A/N: Cheesiness in this chapter. Lovey-dovey cheesiness.

Also, you will read several passages that are a mishmash of French/English. Just know that whenever Hana's grandmum speaks, it is in French (even if I write in English). Does that make sense? Oh well, not a linguist here. Hahaha. Happy reading! :D

xXx

- Lost in Translation -

Part II

xXx

Hana watched her father at work in the kitchen. The apartment smelled like the boulangerie she and her mother used to pass on her way to ballet lessons as a child: crisp, buttery pastries, the richness of roasted coffee beans, the muted tartness of sourdough. She sighed and leaned elbows on the counter, eyes barely glancing at the array of baked goods, jams, and spreads laid out for consumption. Her father had bought and brought a Parisian morning to her.

"We can't eat all of this," she said.

"I know," he replied, "but Tai can."

Hana grunted at both the name and the truth.

"I don't know if I want to look at him this morning."

Her father sucked at his teeth. Hana knew what it meant. She had adopted the habit herself. I have something to say, it betrayed, but I dearly hope you're smart enough to figure it out without me.

"You can't blame me," Hana defended. She picked at a croissant, lifting a crispy flake and laying it on her tongue like a piece of sweetened rice paper.

"I'm sure there's an explanation for it."

"Nope." Hana turned and approached the dining table. Her laptop rested unopened on the surface, and she lifted the screen and booted it up. "He said he had to attend something for Kari, but I called her as soon as he left and guess where she was, Papa? At home. I called Matt next. No answer. Izzy. No answer. I called Sora. She said she hadn't heard from the three of them for a few hours."

She took a gliding step back toward the kitchen, slippered feet traveling pointed over the laminate. Her father paused his breakfast preparations, eyeing her over the rim of his raised coffee mug.

"Then," Hana resumed, "Sora calls me back that evening and says she heard from Matt. Apparently they were all at the Ichijouji residence. I was so mad I didn't even bother calling Tai up and asking him the obvious questions. I just don't understand! The lesson was going so well! The plan, so perfectly! And then I get the word out and he leaves the house so fast he forgot his shoes!"

She stomped over to the foyer and pointed at their shoe mat, where Tai's dirty cleats from yesterday sat, caked in mud and grass.

"What did I do wrong?" she agonized.

Her father sighed and fiddled with the glasses abridge his nose.

"Une," he said, raising a finger. He set his mug down. "Vas-tu manger."

"Papa..." Hana groaned.

He ignored her.

"Deux," he went on, "Tai will be here any minute. He's going to need all of your support throughout this video conversation with your grandmother and aunt. Try to put your personal gripes on hold, and be there for him. He has spent hours with you trying to learn your mother's language—for no other reason than because you asked him to. I want you to think about that."

"You think I'm not?" argued Hana. "Why else do you think I'm saying it makes no sense?"

Her father plated a croissant and dropped it on the counter in front of her. She glared from the plate to her father as it ceased its clattering. He returned an equally unimpressed look.

"Eat," he ordered. "It'll make you feel better."

Some muttered French escaped her as she lifted the plate and tapped the pastry in for a bite. She inhaled deeply through her nose as she chewed, the flavor of butter on her tongue, the flaky layers of bread melting, all warmth and softness, like a toasted marshmallow.

To keep up appearances, she rolled her eyes, which her father didn't even see. Her stare eventually rested on his turned back, and she was both frustrated and thankful that he always knew what to do. Confident he wasn't going to pivot around any time soon, she pilfered another croissant and stuffed half of it in her mouth when the intercom buzzed.

Merde.

With no time to chew, Hana swallowed the hunk of bread, grimacing as the lump inched down her throat. Her father, having read her expression, handed her his half drunk cup of coffee. Thankfully, it was room temperature, and she washed the bread down in large gulps before going to answer the door.

"Bonjour," she greeted. She hadn't planned on speaking exclusively in French that morning, but given Tai's behavior from yesterday, she easily made the decision.

"Ça va?" he returned, stepping in. He removed his shoes at the mat, and Hana observed him, waiting for him to notice that his shoes from yesterday were still there. Of course, he didn't.

