The next morning, the nurse came in and told Aki he could go home, carrying a small stack of his freshly-washed clothes. She was not pleased to see me there. I had barely gotten Aki dressed before she hastened us out of the room and rudely told us to have a nice day.

We made our way to the counter, and Aki told me in a low voice that he had no money to pay his bills with. I told him I would pay for it, and I repeated my statement to keep him from objecting.

"Thank you, Seiji," he said softly.

As I wrote out a check, the doctor appeared and handed Aki his antibiotics and told him how often to take them, and he also wrote him a perscription for vitamin D. Aki took the plastic bag containing his pills and thanked him, then followed me to the elevator.

I pressed the button and we stood quietly, waiting. I looked up and down the hall. A janitor was cleaning up a spill with a mop. A lone wheelchair was left outside of the bathroom. I glanced at Aki. He may as well have been a statue. Stiff, silent, the bag dangling delicately from three closed fingers. His eyes fixed on the elevator.

Suddenly an idea hit me. Supressing a grin, I walked off down the hall. I heard Aki take one step after me, but not any more. I reached the wheelchair and swiftly kicked off the brake locks and rolled it back to Aki. I swiveled it around and parked it right behind him.

"Here," I offered, holding it still.

Aki turned his head to look at me.

"Seiji, I can managed just fine without that. Thank you, though." He faced front again.

I frowned. I backed the wheelchair up a bit, then shoved it forward into the back of his legs.

With a whump, Aki sat down. Bitterly, he rubbed his leg where the chair hit him. He didn't try to get up.

I felt as though I should apologize, but I was too ashamed to do so.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid apart. I pushed the wheelchair and we glided smoothly inside.

An older man was in the elevator. He held a drooping bouquet of roses in his fist. He looked at us with tired, gray eyes.

"Hello." I nodded to him, but he didn't acknowledge me.

Aki reached out and pressed the button for the lobby. The doors rumbled shut and the elevator began to go down, bringing about a pulling, sinking feeling in my stomach.

The doors opened at last and the older man pushed passed us and left. I took hold of the handles and pushed Aki out.

We walked by the waiting room and crossed the lobby. A few people gave us odd looks, for Aki by no means appeared handicapped, but no one tried to stop us. Not until we went outside.

"Sir, wheelchairs are not aloud outside of the building unless they're being pushed by a nurse," a nurse said heatedly, giving Aki suspicious looks. She walked over, her arms outstretched. "If you are able to walk, please get up. Otherwise, I will take you to your car."

"Run," Aki whispered.

I was stunned. "What?" I asked, though I knew what he said. I tilted my head and looked at him, and despite him staring down into his lap, I could see he was trying not to smile.

I grinned, my heart beginning to race.

"Hold on," I whispered into his ear.

Aki grasped onto the armrests.

"Sir." The nurse was insistent. She took another step.

I hunched down and shoved into the wheelchair, jolting it forward. Aki pressed into the back of the chair, and I began to run.

We raced down the sidewalk, thumping into cracks and skidding around pedestrians.

The wind rushed into our faces, cool and light and free. The morning sun warmed us with its tingling rays. The day was full of promise. I laughed wildly and Aki joined me as the nurse yelled at us to come back.

With a quick glance, I launched us off the curb and we crashed onto the pavement. I thought for a moment that the wheels had broke, but they continued to roll, so I continued to run.

I could see Sono's car. I headed straight for it. A shrill honk to my left startled me and I jerked the wheelchair out of the way as a car tried to back up out of a parking space. A scowling mother held onto her two children, who watched us eagerly with bright, jealous eyes.

At last, we reached the car and I skidded my feet across the ground until we stopped. Breathless, red-faced, our hair wild, we looked at each other and grinned. I held out my hand and helped Aki out of the wheelchair.

"Should we bring it back?" I asked him, glancing at the hospital.

"Nah," he said. "Someone else might want a ride." Aki walked over to the car, placing his hand on the trunk. "Is this your car?" He asked.

"No, it's Sono's," I muttered reluctantly, parking the wheelchair by the curb.

He lifted his hand. "Oh." He waited by the passenger side until I unlocked it.

I got inside and started the car. I buckled up instantly out of habit, but noticed Aki made no move to. "Put on your seatbelt," I told him.

He looked at me as if he didn't understand, then he seized onto the belt and pulled it down across his chest, buckling it.

My phone was in the cupholder, and I saw it had eleven missed calls from Sono. I didn't even touch it. I pretended it didn't exist.

We drove back to my place. The drive was short but it felt so long, for neither of us spoke.

I parked the car right where Sono had left it and got out. We walked side by side to my house, so close that our hands almost touched. I longed to hold his hand, my heart skipping at the idea. But something held be back. Probably fear. I sighed and Aki looked at me but still we didn't speak. At the door, I got out my key and unlocked it and went inside.

Sono was laying on the couch and I walked passed him without a word, with Aki on my heels. "Seiji?" He said anxiously, sitting up straight. He watched us with disbelief as I completely ignored him.

We went into the bedroom and shut the door. I took a deep breath, then faced Aki.

"I'm going to get rid of him," I explained. "So just... Stay here. I'll be back when he's gone."

"You don't have to do that," he said weakly.

"It's my choice," I said sternly. I hesitated at his expression, and my eyes softened. "Just as it is your choice to stay or not."

Aki lifted his eyes. "I will stay until you ask me to go."

His determination was unnerving. My insides squirmed warmly within me.

"Ill be right back," I promised.

I left the room and went back into the den where Sono still sat.

He turned his head and watched me as I walked towards him. I stood two feet away. He remained sitting like a child in trouble.

"Seiji." He shifted on the couch as if he were about to get up. "I was so worr-"

"Sono," I interupted. "I think we should stop seeing each other."

Sono froze, then melted, his shoulders slumping. "Because of him?" He asked dully.

I glanced at the bedroom door, knowing Aki was behind it.

"Yes," I said firmly. "What we had together was fun, and that's all it was. Now I have someone that truely needs me, and doesn't just want to come over for casual sex."

"Come now, Seiji," Sono said in a painfully amused tone. "You often wanted it more than I."

"Be serious, Sono," I retorted.

He pursed his lips.

"I like you, and I hope one day we can be friends again, but right now... I'd rather you just went away for awhile." I pulled his car keys out of my pocket and handed them to him.

Sono sighed. "I understand." He stood up and suddenly he appeared to be trapped in an old man's body. Even his eyes aged a hundred years. He looked at me and gave me a small smile, taking the keys. "I will not impose on your life any further, Seiji. Though I, for one, saw our relationship as more than just casual sex. But," he shrugged. "I guess that was just me."

He walked to the front door and sat to put on his shoes.

I stood there for a beat before hurrying over. I opened the door as he straightened up. He looked at me, a sparkle of mischief still there in his eyes, just behind the wall of tears.

"Oh, and if I were you, I would just go ahead and delete the messages I left. Don't bother listening to them. It could make things uncomfortable." He winked at me. "Goodbye." He bowed to me and spun around, marching defiantly out of the door. I pushed it shut after him.

I felt the weight of my cell phone in my pocket, and curiousity whelled up inside me. I saw he had left eleven voice mails with each phone call. All it takes is a simple press of a button and I will know what he said, I thought. But just as easy to use, the delete button waits. I pressed it, and everything was immediately erased.

I took a deep breath, walked back down the hall, and opened the bedroom door.