Ever True
*(6/6)
By Sakata Ri Houjun
~****************~
Adrienne Parmentier's Midsummer Masque was, as always, packed. Issac hovered in the corner of the ballroom in the elegantly appointed fifth Avenue penthouse, amid people known as movers and shakers by all the well-known financial publications and anyone who called his or her employer a Fortune 500 company. People who were normally attired in expensive, conservative suits that revealed absolutely nothing about their moral character or personal idiosyncrasies of their individual style.
People, who tonight, looked more than a little uncomfortable, dressed in the apparel that ranged from embroidered robes of emperors to the coarse wool of peasants.
Issac tugged again at the deep blue robe that was draped over his right shoulder and hoped he wouldn't get any more comments about his hair. Being told that the style seemed more like an anime that some one's kids watched once was enough to drive him into the corner he was in. What had possessed him to fashion this outlandish blue wig and actually wear it?
His dreams, of course. It's where he got the design for his costume. A monk. Of course monks didn't wear their hair this way, but the outfit didn't feel complete without it. Still, he wished he were somewhere, anywhere, else.
Beside him, Thomas was yanking as unobtrusively on the flowing sleeves of a white robe. Issac envied his friend, wishing he had thought to wear something as elegant. But then again, he felt perfectly comfortable wearing the simple, creamy white tunic and deep green pants.
"Honestly," Thomas Ray whispered sharply, "you think that people would do their research. I've never known empresses to wear such revealing clothing."
"Oh, quit griping like you would know," Issac scolded him. "At least you look good."
Thomas threw him a pained expression. The jade talisman against his forehead caught the soft light as he then turned back to the crowd. Issac's eyes followed, also scanning the surrounding throng of people. "I still can't believe that I actually came."
"It's good to get out every once in a while, Issac. I'm actually glad to be in this outfit ag-" He halted abruptly and hastily sipped his drink.
Issac found Thomas's comment more than a little intriguing. "Again…?" he encouraged him. "You wear this outfit a lot, Thomas?"
He squared his shoulders indignantly, the billowing fabric giving him the appearance of one with good bearing. "Not as often as I used to, no, but…there was a time in the past when I did."
He grinned at his friend. "I see."
Thomas's expression when he looked at Issac again was inscrutable. "I doubt very seriously that you do."
He sipped his wine spritzer and returned his gaze to the crowd. "Malcolm ended up loving Harper's campaign, by the way. He minored in English in college, too, and loves Shakespeare. Who knew?"
"It's good to have that outcome resolved at least," Thomas replied cryptically. "You must be very happy."
He shrugged. "The client is happy. That's what's important."
"So your own happiness never comes into play, is that it?"
He turned to face his aide more fully. "What does my happiness have to do with anything?"
"You see, that's precisely my point." He, too, angled his body to face Issac. "You never consider your own happiness. You never have."
"I thought we were talking about Malcolm and the campaign for the new perfume he designed."
"Oh, I do apologize," Thomas countered, pivoting on his heel to scan the crowd again. "I thought we were talking about what makes people happy."
"I'm very happy," he assured him, wondering why he was bothering to continue something he'd just tried to make clear he had no desire to discuss.
Thomas responded absently, "Are you? Good for you then."
"Yes, I am."
"As I said, good for you."
Issac tapped his foot impatiently and wondered why he was fuming about something so silly that had come up for no good reason. He had nothing to prove to Thomas. He was happy. He was. Really. Truly. Honest, he was. As happy as any person could be. He had everything he could possibly ever want, a wonderful and loving family, a respected and thriving business, a substantial income, a beautiful home, lots of friends… There wasn't an area in his life that was lacking in any way, nothing he could add to it that would improve it.
So, dammit, why was Shawn Hane's face constantly lingering in the forefront of his brain? Even now, as he vowed to himself that he was completely fulfilled, a not-so-hazy recollection of the kiss they had shared among the flowers rose up in his memory as vividly and intensely as if it were happening now.
He noted that Thomas was still studying him from the corner of his eye, and he frowned. "What?" he demanded.
"Nothing," he replied.
"You sound like you don't believe me when I say that I'm happy."
