Talking out of Turn
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Characters-not mine. Lyrics-belong to the Moody Blues. Howdy *waves* this is chapter 12 of my latest attempt to write a longer story. For those interested, I *did* write "Affair on 8th Avenue" about Keisuke, Sorata and Duo when they were younger and took off in Juri's car, so feel free to read that in conjunction with Half-Baked if you'd like--it should be easy enough to find in my ff.net profile. More author's notes at the end. ~enjoy~ )
***
I've lived here long enough that I can't say that I'm new to the area, but I am still inexperienced enough that I can't say I've been in this part of town before. It looks like an entirely different world.
Hayate and I have our apartment near the outskirts of town paying ridiculous rent, but splitting it isn't so terrible. The neighborhood is upper middle class set back in a well-forested area so it's rather docile. Four Doors and Transylvania are just off from the downtown area, wide sidewalks and metered parking when you can't squeeze into the lot somewhere. Four Doors dark wood and settled back into a warm corner. Transylvania cool concrete and sophisticated neon signs.
I'm balancing the coaster Goh gave me between my fingers and staring down the most backward looking diner I've ever seen. Coral colored canopy waving at me in a warm breeze, the day's special written on the front window glass (chicken with rice) and I'm facing my own baffled reflection when the door opens with a cheery hometown jingle of bells.
"Keisuke!" Goh's wiping his hands off on a manly white, but stained, apron, and then he's running his fingers through fallen, dark hair. This is the first time I've seen him completely unprimed, a sloppy grin crinkles his features. "I wondered if you were going to pass by or come in."
"Come in?" I repeat dumbly, then shake my head, catching myself, "Sorry if I'm just gaping here, I thought you'd given me your home address."
"Well, yeah," Goh chuckles, moving to guide me in then thinking better of it, wipes his fingers across the chest of his apron again, "Upstairs. There's a couple of apartments there and Chichiri's letting me live there painfully cheap while I'm finishing up school."
"Chichiri, what kind of name is that?" I'm still trying to collect my wits or at least put them in order, stuffing the coaster into my back pocket. I didn't get much sleep the night before, and then I was awaken to the persistent ringing of the telephone. Which had turned out to be Hayate's boss at the construction site, wanting to know where our favorite golden boy had wandered off to. Honestly, I couldn't tell him and made some lame excuse. He wasn't fooled and let me off easily enough. Nevertheless, I was still haunted by Hayate's disappearance, wandering the pet store in a dangerous daze. Narrowly noticing before I put the snake-food-mice in the hamster cages and the hamsters in the snake cages.
"Don't ask me," Goh makes a strange swooping gesture with his arm again, until I notice he wants me to go inside the diner. "But he's a jolly ol' guy regardless. Can you believe this place? Feels like it's right out of the Andy Griffith show or something."
"True, but worse," I relax, laughing. I have time enough to put my mind on something else, and after getting an eyeful of Goh's tacky yellow t-shirt and frayed jeans I'm feeling incredibly comfortable. "So what exactly are you doing here?" I get a face-full of air blown from a fan balanced above the entryway. No air conditioning. Still, refreshingly not-fluorescent lights from the ceiling make the yellow walls, like Goh's shirt, easier on the eyes. Violet and peach upholstery. Turquoise dinner plates feeding locals that do look like extras from the Andy Griffith show. "Egad! Who designed this place?"
"Isn't it splendid?" Goh walks faster, toward a back door. "Chichiri is the craziest bloke ever, but he's generous. Everyone just loves the weirdo." He calls back behind him, "Tasuki, cover the register, will you?"
"Eh, whatever," A red-headed person pokes his head up from behind the counter, then I could hear him mutter something about Goh's fortune that it was slow as I'm through the back door and going up a rickety, un-railed flight of stairs.
"I didn't realize that your lunch break was going to be so late," Goh says casually, leading just a few steps up, untying the back of his apron, pulling it over his head and holding it scrunched in his fist. We come to a narrow hall and he points to the door on the left, "This is me." He beams and lets me go inside first.
"How long have you lived here?" I ask politely, taking in the small room, a mattress almost hidden by a curtain on the right, a 'good-will'-value recliner on the other, piled high with text books, paper and mathematical instruments. Directly in front was a window looking down onto the street where I'd stood just moments before. A solitary table with two chairs bathing in sunlight. He must spend all his money on clothes.
"Hmm?" Goh fumbles, a bit nervously. Which is understandable, he's just showed me his home. Which is light years different than I would have imagined from the home of the sexy prowler face he puts on at the club. "Four months? Not long, anyway. I stayed with someone else I met when I first came to town for the spring semester. But I needed my own space." He pulls out a chair for me, "I needed a chance to study was more like it." When I sit, he does also, "And when I mentioned it downstairs Chichiri stumbled all over himself to put me in here."
"Dorothy thought you might be new," I glance out the window, still intrigued by this side of town I'd never noticed before, "Did you have fun last night?"
"Yeah," Goh lights up, "Dorothy's sweet." Then he raises a finger and an eyebrow simultaneously, "I hope you like chicken and rice?"
"The special?" I chuckle, shaking my head, "Sure." Then I figure I might as well encourage the attractive guy's effort with a more definite, "Yes."
"Just a moment," And then he left me alone in his one room apartment, the breeze from the window whistling across the table.
***
When I took a little loving from you,
Oh I: never thought about the hurting inside.
But, I took a little more than I should.
Oh why: can't explain that I would ever
Let you slip through my fingers,
Let you escape like yesterday.
