And we shall play a game of chess,
Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
===
"You promised!"
Alan's apartment is almost dark. It surprises Minako how dark it always is, how oppressive the lack of color feels. His walls are dark, his couches are dark, his sheets are dark, his hair and eyes are dark. Dark to match Minako's mood as Alan rolls his eyes and tosses a dish in the sink.
"I did not promise."
"Yes, you did!" she retorts, hands on her hips. "You promised we'd go out this weekend! It's been three weeks! I thought that, once the articles were done, we were still going to see each other!"
"We are!" He turned to look at her. "It's not that simple, Minako."
"It's not?"
"No, it's not. I have editors. I have articles. I have cases I'm supposed to follow to pretty much the ends of the earth. Doll, you don't want to go to Kenya with me, do you?"
The thought actually gave Minako pause. "No."
"That's what I thought."
Minako frowned and ended up looking out the window. Dark curtains, darker night. "Do you believe in fate?"
Alan's brow furrowed, and she watched him scowl in the reflection on the window pane. "I'm not sure I follow, love."
"Fate. Destiny. The idea that things happen a certain way for a reason. Do you believe in that?"
"Honestly, no."
She nodded. "Yeah."
Alan's reflection moved slowly, one step, then two, until he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "When I'm back from my trip," he murmured against her ear, "we'll step out. On a real date. Dinner. The cinema. Ice creams, popping corn, and some ridiculous film staring at least three over-sexed American actors I don't care for."
Minako closed her eyes. "I thought you said it's not that simple."
"Promises aren't."
"Promises should be."
He chuckled against her skin. "Doll, sometimes, I'm not sure you know what you want or how to get it. You make mountains out of molehills and scandals out of a broken date."
"Yes," she admitted, leaning back against him, "I do."
