She tells them that their whole journey was based on a cheap trick she pulled and he wants to laugh and maybe congratulate her on her sneakiness but instead she turns away from them and says, "Later guys, see you around." And everything seems alright so he watches her walk away before he too walks in the opposite direction, but as the distance grows larger and her body grows smaller in the space between them, he starts thinking and it makes him edgy and he feels an unfamiliar emptiness in the pit of his stomach.
He thinks of all the time they spent together, just the two of them. He thinks of the way they really got along when they weren't at each other's throats, he thinks of the way she made him laugh sometimes, and he thinks of all the times he teased her about her appearance. He sort of regrets it now, and all he wants to do is tell her that she didn't really have the figure of a wooden plank, that he thinks she can be cute sometimes, and that she has a damn fine ass. But most of all he thinks about all the times she was there for him, that night when she'd thrown herself on him to keep that crazy bitch Sara from killing him, or all those times he'd nearly died, it had been her voice, her tears that brought him back from the brink of death.
He had come back for her.
He stops dead in his tracks and looks back but he can no longer see her, fuck, what if he never sees her again, what if she's gone. Something coils in his chest and it makes it hard to breathe, it's then that he realizes that he needs her, probably more than she needs him. It hits him like a cold vat of water and he can feel all his insides drop to his feet.
"That little bitch," he snarls, he's pissed off and doesn't know what to do, so he runs; runs toward her increasingly far away self.
He sees her in the distance, the pinkness of her kimono flashing like a beacon, home.
He's slightly out of breath as he reaches her but disguises his apprehension under a façade of annoyance, he reaches for her pale wrist and she swiftly turns to look at him; all brown eyes and heart shaped mouth.
"Mugen…" she breathes, and her eyes drift to the almost gentle way he's still holding her wrist.
"You still owe me one hundred dumplings," he says gruffly, because he's not sure how I want you to be my woman will go over if he were to say that instead.
But she smiles brightly, her eyes lighting up and a blush creeps up her cheeks, "Of course," she nods, and as if she had been doing it for years she slips her hand into his, and the two walk to the nearest teahouse.
Never Let Me Go - Lana Del Rey