***
Why is it that I hear lines in my head, echoing from movies that I've seen in the past? Catchy phrases from a film that I've probably watched one too many times. An important moment, a gag, a really great pick-up line that you just want to try. So why is it the oily voice of the duke that slithers into my thoughts, "It's a little bit funny . . . this feeling inside."
I shudder, nervously. Driving back home after a few afternoon hours of work at the store, I'm still dazzled from what Goh had been showing me. Pieces of himself that leave him vulnerable and human. Pictures of his little brothers, his parents, unhidden delight in those crazy geometry classes he inexplicably adores. Sharing just enough that I feel at ease with knowing him.
And I can feel it begin.
If I'm completely honest, I think I knew it began when he called to me from the diner doorway. His voice unashamedly enthusiastic and undisguised by the jangle of the loud welcome bells. Enthusiastic and undisguised for the better part of an hour, until I couldn't stay any longer.
Yet the only thing I managed was after he walked me back to my old junker. He asked to see me again, and I'm still wading through my thick skull to find some way to appropriately reciprocate. However, I only found that I am strangely inexperienced at admitting any feelings. Anything genuine.
I disguise my love for Sorata. I disguised whatever I hadn't been feeling with Sylvia.
I've never asked myself to define something like this in thoughts, let alone in real words that I would speak to another person.
The best I could do was to impulsively enact my gratitude. Not that I knew what it was exactly that I was grateful for. And so, then, I kissed him.
It was a bit startling, which is why I keep thinking back on it. Wondering if it was the right thing to do. Not that we hadn't kissed before, but I had always seen it as I was the one being kissed. And I hadn't really known who it was I was kissing then either.
Damn it. I don't know how to handle something that might be mutual. As I pull into the drive of the apartment complex, I fleetingly wonder if I should call Miaka and if she were home. And how long and how badly she'll tease me before giving her big brother some practical advise. If she could manage to find any practical advise to give. Miaka, like me, can make pretty speeches about true love, but she, unlike me, spends most of her time participating in it. Not reliably counseling others about the potential confusion of it all.
Besides, I had always figured on pining away after Sorata. As I turn the key and take it out of the ignition, I wonder how he's doing. The familiar fuzzy feeling tight in my chest. Nope, that hasn't disappeared.
I chuckle into the steering wheel, resting my forehead there and wondering why I feel so exhausted.
I'd never have considered or even have guessed that I might possibly love anyone else.
Was it worth sorting through? I remember feeling his smile through my lips even as my eyes closed. Is he worth the trouble? Or worse yet, am I?
Funny, since I thought love was the one thing I wanted the most, and, of course, I find it the hardest thing to accept.
***
I would appreciate you knowing:
I thought your love had come to stay
***
I pull myself up the stairs rather wearily. Finding their carpeting and their handy metal rail an interesting contrast to my memories of Goh's home. Honestly, as I unlock my apartment door (he didn't lock his), I figure I will pull off my shoes and fall asleep for a few hours at least. If I didn't sleep right through the entire evening. If I managed to stop reviewing lunch in my head. Evaluating, weighing, pondering.
Of course, having the door swing open and a very pissed roommate glaring at you tends to make all romantic notions fly right out the window.
"Uh, hi, Hayate?" I imitate a smile and raise my eyebrows in what I hope is an innocent and disarming greeting. I decide I must have gone about it badly when he grabs the collar of my shirt, I'm suddenly being used to close the door, and my body is rather definitely forced back against it. "Crap, you bastard." I'm a little frustrated at this point, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Me?" He rasps, knocking me back again. Damn, I absolutely hate it when he loses his temper and thinks I'm a little Keisuke-punching-bag. "Why did you tell my boss I was hung over?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I say, a bit more frantically, trying to pry his fingers from my shirt and bending my knees in an attempt to be strangled more comfortably. "Besides," I add hotly, "How the heck was I supposed to know where you were and if you were going to work when you didn't come home all night? Where were you?"
"I stayed with a friend," Hayate pushes me back into the door once more before backing off.
I take a moment to roll my shoulders. Smooth down my shirt, and say more nicely than he deserves, "Well, I'm glad you made it to work today. I'm sure they won't hold it against you, since you are their star employee." Then a bit more strongly, "And what do you mean exactly, you stayed with a friend? Any of our friends would have had the foresight to make you call me and say that you were there."
"Damn it," Hayate pulls back his dark bangs, frustrated, "I don't need someone to always check up on me."
"Well," I volley back, a bit snottily, "Welcome to the world of real friends who like to take care of each other. And do not slam them into doors. Good grief, your boss was only checking to see if you were alright, Hayate." He's wilting. There's my Hayate, five minute explosion and then guilt, guilt, guilt. "What's really bothering you this time?"
Not that I can't guess.
"I-I," He falters, like most sensitive guys he just does not handle feeling angry very well, "No let me finish." He interrupts me before I realize I was going to say something. "I did want to tell you, so that you wouldn't worry, I'm going to be going away for a little while. I'm still going to go to work, and I'll pay rent, and I don't know how long I'm going to be there but . . . I just wanted you to know."
Now that was something I hadn't guessed.
"How long?" And I skip over that question as he mutters about answering that one already, "Who with? Are you leaving a phone number?"
"I really can't explain." Hayate shakes his head, and I realize that his duffle bag is leaning against my chair, stuffed full.
"Is this about . . . her? Last night?" Concern overwhelming at that point, I can't take care of him if he's not around, "Apparently just walking away doesn't help terribly much. It didn't last time. Aren't you going to think about this? How's this going to look? To . . . to," I can't say bring myself to mention her name, "To Sasame?"
