Work Text:
Yuriko still thinks of him, sometimes - driving down a steep, curving road, stopping in the desert to watch the brightest stars she's ever seen, lying in the arms of a short succession of other men.
She hasn't spoken to him since that night before she left Japan, never written, never called: at first she was sad and angry and disappointed, then afraid he wouldn't want to hear from her. But she's not mad anymore - Australia is too big, too wide open to be mad in, the roads too endless and perfect. Probably it would never have worked out; maybe she'd even have learned to resent him if he'd followed her, a chain on her perfect freedom.
And now? well, no doubt he's moved on, too, but she hopes he thinks of her too sometimes. Fondly, like she remembers him - like that lonely plane ride wasn't the end, but an evolution; for the both of them, if he's lucky, and she hopes he has been.
She's never much believed that line about all good things ending, anyway, and the outback roads have never shown her different.