DISCLAIMER: Gravitation and its characters are not mine.
Forging a Link
Chapter 1
Seguchi didn't like to hear him mentioned. The name Kitazawa Yuki never failed to bring a frown to his usually smiling face, as if the very air around him was instantly polluted by those six syllables.
Yet... Seguchi was the one who had picked him to be my private tutor, out of all the other qualified people he could have hired. He certainly paid well; with just that one job, Yuki had the time and luxury to pursue his writing career.
It was a puzzle, like so much of Seguchi, but I didn't question it for fear it might be taken as a complaint. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yuki was a wonderful teacher and mentor, sharing my love for the written word. Countless times, we've made trips down to Little Tokyo to visit the Japanese bookstores, and sat around afterwards in his apartment discussing various authors and their styles.
He was a friend, the only real one I've made since coming to America, and he eased the loneliness I've felt all my life. He understood me in a way no one else had, cautiously coaxing me out of my shy shell and teaching me that expressing oneself was true freedom.
And through all this, I was falling in love...
-----
"Yuki!"
The day was exceptionally sunny, the sun beating down and toasting the top of my head. I was already covered in perspiration, tired from the eight-minute jog from the studio to here, but seeing him renewed my strength. I sped up to a run.
"Yuki-sensei!" I cried again, and was rewarded when he looked up.
He was seated under the shade of the big oak tree, book cradled in his lap. He smiled patiently as I skidded to a halt in front of him, panting and out of breath.
"I'm sorry I'm late," I apologized, bowing shortly. "Just now, with Seguchi-san..."
I clapped a hand over my mouth as his face clouded over. Yuki disliked hearing Seguchi Tohma's name just as much as Seguchi hated me talking about Yuki. I usually remembered to avoid it, but I'd been too flustered about keeping him waiting to think straight.
"Gomenasai."
He stared at me absently, fingers toying with a corner of a page.
"Are you mad?" I asked earnestly, referring more to the slip of the name rather than tardiness. I fervently wished he could have heard Seguchi play the piano, so he would understand why I couldn't tear myself away until the music had ended. But when my guardian was involved, it was better to offer no explanation at all.
The faroff look disappeared and Yuki smiled kindly. "No, I'm not mad at all," he replied. Then, he beckoned for me to join him on the grass, thoughtfully spreading out his sweater so that my khakis wouldn't be stained.
My cheeks grew warm as he put a friendly hand on my shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "So how are things going?" he asked as I turned to gaze up at him. It was such a general question, but he always sounded genuinely interested. The implications of that made me blush even more, and I scolded myself for thinking like some silly schoolgirl.
"It's going okay. I read the manuscript you lent me yesterday," I replied, a bit shyly. "It was so great I couldn't put it down! You're so talented, Yuki-sensei."
"No, I'm not," he denied, shaking his head. His tone was uncharacteristically bitter. "I'm just another two-bit hack, unable to do much more than string sentences together."
"That's not true!" I cried out, more passionately than I intended. "You're the best writer in the world and I know you'll make it big!"
He laughed at my enthusiasm and ruffled my hair fondly. I loved it when he did that. Growing up in Japan, I'd been ostracized for my blond hair and light eyes, but Yuki never held my Western looks against me. He accepted me for who I was.
"I'm serious," I insisted in a calmer tone. "I'm sure you'll sell your book soon and you'll be really rich and famous."
"Thanks, Eiri." I could tell from his expression that he didn't believe what I was saying but going along with it. Like I was some little kid that needed to be humored.
I pouted as I buried my face in his shirt, inhaling his scent. "I hope you don't though, because that'd mean you wouldn't have time to spend with me and you might forget me," I mumbled into his chest.
He laughed and hugged me. "I'll never do that. Look, I'll dedicate my first publication to you, how's that?" he proposed, voice still light as if he didn't believe it would ever happen.
"Okay," I grinned. He may have his doubts, but I had absolute faith that I'd see his name in print one day.