"I'm thinking about it too much, Keisuke." Hayate sniffs in a deep breath, building resolve, then adds with a touch of finality, "And I, to be quite frank, don't give a crap how it looks anymore. Stop suspecting the worst and putting your nose where it doesn't belong."
Now, I know why I don't have a degree in counseling or in persuasive speaking. He shoulders the bag and waits until I step around him, so he can leave through the door he smacked me into just a little bit before. For better or worse, neither of us says anything further.
***
Talking out of turn
Shot to pieces
When will I learn
Talking out of turn
Shot to pieces
When will I learn
***
"At least, he made an effort to tell you what his plans were," The next day, Goh acts as if he expected my sudden appearance at the diner (which I learn is called "The Veteran Cosmic Rocker"-this unseen Chichiri person is simply bizarre). "And he would do that to keep you from worrying."
"I'm not worried," I'm sitting on one of the peach stools, Goh is wiping down glasses fresh from washing and placing them under the counter, "I'm concerned."
He laughs at that, then leans on folded arms toward me, staring at me inches from my own eyes, "I understand there is a difference, but I really don't like seeing you consumed with someone else's problems."
"It's either him or you . . ." I recoil, realizing I spoke aloud, and glance at Goh anxiously, but I must have spoken softly enough because he doesn't react. He's already halfway to the register to satisfy a customer's bill. Then I'm anxious about the relief I feel. If I'm going to seriously try this, I'm going to have to be more open. Like he's been.
In a strange way, I have been open. With all of my problems. Watching him pass back the customer's change, I smile reflexively at the attractive lines of his arm, his shoulders, his chest. Casual now in the diner t- shirt blazon yellow and the name in huge block letters around a guitar. Here he's just a regular guy working his way through college a few classes at a time.
"Putting up with me talking about all of Hayate's issues has probably been tedious," I shrug, taking a new direction, "but thanks for listening."
"You're a nice guy," He's back again, as if he never broke his attention, "I like the fact that you care about people." I'm blushing furiously, but he doesn't let on if he notices, "I want to be one of those people."
"You are." I interject in a half-yelp and he laughs. It's a bit intoxicating to let go in his warm eyes, and that's just what I plan on doing. So what if it's bordering on escapism? That's okay, isn't it? When, maybe, I really mean it.
"I expect you to come to me whenever you're unduly worried about someone else," He emphasizes the last word, teasing.
"Concerned," I correct sheepishly, "With all the Hayate confiding I've put up with recently, I either need to become a shrink or go see one."
"That's me." Goh calls back, going to the cash register again.
***
But I took a little more of you each day
When I didn't see that I was breaking you apart
With angry words of love I didn't mean
Oh why, can't believe that I would ever
Talk myself out of yesterday
Talked like a fool to yesterday
And as the evening loses color
Your love began to fade away
***
Hayate had only been gone a few days when I found myself with a new patient.
I had spent a few hours with Dorothy and Aya at Four Doors, talking about a whole lot of nothing. Something grand about having a conversation with Aya Sohma. He keeps you busy, happy and talking without any strain whatsoever.
I manage to leave while the sun is still giving it's own natural light, summer quite full by that point. Accordingly, I see Himeno sitting on the hood of my car as soon as I turn the corner to go back to the Four Doors' parking lot.
"Keisuke." She smiles wanly,
"What's the matter, munchkin?" I'm fond of the kid, regardless of Hayate's reactions to her. Perhaps, it's because of them also.
"Are you dating that other person? Goh?" She asks bluntly enough.
I try to answer in kind, swallowing what doubts I have at that point and nod. Sounding confident, "Yes." I watch a serious of peculiar emotions cross her face, her soft cheeks pale even in the orange hues of the sun's soon setting.
"Do you love him?"
"Sure, I do." Hoping she doesn't notice any hesitation. I love him. I must. That's what I'm feeling, I think. It's something different. Different than what I thought love was . . . still . . .
"How do you know?" The way she's sitting, she's folding her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her chin hovering just between. Eyes downcast.
"Oh, come on, ask me an easy one, Himeno," I tease gently, and she looks up at me then, a little relieved I think. "I guess you don't find these are easy questions either, huh?" I lean against the car door and she has to turn her head to see me better.
"I've thought of a harder one." She sounds reluctant, and I'm sure I'm unprepared for this one as well. Fidgeting a little, I figure this is how parents must feel.
I nod, granting her permission, "You can ask. Don't know if I'll answer." I lift my voice to encourage a comforting aspect of cheerfulness. Of course, she asks the one question that no one ever dares to. Not even myself.
"Do you love Sorata?"
"Geez, Himeno, couldn't you have at least asked me for the Pope's weight or something like that?" I try to fight back my reaction to flee the conversation, start the engine and roll Himeno off the car. Trying to distract myself with that ludicrous train of thought.
When I meet her eyes again, she looks surprised.
"What?" I ask, confused.
"I . . . I just thought you'd react differently." She then adds as if an apology, "I just don't understand people sometimes. Or what they're feeling. I'm always getting it wrong, it seems." She swings around so her feet are kicking my car's tires. "I always thought that you and Sorata would . . . I don't know what I thought. It just seemed too right and obvious."
I had thought so too.
"But then he's gone. I haven't seen him in ages. And you, you brought back this other person." Himeno kicks the tire with a strange determination, "How did you know to stop loving Sorata?"
