Cowboy Bebop (c) Sunrise 1998
I watched him closely as he talked. His cool eyes avoided me, seeking out small details of his slightly sloppy apartment. I couldn't shake the feeling that I somehow made him uncomfortable. His soft musician's hands worked at the hems of his clothing, as though they didn't know what to do without his saxophone to occupy them. Smooth and understated, his voice carried on the smalltalk in gentle, eternally distracted tones.
As I returned his quips, I felt a draw to this quiet man. He fascinated me. In all my long travels, he was uniquely kind and honestly interested in the problems of others, such as myself. And this from a resident of a town with no women. It had occurred to me that this, in combination with his self-stated disinterest in females, might completely thwart any efforts of mine before they could begin -- he might prefer men.
This attraction of mine, however, went beyond a simple desire to seduce him. In fact, this was almost non-existent, causing me to wonder if something was wrong with me. Of course, I did not and do not believe in love; need is love, and love is need, even if that need is as simple as enough cash to get you through the next day. Experience has taught me that much. And yet I subconsciously wondered.
After a time he left for the shower, giving me an opportunity to explore this so obviously lived-in space. I idly fingered trinkets and stroked aged photographs, examining the faces next to his. My gaze slid along the corkboard displaying his memories. A woman with a child, a group of armed soldiers in a sandy trench--
The phone began ringing, but I scarcely heard it, staring wide-eyed at that damning image.
Him. That fallen angel with silver hair and the brutal, graceful name.
As if summoned, his frigid voice, like molten steel, picked up on the machine. The meaning of the message slithered into my conciousness, and I laid a hand on my gun.
Five minutes later, I trembled ever so slightly as he gave his response, pinning me against the bathroom wall with a wry smile tinged heavily with irony. In my heart I lamented, because something I refused to acknowledge a desire for was now forever out of reach.