Hashirama:
Upon the second day I arrived in court, my nerves were tingling of anticipation of seeing him again. God, he was hot in his short hair. I had kept mine the same waist-length as always, but Madara... I wonder when that had happened.
I had stayed up half the night, reading up on my case like mad, not wanting Madara to eat me up again, but it was useless. He was so good. He made his case clearly and confidently, not a trace of his usual awkwardness there. This day, he wore a dark red velvet tweed jacket with black trousers and a dark grey shirt, but his hair and glasses were the same. From my angle, I noted a love bite on his neck that had definitely not been there yesterday and that caused me so much jealousy I thought I might die.
After the day was over, I didn't have time to catch him, but there was a day tomorrow as well, I though. That would be my last day and then... I might never see him again. I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't give it a shot.
The day came, and this day Madara wore another black suit, more leisurely than the first one, with an olive green shirt that he hadn't tucked in. I was in an olive checked suit of tweed, with black trousers and a white shirt and I couldn't help but think how good we'd look together. Stop it, I scolded myself. Focus on your job.
In the end, the penalty became exactly what Madara advocated for. It didn't surprise me; I had never seen anyone do what Madara did. God, was I horny for him. But it was not only the sex; I missed him. I missed him terribly. But this Madara... He certainly wasn't the same as the one who had been my boyfriend. Would we still have the same jargon as we had had? Would speaking to him feel the same?
Would sexing him be the same?
Which was a ludicrous thought because he was a married man now.
And before I knew it, he was gone.
Caught in my own daydreams, he had left the court room, unnoticed by me.
I felt all blood drip from my heart to my feet and out to the centre of the earth. No... No! I couldn't lose him. Not until I had tried.
I stumbled out of the courtroom, vaguely hearing my assistant shouting my name after me, but I didn't care. I just kept going. He wasn't in the corridor, and there was no way I could go out without stumbling upon a mountain of journalist. What the fuck do I do now? The panic I felt left me nauseous, and I rushed into the luxurious men's room to splash water on my face.
I stood with my hands on the sink, bent forwards, and felt my shoulders shake.
And then the door opened.
And there he stood.
If he was surprised to see me, he hid it well. His face didn't change one bit, and he stood very relaxed looking at me. I must have looked like a fool, face still wet, eyes red form the buildup of tears, like a doe caught in the headlight.
"One", he said darkly. "One coffee with me."
I swallowed.
Madara:
We walked silently beside each other, him towering over me but radiating so much nerves it lay over us like a heavy cover of snow. We both had our hands in our coat pockets, and we walked a polite distance from each other. I twirled my wedding band around my finger with my thumb inside my pocket.
"You should have coffee with him."
"Why would you say that, Christopher?"
"Because if you don't, you will live with the question for the rest of your life. And I couldn't live with that."
I looked up at the sky that was whispering a promise of more snow in the evening. Hashirama held his face directed forwards, not even daring a glance at me.
The tension between us was in-fucking-sane.
"What would you like?"
"Black, sugar, no milk please", I said.
"You drink coffee nowadays?"
"Yes", I said, a bit too coldly.
"You take a seat. I'll pay."
"I can pay for myself."
"I know you can." He smiled a lopsided smile that was half-sad, half-warm. "But you won in court, so I owe you one."
I went and chose a seat by the window in the duskily lit, chocolate-smelling cafe and put my coat on a chair that I then pulled out for myself. Before I sat down, I checked my phone.
'Saw you on the news. They're speaking well about you. Your career is going to skyrocket from here. I love u, C xxx ❤️'
I smiled. I still felt that tug of love in my stomach when my husband wrote me cute things like that. But there was something else there now, too... A bittersweet sensation I didn't comprehend.
And as I was going to sit down, having been entirely focussed on my phone and the analysis of my emotions, I missed the chair with my bum and sat down right on the floor with the chair coming down after me with an ear-splitting crash.
"Jeez Louse!" I exclaimed.
"Are you all right?" a barista that passed by asked.
"Yes, thank you, just embarrassed..." It didn't go well with my well-tailored suit and expensive shirt...
And I looked up to see Hashirama towering over me, two coffees and an almond cake on a tray.
His eyes were glittering and were teary from held back laughter. He couldn't help a wide smile spreading over his lips. "Some things never change", he said warmly, reaching his hand out.
"Oh, shut up", I said, looking away, but I was smiling, too.
I took his hand and let him help me up.
Hashirama:
Talking with Madara was stiff at first, but the hostility that had been there before was gone. And before I knew it, we were chatting away happily. I had put two forks next to the cake, but had low hopes of Madara actually sharing it with me. But to my great surprise, he instantly grabbed the fork and started munching with me. He looked adorable in his posh suit, glasses and haircut, munching cake. He had matured, become more confident, but the old, energetic Madara was still there. Realising that created a relief in my heart so big, it was as if it grew to double the size just to contain that feeling. Two hours passed fast, and we had chatted about anything and everything.
Except us.
"Madara..."
It was time.
He looked at me, sensing the change in my tone.
"I am sorry." He looked at me intently. "From the bottom of my heart I am so, so sorry."
I didn't add anything else. No excuses, no explanations. Madara deserved better than that.
He was silent for a long time. He removed his suit jacket and hung it behind him on his chair. Then, he removed his glasses.
"I forgive you." That was all he said, and it was the last thing I had expected.
"What..."
"I forgive you. I promise. You don't have to think about it anymore."
"Madara..." My hand twitched, as if trying to reach for his before thinking better of it.
Madara was twirling his wedding band around his finger. Then, he reached his hand out and took mine. For only a fraction of a second, he rubbed his thumb on my skin. And just like that, he removed his hand, and the moment was gone.
Outside the cafe, we stood opposite each other, hands in coat pockets still, but that distance between us we'd had when walking to the cafe had closed slightly.
"Will I see you again?" I asked.
"Yes", Madara said.
"When?"
Madara smiled warmly. I felt my heart swell again at this glimpse of the old Madara. "Don't trouble yourself too much about it. You will see me again. We will see each other again."
We parted ways, me to go home to my cottage, him to go home to his husband.