Fall

Chapter Four: Homecoming

Yokozawa stepped into the entry of his small flat and took off his jacket. A shiver shook his lean frame. An unseasonal cold front had moved in to Tokyo the last few days and had brought unfortunate weather with it.

After kicking out of his shoes and turning on the light, he moved over to the thermostat mounted on the wall and turned on the floor heaters. A soft sigh escaped him. Despite his meager surroundings, he was relieved to be home.

Before hanging up his coat, Yokozawa opened his front door again to shake it out. The moisture pearled on its waterproof surface flew off, adding new droplets to the damp concrete of the walkway. The rain had begun late that afternoon and even though it was now after ten, hadn't let up yet. Despite the miserable weather, however, his mood was surprisingly positive.

He had gone out with his classmates, per his promise to Fujimura, and it had proven to be a much needed distraction. Not only this, but he'd managed to excuse himself early when it looked as though things were shifting towards rowdy, escaping the evening unscathed both socially and romantically.

And nicely buzzed to boot.

As he pulled both him and his jacket back into his apartment, however, Yokozawa's eyes were drawn over to his neighbor's flat. Still no light was visible behind the closed shades or under the thin crack beneath Takano's door.

The apartment had been seemingly vacant for days now, ever since their confrontation. Even Takano's pet appeared absent and the missing, muffled meows had made Yokozawa's own place seem eerily quiet.

Seeing the empty haunt adjacent his still without its ghost, in an instant, the fragile sense of well-being he had been carrying slipped and shattered.

Closing his door firmly as if this could shut out his returning unease, Yokozawa moved back inside. Once his coat was hung on its hook, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket and lit up. He inhaled deeply, knowing he'd already smoked too much that evening at the bar.

If I'm not careful, I am going to blow my budget for smokes before my next stipend check comes in.

This possibility annoyed him. Even more so since he knew too well, such over-smoking was a sign of anxiety. No sooner had this flickered through his mind, than an uncomfortable but now all-too-familiar constriction resumed its grip on his chest.

Where the hell is he?

This thought was followed quickly by

Whatever… not my responsibility.

Not that he believed this, not even after Takano had told him as much himself… to "fuck off" even.

While Yokozawa wouldn't admit it, ever since Takano stormed off he had been subtly searching for him. Since then, he'd scoured the campus, staked out the apartment; even gone to a few parties, all to no avail. And today, once again, the seat beside him in interpretative literature had been empty and he'd had to sit there alone, shifting uncomfortably under Miyagi's disappointed gaze every time his professor had looked at him.

Damn Professor Miyagi, making me feel responsible for that brat!

Unhappily Yokozawa paced the limited space of his flat, his footsteps trailed by a plume of smoke. After about fifteen minutes of restless movement, at last he paused. Gray eyes fell on his textbooks. They lay scattered about the room, having seen far less use over the last few days than usual.

"I'll catch up this weekend…" He promised his quiet apartment.

If he wanted to, Yokozawa knew he could get an hour or two of study in now: he wasn't so alcohol-impaired that he was beyond comprehension. He could take up his sentinel position again, as he had every evening of late, his texts a poor distraction while he continued to wait for Takano to return.

But the last thing he wanted to do at this moment was schoolwork.

Or wait...

Yokozawa suddenly wished he'd allowed himself to drink a more at the bar.

Knowing that all the cheap beer he usually kept in his fridge was gone, he pushed his urge to drink himself into senselessness aside. In the space made by its displacement, fatigue flooded in with a rush, and in minutes filled him to the extent that all he then really wanted was to simply crawl into his futon and sleep.

Relocating to his miniscule bathroom, Yokozawa flicked the stub of his cigarette into the toilet and then took a long piss. After this, forgoing his usual nighttime routine, he headed back out to the main room where his futon sat both still unrolled and unmade from that morning. He turned out the lights and in the dark, stripped down to his boxers, shirt pulled over his shaggy head and jeans kicked out of in the few steps journey between the bathroom door and the edge of his bed.

Rather than lower himself, he all but fell onto his futon. Beneath the comforter he pulled stale sheets up over his head, wearily reminding himself that he needed to add laundry to his list of things to accomplish over the weekend.

Relishing how good it felt simply to lay down, Yokozawa was able to lie there a few minutes before his dogged mind wandered its way back to thoughts about Takano.

I need to get a hold of myself; this is becoming unhealthy.

Pulling the sheets tighter around him, he closed his eyes.

Mercifully, unlike the past few days, tonight sleep actually found him and quickly. Even so, Yokozawa's last thought before drifting off was to hope that Takano would soon show up somewhere other than in his dreams.

