So, spent the morning in complete discouragement and hopelessness. So I prayed and cried until I fell asleep in the sun coming through my window and now I'm doing better. I'm going to eat some watermelon and ice cream and hang out with my boys, who are both relieved to see I'm doing better. They hadn't eaten either, and it struck me that when I don't eat, they don't really feel up to eating either. How strange.

...But I think I'm going to be okay.

6

Naru had come to the maintenance room to give me back my pants, wallet, and phone. He had figured I'd be there after passing by my apartment and seeing I wasn't there. He alone didn't get the whole story chain from Ayako, which apparently Chance and Takigawa had. Who knew so much drama could erupt from losing your phone for a day?

Once he had gotten me to his feet, I wasn't too keen on following him. How many embarrassing things had I experienced in front of him now? Forget rejection.

But I found myself curled up in the back seat of his car, probably because I still remembered the peace I had felt waking up from his couch, or even, back at the mansion when we had been babysitting one another. He had broken my heart, but I had no one else to go to. Even Ayako wasn't close enough or me to feel comfortable going home, especially covered in dirt, ruffled, and my girl parts burning from being scraped at.

Naru had opened the passenger side door, but the back seat was where I curled, so it was on the side closest to my head that he opened the door and squatted down to speak to me, even though the rain continued on outside.

"You said you didn't want to go home. Is there anywhere else you want to go?"

I shook my head before flinging my arms over it. If I could just die, that would be nice.

Why had I let myself get so close to Naru?

"It hurt," I croaked. "I hurt."

"I know. Your lip is bleeding."

"No," but I couldn't tell him my left boob ached like mashed ground beef and my girls parts stung so much, I didn't know what to do with them.

"You hurt in other places?"

I nodded, though I'm sure it wasn't very clear with my arms held over my head. "He's my best friend. He-he didn't mean—it hurt."

"Shh. I know."

"Is that what it feels like? I didn't ask—he just wanted to show—show his feelings—do those feelings always hurt so much? I could hardly breathe, I—" I broke off in a hiccup, the kind the plague you after a hard, long cry. "I didn't know—I tried—I tried to—"

"I know. He was getting the wrong message. That much was obvious."

"It's raining. You should—you should get out of the rain—"

"Don't worry about me. Where do you want to go? Or do you just want to stay in my car like this."

I hiccupped again. "I-I think I want a shower. I feel dirty." Inside and out.

"But not home?"

I nodded again, whimpering and hating myself for being so afraid of Ayako just then. I was afraid she'd judge me, that she'd snap one of those quippy jokes at me, or worse, be aloof as she always was and just give me a slap on the back. She had been comfortable to live with because of that aloofness, but now it was coming back to bite me.

I felt his fingers pass over the top of my head, like a hesitant butterfly, unable to land, then the door closed and he was sitting down into the driver's seat. My weight shifted with the start and turn of the car. Its mumbling engine mixed with the sound of rain on its metal roof. Cars passing by sounded like waves in the ocean.

Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't I…be stronger?

Before I knew it, he had pulled up somewhere and turned off the car. I was still curled in fetal position on his back seat, but at least my tears had slowed somewhat.

A rush of cold, late evening air washed over me as he opened the door on the side of my head.

"Mai, can you come out?"

I certainly didn't feel like it. If I could just rot and die in this backseat, it would be fine with me. It smelled of Naru enough here that I could pretend.

But when I felt his hands on my arms, maybe getter ready to haul me out, I flinched to attention and quickly crawled out. Outside was that large, yard conquering tree and his small little house.

"I know you probably don't want to be back here so soon," he said quickly, which was so unlike my confident professor. "But if you don't want to go home for your shower, you're welcome to use mine."

I looked at his house for a second before turning my watering, sore eyes to him. I could feel the last of my defenses crumble.

"But you don't like me," I said.

"No," he said, once more kneeling to be level with me. "No, that's not it at all. Don't you remember what I said?"

