These Paper Walls: Chapter Two
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The little restaurant at which Dark and Emiko were currently situated was a short walk away from the college campus, and very quaint in appearance. Everyone and everything bustled with a cheery livelihood, and no attention was paid to the middle-aged woman and her young companion. Of course, there was always an exception. A few overdramatic college students who had heard various rumors about the young sophomore began to fabricate some ridiculous story upon seeing the violet-haired man. Dark knew it would be spread across campus by the time he returned to his dorm, but it wouldn't really matter. It never mattered.
Emiko painstakingly stirred her cooling cappuccino with the spoon, as if nothing else in the world was as important. Dark sat opposite her, waiting patiently, observing quietly. Hidden between Emiko's tawny-golden strands of hair were pale gray ones, and the finest wrinkles curved around her eyes. Her posture slumped ever so gently and her hands were lightly worn. She was aging gracefully, but the fact that she was aging remained. The idea sort of shocked him, that she could ever look this way.
Of course, he knew people grew older. It wasn't as if he ignored the fact. But Emiko Niwa used to always have a smile to excuse the lines on her face, and the stray gray hairs were simply strands that caught the light more than others. Her lack of energy, her youthful livelihood, seemed to have disappeared completely. The strange thing was that it had been only a year since he had seen her last. Dark never expected to see her like this in so short a time.
With Daisuke acting so strangely and Emiko looking like she had been tried too many times, it was needless to say that Dark was worried. The Niwas, all of them, were important to him. They were his only family, after all.
Well, that was a bit of a lie. He had loved his mother dearly, a lovely woman. She had been beautiful, inside and out; every aspect of her radiated with a waiflike pulchritude. She used to scold him for stealing things, but always blushed lightly when he said he took it because "it looked prettier on her than on the rack". When they went to return the stolen item, no one would ever be offended, because her sincere apology coupled with her lovely looks won them over.
His father had pursued her because of her appearance. She had been young and naïve. Dark supposed most beautiful women in the world were, or they were the extreme opposite. He was a middle-aged man, a powerful tycoon in the Japanese business world, bored with the trophy wife (foreign, even) he had at home. Dark's mother thought the great businessman loved her. He did. But he couldn't divorce his wife; no, that wouldn't look good at all.
So when she learned of her pregnancy, she decided to disappear. An illegitimate child would only burden him. Dark's mother left the bustle of Tokyo for a quieter part of Japan, down south. Dark was born, and she spent her days raising her son in content— until she died when Dark was sixteen years old. Like a cherry blossom, her life was exquisite yet fleeting. It had been tuberculosis, only properly diagnosed when she lay on her deathbed. He found out about her terminal illness just a month or so after she told him the story behind his father.
Despite himself, Dark tried to spend more time away from the house as possible then. His mother understood and didn't hold him to it; being so young, the image of his fading mother was far too terrifying to face.
It was during this time that he happened to meet Daisuke. Dark was at the market, when a pretty little trinket caught his eye. It would look nice in his mother's collection, he had thought. But as he slipped the thing into his pocket, a firm hand gripped his arm. It was a young boy, probably fourteen or so, barely large enough for the apron he wore to fit him.
Those scorching blood-red eyes had questioned him, shook Dark to his core. "What are you doing?"
Dark had only looked straight into those eyes, keeping silent. He had meant to say something, he did. But between them, there was suddenly an understanding. Something connected.
"Niwa Daisuke."
"Mousy Dark."
"That's not a lot of money."
"I'll pay for it some other time."
"…Alright."
And the redhead had let him go, and turned away to engage his manager in a quiet conversation. Dark slipped out unnoticed. Dark remembered smiling inwardly when he found that his mother could pull up enough energy to reprimand him for his steal, and the immense gratitude he felt for the young redhead who seemed to understand him so well.
When his mother died weeks later, he bore through the funeral quietly. He made the proper responses to thoughtless condolences, and merely nodded to the piteous glances they gave him throughout the whole ordeal. There were no tears or huge tantrums as his mother's body was lowered into the ground and covered over, never to see the sunlight again.
He didn't know when, he didn't know just why— but he went back to the market. For some reason, the boy came up to his mind and he felt a need to see him. Sure enough, there was Daisuke when he got there, sweeping some dust around aisle seven. The younger teen looked up upon hearing Dark's light patters. His eyes were questioning, curious, and somehow aware of Dark's situation.
"Do you have any black in your closet?" was Dark's only question.
Daisuke looked down at his ensemble, and then back at Dark to give a tentative shrug. "Just this T-shirt. I'm just about to leave, I can go and change if—"
But the word 'leave' had seized Dark with a sudden, uncontrollable panic. Without thinking, he grabbed the boy's arm and dashed out the door. Daisuke had never said a single word, but only followed as quickly as his short legs could carry him.
They finally stopped at the cemetery, right in front of his mother's grave.
