In the ten years they've been apart, Yukari's thought about George more times there are seconds in… what? An hour, two? Three? She could swear, though, that George only thought about her as many times there were seconds in a minute. Most likely less than that, but it comforts her a bit to think that he thought about her 60 times. Not that she necessarily needs that comfort anymore.
Her bags are packed and her husband sends them off to the plane's cargo hold. The ring on her left hand feels heavy for some reason, though she has no real idea why. She's worn plenty of rings over the years, most of them being much heavier than a ring should be. Is that how wedding rings are supposed to feel? To remind you of the promise you made? Or maybe it was because of all the feelings he held for her, and her him?
He calls out for her and she turns around with a smile on her face. She holds both their plane tickets and the tickets to his Broadway show. They're ready to go to New York.
In the ten years they've been apart, George's thought about Yukari much more than he thought he would have. He'd like to admit he wasn't looking forward to Isabella's vague updates about her and Arashi and Miwako, but he'd be lying. (At least Isabella wasn't vague about Arashi and Miwako's wedding, blatantly telling him that he should make a gown for Miwako. It was the least he could do since he wouldn't be able to go to the wedding himself.)
It's only an hour before the show starts. He shuffles between all the busy stagehands and production assistants, sauntering as nonchalantly as he did when he was the top student at Yazawa Arts. Isabella is running here and there, checking every outfit, and not so secretly hoping George wouldn't suddenly change something. (That is always the fear, isn't it?) The stars and extras are being dressed by various assistants.
He looks around the incredibly busy backstage – people half-naked, sweat and most certainly tears in the air, people freaking out over a light not working properly, some over how they're not sure if they remember their lines – and smiles. He's ready for the show.
The curtains rise and a flash of colors immediately greets her. She smiles and her eyes glisten with unshed tears. Hiroyuki glances at her. She squeezes his hand and keeps her eyes on the colorful stage.
He watches the audience from a gap in some wooden planks that aren't nailed properly together. He sees her, beautiful as ever, glowing as though the stage lights on her and not the performers. He wonders, briefly, if the glow is just his imagination.
In this world of vibrant colors, she's crying and he's smiling.