"Comme ci, comme ça," she answered. "Et toi?"

"Très bien." He smiled, body angling, and Hana arched her feet onto her tip toes. She leaned in to give him a kiss on one cheek only to press her lips to the other, too. Before she stepped back, Tai slyly shifted direction, and his mouth brushed against hers.

Her father cleared his throat. Tai turned and waved, leaving Hana patting a hand to her lips, trying to keep his heat from fading. She shook her head. She was supposed to be mad at him.

"Monsieur K," he said, shaking her father's hand. "Bonjour."

"Bonjour, Tai."

Her boyfriend turned back to her as he and her father broke handshake.

"Can we greet each other like that all the time?" he teased.

Hana crossed her arms, eyes darting in the direction of her father.

"Je ne sais pas," she said, keeping curt. Her nose turned up slightly, and she strode past him into the kitchen, speaking over her shoulder. "Je ne comprend pas ce que tu dis. Français seulement en chez moi."

Tai hesitated behind her.

"…Bien."

Unable to help herself, Hana risked a glimpse back, and her father, ever gracious, clapped Tai on the back and ushered him along.

"Allons-manger," her father said. "J'espere t'as faim."

An hour and five croissants later, Hana found herself sitting back at her dining table, avoiding looking at her open laptop by checking her shirt for crumbs. The last thing she needed was for her grandmother to point out what a mess she looked. Her father had already gone into his office, his farewell being taken in the form of a request:

"When you're done talking to your aunt and grandmother, come grab me for my turn, oui?"

Tai pulled the chair beside her.

"He's okay leaving us alone and... unsupervised?"

His question ended with a wraggle of his eyebrows, and Hana shot him a look as dark and heavy as a pound of lead. She opened her web conferencing app, switching the indicator at the top middle of the screen from a dead dot to a lit spark of blue.

You're on air, it seemed to say. Watch yourself.

"Hana," he said. His voice grated a little, her name a slice of a sigh. In her periphery she saw him sit, saw his arm reach for her only to reconsider, resting on the back of her chair. "About yesterday..."

"Ce n'est rien," she interrupted. She dismissed his apology so fast he lifted the arm he had on her chair, as if the furniture, too, were angry. Her posture slackened. "What I mean," she said, beginning anew. She took back the hand he removed, holding it between both her own, fingers caressing his knuckles. "Let's just focus on this web chat with my aunt and grandmother. That's what's important. You worked too damn hard for this to be messed up because of something I said yesterday."

"Hana."

She raised a finger.

"Let's just... bury this for now, okay?"

His mouth parted, but the challenge didn't come. As quickly as his lips opened, they closed, clapped shut with a clack of the teeth.

"Comme tu veux," he murmured.

She smiled half-heartedly, summoning the courage (or gall) to kiss the back of his hand, to refuse to let go of him. Her doubts at the affection being wanted ebbed when his grip on her hand tightened in response.

"Now," she said, assuming a more professional persona. "There is an eight hour time difference from here to Paris. It's morning here, which means it's night time there, yesterday."

Tai scratched his head.

"Umm... okay."

"So when you greet my aunt and grandmother, you say, 'Bonsoir,' not 'Bonjour.'"

She glanced at the clock on her laptop.

Well, maybe 'bonne nuit,' by this point.

"Got it."

Her phone buzzed and Hana picked up the device, reading in the message that popped up her aunt's summons:

"Nous sommes prêts!"

"All right, mon petit ami," she announced, answering her aunt's call on her laptop. "Toi, toi, toi. It's time."

xXx

Joy bursted out of her aunt's every pore. It didn't help that she had a glowing tan, no doubt from a recent trip to a Mediterranean beachside with one of her "patrons."

"Ma jolie nièce!" her Aunt ZsaZsa squealed. Forefingers and thumbs moved like pincers, grasping at air. Hana could almost feel the phantom twinges on her cheek. "Et son beau garçon! Comment-allez vous?"

Hana smiled and bobbed her head, upper body pitching forward and back in the custom she had since grown used to. Her reply that they were well got lost in the din of her aunt's chirping prattle, which consisted mostly of compliments—on her, on Tai ("How tan he is!"), and what she could see of their apartment.

