Storm
Heaven Tonight
She strutted into the ballroom, her head held high, her aura confident. The people around her had their eyes on her, some whispering to each other in harsh tones while others just stared.
Reagan, Reagan Kazama. She was born in Japan, with a japanese name and a japanese passport-or what was a Japanese passport. Reagan stayed in Japan for the first seven years of her life. Her family decided to move back to their homeland, Singapore, where her two older brothers were born. Her father wanted her to get her education there, unlike her two elders who were taught in Japan.
A gentle smile approached her wine coloured lips as she spotted a man. With hair dyed an even shade of brown, Aiba Masaki’s hair looked golden under the neon lights. He was chatting and laughing aloud casually until his eyes met hers. He stopped.
Silence.
She glanced away for a second before her eyes met his once again. Reagan hadn’t felt that sense of familiarity in a very long time. This was the first time, in three years, that she had set her eyes on him again. Of course she had seen him on the front cover of every Japanese magazine there is. Every poster in Japan. But she hadn’t seen him face-to-face. She hadn’t talked to him in the same room for too long.
He returned her smile, slowly making his way towards her. He loved her smile, he loved how she caried herself, he loved how beautiful she was. And he missed looking at her. He missed touching her hair. He missed holding her when she cried. He missed her.
“Ran-chan.” He greeted, a smirk forming on his lips.
She shook her head, chuckling a little, “It’s Reagan. I revoked my passport for a reason.”
As they embraced each other, she whispered a “Merry Christmas,” in his ear. The words so soothingly soft, it sent shivers down his spine.
‘Merry Christmas, that’s it?’ He asked himself. She’d forgotten. Again.
“Great party you’re having here.” She beamed, looking around the ballroom. Baloons, banners and tackey table cloth. Absolutely Aiba.
He nodded but before he could say a word, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Aiba turned around to find his band members; Ohno Satoshi, Leader of the band, Sakurai Sho, genious compared to the other four members, Ninomiya Kazunari, the only one who had acted in a Hollywood A-list film and Matsumoto Jun, DoS banchou- were trying their best to keep their cheeky grins hidden from the newly crowned 26-year-old.
He turned to Reagan, his smile still intact, and introduced her to his band members- The first time he had done so. Though they had known each other for more than twenty years, she hadn’t met any of his band members in the eight years they have spent as a band. Then again, she didn’t see him much either.
After a minute or two of conversing, the four left, Nino giving Aiba two thumbs up as he walked away. He rolled his eyes. Immatured otaku bastard. He stood in front of her, balancing between his toes and his heels as his hands became clammy. He sighed; ‘I give up.’
They sat beneath the stars, away from the bustling noise of the event, silence between them. They hadn’t had that in a while. They haven’t been surrounded by silence for a long time. They haven’t been around each other for a long time.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” She asked.
He nodded and the silence kept. Until she decided to break it once again.
“I missed you.”
Aiba turned to her, “I missed you too, Ran-chan.”
“You like that name, don’t you? You’ve never called me Reagan ever since I switched nationalities.” She used to own two passports; dual citizenship since she was born in Japan yet grew up for more than half her life in Singapore. She changed her name too, dropping her Japanese one for a more suitable, one that her parents approve of and a more easy to pronounce name.
She kept her last name though, Kazama. It was after her great grandfather, Kazama Ren, who was part of the Japanese war. He stayed on in Singapore to marry a local. Since she was born in Japan, her parents thought it was suitable for her to have the name Kazama Ran- a Japanese one, instead of the normal ones that the Japanese can’t pronounce.’That was redundant,’ She thought when the story was retold for the millionth time.
“No one calls you that anymore. They always go ‘Reagan’ this, ‘Reagan’ that,” He pointed out, “It’s not wrong if I want to preserve something that has been given to you, even though you don’t see the need to.”
“You just want to feel special cause you’re the only one who still calls me that.” She teased, poking his arm.