He shook his head. "No, if you say you're happy, then you must be happy."
"I am happy."
"That's fine."
"I am."
"That's wonderful."
"Thomas."
"What?"
Issac sighed fitfully, shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then sighed again. "Did, um, did Kenji mention if Shawn was coming to the party tonight?"
Again, Thomas turned to face him. "What causes you to think that Kenji Nakama would mention anything to me?"
"Well, the two of you have been seeing each other, haven't you?"
He colored a bit, and then looked away. "On occasion," he said quietly. But he didn't elaborate further.
"So did he say anything about Shawn being here tonight?"
"I believe he mentioned that he would be attending, yes."
Issac nibbled his lip and forced himself to not to start searching frantically for any sign of him. He wanted to ask Thomas more, but was afraid he might seem desperate and overcome with longing. Which, he knew, he was. But there was no reason Thomas had to know that.
As if he could read his thoughts, however, he told him, "You'll easily recognize him."
Issac shook his head and scratched the back of his neck where the synthetic blue hair was tickling his nape. It was starting to drive him crazy, the way Thomas seemed capable of reading his mind all the time.
"Who says I want to find him?"
Thomas sighed heavily, shook his head in what he could only interpret as disappointment, and covered his shoulders with his palms, holding Issac firmly in place.
"This has gone on long enough," he told him. "And it's going to end now."
Issac was so stunned by his action that he didn't even try to pull away from him. "What are you talking about?"
"Issac…"
He made an exasperated sound, released his shoulders and buried his fingers in his dark hair, gripping the strands until his knuckles grew white. It was the first time Issac had ever seen Thomas display such an intense emotional response to anything. And he wasn't sure he was comfortable with it at all.
"Issac," he began again, a little more calmly. He released his hair and scrubbed both hands over his face, then met his gaze evenly again. "There's something you must know about me."
"What?"
"I'm not who you think I am."
Issac shook his head, now completely confused. "I don't understand. You're not my aide, Thomas Ray?"
"Thomas Ray is the name I have now, and I am without question your aide. But there's more to it than that."
Issac nodded nervously, his sudden intense demeanor making him feel uneasy. "What? You're an international spy engaged in corporate espionage? Are you about to steal the True Love campaign for some rival Communist ad agency?"
"No, but I have been in your employ under false pretenses."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm more than an aide. And I've been sent here, so to speak, to help guide you in ways that go beyond the professional."
"Thomas, I have no idea what you're talking about. Just tell me whatever it is you're trying to
tell me."
"All right. I'm trying to tell you that I'm-"
"That you're what?"
"I'm-"
"What?"
"I'm-"
His patience at an end, he demanded, "Thomas, for pete's sake, what? What are you trying to tell me?"
He drew in a deep breath and expelled it slowly. "Issac, what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm…I'm a…"
"Oh…" Issac relaxed and waved him off. "Is that all? That's nothing. What's the big deal?"
He gaped at him, clearly amazed at the reaction even though he didn't get to finish. "You know? And you're not mad?"
"Of course not. Actually, I kind of suspected as much anyway ever since you and Kenji started hanging out together more."
Thomas's expression would have been the same if Issac had just struck him on the back of the head with a blunt instrument. "You did?"
He nodded a little sheepishly. "But Thomas, a person's sexuality is completely immaterial in this day and age. Or at least it should be. Not that I have any room to judge you. It's perfectly alright in my view."
"You think I'm gay?"
"You have been dating Kenji, right?"
"That's beside the point and not what I'm trying to tell you."
This time it was Isaac's turn to be confused. "I don't understand."
He shook his head in obvious exasperation. "Issac, I'm not a human being. I'm a spirit."
Issac said nothing in reply. He just studied Thomas idly and wondered what on earth had gotten into him.
He must have taken his silence as an indication that he was perfectly willing to buy his story, because he continued steadfastly with his tale. "I come from the past, your past. We grew up together in you last life within a mythical world controlled by four gods. You served one of those gods and met a man who was your soul mate. Of course, by that time I was long since dead, but came back as a possessed demon and almost killed you, however, that's water under the bridge, as it were."
