How Many Words, How Many Times
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: The usual. This time the song is "The Voice." In this chapter, I warmed things up. Then ended up cooling them down dramatically. As you are able, enjoy.)
***
It's just not the same stealing cereal when there isn't a chance that you'll get caught.
I turn on the television and feel guilty that no one's accusing me of being a remote hog.
And there's all the other stuff. Like that huge watercolor of Himeno that's decorating the main wall of the living room. Well, Hayate's certainly left this all behind him. But I'm staring down the crusty plates and empty beer cans on the coffee table--there aren't nearly as many as when two people are making the mess.
I'm a social critter. I need someone around to chatter at, if not with. It's not enough that the landlord reassures me that Hayate mailed in his half of the check.
That's probably why I snatch up my keys and decide to go to the grocery store.
The joint that Hayate and I used to go to together is one of those twenty- four hour places that makes you find your food, cart it around, run it through the scanner and bag it all yourself. I half expect them to pay me for a job well done after all that hassle. But it's close, it's cheap, and it's the only thing open at this ungodly hour.
I'm browsing the near empty shelves and wondering what fat-saturated and teeth-rotting items seem most appealing. I've already stocked up on microwave dinners. Even though I have an open invitation to snag food from the Veteran Cosmic Rocker (I choke just thinking about that name), it feels a bit odd always eating with Goh. It seems greedy in some sense, and I'm suspecting that the food isn't coming upstairs for free.
Hmm. Little Debbie's are two for one.
I'm staring at the picture on the box, admiring the packaging or something equally stupid, when I almost see a slim hand picking up a similar package and balancing it midair next to me.
I'm quick enough to realize that someone is trying to get my attention by mimicking me, so I play dumb. Put the box back and turn the other way, pushing the cart forward as best I can even when that stupid front wheel almost immediately gets stuck sideways and I'm propelling it forward on my own strength leaving a wicked black rub mark that some poor Joe is going to have to wipe down later. Whoops.
Of course, distracted by that, I'm caught by my shadow.
"Ah, what are you doing here?" I can't help but blink a few times. This time I'm sure I'm dreaming.
Sylvia folds her arms and looks away, just turning her blue-green eyes to the side. "I didn't expect to see you here either. I was just . . . out."
Can you tell me why I'm so gosh darn nervous around her? A strange unseen fist has started squeezing around my heart and refuses to let my blood circulate any longer. I still have my fingers curled around the shopping cart handle, and they're turning purple. I swear.
"Me too." Somehow, my face manages to stay mobile and I slap on a halfway sloppy grin. Conversation. Conversation, where is it? What do normal people talk about when they simply happen across each other in the grocery store? "How's, ah, how are Heero and Hilde?"
"Good." Her eyebrows relax a little and she looks back at me for a moment, "Heero's still burning rubber at the track on weekends. They got his car back together and he's doing well enough."
I nod a bit too enthusiastically, "Okay. How's . . . the career?"
"On hold," Sylvia's shoulder's droop a little. Even though she initiated all of this, it doesn't seem like she's planned much past revealing herself. "I decided to spend more time just at home. Things . . . came up."
"Okay." I've said that twice and that's too many times already. "Er . . ." I finally settle on asking about her family when she beats me to it.
"How's your family?"
I pry my fingers from the cart and run them through my hair. This is getting easier. Each time I meet Sylvia it's this same strange process of unraveling multiple walls of discomfort. "Let's see." I stroke my chin, letting my tone become more playful, "Miaka's still seeing that same fellow she's always been seeing. Except he's become a cult porno director and she's starring in his next film. Mom has a walk-on . . . or should I say a strut on . . . ?"
Now she's looking at me, her lips curling in what might have been the beginning of a snicker, "You're so crass, Keisuke."
"My mother thought about naming me that at first. Crass Yuuki." Teasing I can accomplish. I feint as if I'm going to box her into the aisle while reaching for some unimportant canned good, but she doesn't move.
"What are you up to these days?" Her face turns up and it's much too close, I'm unable to look at her all at once gazing into one eye at a time. "Have you managed to capture the heart of your Sorata, yet?"
Oh dear. I close my eyes from the proximity hiding them in another exaggerated smile, "Heck no. Haven't you heard? Sorata's off the market." I toss the can into the cart, whatever it is. Too late to put it back really, I guess I'm buying. "He found a 2 for 1 bargain."
"Oh, I . . ." Her voice catches with genuine sympathy, I recognize it and try to brush it aside. "Are you . . .?"
"Off the market?" I laugh and I'm about to speak again, when she interrupts.
"Are you alright?" Her thin eyebrows are doing that funny thing where they turn up in the middle. Demonstrating an apology and emphasizing the question all at once.
This isn't really a conversation for the grocery store, at this hour it's empty enough that our words sound hollow and I can hear the back round buzz of the enormous lights from the distant ceiling. "I can deal. Besides, I'm sort of seeing someone else. Some new cutie going through college and who has one hell of a great body."
"You are so shallow." She says without any punch behind it. I vaguely remember that Sylvia can land a verbal smack if she wants to. She must be tired at this late hour, or wilting, or she doesn't care.
"No," I pick up one of the box dinners, "This is shallow. But enough about me, how about you? Found anyone new yet?" That's what this conversation is all about, crude inquiries about what otherwise might be serious stuff all while in the canned good sections of the 24 hour grocer.
"I'm sort of seeing some new fellow who is going through college and who has one hell of a great body."
I feel that one, and mock-wince. Somehow, we're both managing to converse without touching a live emotion, "Really? Maybe it's the same guy?"
She slaps my shoulder, letting her soft little lips drop open in pink-hued surprise. "I'd certainly hope not. You and this guy thing again. I thought Sorata was a phase. But I was wrong about that."
