Chapter Twenty One

[Three days later]

He selected a dark blue tie that matched his navy shirt and slipped it over his head, walking over to the mirror as he knotted it slowly. His hands were now encased in slimmer, thinner wraps, but they still hurt.

*Flashback

Lincoln—or Kaede as he had heard the other man call him—had left for the night, and Hanamichi was trying to flip the control closer to him as best as he could with his bandaged fingers when a slim hand picked it up and brought it over. He looked up, and there stood the other man.

In the cool fluorescence of the lights from outside, for the ward was dark by now, he marveled at how much the two men resembled each other. But even in similarity, there was difference. Up close to him now, able to see him clearly, this one looked older, and not in a bad sense. There was a collected confidence about him that Lincoln did not have, a comfortable blending into his surroundings. And he was handsome. Exceptionally so, with his black hair tousled slightly by the bandages and framing his fair face, and wide-set eyes the color of sunny, cloudless skies and lips that looked soft and strangely inviting. Hanamichi kicked himself inwardly. What was he thinking?

"Need help?" he could hear the hint of a smile in the barest nuances, but he nodded in gratitude as the channel was changed. "This one's okay."

There was a soft rustle, and then the man padded forward, closer, and sat down in the chair beside his bed. They were silent for a moment, before the other man spoke.

"I've yet to thank you for pulling me out. You saved my life."

His voice was warm and husky. Hanamichi bit his lip as a flush worked its way over his cheekbones, and blessed the half-dark as he tried to think of a reply.

"It was something anyone would have done," he replied finally. "But I'm glad you're okay."

A low chuckle answered him, as the man rose. "Well then, I won't disturb your rest any longer. Good night." And he turned to go.

"Hey."

He turned, illuminated by a soft glow. "Yes?"

"What's your name?"

A ghost of a smile tugged at the cherry lips. "They call me Malcolm. But my name is Sendoh. Sendoh Akira."

"Sakuragi Hanamichi."

*End of Flashback

He briefly wondered about the amount of work that he would have to catch up with when he finally got back to the office. He missed his job, for it was his passion as well. Walking away from the mirror, he bent down and, from the bottom shelf, retrieved a belt, looping it about his waist awkwardly and then buckling it.

*Flashback

Hanamichi packed his things as quickly as he could manage, and then checked to make sure he had left nothing behind. His parents were waiting outside in the hall. Opposite him, Sendoh was packing too. The bandages had been removed and was be replaced by a large swab of white cotton that covered the healing wound on his left temple.

"How are you getting back, Sakuragi?"

He looked up and smiled. "My parents are going to fetch me. I'm going to be thinking twice before I get into any car now, though."

Sendoh laughed. "Well, the one I wrecked up has already been replaced by my company. And I'm not the one doing the driving this time, so I can hope that I will at least be able to return to my apartment in one piece."

He stamped the flicker of interest out sternly, and chuckled with Sendoh. "Is Lincoln going to come pick you up?"

The other man shrugged. "Yes. I'll be meeting him at the entrance. And hey—"

Hanamichi turned. "Hmm?"

"Dinner on me. Tomorrow night. To thank you."

"That's not really necessary, Sendoh—"

"Please. I insist."

*End of Flashback

He took a last look at himself, before he walked past the closet and to the hallway where his shoes were already laid out.