Her grandmother, meanwhile, sat placidly erect beside her aunt, whose messy blonde curls bounced with every turn of the head and flamboyant hand gesture. In contrast, her grandmother wore her hair up, each grey strand pulled flat against her skull in the most perfect of ballerina buns. "Le regard" was in full effect, and had Hana not grown up with the woman, she'd have preferred the spikes on an iron maiden to her grandmother's palpable thorniness.

Her greeting, unsurprisingly, was short and straightforward, like a nick on the cheek.

"Hana."

Hana attempted cheer.

"Bonjour, Grandmère!" she happily chimed, to which her grandmother arched a thin, charcoal grey eyebrow. It dawned on her that she hadn't followed her own words of advice.

"Tu penses, 'Bonsoir' ou 'Bonne nuit,'" her grandmother corrected. "C'est la nuit."

"Oui," Hana said, feeling her vertebrae dissolve. Her mouth shrank, making the words that followed small and tinny. "C'est vrai. Bonsoir."

Nary an eyelash moved on her grandmother's stoic façade. She sat still as stone or statue, cold and disparate, and equally as silent.

"Um... you remember Tai, Grandmère?" Hana said, begging for noise. She summoned too much, and she could hear her voice come out unnaturally loudly, as if she thought her audience deaf. "Taichi Kamiya?"

Her grandmother's blue eyes veered, lids flicking open once at Tai before her gaze switched back to Hana. Lips twitched then fell flat.

Tai leaned forward. Hana sought his hand, pawing first at his lap before she chanced upon his fingers, as if she needed the assurance more than he did, though she wasn't the one seeking approval. He held on just as tightly, fingers warm and dry, thumb kneading each of her rigid knuckles.

"Bonsoir, Madame Livrey," he said. His face stayed close to the screen, making himself as visible as possible: eyes bright, expression genial, mouth at a perpetual half-smile. "Ça me fait plaisir de te revoir. Comment-allez vous?"

Please, don't eat him, Hana prayed.

"Bien," said her grandmother. "Merci."

She bothered with nothing else.

Hana kept her smile taut and fixed in the enduring silence, as if the mouth she carried had been borrowed. The slightest break in form and the lips would crack, the teeth would fall out.

Her aunt, though never famed for her social deftness, retook command of the conversation. She looked from Hana's grandmother to her, to Tai, then back to her. Still, Hana prepared to cringe, shoulder blades beginning to jut as she curved her back. Her aunt could either negate the awkwardness or compound it. And, given her spontaneous behavior, Hana had to be ready for both.

What followed, thankfully, were routine questions. How was she doing? How was her father? How were her studies? How was life? As the inquiries continued, (it seemed her aunt would ask all of her questions at once), Hana hoped to avoid the mention of one subject in particular, though it seemed a moot prayer. She couldn't fault her aunt for wondering. The person in question had been part of her life for too long a time to ever be forgotten.

"How is Ryo?" she was asked.

"Oui," her grandmother agreed. "Comment va-t-il?"

A spitefulness surged under Hana's skin. Her face pinched at the corners of the eyes, forcing eyebrows to crimp and lower. She squared her shoulders, lengthened her neck, and rediscovered the state of noble carriage her grandmother had so painstakingly sewed into every cell of her body. Nervousness channeled into irritation. Her grandmother hadn't even returned the courtesy of a how-are-you to Tai, but she was more than willing to inquire about someone who wasn't even present.

"Je ne sais pas," she answered, mirroring "le regard," though she noticed that "I don't know" was increasingly becoming her most oft used phrase—in which case, did she really know anything about anything? "He lives in a different city. I don't see him much."

Her posturing had no effect. The face that stared back at her was a mask, tranquil, unruffled, skin made of material tougher than mere muscle and blood.

"Mais tu le parles à lui," her grandmother said.

Hana fought to keep her spine erect.

"Yes, but—"

"Alors. Il va bien?"

Hana suppressed a grunt.

"Oui," she admitted, hesitantly. "Il a une copine nouvelle. Elle étudie l'histoire de l'art. S'appelle Elin."