I shrug. "We both were."
"So," Sylvia says with a decisive lift to her voice, "I need to visit the brownie aisle. Want to come with?"
"Rich double chocolate, here we come."
When we parted ways at the self-serve checkout lines, it felt like a very, very peculiar dream. As if I would wake up to my alarm and find out it was Tuesday all on it's own. The rest had been me dreaming of a conversation I had been dreading would come. But the extra brownie mix and can of pumpkin pie filling in the cupboard stare back at me in the morning and give me a queer feeling. Okay, I'm never going to the grocery store after eleven at night. It's just too weird.
***
Each and every heart it seems
Is bounded by a world of dreams
Each and every rising sun
Is greeted by a lonely one
***
I wouldn't have dreamed up my little plan, except that I was sincerely trying to avoid the trip back to my solitary apartment at all costs. After putting my eight hours plus at the pet store, I drive most of the way home before spinning back and pulling behind the atmospheric restaurant Goh lives above. I'm not sure what he is up to, but I need an accomplice.
Stakeouts are no fun all alone. No decent walkie-talkie action if you're prowling all on your own. And I can't invite anyone else, because no one else knows.
I slip into the back door, nothing at this place is ever locked I've discovered. I'm instantly washed by whatever smell constitutes the more popular evening meals. It always sticks to my clothes, but Goh's somehow found a way to shrug it off. He never smells like grease and too much food, nor when I first saw him at the Transylvanian Concubine.
Interesting. But ever since that first night I invited Goh to the Four Doors, he hasn't gone back to his old stomping grounds. I haven't either. Almost as if meeting each other was enough, and the fantastical place had served it's purpose. I almost swoon over my own over idealized romantic notions. Sap, always makes my tongue thick.
"Oh, hey, Keisuke."
I half wave at Tasuki and sit on the end stool. "How's it going?"
"Same ol', same ol'." Tasuki has this sinister grin when he's happy. It's partially like he's snarling and part like he's going to bite your head off. Affectionately. The positive key is that he's smiling. When those same lips are pressed into a thin line. That's when one should worry. The red-headed guy has an eruptible temper the size of a small volcano.
"Is Goh around?"
"Upstairs." Tasuki finishes handing the customer her change and strolls down to my end, wiping his hands off on the edge of the apron. "It's his night off, both from work and classes. Been shut upstairs all day, and I'm sure he'd be re-e-ally pleased to see you." His narrow eyes pulling up to one corner innocently study the ceiling, lips pursing into a nonchalant whistle with no sound.
I can't believe he's suggesting what he's suggesting. Then I'm wondering who gave him that idea. And then I'm realizing that I hope he's right.
"Upstairs?" I manage to croak.
"Upstairs." But I'm halfway up them by that point, not far enough away to miss the bloke's insane laughter.
"Goh?" I rap my knuckles against the door. I know it's also unlocked like every other entryway at this joint, but I feel extra obligated to respect them because of that.
"Hey . . . gorgeous." He opens the door and looks a bit weary, but content. "Come in."
"What's up?" I slip past him, boxing his chin affectionately. He's definitely not dressed for going out, barefoot in some funny dark blue cotton pants and a large tank-top. As if he never got out of his bedclothes. "Studying?" There are mathematical equations spread all over the table where we would eat together.
"Exams in a couple weeks." Goh sinks into the easy chair, literally. It almost swallows him whole, but his eyes still follow me as I shuffle through the leaves of paper.
"You work really hard," Once again, I'm impressed. "Maybe I shouldn't bother you?" I frown, studying him with all seriousness.
"No, no, no." He watches from underneath his fingers, pressing into his brow, "I need to get out. Where did you want to go?"
"I had an idea, but if you'd rather stay in . . ." I cross over to lean into him with both arms bracing on either side. Leaning in closer to almost kiss him and close my eyes. He always smells so distinctly different than every place, than everyone else.
He growls, standing and forcing me back upright while wrapping his arms around me in a tight grip. His face drooping against my shoulder, breathing into my neck. "I've been here all day. Going out sounds good. If you're coming?"
"Yes." I tone down the reflexive squeak, but just barely. Gee, and I thought I'd try to pull a move on him.
'What'd you have in mind?" His lips are very, very close to my ear, and it takes a bit of concentrating to reconstruct those same words into my memory and make sense of them.
"Er, well," I'm growing warm and I know my ears are not simply blazing because he's breathing near them, "I was hoping, maybe, you'd want to go help me spy on Hayate?" First, there's the unexpected increase in his body's pressure as he falls more heavily against my shoulder. "I've got these great commando communication devices. I can teach you Morse code." Next, I can feel the chuckle rumbling in his chest before I hear it.
The rumble almost distracting me from it. It being an almost unheard confession, sounding quite a bit like a reluctantly persuaded, "I love you."
Before I can do anything at all, Goh pulls back, "Fine. Fine." At last, kissing me but quickly. "So are you going to dress me, or what?"
And whatever it had been--had been--and passed.
***
Won't you lay it on the line
I need to hear it just one more time
***
While I'm stationing myself just outside the main doors of the junior college art building, I'm reflecting. Reflecting just a bit too much on the way that Goh'll just drop everything for me.
I peek around the bush. We're still early, and Hayate's motorcycle would be easily heard before I need to pull out the binoculars. I look anyway, fidgeting. I look primarily because I insisted Goh crouch behind the landscaping on the other side of the main entrance. I look because I want to remind myself that he's really there. He came. And, it's suddenly very important to me that he's not upset that he's sitting on a bunch of fallen and dried pine needles. The front door to this place is cut into the corner, so while I'm on my side, the most I can see of him is one leg.