"I haven't." I say with my own strange detachment, somehow replacing the fears I have with a brotherly determination, "I still care for Sorata very, very much. Did you know he met someone else? That's why he isn't around as much."
"Someone else?" She glances at me quickly then away again, her lip quivering. Darn it all, she's the last person I want to see cry. I pull her toward me, she slips off the car all together and I just hold her. As she sobs into my shirt, I can feel her tears pooling damp against my chest through the fabric.
I mutter some fleeting reassurances, while trying to figure out why she's reacting so strongly, "Hey, tulip-head, what's the matter?"
And when she sniffles even more loudly, it starts to sink in.
I squeeze her shoulder, and she looks up at me, pulling back just enough to wipe at her eyes. Then uses her other hand to touch my shirt, "I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's okay." I loosen my hold on her, but she doesn't go anywhere.
"He's such a jerk." Suddenly, it's as if steam has evaporated her tears, the transformation to anger is so sudden. Her face darkening, but still a bit splotchy, "I spent so much time . . . loving . . . him," she spat, "But when I need him, he's never there."
"Ah," I begin, but she interrupts.
"He just disappears. Then I see him and he's gone in an instant. And then . . . then I just start to think that maybe he might just maybe well . . ." Her words are clipped and whistled like little firecrackers. "I'd have never . . . I don't know, maybe . . ."
"Maybe what?" Then I shake off that question, "Just a moment, Himeno. You left me a few pages back in this story. You're not talking about Sorata anymore, right?"
"Sorata?" And for some reason, I fortunately made her laugh, gaily, for a moment, "No, no. I had a tiny, tiny crush on him at first but he's a bit dense for that, y'know."
"Um, yeah." But I'm bound and determined now not to be distracted by thinking about Sorata, "But if it's not Sorata we're talking about anymore, who is it?" I really need to hear her say it.
She widens her eyes, knowing she's going to tell me and I doubt she's really told anyone before.
"I'm talking about Hayate."
***
If I upset you
I didn't mean to hurt you
I didn't mean to make you cry
I don't need an alibi
To start me talking out of turn
***
She reacts so strongly to Hayate that she can't seem to manage anything besides intense love and intense hate. But, hey, who am I to judge? I can't even pin point what love is for myself. Apparently, the dynamics of their initial friendship and troublesome feelings had manifested itself through their mutual tempers. And a reluctance to be the one that would back down for the other.
But my opportunity was gone, about two sentences after her confession, she became more antsy than Aya in a clothing store and rushed off.
I didn't really know what to do at that point. Hayate was gone. Unreachable. And I didn't know how much good it would do to tell him anyway. How would it sound, "Hey, Himeno just mentioned that she liked you. Wanna do something about that?" Suddenly I imagined a greater quarrel being ignited if Himeno felt like the one who had caved in.
Blast.
It's not like loving someone is enough. There's more to it and I don't feel in any way confident in understanding what's best for someone else.
Like Goh says more-or-less, this is out of my hands. I can let her drench my shirt with tears. And I can put up with Hayate . . . but there's only so much.
At the same time, I'm wondering where Hayate could be. I really want to tell him. If someone had clued Sorata in, then maybe my life would be different now? I feel an old ache, an old agitation, defining itself for the first time. If everyone knew, why didn't Sorata know?
"Keisuke, that's enough." The voice is very close to my ear, "It's hard to hear, but let love work itself out." I keep going back to him for comfort, and the reassuring way that he leans over me when we're talking together, reclining on that worn out mattress. Curling fingers around the back of my neck, holding onto the fabric of my shirt's sleeve, offering to take some of the burden for a while. Insisting it wasn't mine to begin with.
But some of these feelings are mine. He hasn't mentioned it in a while, but Goh must remember about the someone that I've reluctantly set aside.
I guess he needs to know. In order for me to even think about being his. Before I do, oddly enough, I want him to ask. Of course, now that's the one thing he doesn't bring up at all.
If Himeno's a fool and if Hayate's a fool, then I'm certainly the worst of all.
Goh sighs, sliding his arms up the back of my shirt and holds me close enough to let me cry on him.
In a moment, I'm going to ask him if he has any beer handy. I really need one.
***
When I took a little loving from you
I would appreciate you knowing:
I thought your love had come to stay
Oh I, can't believe that I would ever
Let you slip through my fingers
Let you escape like yesterday.
When will I learn?
***
Author's Notes:
Kay: I have a soft spot for Goh, but he's definitely been showing his better side for Keisuke. He certainly has his own opinions on some of these subjects (esp. the subject of Keisuke), even if he's only been a listening ear so far. Hmm, and on the subject of happiness . . . I do have a dreadful habit of making them miserable before sorting things out. Things will probably unravel quite a bit before I sew my characters back together. Your reviews are always so encouraging!
Passerby: Yes, please give Keisuke a hug. Although, Goh seems to want to fill that role right at the moment. *wink* I'm glad you think my portrayal of Keisuke is on target so far. He is very nice, but he doesn't always make the right decisions either. Thanks for being addicted, I mean: Thanks for the support. *chuckle*
Veeshes: I do hope future chapters keep you entertained as well. It's incredibly reassuring that one does not need to be familiar with all the anime to still like the story, I like hearing that it's working. *bows*
Next time: Actually, I cut this a bit short. Keisuke should finally be getting some news through the grapevine about Sorata and then everything, as if it weren't already, becomes very confusing for him. I still need to bring everyone up to speed on Duo, and Goh's still waiting to share some of his opinions. Oh yes, and there's always what Hayate's up to these days . . . *shakes head* thanks for reading my little soap opera.