She stopped herself from saying more. Her boyfriend sat right beside her, coached for weeks on a language that was not his own simply to impress a woman who seemed determined not to be impressed at all. Now, thanks to her, her grandmother knew more about Ryo's new girlfriend than she did about Tai. Saliva soured in her mouth, new poison on the tongue, as if to discourage her from uttering further idiocies.

"Et le ballet?" her aunt asked, picking a good time to intervene. "How is ballet?"

"Bien," said Hana, shrugging. Her thoughts still swirled around Tai, how no progress had been made between him and her grandmother, how the latter so staunchly refused to give him a chance. Her grandmother's eyebrows slanted, arched so steep they cut dents right above the bridge of her nose.

"Seulement bien?" she repeated, skeptically. Blue eyes narrowed, any glitter of light burnt out beneath slitted eyelids. "You lost some muscle in your arms. You are not as toned as I remember you being. And your posture has been awful for most of the time we've been speaking. Were you not enrolled in a ballet school?"

Hana felt her face dragging, her own superficial defenses breaking down under the sudden onslaught of questions. She lowered her eyes. Heat crawled up her neck, pooling and pulsing in her ears. She held Tai's hand in her lap, though she didn't quite remember it last being there.

"Only... Only for a few months," she admitted.

"Quoi?" her grandmother squawked. "Why only that long? This is what you want to do, n'est-ce pas?"

"That's true, Grandmère, mais..."

"Explique."

She sighed. Her hand drifted to her head, fingertips glossing hair, seeking a headband to move, but she had put her hair up that morning. The accessory wasn't there to toggle, to deflect her hesitation. It was just her. Her body, her hair, her scalp.

"I didn't like it," she confessed. "My friends were at the neighborhood school." She glanced at Tai. He wasn't looking at her. His gaze focused on their hands, and, for a split second, she thought his grasp tensed. She looked back at her grandmother. "My boyfriend was there also."

"So you left ballet school for him."

Mon Dieu, Hana groaned.

"N—" She closed her mouth, cutting herself off from saying only what her grandmother wanted to hear. Silence pervaded, but in her head she could hear her mother's voice, and when she raised her eyes to meet her grandmother, she saw her mother in the delicate, but acute facial bones—the sharp chin, the gauntness in the cheeks, the regal forehead.

"Yes," she said, and her voice did not waver. "I did."

"Well." Her grandmother lifted her hands, her first gesture since the start. "No wonder."

Tai's chair squeaked, the legs dragging on the floor as his limbs flinched. Hana squeezed his hand, pinning him down.

"What does he do that compelled you?" asked her grandmother. "Is he thoughtful? Scholarly? Cosmopolitan?"

She listed terms that described Ryo, and Hana had never been more tempted to stand and scream that her boyfriend was Tai. Tai. She wanted to shout his name until her grandmother was brainwashed with the information.

"He's sitting right next to me, Grandmère," Hana replied, keeping her voice leveled. As much as it was a subtle jab, she meant no disrespect in pointing out the obvious. Yes, she was there to assist Tai with translations, but she would not stand by while he was ignored. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Her grandmother flicked her wrist, blinking elsewhere.

"Il ne me comprend pas."

"Why don't you let him try?"

Before she could press her to open up to the possibility, Tai interrupted her.

"Un mot, Madame?" he requested. Three pairs of eyes fell on him, her grandmother's surpassing surprise and encroaching upon disgust, as if Tai had insulted her by asking for a large sum of money. Whether or not she chose it, she stayed silent, and Tai took his chance to speak.

"I understand if you don't like me. Je ne suis pas comme Ryo. Je ne suis intelligent ou réfléchi. Je ne suis pas sophistiqué ou riche. Je ne suis pas mondain. J'aime le malbouffe et le football. J'aime les jeux vidéo et les concours alimentaires."

Tai's hand shifted in her clutch, lifting Hana's arm, guiding her forward. She had been watching him as he spoke, whispering bootless wishes for her grandmother to find his efforts worth her time, for his accent to be endearing, his pauses and the occasional stumbling indications of a struggle she would never know nor understand. Only after she blinked did it dawn on her that Tai was looking at her too, that the hand holding hers trembled lightly.