"Now that that's settled, should we pick up where we left off yesterday?" He handed me one of my textbooks.
"Hai!"
-----
When I came back from eating dinner with Yuki at his apartment, I was greeted with the sight of Seguchi, home early for once. He was in the living room, glasses on so he could read the papers spread across the table.
Recovering from my surprise, I called out, "I'm home," while slipping off my shoes at the entrance. Even though we were in America, Seguchi insisted we follow certain Japanese customs and I agreed whole-heartedly. I don't understand why people would want to track dirt around the house.
"Ah, Eiri-kun," he rose to meet me halfway. "Your sister called while you were gone."
"Thank you, Seguchi-san," I said politely as I took the proffered phone.
"I told you to call me Tohma," he reminded, even though we both knew I wouldn't. It just felt rude, considering that he was so much older than I, and not family.
"You're a bit late, aren't you?" he continued lightly, smile still in place. "I expected you home at least an hour ago."
"I—" I clamped my mouth shut in time, remembering my mishap with Yuki. One awkward moment today was enough. Besides, if he learned just how much time I spent at Yuki's, he might forbid me from going over so much. Yuki insisted I wasn't imposing, but Seguchi was big on being polite and proper.
"It won't happen again," I promised.
He smiled and patted my shoulder. "Go and call Mika-san. I'll be out here if you need me," he said, turning back to his work as I headed for my room.
It was strange, this relationship between us and I had trouble understanding it since the moment I met him. He was a twenty-seven year old man with a rising career in the music business, and I was an introverted sixteen year old whose life was planned out since birth. We couldn't be any more different.
Why had he asked me, a virtual stranger, to accompany him too New York? Even stranger, why had Father agreed? As the oldest Uesugi, I was supposed to be in training to take over the position of head monk.
Well, I guess the opportunity for me to temporarily disappear was too tempting for him to turn down. But Seguchi was a different question. He had nothing to gain, no personal motivation that I could come up with. He really was a mysterious person.
Shaking off the thoughts, I dialed the number to home. Someone picked up after two rings.
"Eiri! How're you doing?"
"I'm doing okay, Mikarin." Hearing her voice, I suddenly felt homesick. It's been three months since I saw my family, after all.
"Me! Me! Lemme talk to him!" I heard in the background, followed by shuffling as the phone switched hands.
"Hi, aniki!" Tatsuha chirped. "You haven't forgotten who I am, have you?" he asked anxiously, not waiting for an answer as he barraged ahead. "Because I haven't forgotten about you."
I assured him that forgetting him would be impossible and he sounded pleased.
"Hey guess what? Mika-neechan just got me this really cool CD player. Bet she never gotcha anything that cool."
"Oi, brat, stop monopolizing his time," Mika laughed as she got on the line again. We chatted about the usual things for an hour before I had to go. Long-distance phone calls were expensive, and I was already being a burden on Seguchi.
"Are you happy there, Eiri? You can come back whenever you want, you know that right?" she emphasized.
"I'm having fun," I answered truthfully. I liked America, fitting in here better with my broken English than I ever had in Japan. And of course, Yuki's presence helped.
"As much as I miss you guys, I'm not ready to go back yet." I hesitated, dreading knowing the answer but having to ask anyway. "Is Father there?"
There was a long pause and then she sighed. "He's in the temple."
"I see," I said softly. "Thanks. Tell him I said hi."
"I will," she said in a forced cheerful tone. "Take care."
From halfway around the world, without uttering a single word, he still had the power to hurt me. Was it my fault that I didn't have dark hair and eyes like Tatsuha? I was trying to be the son that he wanted, following in his steps in the Buddhist tradition, wasn't I? Even if it meant giving up my own secret desire to become a writer.
To my shame, I was crying, tears running down my cheeks as the old feelings of inadequacy and rejection washed over me. I was too old for this, damnit.
