"Give me a break!" I slammed my palms on the table, causing some of the maps and papers to jump in surprise. "When are you
two going to get off my back?!"
"When you tell us what's going on or when you fix it, whichever comes first!" Yohji snapped back, looking equally pissed off
as I was. He turned to Aya for support, but the red-haired man was too busy glowering at me to offer much else. "Ken, you're
endangering us. Don't you get it?! Whatever's going on, it's not just between you and Omi, it also affects--"
"Nothing's going on! Okay, big deal, I didn't report to him. That doesn't mean--"
"'Big deal'?" It was Aya's turn to scold me. Great. They're tag-teaming now. "We didn't know what the hell was going
through your head. We didn't know where you were or what you were planning to do," Aya said very slowly, through gritted
teeth.
"The goddamn targets are dead and none of us got hurt, what more do you want?!"
"Some answers, for one thing!" Yohji drove his hands through his hair, looking just about ready to tear it off. "We told
you to contact Omi before going after the last target. God, we're only so lucky that we came out of that chaos alive. 'Clockwork?'
What the hell's wrong with you?! Thanks to you, we were practically running around the damn base like
chickens with our heads cut off. Omi was driving himself insane waiting for your call."
"Oh for crying out loud, it's as if I've never acted on impulse before. You're reading so many
things into that one incident."
"Do you think we're as stupid as you are?" Yohji sighed. It was an exaggerated display of long-suffering martyrdom, as well
as an unsuccessful attempt to calm himself down. "Do you think we don't sense how awkward it's been between you two? You don't
talk to him unless it's to answer a question. You don't greet him unless he does it first. Hell, you guys used to hang all over
each other like two lesbians madly in love." (Later I would ask Yohji what he meant by this unconventional simile, but I don't
find it appropriate to repeat his explanations now.)
"I... Shit! Leave me alone!" I was irritated. I didn't realize I was that obvious.
Yohji shook his head wearily. "I give up," he announced. "I don't know what's wrong with them."
"Seeing as we're dealing with Ken here, we may find the classic explanation reliable -- the case of The Idiots," Aya muttered.
I mulled over his deduction for a while. "You know, I'm standing right here."
"You're right," Yohji said, joining Aya in completely ignoring me. "I tried talking to the kid about it, but Omi seems even more
clueless as to why Ken's being more of an idiot than usual. Omi can see it -- hell, the flower shop fan club can see it -- but
he really has no idea why." I saw Yohji's fingers crawling inside his pockets, digging for something to relieve his stress. "He's
obviously distraught. He admitted to me that he keeps thinking about it. I bet he's including it in his report as we speak."
Aya's glare seemed to have faded into a look of interest. Operative word being "seemed". "He talks to you about it?"
"Considering the person he'd normally talk to is making himself unavailable." Yohji lit his cigarette before adding, "Isn't that
right, Ken?"
"No use asking him questions. All you get are worthless answers," Aya cut in before I could get a word out.
I still couldn't believe they were discussing this right in front of me. "I'm still right here," I grumbled.
"It's not like you really listen." Aya's purple gaze was scathing, and I was too tired to contest glares with him. Aside from the
fact that I was no match for Aya in that department, I also no longer felt the desire to defend myself against any of them.
When Yohji and I were on flower shop duty the next day, he decided not to bother me with 20 questions unanswerable by yes or no.
He did comment offhandedly about how sleepless I looked, and how that may be costly in a business like ours. I reminded him that
we were florists, but he insisted that we were more like botanically-inclined male whores in aprons.
Unfortunately my grip slipped on the water can I was holding upon hearing Yohji's preferred name for our profession. It resulted
with a pair of cherished shoes doused in water. "Ken, you klutz," Yohji groaned, looking forlornly at his leather footwear.
"I prefer 'accident prone' myself," I replied, feeling testy. "And don't think I've forgotten that fertilizer incident with you and Aya. It's about time the cosmos got your karma into circulation again. Where're Aya and Omi, anyway? I felt like I've been on this shift
for half my life."
"How should I know where Aya is? He's in Aya Universe doing Aya Doings under the Sacred Law of Aya." Yohji looked like he was about
to further expound on his non-knowledge of the Aya's whereabouts, but he seemed to have remembered my complete question. "And Omi's
in school. ...Duh."
I chose to ignore that extremely teenage expression that managed to find their way out Yohji's lips. "What are you talking
about? Cram school should've been over hours ago."
Yohji leered outside the shop and I followed his gaze, even though I've learned through experience that doing so isn't
always such a great idea, nor does it always emerge as a non-traumatic experience. "Ah. Impeccable timing as always. And it
answers questions, doesn't it?"
Just outside the shop, Omi was standing in too-close proximity of someone who looked like a schoolmate. The boy was taller than
Omi, not unusual, with dark hair and wide-rimmed glasses.