Half a breath left her, the other half withheld as reserve. She couldn't make sense of his stare. It was intense but tender, striking but strained, as if she were at risk of vanishing, and the only way to keep her was to stare her solid.

"But I..." He still spoke to her grandmother, but his eyes did not stray. "But I love your granddaughter, Madame. J'aime beaucoup votre petite-fille. Je l'adore elle. Et je ferai tout pour elle. I will fight for her—always—" He turned his head, casting his attentions back to the laptop screen. "—even if that means defending her from you."

No reaction followed. The only movement caught on screen was that of her aunt, eyes shifting back and forth between the two of them, toggling as the tension built. After a few minutes, her grandmother tilted her head.

Meanwhile, Hana quietly regulated her breathing, centering thoughts on the calming contractions in her ribs, the reviving passage of air, but she overcompensated, turning a natural breath into something short and uneven, winnowing desperately needed oxygen. Her heart shivered, slamming against her chest with each pronounced beat. Little technicolor dots began to wink in the surrounding air. Was that people meant when they saw stars?

J'aime beaucoup votre petite-fille. Je l'adore elle.

The words echoed in the hollow space between her ears.

'I love your granddaughter. I adore her.'

"Tai," her grandmother said.

Hana started, arm muscles spazzing as she fell from such a high emotional altitude.

"Madame," he answered.

Her grandmother offered him the subtlest of nods, her thin lips stretching up at the corner.

"Alors," she said, "you will be what, now? My granddaughter's champion?"

Her aunt giggled beside her.

Tai grinned.

"If that's what that means, then yeah."

Her grandmother eased back, content with the response. "The look" returned, but it was paired with a small smile, and perhaps, just a spark of pride. The smile broadened.

"Good."

xXx

Hana slid her hands under the elastic band of her lounge pants and pushed them down, pulling her legs out. A pair of jeans were put on in their place, the denim tight; a hoodie shoved over her head. She was in the middle of wriggling her arms into the sleeves as she exited her bedroom, sending a brief wave to her father, who was already engaged in his conversation with her grandmother and aunt. Tai waited for her in the kitchen, noshing on the leftover pastries from breakfast.

"Ready?" she said, passing into the foyer.

Tai took a croissant to go, holding it with his teeth as he crouched down to lace on his shoes before he followed her out. His fingers tugged at the back hem of her hoodie, straightening the lumpy fabric over her rear.

Outside the air was brisk, precisely the temperature Hana desired—clean, cool, jolting her lungs. She twirled on the sole of her sneaker, the rubber squeaking against the concrete. She braked as soon as she faced Tai.

He munched on his croissant, an eyebrow raised at her for the show of flair.

"Let's go to the bay?" she suggested, knowing they needed a destination. After they had said their farewells to her aunt and grandmother, Hana thought it would be good to get out of the apartment—maybe to celebrate a good interview with her grandmother at their favorite ramen-ya, or, failing that, a walk hand-in-hand somewhere, anywhere. She only wanted to be with him. Also, she wanted to kiss him. Repeatedly. And she couldn't exactly do that comfortably with her father in the house.

"Sure," he said.

The trip to the bay was unusually quiet, though Hana didn't find it unnerving. She had the impression they were both exhausted from the video chat, Tai potentially more than her—at least mentally. She couldn't imagine it being very easy to switch between languages, especially as a novice, and especially to her grandmother, who would die knowing only one language: French. There were a lot of rules and words to track. Nothing was instantaneous. Everything had to be assessed before being released.

Still, potent words had been said during that multiway exchange. They needed time and quiet to settle, for their sound and feel to be engraved into memory. Her grandmother had smiled, she had given Tai an epithet—champion—, and she had closed their conversation with a promise for the future: 'We'll speak again soon.' Hana was giddy with the win. As they walked along the boardwalk of the Decks, she pulled on Tai's hand, drawing him away from the colorful overhangs of the shops and eateries and towards the beach.

On the shore there were less people. Hana stepped onto the sand, face scanning the beach and the lapping lip of the water, eyes engaged in a panoramic sweep. The sun fell hard on them, adding warmth to the nippiness of the air. She shielded her gaze with a hand on her brow.