"Mom!" He had choked, his voice breaking through the onslaught of tears. "I'll miss you!" Strangely uncharacteristic of him in many ways, but he had been sick of it, sick of being suave and collected while he stood in front of his dead mother's body. All he wanted to do was be four years old again celebrating the annual festivals with his mother in light yukatas, smiling and not caring what passerby thought. But he couldn't turn back the clock, couldn't age backwards, so he made do with an innocent-looking boy and acting as childish as a sixteen-year old could.
He remembered Daisuke held his hand tightly, and made no idiotic comments of sympathy or empathy. He communicated in the best way, since words always seemed to be constraining anyway.
They had been mostly inseparable ever since. Dark had taken a job at the market as well, and life was fine. The Niwa family welcomed him with open arms every time he felt lonely at his apartment.
Emiko, out of the three adults, had been his favorite because she reached out to him so much. He understood Kosuke was quiet and naturally reserved, and Daiki had a certain candidness that bothered Dark every now and then. But he supposed he liked Emiko best of all because she was so…maternal. Yes, it was obvious. But, after the loss of his mother…he had hoped she could help him.
She certainly wasn't a replacement for his mother; Emiko was too loud, too outgoing, too klutzy, among many other things to resemble his mother in any way. But when she smiled, sometimes, he imagined his mother smiling at him with the same emotion, when she pulled him into an overenthusiastic hug, he imagined his mother …and he became attached. She was the female figure he needed in his life, at least until he found a girlfriend—or that was the plan, until recently.
He really couldn't say when, but sometime, sometime in college, he realized his feelings for Daisuke ran just a little deeper than best friends. He wasn't really sure of the full extent of his feelings, but he knew it was enough that he would never give the redhead up to anyone else. Ever. No one had ever seen Dark cry besides Daisuke. If it wasn't for the boy, Dark was sure he never would have made it anywhere. Only Daisuke understood Dark the way he wanted to be understood.
So it bothered Dark just a smidge that he couldn't help Daisuke the way Daisuke had helped him so many times. This one time, he had to try. He knew Daisuke would regret his actions if they weren't resolved before too late; he could feel it.
"So…" he began, staring Emiko straight in the eye, "what, exactly…is going on?"
She broke the eye contact, choosing instead to focus on a passing couple outside. "I don't know," she finally said, her voice nearly broken. "I…No, I'm lying. I think I might know. I guess I do know. I…don't know!"
Dark, despite the seriousness of the situation, stifled a chuckle at Emiko's typical answer.
"I…just…I don't think I've shown him how much I love him recently. I don't want to make this sound bad, but I think…I spent too much time on you these past years."
Dark violet eyes widened, slowly. "Me?"
"Yes," she nodded. "I…couldn't help myself! You, dear, you're everything Daisuke can be two years ahead. I wanted him to be strong and confident like you are."
"So, you compared him to me?"
"I never thought of it that way…I didn't mean it like that—" Emiko's voice hitched, tears welling up.
"I can't believe…" Dark finally noticed the almost-cruel edge his voice had gained. Instead of saying anything, he turned to the window and pretended to watch passerby. He breathed slowly, trying to process the situation. It wasn't like Emiko was the sole culprit here. It was his fault as well, coming over to their house so often, intruding on family moments; he helped to break apart this family. He never meant to, didn't ever want to— but then again, Oedipus didn't exactly plan on screwing his mother either. Oh…that was a bad analogy, Dark thought sourly. Ancient Greek Studies was starting to get its hold on him. But in any case… "So…why did you call my name earlier?"
Emiko looked up, confused. "I called his name too. Did you two not hear me?"
"I don't think," Dark said, a sudden profoundness overcoming him, "you're calling for him loud enough."
She only nodded and smiled bitterly. "I've failed, dear. And I need to try and get another chance, even though he's given me so many already."
"How many chances? For how long?"
"Well," she sighed, pulling at a strand of her hair, "I suppose it's been a year since he told me he hated me." Her voice broke at the word 'hate'. "I've been trying so hard to reach him, but he hangs up if Kosuke or Dad gives the phone to me, and I haven't had time to make the long drive up here. And I thought if I gave him time, he would…be more willing to see me." She gave a little pause, and allowed Dark to scoff lightly at her naivety. "Here, I'll stop beating around the bush. Dark… I need you to help me. Please—be the mediator?"
He found himself nodding even before he fully processed his own actions. Emiko let out an audible sigh, and finally took a sip of her coffee. Judging by her expression, Dark guessed it was cool by now. He checked his phone, and found that it was getting late.
"I should get going, Emiko," he muttered, paying for the coffee as the waiter walked by. "I've got a few tests to study for."
"Go ahead. And thank you. Thank you so much."
He gave a little wave as he walked out the door, looking casual and cool as always. But inside, his mind was still winding through all the information, still unsure of what to do. Sure, he told her he would be mediator, but what exactly did that mean? How the hell was he supposed to go about this? Just walk up to Daisuke and jump into a ridiculously strange conversation? Not that he had never done that before, but this was…a little different. It was more delicate. Really, the only thing more awkward than this was just to tell Daisuke his feelings! Imagining how that would go, Dark shuddered and found his current obstacle slightly easier—maybe.