His soft smile still in place as he gave her a second look, “You’ve got a nice laugh.”
She looked away, her cheeks crimson, “Aiba-kun’ll say anything and everything to lighten the mood. Or change the topic, at the least. But I have to admit, the most prominent reason why I’ve missed your presence so much is because you’d always be my pillar. You’d always be my shoulder,” She sighed, “You’d always be you.”
“Remember a few years back when we were all got together?” She asked, “You, Jin, Allan, Garret and me, we promised each other that we’d stay up all night to talk, have fun. But then I fell asleep mid-way and when I woke up the next morning, I realised it was time for you to go. Hell, it was time for me to go.”
He nodded, he remembered that well. It was her, she was the one who initiated that they slept over at her brother’s place. He was close friends with Allan, the eldest out of the three. Akanishi Jin was best friends with Garett, middle child. The two became aquainted with Reagan because of family ties, which soon related to friendship. He remembered her going around chasing him calling him ugly, those were the times of pure innocence, the times where she hadn’t changed.
“When I boarded the plane,” She continued, “I felt a sense of lost. Normally I would say to myself that we would meet each other the year after. We’d see each others’ smiling faces soon enough. But this time, the overwhelmig surge of sadness controlled me. I don’t know why I was so greatly affected, but I knew, in one way or another, it had to do with you.”
At that moment, Aiba grabbed her arm, pulling her forward firmly towards him, their faces less than an inch apart. She couldn’t have said anything as in the next moment, he had his lips etched on hers.
“I’m crazy, not crazy about you. I’m crazy because of you.” He breathed as they inched apart, “I love you.”
A perfect smile carved itself on her cherry red lips, her fingers entwined with his and his hand softly stroking her cheek, “Do me one last favour,” She said, “Translate that into Japanese.”
“Orewa ga suki da desu.”
She nodded, satisfied; “Happy birthday Aiba-chan.”
And once that was said, he dipped his head down to claim her lips. She hadn’t forgotten, she had remembered. And she gave him the best god-damned present anyone else couldn’t afford.
She was his heaven tonight.
Reagan, Reagan Kazama. She was born in Japan, with a japanese name and a japanese passport-or what was a Japanese passport. Reagan stayed in Japan for the first seven years of her life. Her family decided to move back to their homeland, Singapore, where her two older brothers were born. Her father wanted her to get her education there, unlike her two elders who were taught in Japan.
A gentle smile approached her wine coloured lips as she spotted a man. With hair dyed an even shade of brown, Aiba Masaki’s hair looked golden under the neon lights. He was chatting and laughing aloud casually until his eyes met hers. He stopped.
Silence.
She glanced away for a second before her eyes met his once again. Reagan hadn’t felt that sense of familiarity in a very long time. This was the first time, in three years, that she had set her eyes on him again. Of course she had seen him on the front cover of every Japanese magazine there is. Every poster in Japan. But she hadn’t seen him face-to-face. She hadn’t talked to him in the same room for too long.
He returned her smile, slowly making his way towards her. He loved her smile, he loved how she caried herself, he loved how beautiful she was. And he missed looking at her. He missed touching her hair. He missed holding her when she cried. He missed her.
“Ran-chan.” He greeted, a smirk forming on his lips.
She shook her head, chuckling a little, “It’s Reagan. I revoked my passport for a reason.”
As they embraced each other, she whispered a “Merry Christmas,” in his ear. The words so soothingly soft, it sent shivers down his spine.
‘Merry Christmas, that’s it?’ He asked himself. She’d forgotten. Again.
“Great party you’re having here.” She beamed, looking around the ballroom. Baloons, banners and tackey table cloth. Absolutely Aiba.
He nodded but before he could say a word, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Aiba turned around to find his band members; Ohno Satoshi, Leader of the band, Sakurai Sho, genious compared to the other four members, Ninomiya Kazunari, the only one who had acted in a Hollywood A-list film and Matsumoto Jun, DoS banchou- were trying their best to keep their cheeky grins hidden from the newly crowned 26-year-old.