There was a gentle knock on the door and I hastily wiped my eyes. "Yes?" I called out. Seguchi opened the door partway and hesitated when he saw me lying on the bed, red-rimmed eyes cast down.
"What's wrong, Eiri-kun?" He walked over, eyes bright with concern. Colored eyes, like my own.
"Seguchi-san, have you ever wished you looked different?"
He shot me a quizzical expression. "Different?" he repeated as I shifted over to give him room to sit.
I gestured to his tall frame and blond hair. "You don't look very Japanese. Didn't kids make fun of you for it?" I wondered out loud. "Didn't you wish you looked like everyone else?"
With each word, I found it harder and harder to imagine him as a kid. Although he looked young enough to be my schoolmate, he had the self-assurance and composure of an adult.
"I suppose that thought has crossed my mind," he responded carefully. "But when I look in the mirror, I'm reminded of my mother and I feel comforted. So, no, I wouldn't want to look different."
It had never occurred to me that Seguchi had parents, too. I mean, I guess it's kind of obvious, since he came from somewhere, but it's just that he had never mentioned them before.
"I guess you don't see your mother often, Seguchi-san," I sympathized.
He laughed softly. "No, I guess not. She passed away ten years ago."
I stared with wide eyes at this stunning revelation. He so rarely disclosed information about himself, and now he was revealing what was probably a private and painful memory.
He looked pensive as he reached out to pet me on the head. His fingers threaded through a few golden strands. "I think blond hair suits you well, Eiri-kun. You should be happy with who you are."
Then, his pensive expression disappeared and he smiled. But for the first time, it looked very lonely.
"I know you miss your family. If you'd like, you can think of me as your older brother," he offered.
"Thank you... Seguchi-niisan," I added, tested out the unfamiliar suffix.
He kissed me on the forehead before rising, the first time he'd done so.
"Sleep well, Eiri-kun." He waited as I scrambled under the sheets before flicking the lights off and closing the door gently behind him.
I went to sleep thinking how similar we were. Maybe he was shy like me, needing someone to draw him out and treat him like he was special. It was the least I could do for the opportunity and generosity he had bestowed upon me, without expecting anything in return. I was determined to find out more about my reticent guardian, whether he liked it or not.
My last thought was that on Seguchi, blond hair looked very attractive.
-----
"Yuki?"
"Hmm?" His fingers continued to play along my arm almost unconsciously. What I had thought would be a lonely weekend by myself had turned into time spent with Yuki, sitting in his living room and pretending to watch the television instead of studying him.
I fidgeted, reconsidering postponing my investigation. After all, we were having such a nice time together and asking would ruin the relaxed atmosphere. But curiosity won out.
"Did you know Seguchi-niisan when he was younger? Like, when he was my age, maybe?"
To my vast relief, he didn't even pause as he responded, "No, not that young. We met three years ago, back when I was in college and he was in business school."
"What was he like?" I pressed on, hardly daring to believe my luck.
Yuki shrugged as he reached over to tap out a cigarette, ignoring my disapproving look. I thought he had quit. "He was just Tohma." His look added the unspoken, what did you expect?
"Were you friends," I pursued recklessly, snatching the lighter away and tucking it beneath me in between the cushions.
"Eiri, give that back," he protested. "That's mine."
I stuck out my tongue. "No. And you didn't answer my question."
He sighed indulgently and leaned back on the sofa. "I guess we were friends. As much as possible anyway. Seguchi Tohma holds everyone at a distance, friends and lovers alike. It's part of his emotional defense mechanism."
"What's he so afraid of?"
"Getting too attached, I suppose." Yuki narrowed his eyes at me. "What's with the sudden interest, Eiri?"
"I just wish I knew him better, that's al—ck!" my sentence cut off in a yelp as he suddenly dove at me.
"Y-Yuki!" I flushed as his body pressed me back into the cushions, his face looming over mine. At this proximity, his brown eyes seemed to take a reddish tint, like the color of wine. I felt light-headed, drunk with his presence.
"Yuki," I breathed out.