"How's it going, Rogue Two?" I whisper into the device that one of my mother's many boyfriends had given to me for some special occasion or other. I was never one to turn down free gifts, or feel the obligatory gratitude for more than ten sincere minutes.
"Don't forget to say "over," over." Goh's voice scratches through the poor quality transmission. It's almost easier just to pick out his voice from the distance of no more than fifteen feet.
The same voice that might have said something that suspiciously sounded like he was saying that he loved me. Half of this anxiety I'm feeling is not the adrenaline of the hunt, it's . . . something else.
I peek again, when the walkie-talkie suddenly crackles.
"Heck, Keisuke *crackle* just get your butt over here." Then as if an after thought, the device spews more static, "Over."
I pop up, glance around and, seeing no one, dart over to his side. I must look like a royal fool because he's giving me that stupefied expression again. I sit next to him, back balancing against the concrete bottom of the red brick building. "So what's the objective of this mission again?" Goh says, and I wiggle a little indicating he should still keep his voice down. It's a thrill to avoid being seen, but being caught at our ages would embarrass even Keisuke Yuuki.
"To make sure Hayate's okay." I glance over my shoulder at his profile, admiring his darker skin. Tilting my head, I wonder if he has any exotic ancestry to explain his natural attractiveness.
He sighs, then pulls me close with his near arm, "Okay. I suppose that's enough of a reason."
My knees are pulled up, even as his are stretched out. He insisted on wearing his heavier boots and I'm watching as the toes of the shoes are tilting outward from each other. I'm so bored by this point I'm mesmerizing myself just by staring at Goh's shoes.
"Hey," He whispers into my ear, and I jerk at first, startled from my inner revelry. Goh pulls his legs in, "Listen."
He has good ears, or he's at least more attentive than I was in those moments, because I easily hear Hayate's voice.
"It's the least I can do, Hayate." That second voice definitely is not my disappeared roommate's. I peer the best I can around and through our camouflage to see the girl that is with him. I feel Goh pulling gently on the back of my shirt, but I'm insatiably curious. The girl's voice rolling, alto and vixen-like. Is this how Hayate's been distracting himself?
But all I can see are their feet, and a great deal more of the girl's legs than I expected.
"I shouldn't stay much long . . ."
"See how you feel when you're finished," Suddenly their feet are very close together. And her alto turns saucy. "Don't make any hasty decisions now. I have plenty of room to take you in."
Uh, I'm sure she didn't mean it that way. I shake my head. God, my mind is one track all of a sudden.
"Uh," Hayate's guttural response perfectly mimics the one in my head. And she laughs lyrically, as if intonating a song. Pitched to match her own playful identity.
"I'm just teasing, Hayate. Have fun." She's on tip-toe a moment and then skips off. Hayate's shoes scuffle on the sidewalk, the door opens and he disappears as it closes.
"Mission accomplished." I sink back, and only then does Goh free his hand from my shirt. "What a thrill, huh?" I lean back into his shoulder, and he twists to face me, pausing only to brush off a few pine needles.
"Did you recognize her?" He lifts his eyes to mine, opening them a bit wider than usual in his surprise.
"I couldn't really see more than almost all of her leg," I shrug, a bit unnerved by his reaction.
He shakes his dark head and pulls his fingers through one side of his overgrown hair, red dyed strands curling out from between them. "That's the girl from the club, Keisuke. And if your pal Hayate is staying with Shiori, then that's more like bad news."
"Shiori?" I try the name on my tongue, and find that my mouth is dry with uncertainty.
***
'Cos out on the ocean of life my love
There's so many storms we must rise above
Can you hear the spirit calling
As it's carried across the waves
You're already falling
It's calling you back to face the music
And the song that is coming through
You're already falling
The one that it's calling is you
***
"Define 'bad'." I ask.
We're back at my apartment that only recalls Hayate more strongly because he's absent from his things. His art. Goh picks up one of the series in the cartwheel and sets it back, meeting my eyes from across the open countertop in the kitchen.
"Well, maybe not bad as in awful." He brings it back by degrees, and, of course, I can't help but wonder if he's doing that to sooth me from any further anxieties. "She doesn't coerce people to anything they aren't inclined to already."
"Inclined to?" I feel a chilly concern, and the snap in my voice comes a bit more icily than I intended. Simply because I can't seem to unclench my jaw. I wanted to know what Hayate was up to, and now I'm not really appreciating my half-knowledge.
Goh disappears and I follow him to where he reclines in what is usually my chair. I sit on the far end of Hayate's couch. Awkwardly, since I don't know what's coming.
"I'm going to tell you." He says finally, and unlike me, he sounds normal. Like normal Goh. "I actually came out here with Shiori."
This is one of those stories where I start by sitting with a semi- perplexed/semi-disinterested feeling and try not to reflexively fall into a defensive, deep sleep.
"I met her back in Washington and we hit it off, strangely enough. I was tired of being the noble eldest son with such high expectations, and Shiori offered a bit of excitement. A bit of danger. Something that appealed to me . . . once. I needed to escape, I had pretty much screwed up my education at the university there and lost quite a bit of respect from the faculty."
He's watching me the whole time he talks, and it's a bit unnerving, his stare. But oddly enough, nothing he says makes him feel any different than the person I was getting to know. As if he is simply coloring in the corners.
"Here it's different though. Instead of destroying the perfect world set up for my parent's faultless son, I found myself on the bottom from the start. With this crazy idea that, maybe I didn't want to be there in her world." He leans forward, dropping his hands between his knees. "That I wanted to go back to school. That letting loose didn't have to mean disgracing myself. That caring for other people could actually be attractive."
I realize I've matched his own posture in my corner. A flutter in my stomach.