"Mai, like someone else?"

"I said you were one of the few people who could make me laugh and were cute. What's not to like?"

My face screwed up on its own, and I hid it behind my hands.

"Like is different from love," I mumbled, knowing fresh tears were rolling down my face. "Love hurts. Oh god, it hurts. I don't want to do this anymore, Naru. I don't want to try and be close to anyone, I don't want to do this stupid medium thing, I don't want to feel. I can't—I can't—"

"Shh, Mai," I felt his hands on my wrists, and it made me remember the harsh strength of Takigawa's.

I stiffened. "No more, I don't—don't hurt me. It hurts, it hurts—"

"Mai," and he said it with so much softness, I caught my breath. "Let me see your face."

I let him carefully, gently, pull aside my hands. He leaned up to me, drowning me in glacier blue and the smell of leather.

His lips touched mine, so soft and pliant, it was almost not a kiss at all. He let go of my wrists to gently touch my face as he pulled back and wiped the tears from my eyes with his fingers, which, unlike Takigawa's, were cool, soft, smooth, and even wiped the snot from my nose. He then leaned in to give me another gentle kiss that sent shivers up my spine.

"That's all I was trying to do," he murmured, only an inch from my face. Rain splashed off him and onto me, cold as ice. "All I wanted was for you to not get hurt. I didn't…someone as broken as me…"

Sniffing, shivering now from the rain and wind, I leaned my forehead against his.

"Aren't I broken too?" I asked.

"And what is the likelihood of two broken people fixing each other?"

"Likelihood is still a possibility." I slid past his face, soft and as wet as my own, to nuzzle my face into the crook of his shoulder. I twisted up my hands into his shirt and held tight.

He ran his cool hands across the back of mine. "Come on. Let's get you out of the cold and into that shower. Everything is going to be okay."

I nodded, lifting my head just to keep my eyes downcast. I didn't want him to see the horrid puffy redness which was me, especially after he did something as undignifying as wiping my nose.

He kept a hand around my wrist, still ever so gently, as he helped me out from the back of his car and shut the door. Rain pummeled us, and by the time we reached the shelter of his porch I was soaked. Cotton and sheepskin make a warm jacket, but waterproof they are not.

I looked up at the light as he figured out his keys.

"You still have your green spider."

"Starting to think I should give him a name."

"Nah. It's just a spider."

The door opened and he gently led me in. I expected him to let go to turn on the lights, or at least to leave me to find my way on my own. But once he closed the door, he led me through the semi-darkness, past the little living room and dining room, through the kitchen, and to the bathroom door. When he finally turned on a light, my eyes stung from the contact.

"Here. Take as long as you need to."

But even as he stepped aside, my other hand didn't let go where it had twisted around his shirt. Trembling, raw, and vulnerable, I drew near to him, nuzzling my face into his shoulder. I didn't want to leave. Not while he was being so tolerant and gentle to me. What if he came back the usual cold, smart-ass professor who didn't like me?

I felt his hand brush down my hair.

"Okay," he said. "I get it. Just take your pants off. I'll be right there."

That made me freak out a little.

"What—why—"

"You don't want to be alone," he said, as though it were the easiest fact in the book.

"But—but it hurt—"

"I'm not going to do anything to you. Just be with you. Keep the rest of your clothes on if you like, just take off your jeans. I'll be right back, okay?"

Only after a few more soothing strokes under his hand did I let go and step back. He closed the door behind him and I looked at my pale, trembling, bruised mouth self in the mirror, red puffy eyes and all.

"I'm covered in snot," I found, looking down at my shirt. Still shivering so bad I could hardly stay on my feet let alone stand on one foot to get my jeans off, I sat on the toilet and managed to wriggle the wet things off. Then I considered my dark purple shirt. I'd need my bra, and it couldn't be dried in the dryer. It would be a pain to get wet.

I had just managed to get said bra off and tucked away with my jeans when a soft knock came to the door.

