"Hey, Matthew…"
"Yes, Arthur-san?"
"Tell me again, why the hell are we in New York?"
"Arthur-san, you did agree to hang out with me on holiday…"
"I do remember that. I asked, why the hell are we in New York?"
"You didn't tell me that you didn't want to go here."
"You are Canada, right?"
"Um, yes."
"Then why aren't we in, I don't know, Vancouver? Quebec? Or..."
"I've never said that we were going to Canada."
"Wha…Why you…"
"Anyway, let's go back to the hotel first! The whole holiday awaits us!"
"What the…"
"Is there something wrong, Arthur-san? Did they forget to clean the room? Please wait, I'll go and report it…"
"No, it's not it…"
"Then, what's wrong?"
"Why in the world did you get me this room, at this hotel?"
"Alfre…I mean, I read on a travel book that this is the best hotel in the city. And there are only two rooms left."
"Then, trade my room with yours!"
"No, I can't… I mean, umm, I'm afraid of height!"
"What?"
"You see, this room is on the eleventh floor, the other is on the sixth floor. I want to take the latter one because I'm afraid of height. I get dizzy and throbbing heart when I stare out of the windows, and I get frantic, and…"
"Since when did you get acrophobia?"
"Ahh, uh, that is… That-is-from-the-time-when-me-and-Francis-san-went-to-Eiffel-tower-and-he-took-me-all-to-the-top-and-it-was-so-high-it-scared-me-and-from-then-I-am-afraid-of-height. That's all, really."
"Hmm… Oh well, if that's the case."
"Then please get some rest. Maybe later we can go out for dinner?"
"All right then. But Matthew…"
"Yes?"
"You sure there aren't any rooms left but this one?"
"There aren't, I'm afraid."
"Fine…"
"Um, I'll go to my room now…"
"Okay, see you later."
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
"Hello?"
"Arthur-san! Oh I'm sorry, are you still sleeping? I'm really sorry!"
"Matthew?... Urgh, it's nine already? Time lag must have worn me out. I'm sorry, I'll get up right away."
"No, it's okay if we set off later, it's the holiday after all…"
"Wait for me downstairs, I'll be right down."
Plop. Rustle.
"What?..."
"Matthew!"
"Good morning, Arthur-san, I'm sorry about earlier, I should have guessed about the time lag you got."
"It's nothing, don't worry. Say, is there anything strange on your bed this morning?"
"Something strange… Arthur-san, what are you saying, what's with something strange…"
"It's not what you think! Geez, did Francis spread his pervertness to you or something? What I mean is, did you find something strange placed on your bed when you woke up? A flower, perhaps?"
"Flower? No, I don't think so… But why would a flower be on my bed?"
"I don't know, I found flowers on my bed earlier. But why… It can't be room service. But I'm sure I lock the door last night when I went to bed. And nothing's gone, so it couldn't have been a burglar. Hmm…"
"Oh, Arthur-san, maybe it was room service, but they forgot the one in my room?"
"You've got a point. Well, it's just flowers, it's nothing big."
"Can I ask something Arthur-san? What kind of flower are they?"
"It was… Nothing, it was nothing."
When Matthew was waiting for Arthur to take a shower, he found branches of blue irises in the waste basket.
"It's getting strange, Matthew…"
"What is strange, Arthur-san?"
"There's something very strange about the flowers on the bed this morning."
"You received more flowers this morning?"
"Yeah… But that's not the point. I think there's someone leaving them there on purpose."
"What do you mean? Did they leave a note?"
"No..but the arrangement of the flowers… when I got the ones the night before, I didn't really think about it, but this time…the flowers were arranged to make the 'A' letter. And now I think about it, the first ones were in the letter 'J'."
"J..and A?"
"Yeah. JA. I checked the manager and they said that there was no room service like such. And the letters..it's as if someone's trying to tell me something."
"But that means someone got inside your room!"
"Yes…but no damage was done, neither to my possessions nor myself, it's totally abnormal."
"But still, isn't it dangerous? Maybe we should report it to the manager."
"Nah. It seems like the sender of those flowers wants to challenge me on something. Hah, as if I'm afraid. Let's just see what he'll be scheming next."
"Are you sure, Arthur-san?"