"Hayate may slip, but if what you say about him is right, Keisuke. He'll come around." Goh lifts an eyebrow, and I gather it's my turn to say something.
"So how did things end with you and Shiori?" I ask, feeling vaguely uneasy having to inquire, but not threatened.
"Badly," Goh chuckles, "Very badly. I think we've managed to settle on mutually despising each other. We used to have these juvenile sparring matches on the dance floor at Transylvania stealing each other's partners."
"Um," I remember something, "You don't think she settled on Hayate because of what happened that one night?"
"Hmm?" Goh thinks for a moment, "She's not that vindictive."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," He nods, sounding more certain even as his confidence drains in part from his expression. Then he shakes his head as if clearing it, "She shouldn't have any reason to bother Hayate more than he allows. She didn't scar me."
When I look up again, he's next to me leaning over just before sitting next to me. "Hayate'll recoup away from everything, but sooner rather than later he'll remember who his real friends are. She has a way of bringing people back to their senses in a round-about way."
"I hope so."
"And you, Keisuke," He teases, "Have such a charmingly innocent way of knocking all sense out of me." Ruffling my hair he adds absently, "Who else could convince me to play covert commando at this age?"
I half want him to say what he said earlier again just so I can be sure. I half want to push him back on the couch and show him a different urge that covert commando Keisuke was feeling since I saw him first that afternoon. Instead I say most practically, "Don't you have to study?" I lift a finger.
"Yeah, right." Goh chuckles and tries to distract me with his nose almost brushing mine.
"I'm sure you have to work tomorrow, I do." I lift another finger. He's smiling broadly while not looking at me because everything I've said is terribly true.
"Sleep is overrated, we're still young."
"You are." I hold up a third finger, "But I . . ."
I really can't dream up a good enough reason.
See, my defenses are practically dismantled. They had been since I thought I heard what Goh might have said. I don't care if he's been with that other girl, because he left her all on his own. We met entirely on our own.
He smells uniquely Goh, and a bit like dried pine needles. It's rather intoxicating, even as I hustle him down the hall toward my room.
There is no reason to make him leave really.
He catches me against the wall and pushes me back into it with a bit more forcefulness in his body and his roaming fascination with kissing my neck. It's different than when Hayate would angrily decorate the wall with my form. Trying something, I push back, rolling us around, and Goh lets me reverse our positions.
He grins as I pause uncertain what to do now that I'm holding him there. He just waits for me to initiate something more.
That smile softens a little as I lean back, giving breathing space. Honestly, trying to catch my breath. I'm a bit afraid to look into his eyes, because I know what he said and what that look does mean.
Just to our left. Just in the place where I turn my eyes. I see that picture from last summer. The one that Hayate took. Of me. And Sorata.
I think I see where I went wrong. I might adore Sorata. But love? When love can really be reciprocated, I can't hold on to anything else.
Putting my palms against Goh's chest, I turn back to him wondering. Wondering what's suddenly so different.
"I . . ." I'm stammering and darn it, he's narrowing his eyes. But gently.
"This time I'm going to get it right." He says, and taking my face with both hands kisses me as gently as if we'd never touched before.
***
Make a promise take a vow
And trust your feelings it's easy now
Understand the voice within
And feel the changes already beginning
***
I really couldn't dream up a good reason to stop what we'd started. So the universe gives me one.
No one ever thinks to turn their phone off.
"Going to answer that?" Goh teases. We're still in the shadows of the hallway, not making much progress but I'm finding something very sincere inside myself.
'I suppose," This is my voice, but I'm not quite sure how I manage much coherency at this point, "I should. Um, where's the phone?"
"This is your house," Goh hold me out at arm length, then as if thinking better of it steps up near me again.
"Oh yeah," I pretend to frown, then reluctantly trot down the hall into the kitchen and pick up the phone. Hours had passed since our adventures began that afternoon, and anyone calling me this late had better have a splendidly important excuse.
"Hello." I'm breathless still.
"Keisuke?"
"Yes?" I'm struggling to place the voice. Which is difficult to do when one of Goh's arms has snaked around my chest from behind.
"It's Dorothy."
"Right, right." Why the heck is Dorothy calling me? I roll my shoulders, feebly trying to free myself from the extra distraction.
"You haven't been around lately." She starts, but her words cause all of my attention onto them. Each one simple but specifically rehearsed.
"True." I say, only to indicate that she did have my attention.
"So I thought I should fill you in."
"Fill me in already." I'm grateful that Goh's there.
"Sasame was hoping that you'd come."
"Dorothy." I hear my tone darkening, because it's fearful. "I can imagine more terrible things if you keep stalling. Telling me would simplify it all."
"It's Sylvia's . . . father." Dorothy sighs heavily, "He's dead."
"Excuse me?" I say softly. Remembering her as I saw her last, all casual and just as awkward as I was--given the circumstances of happening across each other at the grocery store. The distanced way that we tried to assess each other's romantic ties if there wasn't one between us anymore.
"The funeral is Thursday." She turns to share the specific details. Mr. Noventa was an older man, but they were still exploring the exact causes of his death.
"Was there something suspicious?" I say, staying cool. Any investigation could bring about trouble for their family since they already were well- known in the local public news.
"It's not certain," She replies with almost clinical accuracy, "But it wasn't foul play, that much they have said."
"Thank you for telling me." It's simply enough said, "Is the visitation tomorrow?"
"I think they're having a brief gathering at their home. I'm sure you would be welcome there."
"I'll be at both. Thanks." Neither of us says good-bye. Some conversations are best left as such.