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Characters-not mine. Lyrics-belong to the Moody Blues. Howdy *waves* this is chapter 12 of my latest attempt to write a longer story. For those interested, I *did* write "Affair on 8th Avenue" about Keisuke, Sorata and Duo when they were younger and took off in Juri's car, so feel free to read that in conjunction with Half-Baked if you'd like--it should be easy enough to find in my ff.net profile. More author's notes at the end. ~enjoy~ )
***
I've lived here long enough that I can't say that I'm new to the area, but I am still inexperienced enough that I can't say I've been in this part of town before. It looks like an entirely different world.
Hayate and I have our apartment near the outskirts of town paying ridiculous rent, but splitting it isn't so terrible. The neighborhood is upper middle class set back in a well-forested area so it's rather docile. Four Doors and Transylvania are just off from the downtown area, wide sidewalks and metered parking when you can't squeeze into the lot somewhere. Four Doors dark wood and settled back into a warm corner. Transylvania cool concrete and sophisticated neon signs.
I'm balancing the coaster Goh gave me between my fingers and staring down the most backward looking diner I've ever seen. Coral colored canopy waving at me in a warm breeze, the day's special written on the front window glass (chicken with rice) and I'm facing my own baffled reflection when the door opens with a cheery hometown jingle of bells.
"Keisuke!" Goh's wiping his hands off on a manly white, but stained, apron, and then he's running his fingers through fallen, dark hair. This is the first time I've seen him completely unprimed, a sloppy grin crinkles his features. "I wondered if you were going to pass by or come in."
"Come in?" I repeat dumbly, then shake my head, catching myself, "Sorry if I'm just gaping here, I thought you'd given me your home address."
"Well, yeah," Goh chuckles, moving to guide me in then thinking better of it, wipes his fingers across the chest of his apron again, "Upstairs. There's a couple of apartments there and Chichiri's letting me live there painfully cheap while I'm finishing up school."
"Chichiri, what kind of name is that?" I'm still trying to collect my wits or at least put them in order, stuffing the coaster into my back pocket. I didn't get much sleep the night before, and then I was awaken to the persistent ringing of the telephone. Which had turned out to be Hayate's boss at the construction site, wanting to know where our favorite golden boy had wandered off to. Honestly, I couldn't tell him and made some lame excuse. He wasn't fooled and let me off easily enough. Nevertheless, I was still haunted by Hayate's disappearance, wandering the pet store in a dangerous daze. Narrowly noticing before I put the snake-food-mice in the hamster cages and the hamsters in the snake cages.
"Don't ask me," Goh makes a strange swooping gesture with his arm again, until I notice he wants me to go inside the diner. "But he's a jolly ol' guy regardless. Can you believe this place? Feels like it's right out of the Andy Griffith show or something."
"True, but worse," I relax, laughing. I have time enough to put my mind on something else, and after getting an eyeful of Goh's tacky yellow t-shirt and frayed jeans I'm feeling incredibly comfortable. "So what exactly are you doing here?" I get a face-full of air blown from a fan balanced above the entryway. No air conditioning. Still, refreshingly not-fluorescent lights from the ceiling make the yellow walls, like Goh's shirt, easier on the eyes. Violet and peach upholstery. Turquoise dinner plates feeding locals that do look like extras from the Andy Griffith show. "Egad! Who designed this place?"
"Isn't it splendid?" Goh walks faster, toward a back door. "Chichiri is the craziest bloke ever, but he's generous. Everyone just loves the weirdo." He calls back behind him, "Tasuki, cover the register, will you?"
"Eh, whatever," A red-headed person pokes his head up from behind the counter, then I could hear him mutter something about Goh's fortune that it was slow as I'm through the back door and going up a rickety, un-railed flight of stairs.
"I didn't realize that your lunch break was going to be so late," Goh says casually, leading just a few steps up, untying the back of his apron, pulling it over his head and holding it scrunched in his fist. We come to a narrow hall and he points to the door on the left, "This is me." He beams and lets me go inside first.
"How long have you lived here?" I ask politely, taking in the small room, a mattress almost hidden by a curtain on the right, a 'good-will'-value recliner on the other, piled high with text books, paper and mathematical instruments. Directly in front was a window looking down onto the street where I'd stood just moments before. A solitary table with two chairs bathing in sunlight. He must spend all his money on clothes.
"Hmm?" Goh fumbles, a bit nervously. Which is understandable, he's just showed me his home. Which is light years different than I would have imagined from the home of the sexy prowler face he puts on at the club. "Four months? Not long, anyway. I stayed with someone else I met when I first came to town for the spring semester. But I needed my own space." He pulls out a chair for me, "I needed a chance to study was more like it." When I sit, he does also, "And when I mentioned it downstairs Chichiri stumbled all over himself to put me in here."
"Dorothy thought you might be new," I glance out the window, still intrigued by this side of town I'd never noticed before, "Did you have fun last night?"
"Yeah," Goh lights up, "Dorothy's sweet." Then he raises a finger and an eyebrow simultaneously, "I hope you like chicken and rice?"
"The special?" I chuckle, shaking my head, "Sure." Then I figure I might as well encourage the attractive guy's effort with a more definite, "Yes."
"Just a moment," And then he left me alone in his one room apartment, the breeze from the window whistling across the table.
***
When I took a little loving from you,
Oh I: never thought about the hurting inside.
But, I took a little more than I should.
Oh why: can't explain that I would ever
Let you slip through my fingers,
Let you escape like yesterday.