For a long time, Issac remained silent, wondering if maybe he had been demanding too much of his friend recently. He recalled that he hadn't taken a vacation in some time. Maybe he should insist that he take a few weeks off. Check himself into one of those celebrity spas he'd heard about. Give himself a little mental rest.
"Um, Thomas," he finally began again, "just how much punch did you have to drink tonight? That stuff is lethal. I had three cups last year and still have nightmares. It'll have you thinking you can circle the globe in forty-five minutes if you drink too much of it."
Thomas slumped forward. "I'm not drunk, Issac. I 'm speaking the truth. And that's not all of it."
"Well, gee," he told him. "Don't stop now when it's just getting good. Tell me the rest of your story."
He seemed a little more reluctant to do so, but inhaled a deep breath and continued. "You and your lover survived a war, and attacks by demons and yet remained steadfast in your love. That was until he died in an accident. You became bitter and lost your faith in the god to whom you served."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Issac interrupted. "First off, I don't even believe in God now, let alone some forgotten mythological one."
"I know, but as a servant of that god, you were still blessed in this life with good fortune and happiness for what you endured back then. Unfortunately, since you lost hope when you lost your soul mate, you have been unable to find him in this one."
"So you're saying that this lover I had back then was reincarnated too? And why am I even discussing this with you?" he added, not certain why he was bothering. "You're obviously drunk and have no idea what you're saying."
"He's been right under your nose the whole time and you refuse to accept it because subconsciously you're afraid of losing him again and living with that pain. I was sent here to open your eyes to the truth since I was the closest to you in the past, aside from your soul mate, of course."
Issac nodded indulgently. "Oh, right, like I'm supposed to believe that. Thomas, this conversation is completely-"
But Thomas was insistent. "It's true. Every word I've said. I'm not a mortal like you even though I have a physical body. I was sent by your god, who is consequently the god of fire and love, to help reunite you with your soul mate so you can have a happy life."
"What do you mean? I have a wonderful life."
"But you have no one with whom to share that life."
He blinked once and inhaled a quick breath. Then, very quietly, he said, "That's because I don't want anyone to share my life."
Thomas smiled sadly. "You're denying yourself your happiness because of your fear. Everyone wants someone to share his or her life, Issac."
"I don't."
He met his friend's gaze levelly, his black eyes shinning. "Everyone," he repeated softly. "It's a law of nature. No living creature is meant to be alone. Solitude is a wonderful thing when enjoyed in moderation. But too many people embrace solitude as a way of life. And it isn't natural."
"But-"
"Solitude disrupts the workings of the universe, which relies on interaction between all living things to survive. Solitude is the reason for disharmony. You were the one who showed me that. And it's my job to see that you don't wind up alone. It's why I was sent here to begin with."
"But-"
"Issac."
The summons came not from Thomas, but form someone else. Shawn, he realized before he even turned around to find him standing behind him. He would recognize his voice anywhere, not just because of the familiarity of the deep, rugged baritone, but also because of the utter longing that laced it. A longing he had sensed in the younger man that day in the boardroom, a longing he knew was reflected deep inside himself.
He spun and faced Shawn, finding him dressed in a long, dark coat, pale tan pants and deep ebon boots. Beads were strung about his neck and a pair of earring dangled from his ears. A weapon of some sort was strapped to his back in a golden holster, buckled across his chest. And his hair was cut shorter, but no less as wild.
"Oh, Shawn," he said quietly, hoping his words didn't sound shaky as they felt. "Thank goodness you're here. Thomas has gone absolutely nuts. He's-"
He spun around to include Thomas in the conversation, only to find that his friend had vanished.
"Tommy's what?" Shawn asked.
"He's gone."
"So I see."
"No, I mean, he was right here two seconds ago, and now he's…gone."
"You were alone when I came up," Shawn said. "Just how much of that punch did you have to drink tonight?"
"I haven't…I-"
"Issac, we need to talk."
"Okay," he replied absently, still searching the crowd for Thomas.
Shawn glanced at all the people milling around them, too, but evidently for different reasons, because he wove his fingers with older man's and whispered, "Not here."
"Then where?"
