Chapter 4
Dereliction
At first, Ryoma blinked around bemusedly, wondering where he was. Before he could satisfy himself upon that point, he had already realised that it must have been the closing of the door that had woken him up. Momo-sempai. Yes, this was Momo-sempai's place. What had been the last thing he had been doing here? Waiting for food? Had he fallen asleep? Probably, that had been the case and Momo-sempai had let him sleep into the night.
"Sempai?"
There was no reply. He recalled that the sound of a door being shut was what had roused him out of his sleep in the first place. Sempai had probably gone out.
He became aware of something hard poking the side of his body and rolled away to uncover the manga he had been sleeping on. Ryoma got up, stretched and moved towards the window. It was the only source of light other than the faint blue night lamp. The wind blew in the smell of impending rain. If the threatening sounds of thunder was anything to go by, he supposed there might even be a storm coming.
Ryoma shut the window and turned on the lights.
He did not know what had caused his eyes to linger upon it. He had had no intention of making the bed – it seemed an impracticable task, anyway. However, there wasn't just the stray manga lying on the bed but also what was unquestionably a personal diary.
Momoshiro Takeshi definitely did not seem like the sort of person who kept a personal diary. It was a random and baseless supposition, though. Why couldn't Momo-sempai keep a diary? It was a perfectly normal possession.
Ryoma couldn't help it. It was as bad as chancing upon an oasis of Fanta after going thirsty for twenty years. Okay, so it wasn't that bad, but in any case, Ryoma couldn't help it. After all, Momo-sempai told him about everything that was going on in his life – he couldn't possibly have anything to conceal from him, Ryoma, could he? He was just going to take a cursory look, in any case. He wasn't the sort of person who gossiped or even spoke of things that weren't strictly his business. So there wasn't any harm that it could possibly do.
He fumbled about in the kitchenette merely because he couldn't sit still in the room. He desperately required something to occupy his hands while his mind worked furiously.
"I love Ryoma and every single day, these feelings – they kill me…"
What… what had that been? He loved him like – like a lover?
More importantly, why did it seem the most natural thing in the world to Ryoma? It was so weird. For one, they were both guys. They were sempai and kouhai. They were close friends. Why would Momo-sempai feel that way towards him? And why did Ryoma feel so 'normal' about it all? As if… as if he had known all along…
As if I am in love with him myself…
"What the fuck?"
His heart was thumping crazily. He could hear the roaring thunder outside albeit the sound was dimmed for he had locked the windows. It felt alien. Everything around him seemed unfamiliar. Where was he? What was he doing here? It felt as if he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. However, there was no explaining why it was all so wrong.
He stared at the gently simmering soba – even that seemed odd.
His mind was steadily going blank. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to feel these bizarre emotions. He was trying hard to close himself to things he had never wanted to know and the knowledge of which, he felt, was rudely thrust upon him.
Ryoma had been so lost in his own mind that he did not hear Momo-sempai enter the room. It was a subconscious instinct that had caused him to turn around the very moment Momo-sempai moved so that they could see each other.
"Welcome back. You ought to have woken me up sooner."
The very sight of the person who filled his thoughts had wrenched him back to normalcy.
There was nothing in Momo-sempai's manner to suggest that he had ever thought about him in any way except as a friend. It evoked the same response from Ryoma, as if reflexively. It was one of the most well-done charades.
Of course, Momo-sempai didn't want to think about such emotions, either. He didn't want to mention things which would make the situation irrevocably uncomfortable between them. It was all Ryoma's fault. He ought not to have touched someone's personal diary in the first place. Curiosity always killed the cat.
Ryoma didn't really think of it all so lucidly. He only felt it in the few moments he uttered those words and things had fallen back to the way they were before he had come to own the particular bit of information.
For the next hour, they would interact as they usually did. Ryoma, as he left Momo-sempai's place wondered for an instance whether he had imagined the whole episode of strangeness.
The rain had worsened rather suddenly and Ryoma had decided to wait it out under the cover of some sheets that were suspended from the eaves of an ice-cream shop. He imagined they served as a makeshift roof for catering to customers who wanted to enjoy their treats outside. All the shops in this area except a convenience store had already closed. "Cool" had been no exception – he didn't know that there was anyone inside.