***
And how many words have I got to say
And how many times will it be this way
With your arms around the future
And your back up against the past
You're already falling it's calling you
On to face the music
and the song that is coming through
You're already falling
The one that it's calling is you
***
It's strangely distant. I wake up. Roll a bit, roll over and there is Goh. He's breathing with his mouth quite open, topless but borrowing a pair of my little used pajama bottoms. He seems to like them.
The first thought I have is, Mr. Noventa is dead.
He's sleeping on his side, with the bottom arm curling up under the pillow. His free arm reaching toward me. I must have been connected to him before. Somehow sleeping under his embrace without even noticing.
I notice we're breathing simultaneously. Breathing is essential for living. When you die, you don't have to do that anymore.
His hair, which has only gotten longer as I've known him is awfully tangled. Asleep he clicks his jaw shut and pulls the free arm in closer to his chest. I'm not there any longer. I'm surprised I was able to sleep with someone else in my bed. It's not something that I do often, and haven't for quite a long while.
I wonder what Mrs. Noventa thought when she woke up today. Did she expect her husband there?
I have to call the store. I'm not going in. Unless every single customer in this world learned to behave themselves overnight, I don't think I'd be able to function with my typical Keisuke Yuuki cheerfulness. Little things like a bag of chew bones being one short compared to the others seem very unimportant right now.
I don't know what Goh plans on doing. Last night he mentioned among other things that Chichiri would understand. And that his classes weren't that important. The first I believe, the latter-not so much so. From the work I saw on his table turned desk, I know he works diligently and I'm not ready to disrupt that needlessly. Or too frequently.
Mr. Noventa passed away.
That funny feeling again. I know the world outside is too busy to realize, or remember that fact for very long. But I'm almost seeing something important. I'm almost understanding something about myself. Oddly enough.
I can call work later. And I'll let Goh sleep just a little bit longer.
I put my head against the pillow and realize that our breathing is still in the same rhythm. As if nothing had changed. Nothing disturbed.
I'm not ready for him to hear me, but with these new concerns brought to mind, I can try. I can practice, mouthing the words, "I love you."
***
Oh won't you tell me again
Can you feel it
Won't you tell me again
Tonight
***
It's more unnerving to see everyone dressed so somberly.
Not that everyone had a dark cloud following them. For a gathering of mourners, no one is mourning. That has always perplexed me about such occasions. If my mother, or God forbid, Miaka had died I would have been a wreck. As it is, I'm probably the closest to tears of all of us. And for all the time I spent with Sylvia, I only saw her father on a few occasions.
Saitou sits in one corner, smoking without anyone's complaint. Mr. Noventa might have not been his biological father, but he came back from his station as soon as they knew. Mr. Noventa had passed away Monday night. While Sylvia and I were in the grocery store.
Sylvia has her public personality on and I hardly recognize her as she slips from one circle of conversation to the next. Making sure everyone is comfortable and happy, of all things. She only seems to let the masks slip when she's with Heero and Hilde who watch her very carefully and protectively. Hilde even leaves Heero's side to link with Sylvia's elbow and to assist her with the circuit of political obligations.
I'm not quite sure where to put myself, and insanely entertain myself for about five minutes with the idea of becoming a Keisuke-coat-rack and hiding myself under the various raincoats and jackets. Appropriately enough, as soon as I left to join the family and close friends at Sylvia's home, the clouds rolled in and began sprinkling the ground with additional gloom. I really don't know if I'm helping matters.
It helps that Sasame and Himeno arrive shortly after I did.
"Keisuke." Himeno says simply, glancing at Sasame with a fleeting look of nervousness. But Sasame immediately goes to Sylvia, only distracted for a moment by giving Saitou a brief address of sympathy. "I'm not terribly good at these things."
"I can't say that I have much experience either. Except in Sylvia's family." I try not to sound too jovial even as I try to lighten things for Himeno, "I was around when her grandfather died and her grandmother. It's uncanny how similar these occasions are."
"I barely remember my mother's funeral." Himeno whispers, and it doesn't seem right to speak much more loudly. "I wanted to forget the whole affair and simply remember her my own way."
"I hear you, kiddo." Adding my heartfelt agreement, "But they say that these ceremonies are important for some people, or at least for some inexplicable reason we can't quite sense on the surface."
"To finalize things, and move on." Himeno suggests. She's wearing a simple black dress with a lacy collar flattering her shoulders and neck. She looks splendid and I tell her so. A rosy tint spreads out from her nose and covers her cheeks. "Thank you." She adds, "I came to support Sasame. He really liked Mr. Noventa."
I want to ask more about why they came together, but, of course, the time isn't appropriate for that. Time seems terribly consumed by the heavy weight of the atmosphere of the hall. The same shining red woods as at the party weeks before, but now leaving a more somber impression upon us all.
The funeral will be brief and less demanding. And Goh will be there. He'd accepted my alternate plan that he spend his Wednesday as normal and excuse himself for the briefer memorial service the following day. Watching as his just awake expression had shifted from slightly confused and disagreeing to persuaded and persistent. I'm not going to start being irresponsible with his willing companionship.
I'm distracted a moment when I see Saitou rise to greet one of the next visitors. A shorter fellow in uniform like Sylvia's older brother. Wiry dark hair curling out from under the cap worn during their full military dress. He's a stranger I haven't met before. Very squarely shaped face and dark, deep set eyes. He stands out in the same way that Saitou does, except Saitou knows how to place himself into the shadows and out of the public's attention. They both go to Sylvia where introductions are made, the newcomer bowing a fraction to honor her loss.
"Keisuke." Himeno whispers, nudging me slightly. I glance down at her, when I immediately realize that she had intended to warn me of something coming from the other way. I turn back and I'm . . .
I stand straighter, "Hello, Sorata."