The sound of his front door rattling woke Yokozawa from sleep with a start. This noise was quickly drowned by the pounding of his heart as adrenaline surged into his veins.

What the fuck? Is someone trying to break in?

Rising quickly, he snapped on the lights. Yokozawa thought this might deter the possible burglar, but the rattling continued. As he adjusted to the situation, he could soon make out a not so quiet cursing on the other side of the door.

I know that voice…

On the off chance he was wrong, Yokozawa's eyes darted around for some possible weapon. He had a baseball bat from high school tucked into the closet but it would take to much time to dig it out. Instead, he slipped into his kitchenette and, feeling only slightly foolish, picked up a skillet from the stovetop.

The rattling and the cursing were growing louder. Squaring his shoulders and pulling on his most intimidating expression, Yokozawa moved to the door and opened it. The moment it swung open, however, his face dropped, the skillet fell just as quickly from his stunned fingers.

Crouched in his doorway, soaked to his skin, was Takano. His shaggy black hair was plastered tight to his head from the rain and he held a set of keys in his trembling hand.

Yokozawa noted immediately that tips of Takano's fingers had a bluish tint. His lips were discolored too, the skin of them so chapped they looked painful. But what impacted Yokozawa the most were Takano's eyes, their normally intense gaze glassy with what ever it was he had taken.

Alcohol for sure, Yokozawa surmised from the smell. But burning through their haze was a fevered brightness in Takano's gaze that was frightening.

Looking up when the door opened, Takano tried to rise, only to collapse hard against the doorframe. Despite the fact he could obviously barely stand, his tone was combative.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?!"

Yokozawa had instinctively leaned forward to reach Takano before he fell over, but at the harshness in the slurred accusation he drew back.

"What are you taking about? This is my flat!"

These words fell on deaf ears, not registering at all with Takano, nor did the fact Yokozawa had apparently taken over his home sporting only boxers and cookingware.

Still under the delusion that this was his apartment, Takano surged forward to grab his "intruder" and dislodge him from his house. But his numb feet didn't get the message to move nearly as quickly as the rest of his body, and instead he fell forward into Yokozawa.

Yokozawa's own reflexes were considerably sharper and he caught Takano in his arms as they both toppled over. The breath was all but knocked out of him as he hit the floor, Takano's body heavy atop him. He struggled to raise himself, unaware that his arms remained latched tight around Takano's middle.

It was as if after waiting for so many days, they didn't want to take the chance that he might slip away again.

Since waking, he had been pushed through so many different emotions, Yokozawa hardly knew what to feel. As usual, ant time he dealt with Takano, there was bright anger that pulsed just beneath the surface of his skin, but other emotions swirled frenzied inside him too. Then suddenly, strangely, they stopped and the only thing Yokozawa was aware of was the sensation of Takano's body in his arms, the feel of the cold, wet, too-lean frame resting heavily against the naked skin of his chest, the dripping jean-clad legs between his thighs...

His eyes widened in dismay and Yokozawa let go. In fact, he pushed Takano off him none too gently and clamored up.

"Fuck!"

Takano slumped over onto his back. His face pointed upwards, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling. Wet, black hair feathered like a sumi brush against the hardwood floor. He remained here, apparently now beyond any autonomous movement. After several tense moments, with great effort, Takano, turned his head to the side. His dazed eyes blinked and then at last found focus on the abandoned skillet lying on the floor near Yokozawa's feet.

Yokozawa stood silently, watching, his bare chest flushed and heaving as a dozen different fears warred within him.

Amber eyes blinked and with a slowness that was painful to witness, Takano lifted his gaze to meet wary gray eyes.

"I see you've been in my kitchen. And… since it doesn't seem like I am in the best of shape to kick you out…" A weak smile crooked the corner of his blue lips. "I like my eggs scrambled."

Yokozawa shook his head in disbelief.

"You're an idiot, Takano."

Takano's nodded, crooked smile still in place. His eyes fluttered shut.

"Takano?"

Yokozawa quickly dropped to his knees and brushed his hand against a damp cheek, pinked with alcohol, chill, and fever. A soft groan slipped from Takano at this gentle touch, before he lost consciousness.

Thanks for reading.

DrawBee, thanks for the favorite and follow.

Zokou-chan, Phuthee, I appreciate the reviews and knowing you're still reading.

Alcuzey- I am glad you think I keep some integrity in the characters. And College Daze is still one of my favorite pieces, so thanks. Nice to know someone else still likes it too.

Yaoi-Blessings

Preacher