***
Why is it that I hear lines in my head, echoing from movies that I've seen in the past? Catchy phrases from a film that I've probably watched one too many times. An important moment, a gag, a really great pick-up line that you just want to try. So why is it the oily voice of the duke that slithers into my thoughts, "It's a little bit funny . . . this feeling inside."
I shudder, nervously. Driving back home after a few afternoon hours of work at the store, I'm still dazzled from what Goh had been showing me. Pieces of himself that leave him vulnerable and human. Pictures of his little brothers, his parents, unhidden delight in those crazy geometry classes he inexplicably adores. Sharing just enough that I feel at ease with knowing him.
And I can feel it begin.
If I'm completely honest, I think I knew it began when he called to me from the diner doorway. His voice unashamedly enthusiastic and undisguised by the jangle of the loud welcome bells. Enthusiastic and undisguised for the better part of an hour, until I couldn't stay any longer.
Yet the only thing I managed was after he walked me back to my old junker. He asked to see me again, and I'm still wading through my thick skull to find some way to appropriately reciprocate. However, I only found that I am strangely inexperienced at admitting any feelings. Anything genuine.
I disguise my love for Sorata. I disguised whatever I hadn't been feeling with Sylvia.
I've never asked myself to define something like this in thoughts, let alone in real words that I would speak to another person.
The best I could do was to impulsively enact my gratitude. Not that I knew what it was exactly that I was grateful for. And so, then, I kissed him.
It was a bit startling, which is why I keep thinking back on it. Wondering if it was the right thing to do. Not that we hadn't kissed before, but I had always seen it as I was the one being kissed. And I hadn't really known who it was I was kissing then either.
Damn it. I don't know how to handle something that might be mutual. As I pull into the drive of the apartment complex, I fleetingly wonder if I should call Miaka and if she were home. And how long and how badly she'll tease me before giving her big brother some practical advise. If she could manage to find any practical advise to give. Miaka, like me, can make pretty speeches about true love, but she, unlike me, spends most of her time participating in it. Not reliably counseling others about the potential confusion of it all.
Besides, I had always figured on pining away after Sorata. As I turn the key and take it out of the ignition, I wonder how he's doing. The familiar fuzzy feeling tight in my chest. Nope, that hasn't disappeared.
I chuckle into the steering wheel, resting my forehead there and wondering why I feel so exhausted.
I'd never have considered or even have guessed that I might possibly love anyone else.
Was it worth sorting through? I remember feeling his smile through my lips even as my eyes closed. Is he worth the trouble? Or worse yet, am I?
Funny, since I thought love was the one thing I wanted the most, and, of course, I find it the hardest thing to accept.
***
I would appreciate you knowing:
I thought your love had come to stay
***
I pull myself up the stairs rather wearily. Finding their carpeting and their handy metal rail an interesting contrast to my memories of Goh's home. Honestly, as I unlock my apartment door (he didn't lock his), I figure I will pull off my shoes and fall asleep for a few hours at least. If I didn't sleep right through the entire evening. If I managed to stop reviewing lunch in my head. Evaluating, weighing, pondering.
Of course, having the door swing open and a very pissed roommate glaring at you tends to make all romantic notions fly right out the window.
"Uh, hi, Hayate?" I imitate a smile and raise my eyebrows in what I hope is an innocent and disarming greeting. I decide I must have gone about it badly when he grabs the collar of my shirt, I'm suddenly being used to close the door, and my body is rather definitely forced back against it. "Crap, you bastard." I'm a little frustrated at this point, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Me?" He rasps, knocking me back again. Damn, I absolutely hate it when he loses his temper and thinks I'm a little Keisuke-punching-bag. "Why did you tell my boss I was hung over?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I say, a bit more frantically, trying to pry his fingers from my shirt and bending my knees in an attempt to be strangled more comfortably. "Besides," I add hotly, "How the heck was I supposed to know where you were and if you were going to work when you didn't come home all night? Where were you?"
"I stayed with a friend," Hayate pushes me back into the door once more before backing off.
I take a moment to roll my shoulders. Smooth down my shirt, and say more nicely than he deserves, "Well, I'm glad you made it to work today. I'm sure they won't hold it against you, since you are their star employee." Then a bit more strongly, "And what do you mean exactly, you stayed with a friend? Any of our friends would have had the foresight to make you call me and say that you were there."
"Damn it," Hayate pulls back his dark bangs, frustrated, "I don't need someone to always check up on me."
"Well," I volley back, a bit snottily, "Welcome to the world of real friends who like to take care of each other. And do not slam them into doors. Good grief, your boss was only checking to see if you were alright, Hayate." He's wilting. There's my Hayate, five minute explosion and then guilt, guilt, guilt. "What's really bothering you this time?"
Not that I can't guess.
"I-I," He falters, like most sensitive guys he just does not handle feeling angry very well, "No let me finish." He interrupts me before I realize I was going to say something. "I did want to tell you, so that you wouldn't worry, I'm going to be going away for a little while. I'm still going to go to work, and I'll pay rent, and I don't know how long I'm going to be there but . . . I just wanted you to know."
Now that was something I hadn't guessed.
"How long?" And I skip over that question as he mutters about answering that one already, "Who with? Are you leaving a phone number?"
"I really can't explain." Hayate shakes his head, and I realize that his duffle bag is leaning against my chair, stuffed full.
"Is this about . . . her? Last night?" Concern overwhelming at that point, I can't take care of him if he's not around, "Apparently just walking away doesn't help terribly much. It didn't last time. Aren't you going to think about this? How's this going to look? To . . . to," I can't say bring myself to mention her name, "To Sasame?"