He broke his train of thought to hold a door open for a teacher, then continued his path down the hallway. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going to end up, but he half-hoped someone would stop him on the way, distract him with something trivial like a party or even homework. No one did. He climbed the stairs slowly, so slowly, dragging on each minute.
Dark didn't particularly like awkward moments. Everything should be smooth, from stealing to socializing to kissing. But he didn't like seeing Daisuke upset either. This wasn't something he could just ignore. He knew Daisuke, and he knew that the redhead would never be alright spending his life hating someone, unlike other people.
Suddenly, he found himself in the counselor's room. He groaned as he heard the door shut behind him. "You always do this," Dark groaned.
A woman popped up at his right, smiling brightly. "You really shouldn't let your guard down in this building then!" she chirped.
The school's resident counselor and one of a few professors of psychology, Towa was a bit…eccentric, when it came to the typical image of psychologists. Not only did the woman trade out the suits and blouses most teachers wore for goth-loli dresses, she refused to tell anyone her last name and insisted that she was really twenty-four, graduating ahead of schedule. Of course, everyone knew better. But there was something really, really…off about her. Most people played along, terrified of what Towa would do if they didn't. But for every action, there is a force opposing it. The opposing force to Towa was Dark.
"Ya old witch, taking advantage of the young and confused."
She made a shocked expression, covering her mouth with her hand. Her clover-green eyes, however, glinted mischievously over the tips of her dainty fingers. "Why I never, Dark. I'm only here to help you college students find your way! I certainly have a knack for finding things, you know."
"Does anyone else say that but you?"
She ignored him and managed to sit Dark down on one of the plush chairs in the room, looking a bit comical since she was a whole foot shorter than him. Her lilac petticoats flounced underneath her dark violet dress; the matching ribbons wound through her hair twirled as she finally managed to force Dark onto the seat.
Although one might expect Towa's office to be filled with black kittens or lace filigrees of skulls, her room was actually quite uniform to the rest of the school. The walls were a patient lilac with slightly darker lily patterns scattered across. The furniture was off-white, almost cream, and elegant with all of its sloping curves.
"Purple is actually a good color for contemplation, you know," Towa twittered as she sat on top of her desk, reading his mind. She eyed his hair, her eyes filling up with faux pity. "It's a shame it doesn't help you think, sort of. But at least you have me! Now, tell Towa what's on your mind."
"Nothing."
"Come on now, don't be shy. There's certainly something."
"How would you know?"
"Because whenever you walk down a hallway daydreaming, there's something on your mind. Like the first time I invited you in here!"
Dark sniffed. "Dragged, you mean." But she did have a point, he admitted to himself— albeit reluctantly. He really only dawdled like that when he was worried, and only Towa and Daisuke had ever noticed that about him.
The counselor fiddled with a lock of her silvery hair, feigning disinterest. "So, what's going on in that little noggin of yours? Boy-boy troubles again? You get rejected by the redhead?"
"No!" The male flushed, much to his dismay and her glee. "I won't tell him that."
"But, it is about him, isn't it?" When he nodded, she continued her prodding. "Is he angry at you?"
Dark shrugged. "I'm not actually…the main character in this." Thus he told her the whole story, from being his mother's death all the way to the meeting that very day. He skipped out on telling her about the feelings for Daisuke thing, because they'd gone over that before – the very first time Towa had unsuspectingly pulled him into her lair, demanding to know everything. But, like last time, he found himself full of words, and they inundated the room with a nearly-unbearable force. Towa sat there, done with her hair-twirling, her total attention focused on him as she soaked in all the words. Somehow it wasn't unnerving, but rather motivating, to see those steady emerald eyes on him. When he finished, he realized the clock hands had moved forward two hours. He suddenly felt self-conscious, and muttered an apology for taking up so much time.
Towa smiled, one that reminded Dark of something akin to a maternal smile, and shook her head. "You crazy kids make my career. I'm happy to listen." Dark supposed calling all the students that came to her crazy would normally be offensive but he knew she didn't think that. If anyone could be considered crazy, it was Towa herself, not the students who were corralled into her office. "So, you want to hear what I think?"
"You're not going to let me out if I don't, so sure."
"You'll figure it out yourself."
There was a period of silence. Birds chirped outside the window. Then—
"That's it?" Dark nearly shouted. "How the hell are you a counselor?"
Towa shrugged, and smoothed out invisible creases on her apron daintily. "You already know what you should do, don't you?"
"Uh…no."
"Sure you do. Stop being a priss and just do it."
The college student, for all his ridiculous studying over vocabulary and his extraordinary intelligence, had absolutely nothing to say. As always, the crazy lady had a point.
Dark hated counselors.
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Huge apologies for the long wait, but I've got to prioritize my life and sadly, fanfiction writing falls to the bottom. I guess it doesn't help that this chapter was more informative than exciting, but if you guys have read Guardian Gates, you know I like to end things with some conflict and…erm, fluffiness (wink). But finals are coming up and I'll be done afterwards, so I hope that I can finish this story by June/July. We'll see how things go. As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated, and I hope you guys enjoyed!
Ja ne,
Vi