When he tugged his hand, Issac submitted without hesitation, agreeing that he and Shawn did indeed have something they needed to address. His thoughts on that score quickly evaporated, however, as he followed in his wake.
When he realized that he was leading him toward the landscaped forest outside, he smiled. Somehow, their destination seemed appropriate. The warm evening enveloped them as they passed though the French doors and out onto the patio, redolent of springtime in the city.
Shawn kept walking until the two of them had wound their way to the center of the grove of trees, and Issac caught his breath at the beauty that greeted him there. He was reminded of the dreams, roaming mountain paths with Shawn by his side.
Why hadn't he noticed it before?
Without saying a word, Shawn spun around and pulled Issac into his arms, kissing him soundly as he wrapped him in an uncompromising embrace. He held the older man tightly as he would anything he feared would flee him, caught him so close because he could no longer bear for him to be so far away. His body beneath his fingers was warn and vibrant, his mouth under his compliant and eager. For long moments, he only let himself rejoice in the feel of Issac, enjoyed his body's movements against his, his fingers tangling in his hair, his lips dragging open-mouthed kisses along his neck. Then he remembered he had brought Issac here for conversation, not seduction, and reluctantly, he took a step away.
"Issac, I-"
His words halted in his throat when he looked at him. He had been so happy to find him in the crowd that he honestly hadn't taken much notice of his attire. But now that he considered the ensemble, he was reminded of several paintings he had done. Paintings he had created out of images from his dreams. He never knew just who the other man was, and had always assumed he was a figment, nothing more. But seeing Issac dressed exactly like the cheerful lover that accompanied his adventures made him realize that despite the obvious differences, they looked the exactly the same.
"Wow," he finally managed. "You look great."
He laughed low. "You're not so bad yourself."
"No, I mean you look…great."
Issac laughed a little more, but this time sounded a bit uncertain. "Just call me a monk."
He shook his head. "I'd rather have Issac."
"No problem," he told him with a smile. He reached up and unpinned his wig and stripped off a stocking cap that clung to his scalp. "How's that?" he asked.
He smiled back. "Perfect."
Issac seemed to suddenly grow anxious, because he took a few steps away from him and leaned against the trunk of a slender birch, it's lower branches dripping with sweet-smelling wisteria. Shawn watched his gaze dart from the fat purple flowers over his head to the rolling white moss beneath his slippered feet, and then back to the black sky overhead, spattered with stars surrounding a full moon that shone brighter than a silver dollar.
"You've done an amazing job with this place, Shawn. Everything looks gorgeous."
"Yeah, it does," he agreed, his eyes never leaving his face.
"I missed you this week, when you didn't come to water the plants."
Issac's confession jolted him and he covered the brief distance between them to stand before the older man. He continued to lean against the tree, and, unable to tolerate even that small space between them, he flattened his palm against the trunk above his head, ducking his own toward him.
"Really?" he asked softly. "I thought you'd be happy to have me gone."
He shook his head and lowered his gaze to the ground. "I'm sorry. I don't know what made me say that. It just sort of came out."
"Don't apologize. I don't mind that you said it. As long as it's true."
He nodded. "It's true. I have missed you. I didn't mean what I said that day at your nursery. I was just scared."
"Of what?"
Issac hesitated before answering him, but finally admitted, "Of having my heart broken."
"Why?"
"I don't want to lose you…again."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Issac continued to stare at the ground, so Shawn crooked his forefinger under his chin and urged him to look up again. "I promise that I won't leave you again."
His brows furrowed, as if what he were about to reveal to him was painful somehow. "I'd never had feelings like this before. I wasn't sure where they were coming from. They made me feel out of control." His cheeks flamed pink, and his hands flew to cover them, as if he were embarrassed by what he had just said. "I didn't know how, but I've felt like I've always known you."
"Well, you don't have to be scared anymore. I'm here now." He leaned forward again, settling his forehead against Issac's. "I love you," he said softly, surprising himself. He'd never said those words to another individual in his life, wasn't sure he'd ever even felt them. But somehow, telling Issac he loved him was the most natural thing to do. It felt good. It felt right. And suddenly, everything seemed simple.
"I couldn't possibly have heard you right."