"I'm thinking about it too much, Keisuke." Hayate sniffs in a deep breath, building resolve, then adds with a touch of finality, "And I, to be quite frank, don't give a crap how it looks anymore. Stop suspecting the worst and putting your nose where it doesn't belong."
Now, I know why I don't have a degree in counseling or in persuasive speaking. He shoulders the bag and waits until I step around him, so he can leave through the door he smacked me into just a little bit before. For better or worse, neither of us says anything further.
***
Talking out of turn
Shot to pieces
When will I learn
Talking out of turn
Shot to pieces
When will I learn
***
"At least, he made an effort to tell you what his plans were," The next day, Goh acts as if he expected my sudden appearance at the diner (which I learn is called "The Veteran Cosmic Rocker"-this unseen Chichiri person is simply bizarre). "And he would do that to keep you from worrying."
"I'm not worried," I'm sitting on one of the peach stools, Goh is wiping down glasses fresh from washing and placing them under the counter, "I'm concerned."
He laughs at that, then leans on folded arms toward me, staring at me inches from my own eyes, "I understand there is a difference, but I really don't like seeing you consumed with someone else's problems."
"It's either him or you . . ." I recoil, realizing I spoke aloud, and glance at Goh anxiously, but I must have spoken softly enough because he doesn't react. He's already halfway to the register to satisfy a customer's bill. Then I'm anxious about the relief I feel. If I'm going to seriously try this, I'm going to have to be more open. Like he's been.
In a strange way, I have been open. With all of my problems. Watching him pass back the customer's change, I smile reflexively at the attractive lines of his arm, his shoulders, his chest. Casual now in the diner t- shirt blazon yellow and the name in huge block letters around a guitar. Here he's just a regular guy working his way through college a few classes at a time.
"Putting up with me talking about all of Hayate's issues has probably been tedious," I shrug, taking a new direction, "but thanks for listening."
"You're a nice guy," He's back again, as if he never broke his attention, "I like the fact that you care about people." I'm blushing furiously, but he doesn't let on if he notices, "I want to be one of those people."
"You are." I interject in a half-yelp and he laughs. It's a bit intoxicating to let go in his warm eyes, and that's just what I plan on doing. So what if it's bordering on escapism? That's okay, isn't it? When, maybe, I really mean it.
"I expect you to come to me whenever you're unduly worried about someone else," He emphasizes the last word, teasing.
"Concerned," I correct sheepishly, "With all the Hayate confiding I've put up with recently, I either need to become a shrink or go see one."
"That's me." Goh calls back, going to the cash register again.
***
But I took a little more of you each day
When I didn't see that I was breaking you apart
With angry words of love I didn't mean
Oh why, can't believe that I would ever
Talk myself out of yesterday
Talked like a fool to yesterday
And as the evening loses color
Your love began to fade away
***
Hayate had only been gone a few days when I found myself with a new patient.
I had spent a few hours with Dorothy and Aya at Four Doors, talking about a whole lot of nothing. Something grand about having a conversation with Aya Sohma. He keeps you busy, happy and talking without any strain whatsoever.
I manage to leave while the sun is still giving it's own natural light, summer quite full by that point. Accordingly, I see Himeno sitting on the hood of my car as soon as I turn the corner to go back to the Four Doors' parking lot.
"Keisuke." She smiles wanly,
"What's the matter, munchkin?" I'm fond of the kid, regardless of Hayate's reactions to her. Perhaps, it's because of them also.
"Are you dating that other person? Goh?" She asks bluntly enough.
I try to answer in kind, swallowing what doubts I have at that point and nod. Sounding confident, "Yes." I watch a serious of peculiar emotions cross her face, her soft cheeks pale even in the orange hues of the sun's soon setting.
"Do you love him?"
"Sure, I do." Hoping she doesn't notice any hesitation. I love him. I must. That's what I'm feeling, I think. It's something different. Different than what I thought love was . . . still . . .
"How do you know?" The way she's sitting, she's folding her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her chin hovering just between. Eyes downcast.
"Oh, come on, ask me an easy one, Himeno," I tease gently, and she looks up at me then, a little relieved I think. "I guess you don't find these are easy questions either, huh?" I lean against the car door and she has to turn her head to see me better.
"I've thought of a harder one." She sounds reluctant, and I'm sure I'm unprepared for this one as well. Fidgeting a little, I figure this is how parents must feel.
I nod, granting her permission, "You can ask. Don't know if I'll answer." I lift my voice to encourage a comforting aspect of cheerfulness. Of course, she asks the one question that no one ever dares to. Not even myself.
"Do you love Sorata?"
"Geez, Himeno, couldn't you have at least asked me for the Pope's weight or something like that?" I try to fight back my reaction to flee the conversation, start the engine and roll Himeno off the car. Trying to distract myself with that ludicrous train of thought.
When I meet her eyes again, she looks surprised.
"What?" I ask, confused.
"I . . . I just thought you'd react differently." She then adds as if an apology, "I just don't understand people sometimes. Or what they're feeling. I'm always getting it wrong, it seems." She swings around so her feet are kicking my car's tires. "I always thought that you and Sorata would . . . I don't know what I thought. It just seemed too right and obvious."
I had thought so too.
"But then he's gone. I haven't seen him in ages. And you, you brought back this other person." Himeno kicks the tire with a strange determination, "How did you know to stop loving Sorata?"
