Unfulfilling Unfilled

I gaze out over the sea as the noon sun flickers occasionally from behind the clouds. It as if the sky itself refuses to let its warm rays touch the needy earth below. 

How cruel, how unfair. Does the sky not know that there are some that thirst for its radiance?

I too know the pain of unfulfillment—the ache of an unfilled heart. How long has it been since that which I desire most was denied from me? How long has it been since I've tasted that of which I hunger?

Too long.

My hand reaches out into the coast's temperate breeze and feel its air course between my fingers. If I cup it, I may yet capture some of its essence, but it will not be sufficient to keep it from slipping through my grasp.

Just like the wind, the object of my desire is gone, vanished, stolen away once again by the whimsies of cruel fate, leaving me isolated upon this shore.

I fall to my knees and let the grains of sand run over my legs. I can barely stand from the withdrawal. If I were to just let go, and allow myself to lay here and be consumed, would the world even notice? What if I simply remained, and let the tide roll in and wash over me?

The sea is cold and wet, but it is of little concern to me. The coolness of the water is soothing, and the sensation of it lapping against my skin reminds me of the tender caresses I so desperately crave.

Yet, the water will not fill me.

I can feel a tear run down my face and drip from my chin, falling to join the countless in the sea below. My soul aches to remedy this tender pain, so despite the futility of it all, I attempt to stand once again.

My legs wobble to support me, clearly struggling beneath the weight of my sorrow. I raise my head, and gaze out across the horizon.

I will not give up.

As I look out across the waves, I can almost feel the warmth of your arms wrapped around my waist. It is a pleasant sensation, and the phantom comfort gives me the courage to carry on.

Step by step, my feet leave their marks in the sand. I find that the wind has begun to push me forward, almost as if to say that I am not alone in my journey.

With nature itself bolstering my spirits, I inhale a deep breath until my chest is as full as the sea. Then, I sing my tuneful lament.

 "The core that is me remains sorely empty,

 No heat of your love in my breast.

 Thus while I am free, it's no freedom to me,

 I yearn for your hand on my chest.

 The waves beneath me remain awfully tempting.

 I stare in their beautiful hue.

 For while I am free, it's no freedom to me,

 This view is not good without you.

 The sun above me remains sadly stymied,

 Despite how its light is so quick.

 It's unnecessarily blocked, just like poor me.

 I wish to be filled up by—"

My mouth is suddenly covered by a strong, warm, and very familiar hand.

I turn around in confusion as to my sudden interloper is, only to find the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. His deep brown eyes stare at me with a mix of concern and exasperation, and his hair is an absolute mess.

"Hello, my dear husband," I try to say, but my voice is still muffled. Your grasp feels quite nice despite the interruption.

While delving into your gorgeous gaze, I find another curiosity that makes me shirk back in slight embarrassment—you seem to be judging me quite harshly, my darling.

"Minato, what is it? Have I done something wrong? Did I offend you with my song?" I try to ask, but your hand is still firmly cupped over my mouth.

"Arashi," you begin. "I'm going to uncover your mouth, but only on the condition that you promise not to start singing again. Also, we're getting some weird looks from the road. Let's move over to the side of the beach."

You point in the direction that you're referring to, and I realize that we've caught the attention of a few passersby. Embarrassment colors my cheeks, and I give you a short nod. I had not thought mine waxing poetic on the loneliness I feel would have garnered such an audience.

You lead us to a more secluded part of the beach and sit down in the sand, motioning me to join you. In your other hand is a delicacy of shaved ice perilously balanced lest it go toppling toward the ground. You're looking quite flustered—breaths deep and short and face red and hot. It's rather adorable. You must have hurried here in a panic.

"Arashi," you begin, "you've got a good voice. But for the love of all that is good in this world, could you please keep your public displays for general audiences!"

"Whatever do you mean?" I ask, pure innocence and joy running through my veins.

"You know exactly what I mean!" you say. "You can't just go around making up songs about how you want me to fondle you, or how you want to be filled by my—"

"Oh my," I interrupt. "I don't recall ever saying that I wanted any of that."

Your face is now deep red, and I'm unsure if that is because of embarrassment of my completely guiltless actions, or from how adorable it is that you're thinking of such lewd things.

"Don't play coy with me." You point at my nose. "I know what you are."

"And what is that, my sweet, sweet husband?" I smile at you. "What am I? Perhaps your dramatic, carnal, and longing partner?"

"It's easier to say horndog."

I gasp, clutching at my heart. "Horndog? You wound me so. How could you ever—"

You silence me by shoving some of the shaved ice into my mouth. "That's enough of that. Now eat and enjoy. I still can't believe you want me to do even more after everything we went through last night."

I giggle, my legs finally admitting the true cause for their weakness as my knees buckle and I fall into the sand. The soft grains shift beneath me and the gentle ocean breeze caresses my skin as I savor the sweetness of the syrup atop my tongue.

"Thank you, Minato. However, while I much enjoy this saccharine treat, I find myself yearning to consume something of an entirely different texture and flavor. Perhaps a little more salty, and a little—"

Your face goes red again as you shovel more of the shaved ice into my mouth. "The hell is wrong with you?!" you shout. "We're in public, Arashi! Public!"

I laugh. "You are cute when you're angry," I tease.

Your face goes redder. "And you're annoying!" You sit down and let out a 'hmph' of frustration. But I can tell that's not all you're feeling. The redness of your cheeks is spreading across the bridge of your nose. I smile and lean over to kiss you.

"Do you not care to indulge in this treat with me, my dearest?"

"..." Your face flushes. "Yes. But just a little."

I smile and offer you some shaved ice on the spoon, but instead of taking it, you lean forward and pull my lips towards yours. Our mouths meet, and our tongues dance with one another's.

It seems my lament toward the sea had not gone unheard. For it had been returned to me in full.

And it is delicious.