Miyabi tried not to fidget, but retaining an air of composure was all but impossible. Today, Shizuku was coming home! Miyabi smoothed her skirt over her hips, and craned her neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind her. Her skirt was new, and utterly adorable, but would Shizuku think her overdressed for the occasion?
Of course, Shizuku had spent all of this time at the vineyard. He had worked tirelessly to learn more about wine, and it was ridiculous for Miyabi to worry about forward European girls. Still, it wouldn't hurt to remind Shizuku that he had a beautiful girlfriend patiently waiting for his return.
Or, maybe not so patiently. Without noticing, Miyabi had been drawn towards the window. Her palms lay flat against it, and she barely came back to her senses before pressing her face against the glass. Miyabi jerked back, laughing nervously, and hoping that no one had seen her pawing at the window as if she could make Shizuku hurry off the plane by pure force of will.
They had hardly confessed their feelings for one another before Shizuku had left Japan. There had been letters, and emails, and the rare phone call during the long months he had been gone. And, of course, Shizuku had made a wine for Miyabi. The taste of it had lingered on Miyabi's lips for days; she'd been able to taste the feelings that Shizuku had poured into the wine's creation. She had never felt so drunk from a single glass before--bubbly and lightheaded and joyous.
Now, Shizuku was nearly within her reach. Miyabi's heart was beating fast, and her thoughts were whirling with questions and possibilities. Miyabi wasn't sure what she would say to Shizuku, but she knew what she wanted to do. Shizuku had left without kissing her, and Miyabi had been waiting too long to rectify that oversight.
A nervous giggle broke past Miyabi's lips. She pressed her hands to her mouth, and glanced around guiltily. She couldn't let anyone guess what she was thinking! Being so forward as to kiss Shizuku--here! in public!--was really too much to contemplate.
And yet, she couldn't stop imagining the moment.
If only Shizuku hadn't been so thoughtless as to leave Miyabi with nothing but her imagination for so long! Miyabi had imagined kissing Shizuku a thousand times since he had left. She had imagined doing other things, too--Miyabi quickly cut off that train of thought; she wouldn't be able to face Shizuku at all if she let her thoughts roam too freely in certain directions.
One step at a time, and nothing was going to happen if that plane didn't release Shizuku soon. This time, Miyabi did press her face against the window. Shizuku had to know that she was crazy about him; there was no use pretending otherwise now.
All attempts at decorum abandoned, Miyabi was free to jump and wave at Shizuku the moment he came into her sight. His smile was just as she remembered it: perfect.
Miyabi's fantasies were nothing compared to the reality of Shizuku before her. His lips were lightly chapped, but they were warm and firm against Miyabi's. Shizuku's hands were on Miyabi's shoulders, and his lips were on hers, and he was kissing her. Miaybi curled her hands into the front of Shizuku's shirt for balance, and rose to her toes to press her mouth more firmly against his.
"I'm sorry," Shizuku said, "that wasn't very well done of me."
"Eh?!" Miyabi said. "I thought it was wonderful." The crowd surged around them, and Miyabi flushed with sudden understanding.
"I missed you very much," Shizuku said with a smile, reaching for Miyabi's hand.
Miaybi twinned her fingers with Shizuku's and said: "Welcome home."