"How about there?" Tai suggested, nudging her gently. He nodded his head at a short pier leading out over the water, supported on layers of flat, grey stones. Unless another couple beat them to the outpost, the pier was, and would remain, otherwise uninhabited.

"Good eye, Kamiya."

He led the way and stuck her close, the two of them pressed at the hip, as though they were fumbling through a three-legged race. The winds picked up as the coastline neared. She giggled as the breezes whipped at his hair, tousling ends that already seemed to defy gravity, and she squealed when the gusts phased through their clothes, cramming in cold against skin.

At the very end of the pier they anchored themselves, sticking forearms on the white metal railing. Before them Rainbow Bridge spanned high over the horizon. It blocked a good portion of Tokyo's hazy skyline, its size making the few boats drifting on the water seem like toys in a bathtub. Even in the sunshine the water was a deep, dark blue, and Hana listened to it splash against the stones, each split of surf metered like minutes, occasionally muffled with the hushing of the wind. Beneath it all, she also heard something else, something equally hypnotizing: her heartbeat.

"I'm really proud of you, Taichi," she said.

He turned. She straightened, wind on her neck as she stared at him, shafts of sunshine cutting through his gaze. He beckoned her forward.

"Well," he said, pulling her into a circle, rocking her gently, "you weren't half bad a teacher, either."

She laughed and hugged him tighter, blind to the moment when they'd eventually have to separate. He backed her into the railing, and she lifted herself onto the bar, holding his shoulders as she balanced herself on her rear. She shuddered.

Mon Dieu, that's cold.

Tai eased back.

"You good?" he asked. Hana held her arms loosely parallel over the bar, nodding when she neither slid nor tipped. Tai poked her in the armpit.

She shrieked his name, flailing.

Before her bum slipped an inch off the bar, he grabbed her, and he chuckled through the puny slaps she whacked on his shoulder.

"Relax, Hana," he said, giggling. "I've got you." His hand pressed to her back, traveling up and down in a soothing gesture, scooting her closer to him with each stroke. Hana's jaw set, the temptation to wrap her legs around his curbed in clamped teeth. His touch settled on her hips, squeezing gently.

"So what does this mean?" he asked. "Am I on your grandma's good side?"

"You can always fall out of favor," warned Hana. "But today was a good sign. She can describe you now to people who ask her about me."

"As what? Tall, tan, and handsome?"

Hana rolled her eyes. This boy, she thought.

"I was talking about personality traits, but yeah, I suppose those are true, too."

He grinned.

"Yeah..." he said. His hand roamed idly, drifting from her hip to her back, closely gliding over skin and bone, charting every divot and curve. "She said I was, uh... your champion?"

Hana inhaled sharply, correcting her posture by degrees. His hand dared to venture higher up, flush against her ribs. She cleared her throat.

"Old context, Taichi. Speak to Izzy about it, maybe. A champion refers to someone who fights on the behalf of another, which basically reinforces what I already knew about you."

He raised an eyebrow, interest piqued, encouraging her to go on.

She reached up and clasped her hands behind his neck, occasionally wiggling a finger to tickle the nape.

"You're brave," she said. "And honest. Devoted. Supportive. I love you."

"What?"

Any other time and Hana would have been annoyed with the lack of comprehension. She didn't stutter, after all. Not this time. But he was smiling at her, a knowing spark and warmth in his eyes. She lowered her eyelids, pointing her stare at his mouth.

"I love you," she repeated. It was a relief to finally say. Freeing it left a lightness in her head, a buoyancy that threatened to send her skyward. His lips fell on hers. He swallowed the words, and the kiss passed like a warm shadow. She opened her mouth, tasted salt off his tongue.

A pant fluttered over her eyelids. Light broke through. She withdrew carefully, teeth catching on his nether lip, applying the slightest pressure. He pressed, pursuing, chest heavy on hers. She giggled. Effortlessly, she dodged his next attempt, and he let up, eyebrow lifting.

