"Damn! That movie rocked!"
"It
would've been better with Jet Li as the lead."
"Are
you nuts? Jackie Chan kicks ass over
Jet Li!"
"Does
not."
"Does
so."
"How
do you know?"
"Coz
I met both of them at a party one time."
"Sugoi! Really?" The star struck glaze, which had briefly faded when they'd gone to the
arcade then watched the movie, formed over Mitsuru's amethyst eyes again.
"Nah. Just yanking your chain. Plus, I like watching your face go all blank
and dreamy when I talk Hollywood. You
remind me of…well, you remind me of someone I know." Ryan poked the blonde in the ribs then abruptly broke his easy
stride, glanced both ways and quickly crossed the street, leaving Mitsuru to
hurry after his long-legged gait.
"Hey,
Ryan! Wait up! What's the rush?"
Ryan
jerked his thumb over his shoulder without stopping or looking around, his
black three-quarter-lenth lambskin coat camouflaging him perfectly in evening's
dark. Mitsuru, however, was a clear
target with his white T-shirt and blonde hair. It was he who the gaggle of giggling girls were making a beeline for.
"Ah,
kuso! Not again!" Mitsuru groaned at the rapidly approaching
group of determined females.
Ever
since the boys had stepped off the train into downtown Tokyo, they'd been
hounded by the same bunch of girls who had stalked them through five games of
Final Fantasy V and two rounds of that shooting game. The two had thought they'd lost them when they had ducked into
the movie theater, but apparently their luck had run out.
"Come
on! Follow me," Mitsuru caught abreast
of Ryan, grabbed his arm and yanked him down the crosswalk to the other side of
the street. The blonde quickened his
pace until the other boy was hard-pressed to keep up, even with his longer
stride. The two made it down three
blocks before Ryan halted their escape.
"Yo,
Jesse Owens! Slow it down. I think we lost them." Yanking his arm from Mitsuru's grasp, Ryan
leaned back against a storefront window and gulped in some much-needed
oxygen. His face had taken on a sickly
cast.
His
companion looked at him curiously. In
the few days he'd known him, Mitsuru had discovered the other boy's aversion to
physical exertion of any kind. Ryan was
forever bemoaning the fact that he had no car, and when Mitsuru pointed out
that walking was just as effective, if not economical, Ryan retorted that
"nobody walked in L.A.". Mitsuru had
accepted this as just another one of his quirks and had thought about it no
further.
Now,
however, Ryan's wan and sweaty face brought to mind the scene at the
apartment. Was he really that out of shape? Or was it something else entirely? Before Mitsuru could put two and two
together, he was distracted once again.
"Hey,
check us out! No wonder those girls've
been following us!"
Ryan
had recovered a bit and was now preening in front of the window. The light from within the store, coupled by
the dark of the outdoors, had turned the storefront into an almost-mirror and
it reflected the boys' images clearly. Mitsuru took only a moment to give himself the once-over. He was carelessly aware of his good looks
without being overly vain; having a bevy of admirers constantly cooing over
you, to the point of irritation, did wonders in deflating a potentially
overweening ego.
So
it was with casual indifference that Mitsuru glanced at his reflection while
taking a quick inventory: tousled blond hair, bangs flopping rakishly across
his forehead and in constant need of a trim. Check. Lean limbs and ropy
muscles, the mark of a long-distance runner. Check. Unnaturally purple eyes
and hideously long, almost girlish, eyelashes: the bane of his existence. Check. No green horns, dirt or facial imperfections. Check.
This
cataloguing took a mere few seconds; it was Ryan who caught Mitsuru's undivided
attention. The two boys were standing
shoulder to shoulder in front of the window and it was the first time Mitsuru
allowed himself the luxury of a good stare. His first thought was how tall the other boy was. Mitsuru was no midget, but Ryan towered over
him by a good four inches. He was saved
the ignominy of beanpole status by his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Either Ryan was lying about his dislike of
physical activity or he simply had good genes; Mitsuru despaired of ever
filling out that nicely, even after many sessions in the weight room.
The
blonde noted Ryan's dark brown hair, how it had curled from the dampness of his
sweat and tendrils of waves now teased at his well-defined eyebrows. Ryan's eyes were still the brightest blue,
like a cloudless summer sky, but now Mitsuru noticed the slight upturned cast
at the corners, a testimony to the Japanese half of his bloodline.
Standing
in front of that store window together, Ryan dark and brooding in his black
coat and he fresh and cool in his clingy shirt, Mitsuru had to agree with
Ryan's assessment. It was no wonder
those girls had been after them. They
looked damned fine.
But
it wasn't just a matter of aesthetics. There was an indefinable aura of something about Ryan. Mitsuru wracked his brain and found the
phrase: je ne sais quoi. Ryan had
it. In spades. As soon as he'd put a name to it, Mitsuru
startled. It's that Shin thing; Shinobu
has it too. But Shin hides it all the
time; it's why the girls flock to me first. Ryan, though. He flaunts
it. But I don't know if he means to do
it. I wonder if that's why Shinobu
can't like him – because they're so much alike?
"You're
thinking about him, aren't you?" Ryan
disrupted the other boy's reverie. His
tone was laden with innuendo.
"Who?"
"Tezuka."
And with that parting shot, delivered in a naughty sing-song, Ryan pivoted on
his heel and walked away, shoving his hands in his coat pocket and humming an
unfamiliar tune.
