How We Met Again

Chapter 33: Dichotomous Choices

The sky was a blotted canvas of clouds, mottled shades of grey, light and dark intertwining in patchy discordance -- the sort of all-encompassing coverage that tempts rain, yet never quite comes through with its promises. A bleary picture, the final day of November. The type of day that makes one want to curl up under a blanket next to a homely hearth, well furnished with a roaring fire, and sleep for a thousand years.

Unfortunately, with the finals rapidly closing in and the first exam a mere four days away, that sort of luxury was scarcely an option.

"Uesugi-san, I don't fully understand this bit..."

Lowering my chopsticks with a small sigh, I leaned over the cafeteria table to take a look at the page that a visibly frustrated Yotsuba was showing me. The question at hand was a fusion between trigonometry and geometry -- slightly more advanced than the kind of problems we'd been tackling thus far. I'd been hoping Yotsuba would be able to successfully synthesize the disparate concepts on her own.

"First step," I said, frowning down at the page. "Label things with variables."

"Oh! Um... which things?"

"Everything."

Her brow furrowed, Yotsuba pulled the paper back and stared down at it. Then, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, she began writing down variable names on the piece of paper. As she scratched away at the page, I picked my chopsticks back up and resumed eating my lunch, my eyes trained entirely on her.

I was worried.

Her shoulders were hunched, and her usual posture had deteriorated to the point of practically slouching. There was a drawn quality to her face, the corners of her lips pulled back tightly -- as her eyes scanned over the page below her, there was a dullness to them that didn't suit her. A lack of the usual sheen that was a reflection of her enthusiasm, and her normally boundless energy.

I felt my own lips draw tight. There's something wrong.

It had been two weeks since our phone call, and our conversation in the cold. After that, we'd fallen into an uneasy new equilibrium -- there was an underlying tension, yet also a sort of quiet comfort as well. It didn't help matters that I had essentially only seen her during the lunch break; every weekday evening had been taken up by either track, or Takeda. The weekend had been our only reprieve. Consequently, as the finals began to loom on the horizon, I'd begrudgingly decided to turn my priorities to other places. To putting all of my energy into supporting her as best I could.

There was no use dwelling on things. Ultimately, Yotsuba had set an explicit boundary. There was now finally a firm line in the sand, a marker by which I could begin to determine where we stood, even if it was only the most approximate of measures.

I wasn't about to violate it.

After the line had gone dead and I'd returned in from the cold, I'd decided that I was willing to give her what she'd asked for. Time. And, in the time until she was ready to answer my questions... I would wait.

There was still a part of me, an impatient part, that demanded immediate answers. That demanded to know exactly what her motivations were, and what exactly she thought of me. To know the truth behind her confusing emotions, and the inexplicable look of pain that had appeared on her face in the dancing firelight.

But...

She promised she would eventually tell me. So... I'm going to choose to believe her.

That decision had felt like an itch in my throat, sitting uncomfortably, something that I wanted desperately to scratch, to clear away -- but, there was nothing I could do. Only time would relieve my discomfort.