"Come in," I said, all shivering awkwardness.

Naru opened the door and slipped in, wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue swim trunks. But my attention went to his shoulder, where an ugly mass of stitches and yellow-purple bruised skin stuck out. It looked swollen and sore as well, with traces of blood clinging about the edges of the wound.

I reached out a bit pathetically. "Are you…are you okay? Your shoulder—"

"I'm okay, Mai. I just used it a little too much tonight."

He barely glanced at me before going to the side of his old fashioned claw foot tub and turning on the water. I watched with mild fascination as his bare shoulder blades worked. I had been wrong about his skin being white. Against the porcelain, it was almost a light yellow, like ivory, and there were a small smattering of freckles across his shoulders.

When the temperature satisfied him, he pulled hard on a handle next to the faucet and the water stopped and the shower turned on. He got in, then turned around, hands held out, which I took gratefully. There was no telling how slippery the tub's floor would be. He then turned me about into the warm spray and gestured me to sit down. From there, I could see my pale legs, purple with cold, compared to his own ivory rimmed with black hair. I pinched my knees together, glad my shirt at least covered my hips.

An involuntary sigh of relief escaped my lips. The hot water was just right—and just what I needed. I turned my face up into the spray, feeling the rain and the sensation of rough hands slid off and down the drain.

There was a click of a lid and I heard Naru moving. I opened my eyes to find him squatting down in the spray in front of me, the water running off his long lashes in big, crystal drops.

"Let me see your head," he said.

I leaned through the water to him and was rewarded with his hands in my hair, lathering in what smelled like some sharp, clean shampoo, that reminded me of water on the driveway in the middle of summer and the first-morning dew.

He washed my hair almost ridiculously gentle, like one would imagine a parent washing the head of a child terrified of getting soap in their eyes. He slowly worked his fingers from the back to the front, then gently washed it all out again, avoiding every snag and all the while keeping suds from my face. I couldn't help the small little noises his fingers elicited and drew near to him.

When he finally drew away, I looked up at him through my own curtain of eyelash waterfall and reached for his face. He moved to his knees to better lean down, giving me access to his mouth.

I gave him a kiss as soft as the one he gave me, my lips still sore and bruised. When I pulled away, I received a shock when I felt his tongue on my lips. But he didn't invade my mouth. All he did was find the crack in my lips, which he closed his mouth on and gently lapped at, washing away any leftover blood.

A hot, pleasant heat I had never felt before rushed through me.

Too soon, he pulled apart, his hands finding my arms.

"Not too much," he murmured. "Not in here."

I didn't have the mind to pry further into this. I just figured he was referring to the fact that we were both half-naked and alone in a warm shower.

After that he sat down with me, only to grab a sponge and white bar of soap. After rubbing them together to get a good lather, he took the sponge to my skin so softly it might have not cleaned away anything at all. But he grew braver when my hands didn't leave his ankles and dared to scrub a bit harder around my neck, never once going below the neckline of my shirt.

As he did so, I looked at the bullet wound in his shoulder. The skin looked to have mended together, somewhat, but it still had that inflamed look that my arms had had even a month of being sewn up. I tiny trail of pink ran from the ugly knot.

"You're bleeding…"

"Barely," he said.

"That's because…Takigawa…I'm so sorry."

He paused on his way down my arm. "Sorry?"

"If I hadn't gotten him off sooner—"

"He had you pinned to the wall, your feet weren't even touching the floor," he said sharply, a remnant of his earlier anger edging his voice.

I quieted at that, too raw to get into any kind argument.

He worked his way down my legs, then to my feet, where he took careful time with all my toes and the creases of my ankle. The purple had left my legs, leaving them looking almost gray against the white of the tub.

"Can I see the shampoo?" I asked.

