.
ââŠand youâre being such a bitch about it.â
you mumbled under your breath, almost a whisper yet was loud enough for the other one to hear, your brows twitching and creasing into a small frown. still, you refused to look back up at him, almost too nervous to see what kind of expression he was making. so, as impulsive as it was, you decided to do both of you a favor and be the first to walk away.
as you went your way, you couldnât help but think if whatever had just happened was slightly out of character for you. it wasnât like you to come off soâŠtemperamental like that. not with strangers, at least. maybe you were just feeling bad for calling him a bitch.
âŠbut genuinely, just who did he think he was with that attitude? some kind of celebrity?
it was then that you caught a glimpse of a man running past you in the opposite direction, in his hand a bunch of papers and what seemed to be a tablet pressed closely against his chest. not that you were too curious about it though.
âsae! why are you still here? i thought you'd left midway or something!â
there wasnât any immediate response, but... sae, huh? that rang a bell. maybe you had heard of it somewhere.
âdonât tell me you were zoning out again?â
ââŠjust some minor inconvenience with an idiot.â
âoh, uhâŠfans must be crazy these days, huh?â
ânot a fan, just an idiot.â
for once, maybe you wouldnât mind throwing hands with a celebrity.
.
.
.
note: this is very much self experiences inserted. i was hoping to set the mood for later on, but it ended up being a little too lengthy. this part doesn't have much interactions and is a little slow paced (?), and the ending seems sorta off to me. but all in all, i still wish to keep this draft and i hope you will enjoy it too!