"Of course. Don't worry Matthew, nothing's gonna happen."
"What is the letter today?"
"It's 'M'".
"J-A-M. Jam? This person wants to eat jam?"
"Right, very funny."
"E, huh… Jame… This person's name is James, perhaps?"
"I hope he's giving a more interesting message than his own name."
"So what's the one today?"
"It's… O…"
"J-A-M-E-S-T-O. Is there even a word spelled like that? Arthur-san, umm, Arthur-san?"
Two days afterwards, Matthew came to Arthur's room to find an empty room. His belongings were still there, but the man was nowhere to be found. A maid said that she remembered seeing a blonde man going out just after midnight in a hurry. There was no note or any suggestions on where he could have gone.
But on the white sheet of the bed, Matthew found blue irises shaped as the word 'N'. And cerulean rose petals making the word 'JAMESTOWN.'
He picked up an iris and spin it between his fingers.
"Really, you are just too troublesome, Alfred."
The next time he stopped to catch a breath, he was in front of a house. A house that he had gone to for so many times he had already lost counts, a house in which he used to sleep over when he went to visit New York, a house that he had already learnt by heart every single detail, from the arrangement of furniture in the living room, the colour of the carpet, the location of each room, the scent of the house, the route to get here by various transportations and directions. He knew about this place too well.
He thought he too knew about the owner of it too well. But as things were now, he feared that he had not understood that man at all.
Before he could press the doorbell, the door had already wide opened. There was a person at the doorway, a tall, well-built man with blond hair and blue eyes. Instinctively, he turned away from the intense gaze Alfred gave him, trying to look at something else, anything, as long as it wasn't those eyes.
He felt breathless. Months of not seeing Alfred again didn't help him to forget what happened that night, or any memories they shared. Worse, the details had been carved into his head and sealed inside, reminding him again and again. Therefore, standing like this, staring at Alfred's trainers like this, he was suffocated. The scent, the figure, the heavy gaze on his face, the breathing sound, the existence of Alfred, everything, everything just spinned in his head, screaming to him that he had indeed brought himself to this place, in front of the man that he had run away from for too long.
For a minute, there was a pregnant silence between them, nothing was heard except the howl of wind and his quick breath from running all the way. They just stood at their spots, gazing at their own decided objects, not doing any unnecessary actions, waiting for the other to react first. He started to feel awkward. He knew that the flowers in his room were from Alfred, he knew the message that Alfred sent him, he knew what Alfred wanted him to do. But now, when they met, none of them could say a word.
Suddenly, a warm hand grabbed his wrist. He found himself being pulled into Alfred's car and thrown into the front passenger seat. He saw Alfred buckled the seatbelt for him, then got into the driver's seat and started the engine. He vaguely realized that Alfred had already driven out of the garage when they were already on the highway.
None of them said a word on the entire trip. The radio wasn't turned on and the car was soundproof, which made the whole space completely silent. Alfred kept on looking at the highway in front of him, not once bothered to spare a glance at his companion. Arthur kept still at his seat, not moving a muscle while his head trying to guess where they were going, but soon gave up as he was too unfamiliar with the scenery along the way. He hadn't been to this country for so long, he couldn't keep up with the constant changes. Just as he couldn't keep up with Alfred's train of thought. Besdies, he was tired from the sleepless night and the exhaustion of running, and his eyelids felt heavy.
As he dozed off, he remembered a warm hand touching his right cheek, a familiar hand that felt just right. He unconsciously leaned into it and snuggled towards it, enjoying the faint caress of hot fingertips on his skin.
It was too familiar…
Light from somewhere knocked gently on his eyelids and woke him up. He blinked, first trying to get used to the direct sunlight at his eyes, then locating himself. He was lying on a soft bed of grass underneath a big oak tree, which seemed to stand alone in the middle of the meadow. There was a sweet-scented jacket covering his body, a jacket that certain wasn't his. The air was fresh and a bit damp, so he must be in the countryside somewhere. Sunlight of the afternoon danced on the leaves of bushes nearby, making them glossy and glittery. There were the chirps and clicks and sounds of farmland birds, seeming so far away among the few trees that stood on the other side of the hill. He stood upright and leaned his back against the hard trunk, hearing a gust approaching. If this was really a meadow, then he would expect the scent of crop and ploughed soil in the wind.