His eyes darkened as he leaned closer still and I closed my eyes in anticipation.
Nothing happened.
I blinked in confusion to see him seated back calmly.
"Yuki?"
Then I understood.
He smirked as he put socked feet up on the coffee table, lighting his cigarette. "Got it," he waved the lighter for emphasis as I scowled heavily, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.
"Those things will kill you," I warned, as I had so many times before. I made a half-hearted attempt to swipe it away. "And they make you smell, too," I added petulantly.
"Do you really mind, Eiri?" he teased, snaking an arm around my waist and drawing me closer. "Would you like me to go away now?"
"Of course not!" I blurted out, chagrined. I hated it when he did this. Flirting like he meant it but rejecting every opening I gave him.
"Yuki, I love you," I confessed quietly, surprised at my own boldness. "I'd put up with anything to be with you."
Stupid stupid stupid! my mind railed. He doesn't feel the same and now he'd hate me! But a small part of me, the dreamer who liked to live in a fantasy world of make-believe, thought that he'd smile and return the words. I waited hopefully as his grip on me tightened.
Abruptly, he pulled away and stood up. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starved. Let's go get something to eat, Eiri."
I stopped him by holding onto his sleeve. I had gone this far already, so why not? I lunged at him, pulling myself up and on tiptoes to kiss him solidly on the mouth. My body sagged and I leaned against him, vision blurring.
"Please, Yuki. Don't pretend like there's nothing between us."
"Eiri-kun, you're only sixteen. Seven years my junior. It won't work."
"We can make it work. Age doesn't matter! I love you, Yuki. I love you." Each repetition made it easier to say and harder to let go.
He gave me a apologetic look as he pushed me away. "I'm sorry if I led you on, kid, but I don't feel the same."
With that, he disappeared into his bedroom, the soft click of the shutting door sounding ominously final.
I pressed my fingers to my lips, remembering the achingly brief contact.
"Then... why did you kiss me back, sensei?"
The empty room offered no answers.
tbc...
----------
July 31, 2002
Chapter 1
Seguchi didn't like to hear him mentioned. The name Kitazawa Yuki never failed to bring a frown to his usually smiling face, as if the very air around him was instantly polluted by those six syllables.
Yet... Seguchi was the one who had picked him to be my private tutor, out of all the other qualified people he could have hired. He certainly paid well; with just that one job, Yuki had the time and luxury to pursue his writing career.
It was a puzzle, like so much of Seguchi, but I didn't question it for fear it might be taken as a complaint. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yuki was a wonderful teacher and mentor, sharing my love for the written word. Countless times, we've made trips down to Little Tokyo to visit the Japanese bookstores, and sat around afterwards in his apartment discussing various authors and their styles.
He was a friend, the only real one I've made since coming to America, and he eased the loneliness I've felt all my life. He understood me in a way no one else had, cautiously coaxing me out of my shy shell and teaching me that expressing oneself was true freedom.
And through all this, I was falling in love...
-----
"Yuki!"
The day was exceptionally sunny, the sun beating down and toasting the top of my head. I was already covered in perspiration, tired from the eight-minute jog from the studio to here, but seeing him renewed my strength. I sped up to a run.
"Yuki-sensei!" I cried again, and was rewarded when he looked up.
He was seated under the shade of the big oak tree, book cradled in his lap. He smiled patiently as I skidded to a halt in front of him, panting and out of breath.
"I'm sorry I'm late," I apologized, bowing shortly. "Just now, with Seguchi-san..."
I clapped a hand over my mouth as his face clouded over. Yuki disliked hearing Seguchi Tohma's name just as much as Seguchi hated me talking about Yuki. I usually remembered to avoid it, but I'd been too flustered about keeping him waiting to think straight.
"Gomenasai."
He stared at me absently, fingers toying with a corner of a page.
"Are you mad?" I asked earnestly, referring more to the slip of the name rather than tardiness. I fervently wished he could have heard Seguchi play the piano, so he would understand why I couldn't tear myself away until the music had ended. But when my guardian was involved, it was better to offer no explanation at all.