How dare that... that four-eyed monster!
They can't be more than friends, right? There's no way! Because I can bet that the boy probably never risked his life to
save Omi's. He probably hasn't been in love with Omi since the day he met him, which, by now, feels like it's the truest
thing I remember from the past. And he -- hold on for some old-fashioned Stating the Mind-Blowingly Obvious -- was not me.
But... I don't even have the right to be jealous of that guy, do I? I don't even have the guts to tell Omi how I really feel. I'm
too afraid it would harm us both. Me, most of all.
Omi greeted Yohji and me with a tired grin. "Who was that?" I fairly demanded of him. I hoped I sounded more like a curious and/or
protective friend rather than a jealous (aspiring) boyfriend.
Omi blinked, apparently surprised by my question. Things have changed so much. Me starting a conversation between us was probably
the last thing he expected... I could honestly say that guilt had only struck me then. I was so preoccupied with my own pain that
I hadn't, for one second, even seen that what I was doing was hurting Omi, too. It was just like seeing the blood of victims on
my hands -- seeing the silvered aqua of his eyes wobble sentimentally as they look at me. "That was Arima," he said softly.
"He's tutoring me."
"Tutoring you?!" I nearly shrieked. I couldn't help it -- that answer deserved no less than an incredulous -- if not less-than-manly -- reaction. "Since when
did you need tutoring?"
"I--" Omi turned away, incompletely enough to reveal the pink staining his cheeks. "Um... I'll tell you after I get changed, okay?
I--I'll be right back."
I was about to reach out for him and tell him of my long-term plans to render myself bed-ridden. All I wanted was to go to my room
and lay my head on the pillow for the rest of my life. And as my arm reached out to grab his shoulder, it simply fell short. Even
after he left, I kept my arm in mid-air, in mid-reach. All I could do was gape at it for a while.
I recalled what was probably the last time I was reluctant to touch Omi... Might've been a little over a year ago, when Omi didn't
know how to ride a motorcycle yet. I decided to give him a ride before teaching him, to let him know how it felt. Okay, so maybe at
that time I simply wanted to show off. From the very first day we met, I enjoyed the attention from his charming set of admiring
eyes and how he gushed shamelessly over the little things you could impress him with. I had planned to give him an exciting,
exhilarating ride to dazzle him a little bit, which made it necessary for me to ask him to hold onto me. I stumbled over it
somewhat, but I was able to ask him to put his arms around me. He was awkward and I was uncomfortable at the beginning, but we
both ended up enjoying it, even if I got out of it with considerably crushed ribs, via Omi's holding onto me for dear life. I
didn't realize it then, but having him cling to me like that... was probably what made the ride exhilarating.
I found myself telling Yohji that I was retiring vase-involved duties forever and ever amen. I was headed to my room as he said,
"Don't you want to know why Omi's being tutored?"
"I'm sure you'd love to tell me when you find out," I muttered, already despising the thought of Omi and Yohji's growing friendship. Fact: There was a time, pre-Aya, when the two of them hadn't even gotten along and needed me to have something in common. Take that, Yohji.
"It's because the teachers can sense him not paying attention in class, and that something's obviously distracting him from his
studies. A good student like Omi, you can't afford to have his record blemished just because of a little teenage problem now, can
you?"
I rolled my eyes. "What are you talking about? What problem?"
"Just that he's losing his best friend," Yohji said, matter-of-factly. "He's got no one to cling to, that's all. He's so needy, don't you think?"
I continued up to my room, my heart now hurting worse than my head. I thought it would explode when my eyes eventually swiveled over
to the shut door of Omi's apartment. My feet were weeping, wanting to lead me there, to at least tell Omi how tired I was, and not just
disappear on him. Maybe it could soften the apparent blow.
But I went directly to my room, locking the door behind me.
I tried rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and whatever delusions they may be causing. Because, there is no way in hell that there actually is an arrangement of yellow gerberas in my beside. I do not bring flowers into my room, so unless these are the Evil Walking Gerberas of Doom there is not a single thinkable excuse for their presence.
Nobody who has access to my room has tendencies to drop by to deliver me flowers.
Not that Aya and Yohji would have been suspects to begin with, despite the series of crap they've been flinging my way.
I gave them earfuls on how I could deal with my own little crises and how I did not appreciate their attempt to interfere. I
was further annoyed by the significant looks they shared between themselves, as if holding a private conversation about my
instability or something. (I was beginning to eerily wonder what was going on between the two of them, and of their public
camaraderie. But... let's just say I have things less goosebump-inducing things to think about.) Anyway, I find it hard to
believe that my wonderful display of immaturity could warrant this bewildering peace offering.
Instead of playing mental detective, I finally decided to notice the note on the vase. Unwilling to do anything that might've
distorted the arrangement, I picked up the vase in order to get a closer look at the note.