"I haven't." I say with my own strange detachment, somehow replacing the fears I have with a brotherly determination, "I still care for Sorata very, very much. Did you know he met someone else? That's why he isn't around as much."
"Someone else?" She glances at me quickly then away again, her lip quivering. Darn it all, she's the last person I want to see cry. I pull her toward me, she slips off the car all together and I just hold her. As she sobs into my shirt, I can feel her tears pooling damp against my chest through the fabric.
I mutter some fleeting reassurances, while trying to figure out why she's reacting so strongly, "Hey, tulip-head, what's the matter?"
And when she sniffles even more loudly, it starts to sink in.
I squeeze her shoulder, and she looks up at me, pulling back just enough to wipe at her eyes. Then uses her other hand to touch my shirt, "I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's okay." I loosen my hold on her, but she doesn't go anywhere.
"He's such a jerk." Suddenly, it's as if steam has evaporated her tears, the transformation to anger is so sudden. Her face darkening, but still a bit splotchy, "I spent so much time . . . loving . . . him," she spat, "But when I need him, he's never there."
"Ah," I begin, but she interrupts.
"He just disappears. Then I see him and he's gone in an instant. And then . . . then I just start to think that maybe he might just maybe well . . ." Her words are clipped and whistled like little firecrackers. "I'd have never . . . I don't know, maybe . . ."
"Maybe what?" Then I shake off that question, "Just a moment, Himeno. You left me a few pages back in this story. You're not talking about Sorata anymore, right?"
"Sorata?" And for some reason, I fortunately made her laugh, gaily, for a moment, "No, no. I had a tiny, tiny crush on him at first but he's a bit dense for that, y'know."
"Um, yeah." But I'm bound and determined now not to be distracted by thinking about Sorata, "But if it's not Sorata we're talking about anymore, who is it?" I really need to hear her say it.
She widens her eyes, knowing she's going to tell me and I doubt she's really told anyone before.
"I'm talking about Hayate."
***
If I upset you
I didn't mean to hurt you
I didn't mean to make you cry
I don't need an alibi
To start me talking out of turn
***
She reacts so strongly to Hayate that she can't seem to manage anything besides intense love and intense hate. But, hey, who am I to judge? I can't even pin point what love is for myself. Apparently, the dynamics of their initial friendship and troublesome feelings had manifested itself through their mutual tempers. And a reluctance to be the one that would back down for the other.
But my opportunity was gone, about two sentences after her confession, she became more antsy than Aya in a clothing store and rushed off.
I didn't really know what to do at that point. Hayate was gone. Unreachable. And I didn't know how much good it would do to tell him anyway. How would it sound, "Hey, Himeno just mentioned that she liked you. Wanna do something about that?" Suddenly I imagined a greater quarrel being ignited if Himeno felt like the one who had caved in.
Blast.
It's not like loving someone is enough. There's more to it and I don't feel in any way confident in understanding what's best for someone else.
Like Goh says more-or-less, this is out of my hands. I can let her drench my shirt with tears. And I can put up with Hayate . . . but there's only so much.
At the same time, I'm wondering where Hayate could be. I really want to tell him. If someone had clued Sorata in, then maybe my life would be different now? I feel an old ache, an old agitation, defining itself for the first time. If everyone knew, why didn't Sorata know?
"Keisuke, that's enough." The voice is very close to my ear, "It's hard to hear, but let love work itself out." I keep going back to him for comfort, and the reassuring way that he leans over me when we're talking together, reclining on that worn out mattress. Curling fingers around the back of my neck, holding onto the fabric of my shirt's sleeve, offering to take some of the burden for a while. Insisting it wasn't mine to begin with.
But some of these feelings are mine. He hasn't mentioned it in a while, but Goh must remember about the someone that I've reluctantly set aside.
I guess he needs to know. In order for me to even think about being his. Before I do, oddly enough, I want him to ask. Of course, now that's the one thing he doesn't bring up at all.
If Himeno's a fool and if Hayate's a fool, then I'm certainly the worst of all.
Goh sighs, sliding his arms up the back of my shirt and holds me close enough to let me cry on him.
In a moment, I'm going to ask him if he has any beer handy. I really need one.
***
When I took a little loving from you
I would appreciate you knowing:
I thought your love had come to stay
Oh I, can't believe that I would ever
Let you slip through my fingers
Let you escape like yesterday.
When will I learn?
***
Author's Notes:
Kay: I have a soft spot for Goh, but he's definitely been showing his better side for Keisuke. He certainly has his own opinions on some of these subjects (esp. the subject of Keisuke), even if he's only been a listening ear so far. Hmm, and on the subject of happiness . . . I do have a dreadful habit of making them miserable before sorting things out. Things will probably unravel quite a bit before I sew my characters back together. Your reviews are always so encouraging!
Passerby: Yes, please give Keisuke a hug. Although, Goh seems to want to fill that role right at the moment. *wink* I'm glad you think my portrayal of Keisuke is on target so far. He is very nice, but he doesn't always make the right decisions either. Thanks for being addicted, I mean: Thanks for the support. *chuckle*
Veeshes: I do hope future chapters keep you entertained as well. It's incredibly reassuring that one does not need to be familiar with all the anime to still like the story, I like hearing that it's working. *bows*
Next time: Actually, I cut this a bit short. Keisuke should finally be getting some news through the grapevine about Sorata and then everything, as if it weren't already, becomes very confusing for him. I still need to bring everyone up to speed on Duo, and Goh's still waiting to share some of his opinions. Oh yes, and there's always what Hayate's up to these days . . . *shakes head* thanks for reading my little soap opera.