It was only a matter of minutes before he was proved wrong.
"Hey! You can come in here."
Ryoma turned to his right and found a young man leaning out from the threshold.
"Come on!" yelled the man, trying to make himself heard over the clamour of the storm.
Ryoma hurried inside and voiced his thanks.
"No problem. I was just doing the accounts – I am no good at maths, so it's a long and weary job. I'm glad for the company. Would you like to eat something – absolutely on the house?"
Ryoma declined the offer. He sat down at the one of the tables and focussed his attention on a magazine lying around. The young no-good-accountant had busied himself with his work.
The noise of thunder reverberated through the shop. Ryoma looked outside through the glass window in the door. Thick trails of water and the rain beating upon it made it impossible to discern anything beyond the pavement. The curtains were drawn over the French windows. It felt as if he was stranded in the middle of nowhere with no sense of time or direction.
"Oh hell!"
The oath was hardly audible over the roaring storm. The shop was suddenly drowned in darkness. Ryoma stood up and moved towards the door. While he wasn't achluophobic, it felt suffocating to remain seated there.
He could see outside more clearly now. It was deserted but the swirling trees and bushes, and the wind whirling wildly almost made up for it.
Ryoma narrowed his eyes. He thought he could make out a figure not far from the shop.
The next second, he was staring at the reflection of the counter and a couple of tables and chair. The lights were back on.
"Thank God! I thought it was going to last forever." His companion had first unsuccessfully attempted to turn on a battery-lamp and then had been fumbling around for a candle and matches.
However, Ryoma did not turn back. Even though he had only had a glimpse of that figure, he could not help feeling that it was not unfamiliar to him at all. In fact, he wondered if it wasn't a hallucination because his mind had little place for thoughts other than those concerned with him.
Ryoma pushed open the door and stepped out – he would confirm if it with his own eyes again.
"Hey! The storm's getting worse! You shouldn't go out!"
Had Momo-sempai noticed him, too, then? Because it was no longer the indistinct back that faced him but a well-remembered countenance albeit shielded by rain and darkness.
It was hard to stand still in the frantic winds but slightly easier to run. Ryoma didn't need to think twice. He had been filled with fear the instant he had thought that it was Momo-sempai retreating into an uncertain future away from him. He did not hear the shopkeeper calling out to him. He did not hear the ear-splitting thunder that followed the lightning. He knew. Now, he knew. And he was sure of what he wanted to do.
He advanced towards Momo-sempai, who had stopped when he saw Ryoma moving towards him. He stood with a hand on the grill bordering a small garden, separating it from the pavement.
Without a word, Ryoma threw himself into his arms, embracing him with all his strength. Momo let go of the cold metal and collapsed back into the ground, dragging Ryoma with him. He hugged him closer – trying to shield him from the menacing weather, trying to pull him as deep into himself as he could.
Ryoma was acutely aware of the strong arms encircling him and the broad back his own held on to. His face was buried in the shirt drenched in water, smelling of rain and flesh. The sensation of icy lips on the side of his neck was increased tenfold as warm breath that escaped them diffused on his skin.
He closed his eyes against the rain attacking it. And he did not open them when he was pulled back and freezing fingers wandered over his face. He only caught hold of the cold wrists and moved his face towards the one he sought most in this world.
Their breaths were the only shred of warmth in the chilling atmosphere around them. It was freezing their bodies, too but neither Ryoma nor Momo-sempai would be bothered. They greedily kissed each other, biting, licking and trying to reach out to each other as much as possible.
Ryoma entangled his fingers in the sodden hair and grasped the back of the muscular neck. He felt Momo-sempai pull him closer, his arms fixed firmly around him. He broke away for a moment to draw in his breath and opened his eyes. Momo-sempai was looking intently at him, his eyes smothering him in a way nothing could. He was breathing hard, too, he realised – they both were.
His expression of anxious desperation broke into light happiness as they continued gazing at each other.
Momo bent down and lightly kissed his forehead.
