Author's Note: This chapter feels off, somehow, but I guess that's to be expected. This is a chapter that's been set up to happen for so long that there's just no way for it to be done right. Ya'no?
Warnings: vague references to mental illness; references to loss [so basically nothing]
Kanda POV
The more time goes by, the more mixed feelings I have about this fucking AP English project. On the one hand, I have to work with the fucking Moyashi. On the other hand, I get to work with the fucking Moyashi.
… That's probably all the explanation that needs be given here.
Honestly, now that I understand my feelings, and actually know what's going on, I'm angrier about it than ever. I mean, of all the people it could have been, I had to end up liking the beansprout with an attitude. That kid has no idea what he's gotten himself into with me.
Though I guess that type of reasoning implies there is anything between us at all. Which is just plain wrong. I think he likes me, but certainly not as anything more than a friend.
Though then again, I'm not so sure the kid is straight. The time we kissed at that party, he seemed pretty into it…
For whatever reason, these types of thoughts plagued me as I drove all the way to the Moyashi's place on Saturday. Eventually I decided to put on D'espairsRay, so that I could finally stop thinking. Nothing can quiet the mind quite like Love is Dead.
So by the time I got to the Moyashi's house I'd managed to calm down. Not feeling like getting out of the car, I honked the horn. It took less than a minute for the Moyashi to barrel out the door looking thoroughly displeased. He stormed his way over to my car (much to my secret pleasure), got into the passenger seat, turned to face me, and seethed.
"Kanda, this is a residential neighborhood. Don't honk your horn like some stupid asshole driving way too fast in a crappy car on the highway."
I didn't bother responding, just pulled away from the curb with a smirk.
We spent nearly 6 hours working on our analyses and discussions. Won't deny, it got pretty heated sometimes. But that's exactly what I enjoy about being with him. The Moyashi isn't afraid to voice his opinions, and we disagree just enough to make things interesting. The only stops we had between 10am and 4pm were three (three!) 10 minute breaks for the Moyashi to grab something to eat. I swear the kid is a bottomless pit.
When we finished, I stood up from the table and stretched. I noticed his eyes seemed to follow my movements. Is this really just my imagination?
"Want something to eat?" I asked with a smirk (it definitely wasn't a grin), "I can make soba."
"Don't worry about it," the Moyashi interjected, jumping up, "Let me make something."
I glared at him. "You're at my house – you're the guest. Sit back down."
He stayed standing, arms crossed, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.
Rolling my eyes, I gesture towards the stove. "Fine, you make tea."
We worked in silence, making our respective parts of the meal. After he'd set the water to boil, he began to wander around the kitchen. I noticed he stopped in front of the shelf over which a hollow space looked into the living room.
"Kanda?"
"Hmm?" I had a feeling I knew what was coming.
"Is this… Is this a picture of you and Alma?"
I turned around with a sigh and made my way over to him, gazing at the photograph. Two children with shoulder-length hair, one with purple hair, the other blue-black. The purple haired child had a birthmark across his nose. Both of them were grinning into the camera. A field full of wildflowers was vaguely visible behind them.
"Yes."
"… I'm sorry."
I shrugged. "It was… long ago." The teapot began to whistle on the stove. "Come on, let's finish making the food."
We were both quieter after that, but I don't think it was necessarily an uncomfortable silence – just contemplative. I know I, for one, was seriously wondering where to take the evening. I mean, I knew where I wanted to take it; the question was just if I should. That and fucking how.
By the time we had finished eating and cleaning up, I'd made my decision. Fuck it.
"Moyashi."
"Yes?"
"… I want to show you something."
I led him through the house, back to the alcove under the stairs, where the painting of the lotus blossom hung. I heard a slight intake of breath.
"It's beautiful. Is it… your work?"
"Yes."
We stood in silence for a minute. Then I began to speak.
"I… really loved Alma. Whether it was romantic, or ever could have been, I'll never know. Fate intervened before I ever had the chance to find out, before I was old enough for something like that to even cross my mind.
"But the fact is, Alma's gone. And he's never coming back."
I turned to face him.
"I will never forget him. But I can't live my life in the past. It doesn't work – it only leads to tragedy. That, and, well… eventually, fate interferes again.
"I was ready to live my life going nowhere. I thought I would keep going for Alma's sake, for the sake of the sacrifice he made, and no other. I thought I would go to college, get a job, and eventually die. I never expected to enjoy anything ever again.
"But… things are changing. I feel things that I never thought I could, emotions I don't quite understand. All I really know is that I can't continue to pretend I don't feel the way I do."
I took a deep breath, and clenched my fists.
"Allen."
I saw his eyes go wide.
"I like you."
Silence, then a stuttering, "W-What…?"
"I like you. I want to be with you. I want to go out with you.
"Allen, I like you."
Well, What do y'all think? Do you love me for the chapter? Or hate me for the cliffhanger?
As always, a huge "thank you" to everyone who has read, followed, favorited, and/or reviewed. You motivate me to keep writing!
Love,
Red
