"Why not?" his tone wasn't threatening, or even impatient. It was matter-of-fact, and she appreciated that. She tried her best to give him an equally matter-of-fact answer.
"Because when I look at you, I remember everything. You're the only one of my friends left from before. And our past, you must admit, is not something that is pleasant to focus on…"
He sat down. Again, nothing threatening in it…they were in a public space, a neutral zone, although at this hour the third floor lounge was almost always deserted. Nevertheless it made her uneasy, and she hurried to finish her line of thought. "…you're the only one who knows everything about me. Wouldn't it be better, for both of us, if we looked for people that have nothing to do with any of it?" She turned away a little.
After a moment or two he spoke again, firmly. "Just because I make you remember…doesn't mean I can't also make you forget. I can do both." He pushed the chair back a little and the sound made her jump. When she turned back he was next to her. "Besides, you won't always want to forget. Sometimes you'll have to talk about it to someone or go crazy. I can be either one…whatever you need at the time."
Almost to herself she said, "How do I know that's true?"
"Let me prove it to you."
Immediately her guard was back up. "How?"
He was treading on very dangerous ground, he realized. The claim he had made so confidently, that he could help her forget everything, was a huge one. If he couldn't back it up, he had no chance. That called for something big and impressive…but all he had on his side was the conviction that he was right. He didn't have any talent or experience when it came to girls…and even if he had, nothing that applied to other people would ever apply to her.
She was clearly waiting for something. Hesitantly, he in moved closer…she seemed to stiffen a little and lose some of her certainty, but she didn't back down. His face was so close to hers that he could feel the heat that she gave off. He couldn't feel her breath, though; she must be holding it. He realized that neither of them had closed their eyes. He heard himself say, "…you really look like you're going to let me do it."
Mitsuru turned as red as her hair and pulled back angrily, slapping him. She didn't know if she was so annoyed because he had been about to kiss her…or because he had stopped. For Akihiko it was the push he needed though and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back against him. She gasped a little and closed her fingers around one of his sleeves to steady herself, telling herself she wasn't cooperating. He had been determined to put his entire argument into that kiss, but once it happened there was no chance of acting or thinking consciously. Their eyes were shut now, and there was no hearing anything because their blood was too loud.
It ended a moment later, awkwardly and self-consciously. Neither of them really knew who had stopped first. Mitsuru's hand slid down Akihiko's arm for a moment before she seemed aware of it again. She looked down, and he wondered what had just happened, how he had done---and what her response would be.
She tried to think of something appropriate to say. He had been disrespectful and much too sudden. She couldn't possibly encourage behavior like that. Her mouth set and she looked up at him, harsh words hovering on her lips. He was already expecting them, she knew. Oh yes, he knew he had done something wrong.
"I'll…consider it."
Turning quickly so that Akihiko couldn't see the shock on her features that her own words had given her, she hurried off to her room. He heard the door slam only a couple of seconds later. His knees felt a little strange and he put a hand out blindly, saved from losing his balance by the soda machine. After a moment or two the shapes and colors he was dully staring at resolved themselves into the pattern of the carpet. He concluded numbly that whatever else had just happened, it was time to go to bed.