The faroff look disappeared and Yuki smiled kindly. "No, I'm not mad at all," he replied. Then, he beckoned for me to join him on the grass, thoughtfully spreading out his sweater so that my khakis wouldn't be stained.
My cheeks grew warm as he put a friendly hand on my shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "So how are things going?" he asked as I turned to gaze up at him. It was such a general question, but he always sounded genuinely interested. The implications of that made me blush even more, and I scolded myself for thinking like some silly schoolgirl.
"It's going okay. I read the manuscript you lent me yesterday," I replied, a bit shyly. "It was so great I couldn't put it down! You're so talented, Yuki-sensei."
"No, I'm not," he denied, shaking his head. His tone was uncharacteristically bitter. "I'm just another two-bit hack, unable to do much more than string sentences together."
"That's not true!" I cried out, more passionately than I intended. "You're the best writer in the world and I know you'll make it big!"
He laughed at my enthusiasm and ruffled my hair fondly. I loved it when he did that. Growing up in Japan, I'd been ostracized for my blond hair and light eyes, but Yuki never held my Western looks against me. He accepted me for who I was.
"I'm serious," I insisted in a calmer tone. "I'm sure you'll sell your book soon and you'll be really rich and famous."
"Thanks, Eiri." I could tell from his expression that he didn't believe what I was saying but going along with it. Like I was some little kid that needed to be humored.
I pouted as I buried my face in his shirt, inhaling his scent. "I hope you don't though, because that'd mean you wouldn't have time to spend with me and you might forget me," I mumbled into his chest.
He laughed and hugged me. "I'll never do that. Look, I'll dedicate my first publication to you, how's that?" he proposed, voice still light as if he didn't believe it would ever happen.
"Okay," I grinned. He may have his doubts, but I had absolute faith that I'd see his name in print one day.
"Now that that's settled, should we pick up where we left off yesterday?" He handed me one of my textbooks.
"Hai!"
-----
When I came back from eating dinner with Yuki at his apartment, I was greeted with the sight of Seguchi, home early for once. He was in the living room, glasses on so he could read the papers spread across the table.
Recovering from my surprise, I called out, "I'm home," while slipping off my shoes at the entrance. Even though we were in America, Seguchi insisted we follow certain Japanese customs and I agreed whole-heartedly. I don't understand why people would want to track dirt around the house.
"Ah, Eiri-kun," he rose to meet me halfway. "Your sister called while you were gone."
"Thank you, Seguchi-san," I said politely as I took the proffered phone.
"I told you to call me Tohma," he reminded, even though we both knew I wouldn't. It just felt rude, considering that he was so much older than I, and not family.
"You're a bit late, aren't you?" he continued lightly, smile still in place. "I expected you home at least an hour ago."
"I—" I clamped my mouth shut in time, remembering my mishap with Yuki. One awkward moment today was enough. Besides, if he learned just how much time I spent at Yuki's, he might forbid me from going over so much. Yuki insisted I wasn't imposing, but Seguchi was big on being polite and proper.
"It won't happen again," I promised.
He smiled and patted my shoulder. "Go and call Mika-san. I'll be out here if you need me," he said, turning back to his work as I headed for my room.
It was strange, this relationship between us and I had trouble understanding it since the moment I met him. He was a twenty-seven year old man with a rising career in the music business, and I was an introverted sixteen year old whose life was planned out since birth. We couldn't be any more different.
Why had he asked me, a virtual stranger, to accompany him too New York? Even stranger, why had Father agreed? As the oldest Uesugi, I was supposed to be in training to take over the position of head monk.
Well, I guess the opportunity for me to temporarily disappear was too tempting for him to turn down. But Seguchi was a different question. He had nothing to gain, no personal motivation that I could come up with. He really was a mysterious person.
Shaking off the thoughts, I dialed the number to home. Someone picked up after two rings.
