They stare at each other, silently willing the other to go first. each, holding back words that they know the other needs to hear. both, unwilling to be the one who gives in. both unwilling to have their pride break. and despite knowing the fact that this will go nowhere, for they both have wills of iron, there is hope and despair in equal parts, wanting, needing that the other would give over, and just say something already.

they function well enough apart. neither was particularly miserable without the other. happiness was relative, and they often forget that the other exists...most of the time. most of the time, real life occurs, and it occupies them, going through the motions, fulfilling responsibilities and goals...making time for friends and family...people who matter. Filling up each section of time with activities and hobbies, interests and responsibilities...until one idle afternoon, or a late, quiet evening leaves them staring out at the sky...and the memories return.

at first it is a tricle. the day they meet. the times she walks out on him. the times their hands are twined together. the words they share, mostly empty and meaningless...words they hide behind, unable to say anything real or serious. always light and conversational. Her hair. her smile. his words. his creative mind. her warmth. his rare tenderness. looking into eyes that seemed to hold such deep, inner strength.

in a perfect could work. in a perfect world, someone would be mature enough to talk. to give in. in a perfect world, there would be no misunderstandings, no mixed signals, no half-said intentions, no unsaid words.

in a perfect world, no words would even be needed. they would hold each other's hand, and look at each other, and know...and never let go.

but this wasn't a perfect world. and for all their finesse, all their outwardly cool disposition, they are both such awkward, awkward children.

because this was real life, the most they could do is evade the topic, and talk about things that were empty and safe.

for all the closeness and/or affection they may display, the wall between them is tangible.

Each, allowing the other to walk away, when all they wanted was to hold on.

And so George goes on to Paris, and becomes a successful designer. And Yukari continues on the path of modelling she has chosen over becoming nothing more than an ornament on his arm.

In a perfect world, they would grow up and mature, one day.

But it isn't a perfect world. And so they remain, only able to watch the sky...with only memories that may often lie dormant...but never really fade.