Mitsuru
stared at his reflection in mute confusion. Then the insinuation hit him and he bolted after the other boy. "What are you trying to say?"
"Oh,
come on, Mitsuru! Don't tell me you and
Tezuka aren't…?" Ryan paused his humming but not his loping swagger down the
busy sidewalk.
"Aren't
what?" The blonde was defensively belligerent.
"Well,
you know. Exclusive." The word was delivered with just enough
suggestiveness that its meaning could not be denied.
Mitsuru
stopped so suddenly that several people bumped into him and gifted him with
impatient glares. The boy was too busy
spluttering in outrage to notice. A few
meters ahead of him, Ryan continued to amble along, still humming that
song. Then he seemed to realize he was
companion-less and he looked over his shoulder negligently.
"Hey,
you comin'?"
Mitsuru
stomped to catch up, a distinctly unfriendly scowl on his face. He grabbed the other boy by the arm and
pulled him away from the flow of the crowd and under the awning of a video
rental store.
"What
the hell made you say something like that?"
"You're
really pissed off about this, aren't you?" Ryan regarded him with mild
astonishment.
"Look,
I don't know how things are done where you come from, but you don't say stuff
like that around here and expect a man to take it lying down."
Ryan
tilted his eyebrow, amused, and Mitsuru flushed.
"You
know what I mean." The blonde spat out, more embarrassed than angry now.
"Hey,
I'm sorry, okay? I just assumed, you
know? You guys looked pretty tight and
that first day, he was giving off these vibes that screamed: "stay away from my
bitch, yo!" and --- whoa!" Ryan held up his hands in mock surrender as Mitsuru
lunged for his throat. "Okay, sorry! Couldn't help it. Stand down, soldier!"
As
the crowd was beginning to give them suspicious looks, Mitsuru had no choice
but to deny his need for murder. But
the glare he directed at the other boy would have wilted even the bravest of
men. It was fear-worthy. It was Shinobu-worthy. It was…apparently not worthy at all. Ryan was laughing softly.
"Oh,
man! That look! Priceless! Listen, Mitsu, I'm really sorry, okay? This is Ryan being serious now. See me put on my serious face," Ryan tried to pull his lips down in a
somber mien but failed miserably. His
quiet chuckles were turning into belly-heaving guffaws.
"I
don't find this funny at all."
"You're
absolutely right. This is not funny at
all." This time Ryan was able to come up with a semblance of sobriety. "But you gotta see this from where I'm
standing. Tezuka practically slew me
with his stare that first day we met and only because you were hanging on to
every word I said…"
"He
was --- I was not!" Mitsuru denied hotly. Ryan only shook his head.
"Whatever. But you can't tell me you didn't feel that
chill when he caught us at the track. And you haven't exactly told him you've been hanging with me these past
coupla days, have you?"
Mitsuru
nodded reluctantly and conceded that point. He didn't want to hear anymore – he knew where Ryan was headed - but he
could not stop Ryan's inexorable speech. It was like watching a gory highway accident: you knew you shouldn't rubberneck and stop traffic but you just
had to slow down and stare in morbid fascination.
"Face
it, he hates me. But why? I asked myself. What had I done to deserve that hate? Maybe it isn't hate, I told myself. Maybe it's jealousy." Ryan was proving to have a flair for the
dramatic. He alternately clutched at
his forehead then gasped in realization as he continued his impassioned monologue. It would have been funny, if not for the
content.
Because
Mitsuru was starting to worry now. Ryan's words were echoing the same thoughts that had been running
through his own mind, and if his new friend had gotten that far, then it stood
to reason that the rest of his words warranted serious consideration. But Ryan's leap of logic was
incomprehensible.
Me and Shinobu – lovers? Mitsuru nearly choked at the thought. Then another question popped in his mind and it shot out before
he could stop it.
"Well,
if Shin and I are exclusive…"
"Mhm?"
Ryan batted his eyelashes coyly and Mitsuru strained to keep from tearing them
out one by one.
"I
said if, baka! If
Shinobu and I were exclusive, and you knew about it, then why were you trying
to ruin it?"
"Me? Dude, I didn't tell you to keep me a secret,
did I?"
Mitsuru's
anger screeched to a halt. His strong
sense of fairness took over and whispered that Ryan was right. He had never encouraged Mitsuru to lie to
Shinobu; Mitsuru had done that on his own. Why? Maybe there was truth to
what Ryan was saying. Certainly not the
lovers part, of course. But the
jealousy?
"Hey,
if this is really bothering you, we can talk about something else." In a flash
of sensitivity, or maybe he was just feeling uncomfortable at Mitsuru's sudden,
self-imposed silence, Ryan offered the blonde a way out of the situation.
"Hai."
Mitsuru agreed, but there was a faint edge of unease and uncertainty tingeing
his voice.
Ryan
shifted his feet as the silence reared its head between them again. He felt partially guilty for starting the
whole thing in the first place, but it was really quite fun seeing Mitsuru
riled up. He reminded him of…Again with
the unwelcome thoughts! Ryan was
treading dangerous waters and he refused to fall prey to the melancholia that
was sure to follow. He gazed about him
for some form – any form – of distraction. Mitsuru, deep in thought, was no help.
Then
something caught his eye. And the devilish smirk, the same one that his
California friends knew only too well and had learned to run away from, took
root on his normally somber face.
"Come
on, Mitsu. I'll show you some fun…So.
Cal. style!"