A Series of Surfaces

1. There was an irony here, even Maguri wasn't too willfully blind to see that. The thing that Yoshitaka did to make them closer had been the excuse that Maguri used to hold him at arms' length. He wondered why Yoshitaka had never stopped doing it for more than a few days. And why the lauded Maora Boy-Version had gone after Haine rather than himself. Boy-Version Maora just wanted to insult him—call him a coward and hate him. Yoshitaka as himself was beautiful and striking in a way that he just never was when he was hiding underneath all that make-up and frilly girls' clothing. But he was also so. Much. Scarier.

Maybe that's why Maora still dressed as a girl.

2. There was no scar. Dimly, Maora could register, though he could barely see through his own tears and he could barely hear over the pounding of his own heart, that when Maguri took off his bandage, he had expected there would be a scar. The bandage was to hide the wound, an injury that was Maora's fault. Every time he looked at that bandage or that bleach-blond hair, he still felt guilty. But if there's not even a scar to hide, why wear a bandage for so long? After unwinding the bandage from his head, Maguri held it out with his arms open, declaring to become strong. Not to test Maguri's strength, but because he needed the other boy to be strong, Maora—now that his long-thought confession had finally been said out loud—pressed himself against Maguri's body and wept.

Maybe there would still be time to ask about the bandage.

3. When people cry, you hold them and when they apologize for making your shirt wet, you say you its okay. With the first in mind and the second filed away for the future, Maguri wrapped his arms around Maora and held him while he cried. Maora was smart and Maora was crafty, but he was delicate, too. And he was so much braver than Maguri and wouldn't let fear hold him back, but for the first time, Maguri could see that Maora was scared was just as scared as himself.

Holding him like this, Maguri could feel the flesh and muscle beneath the girls' styled blouse. Underneath the puffy, puffy skirt, there were the narrow hips of a man. He couldn't see the real Yoshitaka, but he could feel it and maybe things were easier one sense at a time. Maora had done it. He'd gotten closer than Maguri wanted him and as a result, there were only two paths they could travel now.

Both were terrifying. He was only 15 years old. He didn't want to pick the person he would share his entire life with right now. When the time came that he found his soul-mate, he wanted to come into that relationship as an experienced and worldly person who knew how to not make the mistakes that drive people away. He just wasn't ready yet, because these were his paths—together forever with Maora Soul-Mate-Version, or make the mistakes that would drive him away and be without Maora forever.

Maora Girl-Version helped him be less afraid. "She" was too frilly to make him stupid with lust, and wasn't that the thing that the very thing that lead to so many mistakes?

But even still, he couldn't stop touching.

4. He cried against the sharp plains of the shoulder, his left hand clutching Maguri's white shirt. His right hand was resting on Maguri's bicep and he could feel the muscles expand and contract as Maguri smoothed his own hands down Maora's back, from shoulder to hip and back again, over and over. Maguri hadn't said a word since Maora's confession and he wasn't sure what all of this was supposed to mean. He knew how he wanted to take it, of course, but for so long it had been Maguri's way to allow him to build up his hopes and then let them come crashing down. Any minute now, Maguri will probably knock in on the head, tell him to cheer up and walk away. And then, and then, true to his promise to himself, Maora would just give up. Maguri was not the only one pursuing a futile love.

The hands had stopped moving. Maora felt as though his heart had stopped beating. This was it. He had been so brave for this moment. A hand, steady on his shoulder. A hand, steady on his head, fingers threading through hair that was so long on a boy. His hair was so long for just such a purpose, of course. But he was not being pushed away or being treated casually. Maguri had yet to say a word. Holding Maora steady, he took just one step back. His shoulder was wet.

In his mind's eye, Maora could see himself—a boy in running mascara. How absurd, no wonder Maguri had spent years ignoring him. Put in someone else's shoes, Maora himself would have had the good sense to ignore someone like that, too. And yet…Maguri was supposed to be the romantic of the two of them. He was supposed to appreciate how far Maora would go just to be with him. He was supposed to understand that if Maora just wore a dress, then two little boys could get married like grown-ups on TV.

Maguri understands nothing, Maguri is a stupid coward. Maguri doesn't even know how to kiss without bumping noses and touches shamelessly in public. Maguri loosens the knot on his tie as though to undress him right on school property.

5. Maguri understands that if they both wore ribbons around their necks, then they can't properly claim one another. One needed to start out with the tie and the other the ribbon. And somehow, it is easier to be comfortable with a Maora who looks like a girl. When he looks like the man he is, Maguri feels too much pressure to be perfect for him and the fear of a mistake will keep him immobile.

6. Yoshitaka thinks years in advance.

Disclaimer: Shinshi Doumei Cross is written and owned by Arina Tanemura and I suppose Ribon retains some rights in there somewhere. I'm so unaffiliated with them that I'm really not sure if Ribon has any ownership or not.