Teen Hiroki

Chapter Ten: Kitchen Karma

Akihiko sat in the clearing for hours. During this time he smoked almost an entire pack of cigarettes. Now his nerves burned and buzzed with nicotine, but he'd at least finally gotten the hang of this smoking thing.

Nasty habit, really. Frowning down at the nearly finished butt in his hand, he stubbed it out and sighed. He'd decided, now that he'd mastered it, he'd quit smoking tomorrow.

Looking overhead into the open space of the clearing, it appeared a storm might be rolling in.

Fitting, he thought, given his mood. Akihiko was aware too that in addition to the ache in his chest he felt a bit sick. He wondered if this was the result of the cigarettes or the afternoon's calamitous events.

Just then his phone rang. Looking down at the number he was shocked to see it was Takahiro. His heart started pounding; he honestly hadn't expected the other boy to speak to him ever again after what had happened.

"Hello?" The hoarseness of his voice surprised him.

"Usagi? Are you okay?" On the other side of the line, the speaker sounded concerned.

Akihiko sighed: it was Misaki.

The boy had mispronounced, his last name the first time they had been introduced and somehow it had stuck.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Misaki. How about you? How's the fever?"

"Oh, much better. All gone in fact and thank you again for getting that medicine for me last night. I didn't mean for you to have to go all the way across town for it."

Despite how miserable he still felt, Akihiko couldn't help but chuckle a bit at this. Misaki was so sweet, never wanting anyone to go out of their way for him.

"Misaki, I told you before it wasn't a problem, so drop it. Okay?" Akihiko kept his voice very light as he said this so that the boy wouldn't think he was mad at him. Misaki was also terribly sensitive.

"So… Why are you calling? Miss me already?" Akihiko teased. Something about Takahiro's little brother enticed him to provoke. He supposed this was partly because Misaki flustered even more easily than Hiroki.

If that was possible.

Even now, he could almost feel the heat from Misaki's blush through the phone.

"Yes… Wait ! I mean no!… No, Usagi… You… Gaaah!…Why do you always say such embarrassing things?"

In the same way Akihiko could sense the heat on Misaki's cheeks, on his end, the younger boy could practically hear Akihiko's smug smile.

"Stupid Usagi… Look, my brother asked me to call you and see if you still had his books in your book bag."

Misaki had managed to pull himself back together enough to once again form relatively coherent sentences.

"He needs them to do his homework… And he also wanted me to ask you if you were still coming over to have dinner with us to celebrate his birthday tonight… He said he had something he wanted to tell us too.

I cooked you know, so, umm… Well… it would be nice if you could come." The phone practically hummed with Misaki's embarrassment.

"When did he ask you to call, Misaki?"

"Ummm… Like maybe about forty-five minutes ago. Why?

"I mean… I'm sorry I should have called you earlier, but I was making some pastries for our dessert and got involved… So, uhhhh… So anyway, here I am, calling you now."

When Misaki told him this, Akihiko's breath caught in his throat. Takahiro's sweet, forgiving spirit and his inherent affability were big parts of what had attracted Akihiko to him in the first place.

While mildly disappointed Takahiro hadn't called himself that he even still wanted him to come, was willing to see him, meant so much.

"So, Usagi-san… Would you maybe like to come over now? I know that my brother won't be home for a while yet… But uh… Maybe you could watch me bake… Or something?"

Akihiko immediately understood the implicit request in Misaki's words

Since their parents' death and until Takahiro finished school and could start working, the Takahashi brothers had moved into the cheapest apartment they could find to stretch the money left by their parents' meager estate and small insurance policy. Both boys also already had part-time jobs. Thirteen year-old Misaki worked in a bakery and sixteen year-old Takahiro had recently started as an errand boy/file clerk for a local accounting firm.

Their apartment was in a bad part of the city and Misaki often felt nervous being left alone, though Akihiko knew that he would never just come out and say this.

The older boy hesitated too long before answering and Misaki, constantly worried about asking too much of anyone when it came to his needs, was already beating himself up for making the request.

"Look, Usagi-san… I'm sorry for asking you to come early… I was stupid, I know… I'm an idiot."

"No, no, Misaki. I'm delighted you asked me!" Akihiko cursed silently for allowing himself to slip unconsciously into the cultured tones belying his upbringing. He made a concerted effort to sound more casual, not wanting to intimidate Misaki.

"Yeah, I'm not doing anything at the moment anyway, so I'll leave here right now. I can be there in fifteen minutes."

"Really?" The relief in Misaki's voice was like a salve to Akihiko's wounded heart.

"Yeah, just don't ask me to help you cook. Okay?" Akihiko joked.

"Are you kidding, Usagi?" Misaki laughed. "As if I'd let you touch anything in my kitchen. We both know what a disaster you are!"

"See you soon then, Misaki." Akihiko's usually cool tone was remarkably warm.

On the other end of the line, Misaki noticed the difference immediately and his face grew hot in a slightly different way than it had previously.

What in the hell is wrong with me? Misaki thought as he hung up the phone. Then turning to look at the stove, he saw a thin wisp of gray smoke curlingup from the oven door.

"God damn you, Usagi!" he suddenly shouted. "How in the heck did you manage to transmit your kitchen karma over the freakin' phone?"

Grabbing an oven mitt, Misaki dove for the door of the oven, any thoughts of the previous moments' discomfort blessedly banished.

Meanwhile, in his "secret place," Akihiko at last up picked himself off ground. He grabbed his book bag from where it sat, near the base of the tree. As he slid its strap over his shoulder, he realized he still had Hiroki's gray scarf draped around his neck.

Lavender eyes scrutinized the cloth, the lone witness to their tragic debacle, and he sighed.

He started to pull it off, planning to stick into his bag, and then thought the better of it. It was getting cool now that the sun was almost gone, so instead he re-wrapped it around his neck against the chill of the encroaching autumn evening.

Kamijou may have her pride, but... Touching the scarf again, Akihiko knew that Hiroki wouldn't really be able to stay away from him for too long.

A slightly bitter smile twisted one corner of his mouth at this knowledge. Then he began ambling easily out of the clearing, into the brush and into a night. After all, with Misaki's call, his world still held a whisper of promise.

Thank you for reading!