***
Each and every heart it seems
Is bounded by a world of dreams
Each and every rising sun
Is greeted by a lonely lonely one
***
Kay: Glad to hear from you, as always! I'm relieved that Keisuke and Goh's feelings are coming through as sincere. Especially, since Keisuke has to redefine how he's looking at the world in order to include Goh into it. He also had all those years to make Sorata the center of it, which will probably be hard for Keisuke to shake off no matter how well he thinks he's doing so far. *shrugs* I'm never certain what's going to happen from one chapter to the next, so we're both along for the ride. *grin*
Kathy: Thank you for the review! I'm so glad that people are reading and enjoying all of the characters (even if they have to be filtered through Keisuke). I like Hayate a lot myself, he's such the noble brooding sort. Like Kiena said, Pretear characters don't get a lot of exposure in fics, so I'm glad you've attached to both Hayate and Goh.
Until next time.
***commercial break***
Just in case any of you are absolute Keisuke nuts like me and read every single fic that someone smuggles him into (yeah FF.net search engine!) . . . I wanted to let you know that my friend Karin-sama wrote a chibi-neko fic with Keisuke in it. Um, if you read it you'll probably notice that she wrote it with every intention of making *me!* blush furiously through the entire thing. She succeeded. The story is "Greener Pastures" at http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=929104 since it's part of a series, you may or may not want to read the first chapters of her story at http://karinsama.blogspot.com/
(Disclaimer: The usual. This time the song is "The Voice." In this chapter, I warmed things up. Then ended up cooling them down dramatically. As you are able, enjoy.)
***
It's just not the same stealing cereal when there isn't a chance that you'll get caught.
I turn on the television and feel guilty that no one's accusing me of being a remote hog.
And there's all the other stuff. Like that huge watercolor of Himeno that's decorating the main wall of the living room. Well, Hayate's certainly left this all behind him. But I'm staring down the crusty plates and empty beer cans on the coffee table--there aren't nearly as many as when two people are making the mess.
I'm a social critter. I need someone around to chatter at, if not with. It's not enough that the landlord reassures me that Hayate mailed in his half of the check.
That's probably why I snatch up my keys and decide to go to the grocery store.
The joint that Hayate and I used to go to together is one of those twenty- four hour places that makes you find your food, cart it around, run it through the scanner and bag it all yourself. I half expect them to pay me for a job well done after all that hassle. But it's close, it's cheap, and it's the only thing open at this ungodly hour.
I'm browsing the near empty shelves and wondering what fat-saturated and teeth-rotting items seem most appealing. I've already stocked up on microwave dinners. Even though I have an open invitation to snag food from the Veteran Cosmic Rocker (I choke just thinking about that name), it feels a bit odd always eating with Goh. It seems greedy in some sense, and I'm suspecting that the food isn't coming upstairs for free.
Hmm. Little Debbie's are two for one.
I'm staring at the picture on the box, admiring the packaging or something equally stupid, when I almost see a slim hand picking up a similar package and balancing it midair next to me.
I'm quick enough to realize that someone is trying to get my attention by mimicking me, so I play dumb. Put the box back and turn the other way, pushing the cart forward as best I can even when that stupid front wheel almost immediately gets stuck sideways and I'm propelling it forward on my own strength leaving a wicked black rub mark that some poor Joe is going to have to wipe down later. Whoops.
Of course, distracted by that, I'm caught by my shadow.
"Ah, what are you doing here?" I can't help but blink a few times. This time I'm sure I'm dreaming.
Sylvia folds her arms and looks away, just turning her blue-green eyes to the side. "I didn't expect to see you here either. I was just . . . out."
Can you tell me why I'm so gosh darn nervous around her? A strange unseen fist has started squeezing around my heart and refuses to let my blood circulate any longer. I still have my fingers curled around the shopping cart handle, and they're turning purple. I swear.
"Me too." Somehow, my face manages to stay mobile and I slap on a halfway sloppy grin. Conversation. Conversation, where is it? What do normal people talk about when they simply happen across each other in the grocery store? "How's, ah, how are Heero and Hilde?"
"Good." Her eyebrows relax a little and she looks back at me for a moment, "Heero's still burning rubber at the track on weekends. They got his car back together and he's doing well enough."
I nod a bit too enthusiastically, "Okay. How's . . . the career?"
"On hold," Sylvia's shoulder's droop a little. Even though she initiated all of this, it doesn't seem like she's planned much past revealing herself. "I decided to spend more time just at home. Things . . . came up."
"Okay." I've said that twice and that's too many times already. "Er . . ." I finally settle on asking about her family when she beats me to it.
"How's your family?"
I pry my fingers from the cart and run them through my hair. This is getting easier. Each time I meet Sylvia it's this same strange process of unraveling multiple walls of discomfort. "Let's see." I stroke my chin, letting my tone become more playful, "Miaka's still seeing that same fellow she's always been seeing. Except he's become a cult porno director and she's starring in his next film. Mom has a walk-on . . . or should I say a strut on . . . ?"
Now she's looking at me, her lips curling in what might have been the beginning of a snicker, "You're so crass, Keisuke."
"My mother thought about naming me that at first. Crass Yuuki." Teasing I can accomplish. I feint as if I'm going to box her into the aisle while reaching for some unimportant canned good, but she doesn't move.
"What are you up to these days?" Her face turns up and it's much too close, I'm unable to look at her all at once gazing into one eye at a time. "Have you managed to capture the heart of your Sorata, yet?"
Oh dear. I close my eyes from the proximity hiding them in another exaggerated smile, "Heck no. Haven't you heard? Sorata's off the market." I toss the can into the cart, whatever it is. Too late to put it back really, I guess I'm buying. "He found a 2 for 1 bargain."