He turned to Reagan, his smile still intact, and introduced her to his band members- The first time he had done so. Though they had known each other for more than twenty years, she hadn’t met any of his band members in the eight years they have spent as a band. Then again, she didn’t see him much either.
After a minute or two of conversing, the four left, Nino giving Aiba two thumbs up as he walked away. He rolled his eyes. Immatured otaku bastard. He stood in front of her, balancing between his toes and his heels as his hands became clammy. He sighed; ‘I give up.’
They sat beneath the stars, away from the bustling noise of the event, silence between them. They hadn’t had that in a while. They haven’t been surrounded by silence for a long time. They haven’t been around each other for a long time.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” She asked.
He nodded and the silence kept. Until she decided to break it once again.
“I missed you.”
Aiba turned to her, “I missed you too, Ran-chan.”
“You like that name, don’t you? You’ve never called me Reagan ever since I switched nationalities.” She used to own two passports; dual citizenship since she was born in Japan yet grew up for more than half her life in Singapore. She changed her name too, dropping her Japanese one for a more suitable, one that her parents approve of and a more easy to pronounce name.
She kept her last name though, Kazama. It was after her great grandfather, Kazama Ren, who was part of the Japanese war. He stayed on in Singapore to marry a local. Since she was born in Japan, her parents thought it was suitable for her to have the name Kazama Ran- a Japanese one, instead of the normal ones that the Japanese can’t pronounce.’That was redundant,’ She thought when the story was retold for the millionth time.
“No one calls you that anymore. They always go ‘Reagan’ this, ‘Reagan’ that,” He pointed out, “It’s not wrong if I want to preserve something that has been given to you, even though you don’t see the need to.”
“You just want to feel special cause you’re the only one who still calls me that.” She teased, poking his arm.
His soft smile still in place as he gave her a second look, “You’ve got a nice laugh.”
She looked away, her cheeks crimson, “Aiba-kun’ll say anything and everything to lighten the mood. Or change the topic, at the least. But I have to admit, the most prominent reason why I’ve missed your presence so much is because you’d always be my pillar. You’d always be my shoulder,” She sighed, “You’d always be you.”
“Remember a few years back when we were all got together?” She asked, “You, Jin, Allan, Garret and me, we promised each other that we’d stay up all night to talk, have fun. But then I fell asleep mid-way and when I woke up the next morning, I realised it was time for you to go. Hell, it was time for me to go.”
He nodded, he remembered that well. It was her, she was the one who initiated that they slept over at her brother’s place. He was close friends with Allan, the eldest out of the three. Akanishi Jin was best friends with Garett, middle child. The two became aquainted with Reagan because of family ties, which soon related to friendship. He remembered her going around chasing him calling him ugly, those were the times of pure innocence, the times where she hadn’t changed.
“When I boarded the plane,” She continued, “I felt a sense of lost. Normally I would say to myself that we would meet each other the year after. We’d see each others’ smiling faces soon enough. But this time, the overwhelmig surge of sadness controlled me. I don’t know why I was so greatly affected, but I knew, in one way or another, it had to do with you.”
At that moment, Aiba grabbed her arm, pulling her forward firmly towards him, their faces less than an inch apart. She couldn’t have said anything as in the next moment, he had his lips etched on hers.
“I’m crazy, not crazy about you. I’m crazy because of you.” He breathed as they inched apart, “I love you.”
A perfect smile carved itself on her cherry red lips, her fingers entwined with his and his hand softly stroking her cheek, “Do me one last favour,” She said, “Translate that into Japanese.”
“Orewa ga suki da desu.”
She nodded, satisfied; “Happy birthday Aiba-chan.”
And once that was said, he dipped his head down to claim her lips. She hadn’t forgotten, she had remembered. And she gave him the best god-damned present anyone else couldn’t afford.
She was his heaven tonight.