"Eiri! How're you doing?"
"I'm doing okay, Mikarin." Hearing her voice, I suddenly felt homesick. It's been three months since I saw my family, after all.
"Me! Me! Lemme talk to him!" I heard in the background, followed by shuffling as the phone switched hands.
"Hi, aniki!" Tatsuha chirped. "You haven't forgotten who I am, have you?" he asked anxiously, not waiting for an answer as he barraged ahead. "Because I haven't forgotten about you."
I assured him that forgetting him would be impossible and he sounded pleased.
"Hey guess what? Mika-neechan just got me this really cool CD player. Bet she never gotcha anything that cool."
"Oi, brat, stop monopolizing his time," Mika laughed as she got on the line again. We chatted about the usual things for an hour before I had to go. Long-distance phone calls were expensive, and I was already being a burden on Seguchi.
"Are you happy there, Eiri? You can come back whenever you want, you know that right?" she emphasized.
"I'm having fun," I answered truthfully. I liked America, fitting in here better with my broken English than I ever had in Japan. And of course, Yuki's presence helped.
"As much as I miss you guys, I'm not ready to go back yet." I hesitated, dreading knowing the answer but having to ask anyway. "Is Father there?"
There was a long pause and then she sighed. "He's in the temple."
"I see," I said softly. "Thanks. Tell him I said hi."
"I will," she said in a forced cheerful tone. "Take care."
From halfway around the world, without uttering a single word, he still had the power to hurt me. Was it my fault that I didn't have dark hair and eyes like Tatsuha? I was trying to be the son that he wanted, following in his steps in the Buddhist tradition, wasn't I? Even if it meant giving up my own secret desire to become a writer.
To my shame, I was crying, tears running down my cheeks as the old feelings of inadequacy and rejection washed over me. I was too old for this, damnit.
There was a gentle knock on the door and I hastily wiped my eyes. "Yes?" I called out. Seguchi opened the door partway and hesitated when he saw me lying on the bed, red-rimmed eyes cast down.
"What's wrong, Eiri-kun?" He walked over, eyes bright with concern. Colored eyes, like my own.
"Seguchi-san, have you ever wished you looked different?"
He shot me a quizzical expression. "Different?" he repeated as I shifted over to give him room to sit.
I gestured to his tall frame and blond hair. "You don't look very Japanese. Didn't kids make fun of you for it?" I wondered out loud. "Didn't you wish you looked like everyone else?"
With each word, I found it harder and harder to imagine him as a kid. Although he looked young enough to be my schoolmate, he had the self-assurance and composure of an adult.
"I suppose that thought has crossed my mind," he responded carefully. "But when I look in the mirror, I'm reminded of my mother and I feel comforted. So, no, I wouldn't want to look different."
It had never occurred to me that Seguchi had parents, too. I mean, I guess it's kind of obvious, since he came from somewhere, but it's just that he had never mentioned them before.
"I guess you don't see your mother often, Seguchi-san," I sympathized.
He laughed softly. "No, I guess not. She passed away ten years ago."
I stared with wide eyes at this stunning revelation. He so rarely disclosed information about himself, and now he was revealing what was probably a private and painful memory.
He looked pensive as he reached out to pet me on the head. His fingers threaded through a few golden strands. "I think blond hair suits you well, Eiri-kun. You should be happy with who you are."
Then, his pensive expression disappeared and he smiled. But for the first time, it looked very lonely.
"I know you miss your family. If you'd like, you can think of me as your older brother," he offered.
"Thank you... Seguchi-niisan," I added, tested out the unfamiliar suffix.
He kissed me on the forehead before rising, the first time he'd done so.
"Sleep well, Eiri-kun." He waited as I scrambled under the sheets before flicking the lights off and closing the door gently behind him.
I went to sleep thinking how similar we were. Maybe he was shy like me, needing someone to draw him out and treat him like he was special. It was the least I could do for the opportunity and generosity he had bestowed upon me, without expecting anything in return. I was determined to find out more about my reticent guardian, whether he liked it or not.