Shawn lifted his head to gaze into his eyes, cupping his chin in his hand, tracing the pad of his thumb over his lower lip. The older man's eyelids fluttered closed. Shawn felt an answering warmth rise up inside himself, something rooted deeply that had lain dormant for too long. He pressed his mouth to Issac's again, and felt him melt into him as surely as he dissolved into him.
"I love you," he repeated again when he pulled back. "You heard perfectly. I love you."
Issac opened his eyes and stared at him for a long time, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to believe what Shawn has told him. Finally, he said, "I love you, too. Honestly, Shawn, you make me say and do the damnedest things."
He chuckled. "I was just going to say the same damn thing about you." Issac began to laugh suddenly. "What?" Shawn asked. "What's so funny?"
"I'm reminded of something that Thomas said a little while ago. I think he's had a bit too much to drink tonight."
"Why?"
He continued to smile as he told him. "He, um, he thinks he's a spirit."
Now Shawn wondered if he was hearing things correctly. "Tommy thinks what?"
"Before you found me tonight," he explained, "he was telling me some cockamamie story about me being a reincarnated monk and how he'd been sent by Suzaku to help me find my soul mate."
Shawn laughed too. "Wow. I remember being that drunk back when I was in high school, but not lately. And Suzaku, huh?"
Issac's laughter joined his, and he sounded oddly relieved somehow. "Yeah."
He bent forward and brushed his lips lightly over his again. "So who's this soul mate he's supposed to help you find?"
"Mmmm," he said, though whether in response to his question or the kiss, Shawn wasn't sure. His voice grew mellow and vague as he answered. "Tasuki."
Shawn dropped his lips to nuzzle his neck and throat, and then skimmed the tip of his tongue along the older man's collarbone. "Yes?"
"No, Shawn, I mean… Oh, Shawn… Tasuki, um, Tasuki is my soul mate."
"And Chichiri is mine, but we don't need any spirit to point that out when we have each other," he murmured before tasting the hollow at the base of his throat.
"True," Issac moaned. He gasped when he pulled open the fabric of his tunic and carried his kisses lower. Issac threw his head back as he pulled Shawn closer to his heart, and the last thing he saw before succumbing to the passion, the real passion, was a vision of a crimson man who radiated the warmth of fires and love, smiling.
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
"It worked," Kenji said as he watched the lovers from the highest branch of a nearby dogwood. "Kouran would be proud of you."
Seated beside him, Thomas nodded his agreement. "Yes, I imagine our work is done here now. We can return home."
"Oh, I don't know," the former bandit countered. "I might hang around for a while. I kind of like it here. And Genrou, though he is a dumbass, has always been a blast to hang out with. I like working with him."
Thomas thought for a moment, and then decided his companion had a good point. "And I honestly can't imagine how Chichiri would manage without me. Good executive secretaries are very difficult to come by these days. I'd hate to have to train someone new. Explaining the filing system alone would be horrendous."
Kenji turned to look at him. "So, Hikou…you thinking of staying in New York for a while?"
"I suppose I could. It is a rather interesting place, isn't it?"
"You, um, you maybe need a roommate by any chance? My apartment building is going co-op."
He gazed at the blue-haired man incredulously. "Are you suggesting we move in together?"
He nodded. "Sure."
Thomas laughed. "Now that I consider it, the idea does have some merit. Although you realize that you really aren't my type."
"And you're irresistible."
He smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am. I guess it's just my charm."
"No, actually, it's your cute but hard ass."
"Kouji…"
Kenji pointed down to the blissfully entwined lovers. "Besides, look at the good work we do together, Hikou. I think we're needed here."
Thomas thought for a moment more, and then decided that he had another good point. "We'll have to get approval from Suzaku."
"No problem," Kenji said, standing. He extended his hand to him. "We can make our appearance there. And then what? Then we can come back home for some private time. Oh, that sounds nice."
Slowly, gingerly, Thomas reached up and settled his hand in his. "Just promise me that you don't carry on conversations in your sleep."
He grinned. "How about if I promise that there won't be any time left for sleeping?"
"I suppose that shall have to be good enough for now."
They clasped hands firmly together, and together, they disappeared.