Instead, he encountered a way sweeter aroma, like that of a flower. And not just any kind of flower either, it was the flower that was too familiar to him it surprised him greatly, to be bathed in such a rich scent of it.
As he searched for the source of the wind, the blue sea reached out for him.
It was a vast meadow of flowers, stretching as far as he could see to the end of the sky. The flowers were in full bloom, opening their thick and soft petals for all to see, their scent filled the entire land with a sweet and peaceful feeling. It was the first time that he had seen so much blue, in such a long time, his eyes hurt from the magnificent blue meadow. He bent down to pick a flower and stared at it in disbelief. In his hand was, literally, a blue rose.
A wind blew and the blue waves rocked gently in the same direction, the heavy petals swayed in a valse, turning land into sea. Blooming sea of cerulean gems.
His body suddenly felt very warm and he felt long arms wrapped around him tightly. There was heat coming from the body behind him, the warmth seeped through the jacket and shirt into his back, making him feel feverish. The arms around him tightened as a blond hair rested on his shoulder, feeling ticklish. There was hot breath on his neck and a nose snuggled at the uncovered skin.
"Arthur, I'm sorry.", the man said, his voice muffled as he uttered into the fabric.
His heart suddenly felt as if being squished and his breath quickened. He felt dizzy all of the sudden, just like that time. His heart beat faster and his chest hurt, his eyes watered and he felt strained.
It all seemed as if the whole thing was played in his head again. The strange room, the strange body that laid besides him, the warmth, the hand on his arm, the apologize.
"I'm sorry.". The words echoed in his ears.
Why, why did you apologize?
Are you trying to forget everything you did to me by just those words, I'm sorry? Did you regret doing it to me? Are you already tired of toying with me, and now you're throwing me away with an apology?
Alfred, this is too cruel.
Your apology will give you ease of soul and make you forget everything. What does it give me?
It hurts, Alfred, it hurts.
Because, I'd rather you didn't apologize at all. Then, maybe I can still remind myself that once we were together, that we did make love, even though there was no love between us. At least I will be able to make sure that it isn't just illusions created in my head out of desperation.
Why, why did you apologize?
"Sorry..for what?", he managed to ask, his own voice also choked, but by a strange lump that formed in his throat.
Alfred raised his head up and rested his chin of Arthur's shoulder. His eyes travelled far into the baby blue sky. His muttering sounded soft and quiet, totally out of character: "For hurting you that night."
"So you are asking for my forgiveness? Then I forgive you, now please let me go.", and he wriggled from the hold, though failing and the inhuman strength of the grip. He heard a small surprised yelp in Alfred's throat.
"Why the hell do I need your forgiveness?"
"Then why the hell did you apologize? Don't you regret what happened?"
"Arthur!", he heard his name called in an annoyed tone, "the only thing that I regret was the fact that I hurt you that night. I'm sorry that I went the wrong way with things, I should have just followed the plan, but as you can see, I reversed the whole thing."
"Wait, what?"
"It usually goes with the confession, then dating, then it will be sex, right? But you were so seductive and easy-going that night, it's not like I'm so good at holding myself back or anything, so it's partially your fault too. To think, you were happily yelling that you loved me for all the world to hear when I carried you back to the hotel…"
"Wait, just when did I ever do that, bastard? I can't remember a thing."
"Of course you can't, you drank every last drop of blue vodka at the club. Oh well, I didn't expect you to accept it anywhere, so I'll be the hero and do it first."
Alfred turned his head sideways and whispered something into his ears. But before he could catch the words, wind howled into his ears, taking away the sound as it travelled pass the wide meadow.
"Say it again, I can't hear you."
"No way, it's embarrassing that I have to say it first you know."
"The wind was howling in my ears, I couldn't hear you. And since when do you know how to be embarrassed?"
"This isn't fair Arthur. Fine, I'll just put it another way…"
There was a hand in his hair, pulling the strands softly and guiding his head forwards. When their lips sealed, his half-lidded eyes met with the most gorgeous blue colour that he had ever known.
It had got to be the bluest colour in the world.