"Oh, I . . ." Her voice catches with genuine sympathy, I recognize it and try to brush it aside. "Are you . . .?"
"Off the market?" I laugh and I'm about to speak again, when she interrupts.
"Are you alright?" Her thin eyebrows are doing that funny thing where they turn up in the middle. Demonstrating an apology and emphasizing the question all at once.
This isn't really a conversation for the grocery store, at this hour it's empty enough that our words sound hollow and I can hear the back round buzz of the enormous lights from the distant ceiling. "I can deal. Besides, I'm sort of seeing someone else. Some new cutie going through college and who has one hell of a great body."
"You are so shallow." She says without any punch behind it. I vaguely remember that Sylvia can land a verbal smack if she wants to. She must be tired at this late hour, or wilting, or she doesn't care.
"No," I pick up one of the box dinners, "This is shallow. But enough about me, how about you? Found anyone new yet?" That's what this conversation is all about, crude inquiries about what otherwise might be serious stuff all while in the canned good sections of the 24 hour grocer.
"I'm sort of seeing some new fellow who is going through college and who has one hell of a great body."
I feel that one, and mock-wince. Somehow, we're both managing to converse without touching a live emotion, "Really? Maybe it's the same guy?"
She slaps my shoulder, letting her soft little lips drop open in pink-hued surprise. "I'd certainly hope not. You and this guy thing again. I thought Sorata was a phase. But I was wrong about that."
I shrug. "We both were."
"So," Sylvia says with a decisive lift to her voice, "I need to visit the brownie aisle. Want to come with?"
"Rich double chocolate, here we come."
When we parted ways at the self-serve checkout lines, it felt like a very, very peculiar dream. As if I would wake up to my alarm and find out it was Tuesday all on it's own. The rest had been me dreaming of a conversation I had been dreading would come. But the extra brownie mix and can of pumpkin pie filling in the cupboard stare back at me in the morning and give me a queer feeling. Okay, I'm never going to the grocery store after eleven at night. It's just too weird.
***
Each and every heart it seems
Is bounded by a world of dreams
Each and every rising sun
Is greeted by a lonely one
***
I wouldn't have dreamed up my little plan, except that I was sincerely trying to avoid the trip back to my solitary apartment at all costs. After putting my eight hours plus at the pet store, I drive most of the way home before spinning back and pulling behind the atmospheric restaurant Goh lives above. I'm not sure what he is up to, but I need an accomplice.
Stakeouts are no fun all alone. No decent walkie-talkie action if you're prowling all on your own. And I can't invite anyone else, because no one else knows.
I slip into the back door, nothing at this place is ever locked I've discovered. I'm instantly washed by whatever smell constitutes the more popular evening meals. It always sticks to my clothes, but Goh's somehow found a way to shrug it off. He never smells like grease and too much food, nor when I first saw him at the Transylvanian Concubine.
Interesting. But ever since that first night I invited Goh to the Four Doors, he hasn't gone back to his old stomping grounds. I haven't either. Almost as if meeting each other was enough, and the fantastical place had served it's purpose. I almost swoon over my own over idealized romantic notions. Sap, always makes my tongue thick.
"Oh, hey, Keisuke."
I half wave at Tasuki and sit on the end stool. "How's it going?"
"Same ol', same ol'." Tasuki has this sinister grin when he's happy. It's partially like he's snarling and part like he's going to bite your head off. Affectionately. The positive key is that he's smiling. When those same lips are pressed into a thin line. That's when one should worry. The red-headed guy has an eruptible temper the size of a small volcano.
"Is Goh around?"
"Upstairs." Tasuki finishes handing the customer her change and strolls down to my end, wiping his hands off on the edge of the apron. "It's his night off, both from work and classes. Been shut upstairs all day, and I'm sure he'd be re-e-ally pleased to see you." His narrow eyes pulling up to one corner innocently study the ceiling, lips pursing into a nonchalant whistle with no sound.
I can't believe he's suggesting what he's suggesting. Then I'm wondering who gave him that idea. And then I'm realizing that I hope he's right.
"Upstairs?" I manage to croak.
"Upstairs." But I'm halfway up them by that point, not far enough away to miss the bloke's insane laughter.
"Goh?" I rap my knuckles against the door. I know it's also unlocked like every other entryway at this joint, but I feel extra obligated to respect them because of that.
"Hey . . . gorgeous." He opens the door and looks a bit weary, but content. "Come in."
"What's up?" I slip past him, boxing his chin affectionately. He's definitely not dressed for going out, barefoot in some funny dark blue cotton pants and a large tank-top. As if he never got out of his bedclothes. "Studying?" There are mathematical equations spread all over the table where we would eat together.
"Exams in a couple weeks." Goh sinks into the easy chair, literally. It almost swallows him whole, but his eyes still follow me as I shuffle through the leaves of paper.
"You work really hard," Once again, I'm impressed. "Maybe I shouldn't bother you?" I frown, studying him with all seriousness.
"No, no, no." He watches from underneath his fingers, pressing into his brow, "I need to get out. Where did you want to go?"
"I had an idea, but if you'd rather stay in . . ." I cross over to lean into him with both arms bracing on either side. Leaning in closer to almost kiss him and close my eyes. He always smells so distinctly different than every place, than everyone else.
He growls, standing and forcing me back upright while wrapping his arms around me in a tight grip. His face drooping against my shoulder, breathing into my neck. "I've been here all day. Going out sounds good. If you're coming?"
"Yes." I tone down the reflexive squeak, but just barely. Gee, and I thought I'd try to pull a move on him.
'What'd you have in mind?" His lips are very, very close to my ear, and it takes a bit of concentrating to reconstruct those same words into my memory and make sense of them.
