Chapter Eighteen
On the white paper, in blue and red crayon, Doukun had drawn two faces together, smiling. Two lines marred the bottom of the picture though, and when the young boy saw Houjun looking at it, he beamed and pointed. "Those are the fingers!" He stared at it a moment longer, critically, as if it were a masterpiece.
Taking the paper from Doukun carefully, Houjun gazed at it, before bending down and engulfing his brother in a fierce hug. "Thank you, Doukun," he whispered, trying hard to keep his voice from shaking. Genrou…
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[A few weeks later]
The hooded figure moved swiftly between the ranks of milling people and slipped unobtrusively between the battered trashcans and into the shaded alleyway. It was nearing night, but in the evening air the street was already beginning to bustle with the dinner crowd. The figure hurried to the end of the alley, before veering a sharp right where a dilapidated door stood. Swinging it open, the hood was set down to reveal a mass of bright red hair, as Genrou wandered among the crowded café bar before spotting another similarly cloaked man at the other corner. Mildly wrestling, he cut through the bar-goers and squeezed past a comely waitress, before entering the booth and setting himself down in front of the Houjun. The latter gave him a smile, but Genrou noticed it was wan and half-hearted.
They had taken to meeting in secret since the discovery of their relationship. Granted, it had been Genrou's idea, for he simply refused to bow to the traditions that the current society imposed upon feelings of their genre. It had put a strain on their affair, but Genrou barely noticed it, happy as he was to be able to continue to see Houjun.
"What are you having?"
Houjun tapped his glass and tried to put other thoughts out of his head. Namely, thoughts that told him he shouldn't be out here now, deceiving his parents… "Just salad and meatloaf."
"I'll have that too," Genrou waved a waitress over and rattled off his order before turning back to Houjun with a smile. "How are you?"
What does he want me to say? That now I'm watched as closely as a criminal in my own home, that Hikou refuses to speak to me because my mother told him to keep an eye on me and specifically what to look out for? He cursed inwardly, but managed a reply despite all the invading thoughts threatening to take him over. "School, as usual. Nothing much."
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There was something wrong. Genrou could sense it, in the other's lack of response, in his distracted air, even in the expressions that flashed over his face but tried to hide. He sighed and scooted over to Houjun, who flinched at his proximity. Genrou pretended not to see it, but hurt was boiling over in his heart.
"What's the matter, Houjun?"
The older boy mumbled in reply. "Nothing."
"Are you sure?"
A slight nod.
Frustration filled the redhead as he restrained himself from snapping out. He looked away curtly as the waitress came and set his order down, and he moved back to his place, smiling distractedly at her in thanks. He looked at Houjun again. It was so obvious that something was up, and not knowing what it was only made it worse.