'I'm really sorry. Can you forgive me?' My whole face flinched, seeing the signature at the lower right corner of the
small card. The door flew open nearly the same time that the vase met the floor in a resonant shatter.
"Ken!"
I was surprised to see the depths of his eyes welling up in tears, and I was completely void of shock when it felt like
the glimmering shards on the floor had jumped and dipped into my chest. "Omi, why..."
"Do you hate me... that much?"
"Wh-what?!"
His eyes were dark, and he was obviously trying to hide them with his long bangs. "You really don't want to be friends
anymore?"
"Don't be an idiot! Omi, you're my best friend, you always will be!" I yelled at him, frustrated. Did he have to make this
so hard?
"Then why did you drop the flowers I gave you?" He stared, enrapt by the broken pieces of glass and the ruined-looking
petals. "Are you still angry because of what I did?"
"I'm not angry, Omi, it was an accident. I dropped them. Nothing's wrong."
"Damn it, Ken!" My eyes widened involuntarily. I know, it was unnatural to be surprised by a teenage boy uttering a curse
word. But, need I remind you, Omi could never be comfortably classified as an "average teenager". "Stop lying to me! Please,
Ken! Please. We used to be best friends..."
"What do you mean 'used to be'?! We still are! God, I hope we still are!"
"Well, then, why..." he sighed, exasperated. "What's going on, then? Why are you doing this? It... it hurts so much, to be
losing you, and being so helpless to do anything about it..."
"You're not losing me." My own voice winced.
"And I hate thinking that it's either because I changed, or because you've changed." Omi didn't stop looking at me with
stormy blue eyes. "I always hoped that maybe I could ignore it, and things would go back to normal. But I couldn't ignore it, and
things never went back to the way they used to be. And as tightly as I am holding onto it, it doesn't matter if you're
simply trying to throw it away..."
"No, Omi, please believe me. It's the last thing in the world that I could give away."
He shut his eyes tightly, and I feared the arrival of more tears. "But I can feel it! I know,
you want to get rid of me. You're going to abandon me..."
You know, Yohji always mocks me about my insurmountable passion for soccer. He never understood the feelings behind it.
The determination I had to win a game. The inspiration in knowing that it was the one thing I was good at. How it drove me
to exceed my so-called limits. When I lost J-League, I felt empty. Devoid of purpose, and of life.
It doesn't feel so different now. Only, if I felt empty then, it's coming back a hundredfold. It feels like whatever
emptiness I had in me is further being wrung from me, and I'm completely losing who I am. I'm just a maddening non-existence
to be throwing my love away. Without my passion for him, how much I care for him, and even how much I want him, I truly
felt nothing.
"I'll never leave you," I said, with stubbornness and firmness that surprised even me. "Unless you really
want me to."
He believed what I said, and knew that I meant it. "I don't ever want you to leave," he whispered.
I don't know how much time had passed before he asked me quietly, "What are you looking at?"
"Mm... The weather's perfect," I replied, not taking my eyes away from the window.
I heard Omi shuffling his feet on the floor. "Oh. It's okay. It's a little bit chilly, though." There was a short pause, as if
he were expecting me to reply or something. "But I guess
that's fine, right? I mean, if it were sunshine all year, then this place would be a desert."
I chuckled a bit at that. "That's true." I turn to him, offering, if anything, a genuine smile. "I'm really sorry I hurt you.
Please don't ask me what was happening or why it happened, it's over now." Omi complied with my request, with trusting eyes
that held a faint hint of frustration. "I was just going through something. I'm over it now, really."
His eyes softened, his face gently relaxing into a smile of his own. He's gorgeous... "Alright. Even best friends don't
have to tell each other everything, I suppose." His wink added silently, "at least not until they're ready to."
"Is there anything I can do, though? To make up for it, or prove it won't happen again?" Omi seemed to hesitate with an answer,
so I put in, "Let me do it. It'll make me feel better."
"Well... No, it's stupid." A blush rose to his cheeks like lava would before it exploded violently.
"You're being stupid! Come on, what is it?" I prodded him.
"It's just... It's just, I miss being held by you." The blush now made him look like he was about to erupt, and he
was practically glowing because of its intensity. "I mean, I know it's strange, but in your arms... It's just such a safe
place, a warm place. That sounds weird, huh? And more than a little... I mean, but, really, when we're touching, I... I feel..."
He continued to stammer even as I slowly approached him, my arms more than ready to receive him. He flung himself at me, and we
were securely wrapped by each others' limbs. "Here," he murmured, half-muffled by my shoulder. "I like it here."
I nodded in agreement.
[[ Yay! I still have to edit all the previous chapters because it never occured to me to do so, but still. There's no dampening the yayness. I can end it here, you know. ^_^ ]]