My last thought was that on Seguchi, blond hair looked very attractive.
-----
"Yuki?"
"Hmm?" His fingers continued to play along my arm almost unconsciously. What I had thought would be a lonely weekend by myself had turned into time spent with Yuki, sitting in his living room and pretending to watch the television instead of studying him.
I fidgeted, reconsidering postponing my investigation. After all, we were having such a nice time together and asking would ruin the relaxed atmosphere. But curiosity won out.
"Did you know Seguchi-niisan when he was younger? Like, when he was my age, maybe?"
To my vast relief, he didn't even pause as he responded, "No, not that young. We met three years ago, back when I was in college and he was in business school."
"What was he like?" I pressed on, hardly daring to believe my luck.
Yuki shrugged as he reached over to tap out a cigarette, ignoring my disapproving look. I thought he had quit. "He was just Tohma." His look added the unspoken, what did you expect?
"Were you friends," I pursued recklessly, snatching the lighter away and tucking it beneath me in between the cushions.
"Eiri, give that back," he protested. "That's mine."
I stuck out my tongue. "No. And you didn't answer my question."
He sighed indulgently and leaned back on the sofa. "I guess we were friends. As much as possible anyway. Seguchi Tohma holds everyone at a distance, friends and lovers alike. It's part of his emotional defense mechanism."
"What's he so afraid of?"
"Getting too attached, I suppose." Yuki narrowed his eyes at me. "What's with the sudden interest, Eiri?"
"I just wish I knew him better, that's al—ck!" my sentence cut off in a yelp as he suddenly dove at me.
"Y-Yuki!" I flushed as his body pressed me back into the cushions, his face looming over mine. At this proximity, his brown eyes seemed to take a reddish tint, like the color of wine. I felt light-headed, drunk with his presence.
"Yuki," I breathed out.
His eyes darkened as he leaned closer still and I closed my eyes in anticipation.
Nothing happened.
I blinked in confusion to see him seated back calmly.
"Yuki?"
Then I understood.
He smirked as he put socked feet up on the coffee table, lighting his cigarette. "Got it," he waved the lighter for emphasis as I scowled heavily, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.
"Those things will kill you," I warned, as I had so many times before. I made a half-hearted attempt to swipe it away. "And they make you smell, too," I added petulantly.
"Do you really mind, Eiri?" he teased, snaking an arm around my waist and drawing me closer. "Would you like me to go away now?"
"Of course not!" I blurted out, chagrined. I hated it when he did this. Flirting like he meant it but rejecting every opening I gave him.
"Yuki, I love you," I confessed quietly, surprised at my own boldness. "I'd put up with anything to be with you."
Stupid stupid stupid! my mind railed. He doesn't feel the same and now he'd hate me! But a small part of me, the dreamer who liked to live in a fantasy world of make-believe, thought that he'd smile and return the words. I waited hopefully as his grip on me tightened.
Abruptly, he pulled away and stood up. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starved. Let's go get something to eat, Eiri."
I stopped him by holding onto his sleeve. I had gone this far already, so why not? I lunged at him, pulling myself up and on tiptoes to kiss him solidly on the mouth. My body sagged and I leaned against him, vision blurring.
"Please, Yuki. Don't pretend like there's nothing between us."
"Eiri-kun, you're only sixteen. Seven years my junior. It won't work."
"We can make it work. Age doesn't matter! I love you, Yuki. I love you." Each repetition made it easier to say and harder to let go.
He gave me a apologetic look as he pushed me away. "I'm sorry if I led you on, kid, but I don't feel the same."
With that, he disappeared into his bedroom, the soft click of the shutting door sounding ominously final.
I pressed my fingers to my lips, remembering the achingly brief contact.
"Then... why did you kiss me back, sensei?"
The empty room offered no answers.
tbc...
----------
July 31, 2002