Chapter Four
[The next day]
"The pictures are out, darling. Have you seen them yet? They look fantastic!" Mrs. Sakuragi beamed at her son, who was stretched out along the couch in a pair of comfortable jeans, half-asleep. She smiled tenderly down at the prone body as she bustled back and forth in her preparation for the evening's gathering between family and friends, a pre-wedding banquet if she did say so herself. Wiping her slightly floured hands on her apron, she hurried back into the kitchen and proceeded to shape another pastry.
Back in the living room, Hanamichi appeared to lay dozing, but his thoughts were another matter altogether.
Eyes.
He had blue eyes.
As if in slow motion, the dance from last night replayed itself in its head, every slight movement to the locking of gazes with the man he knew nothing of.
Skin.
He had the palest skin.
Frustrated, he turned and grabbed a cushion, burying his face into it as his thoughts rambled wildly. What was wrong with him?
Perhaps it's just the shock. It was something completely new, after all. No thanks to Yohei.
The reception was tonight. I shouldn't be thinking about insignificant things. I should get some rest.
Yet, even as he fell asleep, the image of smoky, intense eyes in a bed of green and silver haunted him.
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The two bodies lay tangled up in the white sheets as the afternoon sun streamed in through the large, paneled glass windows of the penthouse, reflecting bluish rays off the tinted surfaces.
The bed, set in the center of the large room, was a double-sized and sculpted in the traditional style, set low on the ground and surrounded by a wooden step, the same make as the parquet tiling on the floor. Green plants bedecked the corners of the large room and framed the two doorways, one leading to the spacious kitchen and the other to the main door. The walls were painted an appealing beige, and the hidden air-conditioner provided plenty of cool in the hot climate of everyday.
The older man awoke first, opening his eyes blearily to the warmth of the sun lighting the entire room. Brushing his fringe out of his eyes, he shifted slightly and felt the warmth of the other fall against his body, effectively waking him. Smiling down at the other dark-haired man, he allowed himself to lie back against the cool pillows and enjoy the moment.
He was one year older than the performer they called Lincoln, but the outward similarities between them had prompted the newcomer to be talked of as his partner, as indeed he had intimately become. Yet, he remembered the first day he had opened the door to the bowed head, the withdrawn demeanor, the cold eyes. Through the weeks of training and tutelage, he had managed to break through the younger man's icy shell, had warmed to him as a friend would, and only later realize that Rukawa Kaede had taken his heart.
As lovers, they had been together four years now. In the world where dance was an expression, their affection was regarded as nothing more than a sincere, professional partnership. Yet they knew better, for there had been many incidents over the years, events in which one would disappear for long weeks, and the other follow. No one ever got close to Lincoln the way Malcolm did. He laughed as he remembered how their names had been chosen, when their manager had pointed out the fact that the younger –was– his student and thus, in the old way, deserved to have a name that befitted his teacher. And they had stayed the same, stayed together, even as they grew, and learned and matured.
He suddenly felt the gaze of another on his face, and looked down to catch startling blue eyes looking up at him. Wordlessly, he bent down and planted a soft kiss on the slightly-parted lips.
"What were you thinking about?"
He raised his eyebrows, as he sat up and leaned against a large clump of pillows, looking directly at Rukawa. "Mmm?"
"You looked so serious."
Sendoh smiled. "I was thinking about us." And how I love you.