Hana smirked and rested her chin on the area over his heart, batting eyes at him, though he remained the face of confusion. A finger curled under the crewneck collar of his shirt, pulling south, exposing the ridge of his collarbone.

"Answer me a question first," she said.

His eyes narrowed. Confusion left, replaced with disgruntlement.

"When you left so randomly yesterday..."

He froze.

"Hana, I—"

She cut him off.

"You left," she said, "because you already knew."

His gaze softened. The panic fled. Hana gave him a pat on the chest, feeling his lungs reanimate. She continued.

"You already knew the verb. You knew aimer. And I want to know, how long?"

He grimaced, as if he were holding his breath until his brain grew dizzy. Beneath the tan skin bled a blush so intense Hana was worried that he was, in fact, short on oxygen. She slipped her hands over his face, thumbs sweeping over tiny dry bumps of acne, moving in a caress both clearing and comforting.

Tai sighed.

"Longer than I want to admit," he murmured.

She hooked a leg behind him, forcing a knee to buckle. He gripped the railing. The metal rang with a ding!, and he steadied himself, glaring at her mildly for shaking him.

"It was... one of the first things I looked up when I started dating you," he confessed. The embarrassment hadn't faded. She kept his face cupped in her hands, but he avoided her stare, and Hana had to keep shifting to follow his anxious gaze. "I had a little help though." He chuckled at the memory, and Hana was finally able to keep his attention. "TK helped."

Hana could only allow a meaningless, "Oh."

I keep forgetting that boy has French blood...

"But," Tai went on, "even though I knew how to say it, I didn't..." He frowned, and it took time for the crinkle in his brow to uncrease. Hana wanted to smooth it manually, push an index finger right between the eyebrows. "...say it," he finished. "I was pretty sure when I learned it it was too soon to say it anyway, and I wanted to save it for the right moment. I didn't know when that would be. When I hear French, I think of you, Hana. I didn't want to screw it up. God knows I've done that enough."

She found it increasingly more difficult to keep her arms up, cradling his face. The blood seemed to have drained, leaving her limbs flaccid and numb. She couldn't even summon one arm muscle to twitch. They were stuck.

"Then, yesterday," said Tai, "when I heard the word come out of your mouth, I... I don't know... I panicked. I thought I'd burst it out then. You were just teaching me a word, but it hadn't been one to me for a long time." His gaze rooted in hers, the pull strong enough that, were she to turn her head, she swore the air would snap. "I don't think it ever was. I was ready to declare it. But then I thought maybe I'd confuse you. I'd ruin the lesson." He blinked, and Hana mimicked him. His eyebrows arched as he looked at her, a newfound clarity in his eyes, a queasiness surfacing in a bashful grin. "But I... ended up doing that anyway, didn't I?"

Hana smiled.

"All is forgiven."

She giggled, more when he sighed, relief making his neck slack. He dropped his forehead, bumping it on hers.

"Besides," she said, prodding a corner of his grin. "It takes guts to speak to my grandmother like that since she's not... uh... the most friendly of people. But for you to tell her outright that you feel this way about me?" She tsk'ed. "That's a whole different level of courage."

Tai sputtered a laugh. He took the hand she had pressed to his cheek, and she was thankful for the movement, thankful for the control.

"When your grandmother was talking to you like that, I couldn't just stand by, Hana. If there was anything your grandmother had to know about me, it was that."

Her mouth drooped, the skin tense and stinging. She wanted to blame the sensation on the breezes of the bay, roughened by their passage over the ocean, but nature had no hold on her emotions. A hotness pushed behind her eyeballs, water warming at the rims. She sighed and tipped forward with the exhale, closing her eyes as she held him, damp eyelashes cooling against the wind.

"She knows that now," she whispered.

She listened to the soft beat of his heart thumping against her ear, wanting to sink into the pulse. A weight fell on her head, kisses left in her hair. She loosened in his embrace like a cat in the sun, languid and limp, comfortable in his confession.

And so do I...

xXx

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, guys! I hope the fluff didn't disappoint! And if you haven't gotten your fill of Tai and Hana and their clichéd teenage romance, I DO have some art on my blog that may interest you. ;)

Cheers!

Aveza