Without looking up, he reached past the curtain to probably the toilet top and brought back an off brand bottle. I took it, filled the small circle of my palm with shampoo, and reached for his head. The moment he figured out my intentions, he bowed forward and relinquished my feet. I wasn't nearly as gentle as him, but I was still careful as I scratched my fingers with the shampoo through his thick black hair.

I heard the quietest of moans from him. He leaned further into my touch.

When I tugged him to get him more under the shower spray, he crawled past my legs, putting one knee between mine to brush his face against mine. I didn't make out his expression through the curtain of soapy hair, but when he pulled back so I could better scrub out the bubbles, his eyes had gone tender and soft. His face lax. The pupils of his eyes dilated, making them darker, and yet somehow warmer.

Then he gifted me with one of his rare, true smiles, which reached his eyes and transformed his face into something divine.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

I tangled my fingers into his hair and brought his forehead to mine again.

"I love you," I said. "I freaking love you."

He was quiet for a moment, which made my heart quiver only for a breath.

"Are you sure it's me?" he asked, a bit breathless.

"Who else could it be?"

"Gene…"

I shook my head and pulled back to give him a playful grin. "Nah. I like your smart-ass walk and talk and your grouchy ice glares, or when you're frustrated and start rubbing the back of your head. Or when you find an especially clever way to insult a stupidly constructed sentence."

He blinked hard, sending the drops on his lashes into rivulets down his face.

"Are you a masochist?"

I laughed, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls and tub.

"I wondered the same thing," I said.

And then he was kissing me again, still soft, but firmer, a bit tilted to the side so our mouths aligned better. He didn't try to force my jaw apart, nor did I feel his teeth pressing through flesh or clipping my lips. Just softness and a warmth that breathed down to the last bit of cold the hot water hadn't reached.

He only lingered for a few seconds.

"I adore you," he breathed. "But I'm sorry, I'm not that kind of sadist."

"You're supposed to say 'love' not adore. Stop trying to be original."

"'Love is used too often," and he kissed me again. There was a bit more heat to this kiss somehow, and the wave of strange, pleasant fire waved through me once more.

Then he was pulling back, retreating from my reach, his eyes wide and on mine. He considered me for a few moments before he said, in a cracking voice.

"I can't hurt you. I…couldn't live with myself…"

"Dude, you call me all sorts of synonyms of stupid in class."

"Not like that," he looked down at his wrinkling fingers. "Like Takigawa hurt you. Like I already did hurt you this morning. Mai…Mai…"

His voice had broken down to nothing, and he couldn't look at me anymore, but hid his expression behind a curtain of black hair.

When the silence dragged on between us, I went for the sponge to clean him too, but he stopped me with a raised hand.

"I'm clean enough," he said, and quietly pushed himself to his feet. "I'll find you something to wear. You take as long as you need."

With a rustle of shower curtain rings, he was gone. Once I heard the door close behind him, I sighed heavily and tilted my face back up towards the water, which was still going hot.

I am in love with his water heater too, I found myself thinking as I remembered the daily warm water tug of war Ayako and I had with our shower.

Carefully, I felt out the parts my shirt had covered, and which Naru hadn't dared to touch. My left breast still hurt, but the tenderness had eased somewhat from the heat. Still, I could make out the dark red splotches that would be bruises in the morning. I carefully peeled off my panties as well and cleaned down there, though I didn't get very far. The scratches still stung. I never knew that part of me went so deep inside. It was like my very organs had been scraped.

But then I thought of Naru's almost silly careful ministrations to my hair and face and body and smiled. It would be okay. I was safe. His house had protections, right?

I chuckled beneath my breath. "That still sounds dirty."

Then I turned off the water, squeezed as much as I could out of my shirt, and stepped out to find a thick blue towel waiting for me on top of the toilet seat. Abandoning my soaked shirt, I wrapped myself in it, then took the time to outline the scars on my arms, a ritual I always did during or after my showers. The pink lines would turn silver in time, I was told. Then, they would only be tiger stripes from a past healed over.