Cold gray light filtered through the open windows, a bittersweet improvement on the mocking glow of the computer monitor. Yuki sighed and kicked his chair away from the desk where a flashing cursor demanded progress. The calendar on the wall reminded him that the deadline was approaching fast.
He silently cursed Shigure as he went to get a midnight snack. Or lunch. It depended on who you asked since he had become a devoted night owl in recent years. Without school to force him into a diurnal schedule he had gladly chosen to sleep through the more active hours during the day. Sometimes he missed the bright warmth of the sun but more than that he was glad to avoid the potentially troublesome attention of women. A few 24 hour stores allowed him to get away with very few daylight outings and it helped that he had moved far enough there was no one who knew him as 'Prince Yuki'.
Now and then he missed the flattery but here in England he was mostly just a curiosity. While it was noticed unknown for Japanese people to move to the UK, most seemed to prefer larger cities and the medium-sized towns like this still considered any Asian to be an exotic novelty. While it could be very irritating at times it did set him apart in such a way very few people were comfortable touching him without a lot of polite conversation first. Being hugged by a stranger? Not going to happen.
After inspecting the nearly empty refrigerator he pulled on a coat and began the long walk to the nearest store. While he could have taken his car that would only return him to the computer faster and he needed to think.
"Writing is so easy, Yuki!" Shigure had said cheerfully. "You have gotten perfect grades in all those writing classes, you should just write books for a living like I do!"
Yuki snorted in irritation. He hadn't mentioned writers block and how hard it could be to maintain a consistently good plot. What happens next? His characters were entirely uncooperative, all logical avenues to the best ending seemed blocked.
With a heavy sigh he looked up at the sky and felt a sharp pang of loneliness. The moon and stars seemed so lifeless these days. On clear nights he often found himself missing the good old days with Tohru. He even missed Shigure sometimes. Now and then, Kyo... but not as often.
However frustrating and tense those days had been, they remained the best in his life. He could swear the color drained from the world the day Tohru fell in love and moved out. She had been the glue that held them together and once she left they drifted apart. Shigure called once in a while to chat. No one had seen Kyo for over five years. Tohru stopped by to check on Shigure now and then with her children but little more. Of course she had kept their secret - even from her new family.
Without her optimism constantly pushing at him, the cynicism he tried to fight off became overwhelming and he simply gave up. All he had left was one of his characters, a woman he modeled after Tohru, to force a bit of a positive outlook on him.
His steps slowed a little more with each block as the pointlessness of his life weighed on him more and more. Alone in a foreign country, hardly ever even speaking to other people, writing mediocre books… the best aspect of the whole situation was that Akito was half a world away.
Is this really my life? He looked up at the indifferent moon. Is there ever going to be a point to it?
The only reason to keep living was the hope that some day some poor child would be born and the curse would transfer to them. Until then any dreams of a normal life were absolutely futile. He would always be trapped by the laws of a world most people didn't even know existed. One he was charged to prevent them from ever discovering.
It took effort to force his feet to keep plodding forward toward the brightly lit store where normal people lived normal lives with normal problems. He moved silently among the shelves, missing the more outgoing and friendly clerks in Japanese stores. Of course he knew where everything was but still he missed the cheerful calls of welcome as he stepped through the door. Here people just didn't care as much.
Once he had gathered enough ingredients to make food for a couple of days, he paid and hurried out. The woman behind the counter was young, lovely, and tried desperately to draw him into conversation as she did every time. As much as he would love to have someone to talk to he knew where it would lead and that was not somewhere he had the option of being.
Further depressed, he trudged back toward his house. As usual it was mostly deserted at this time of night away from the main roads so it took him by surprise when he saw a woman sitting on the bench of a bus stop where no bus would be stopping until morning. She seemed to be writing in a journal but he saw her eyes flick up and survey the surroundings fairly often.
Muggers just keep getting prettier, he thought to himself as he crossed the street to avoid getting too close. Short blonde hair escaped from a hat that almost hid her hazel eyes. He watched carefully as he passed by, as amazed by those eyes as he had been the first time he saw someone with them. They seemed to pick up the color of whatever clothing the person was wearing. The red of her scarf almost seemed to glow from those eyes as she watched him.
Without warning she shoved the book in her pocket and started to sprint across the street. He took a deep breath, preparing to defend himself… then he heard a shuffle of feet behind him as someone spun and ran away. She disappeared over a garden wall in pursuit of whoever that had been. Strange.
He glanced back at the bus stop and saw that the journal had not been secure enough before she ran away and had fallen from her pocket. There was no sign of her returning soon so he quickly crossed the street and picked it up.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he saw the words scrawled across the cover. 'Private! Don't read this! This means YOU!'
It seemed like something Tohru would write on her diary cover if she kept one. Torn between curiosity and good manners, he tucked it in one of the bags and continued on. It would be tempting to look… but if he returned the next night she might be there again. It would make sense if they maintained a similar schedule.
Once he was safely back in his house he set the book on the coffee table, made a sandwich and put away the rest of the groceries.
The cursor was still blinking at him when he sat down, laughing at his lack of ideas.