"Er, well," I'm growing warm and I know my ears are not simply blazing because he's breathing near them, "I was hoping, maybe, you'd want to go help me spy on Hayate?" First, there's the unexpected increase in his body's pressure as he falls more heavily against my shoulder. "I've got these great commando communication devices. I can teach you Morse code." Next, I can feel the chuckle rumbling in his chest before I hear it.
The rumble almost distracting me from it. It being an almost unheard confession, sounding quite a bit like a reluctantly persuaded, "I love you."
Before I can do anything at all, Goh pulls back, "Fine. Fine." At last, kissing me but quickly. "So are you going to dress me, or what?"
And whatever it had been--had been--and passed.
***
Won't you lay it on the line
I need to hear it just one more time
***
While I'm stationing myself just outside the main doors of the junior college art building, I'm reflecting. Reflecting just a bit too much on the way that Goh'll just drop everything for me.
I peek around the bush. We're still early, and Hayate's motorcycle would be easily heard before I need to pull out the binoculars. I look anyway, fidgeting. I look primarily because I insisted Goh crouch behind the landscaping on the other side of the main entrance. I look because I want to remind myself that he's really there. He came. And, it's suddenly very important to me that he's not upset that he's sitting on a bunch of fallen and dried pine needles. The front door to this place is cut into the corner, so while I'm on my side, the most I can see of him is one leg.
"How's it going, Rogue Two?" I whisper into the device that one of my mother's many boyfriends had given to me for some special occasion or other. I was never one to turn down free gifts, or feel the obligatory gratitude for more than ten sincere minutes.
"Don't forget to say "over," over." Goh's voice scratches through the poor quality transmission. It's almost easier just to pick out his voice from the distance of no more than fifteen feet.
The same voice that might have said something that suspiciously sounded like he was saying that he loved me. Half of this anxiety I'm feeling is not the adrenaline of the hunt, it's . . . something else.
I peek again, when the walkie-talkie suddenly crackles.
"Heck, Keisuke *crackle* just get your butt over here." Then as if an after thought, the device spews more static, "Over."
I pop up, glance around and, seeing no one, dart over to his side. I must look like a royal fool because he's giving me that stupefied expression again. I sit next to him, back balancing against the concrete bottom of the red brick building. "So what's the objective of this mission again?" Goh says, and I wiggle a little indicating he should still keep his voice down. It's a thrill to avoid being seen, but being caught at our ages would embarrass even Keisuke Yuuki.
"To make sure Hayate's okay." I glance over my shoulder at his profile, admiring his darker skin. Tilting my head, I wonder if he has any exotic ancestry to explain his natural attractiveness.
He sighs, then pulls me close with his near arm, "Okay. I suppose that's enough of a reason."
My knees are pulled up, even as his are stretched out. He insisted on wearing his heavier boots and I'm watching as the toes of the shoes are tilting outward from each other. I'm so bored by this point I'm mesmerizing myself just by staring at Goh's shoes.
"Hey," He whispers into my ear, and I jerk at first, startled from my inner revelry. Goh pulls his legs in, "Listen."
He has good ears, or he's at least more attentive than I was in those moments, because I easily hear Hayate's voice.
"It's the least I can do, Hayate." That second voice definitely is not my disappeared roommate's. I peer the best I can around and through our camouflage to see the girl that is with him. I feel Goh pulling gently on the back of my shirt, but I'm insatiably curious. The girl's voice rolling, alto and vixen-like. Is this how Hayate's been distracting himself?
But all I can see are their feet, and a great deal more of the girl's legs than I expected.
"I shouldn't stay much long . . ."
"See how you feel when you're finished," Suddenly their feet are very close together. And her alto turns saucy. "Don't make any hasty decisions now. I have plenty of room to take you in."
Uh, I'm sure she didn't mean it that way. I shake my head. God, my mind is one track all of a sudden.
"Uh," Hayate's guttural response perfectly mimics the one in my head. And she laughs lyrically, as if intonating a song. Pitched to match her own playful identity.
"I'm just teasing, Hayate. Have fun." She's on tip-toe a moment and then skips off. Hayate's shoes scuffle on the sidewalk, the door opens and he disappears as it closes.
"Mission accomplished." I sink back, and only then does Goh free his hand from my shirt. "What a thrill, huh?" I lean back into his shoulder, and he twists to face me, pausing only to brush off a few pine needles.
"Did you recognize her?" He lifts his eyes to mine, opening them a bit wider than usual in his surprise.
"I couldn't really see more than almost all of her leg," I shrug, a bit unnerved by his reaction.
He shakes his dark head and pulls his fingers through one side of his overgrown hair, red dyed strands curling out from between them. "That's the girl from the club, Keisuke. And if your pal Hayate is staying with Shiori, then that's more like bad news."
"Shiori?" I try the name on my tongue, and find that my mouth is dry with uncertainty.
***
'Cos out on the ocean of life my love
There's so many storms we must rise above
Can you hear the spirit calling
As it's carried across the waves
You're already falling
It's calling you back to face the music
And the song that is coming through
You're already falling
The one that it's calling is you
***
"Define 'bad'." I ask.
We're back at my apartment that only recalls Hayate more strongly because he's absent from his things. His art. Goh picks up one of the series in the cartwheel and sets it back, meeting my eyes from across the open countertop in the kitchen.
"Well, maybe not bad as in awful." He brings it back by degrees, and, of course, I can't help but wonder if he's doing that to sooth me from any further anxieties. "She doesn't coerce people to anything they aren't inclined to already."
"Inclined to?" I feel a chilly concern, and the snap in my voice comes a bit more icily than I intended. Simply because I can't seem to unclench my jaw. I wanted to know what Hayate was up to, and now I'm not really appreciating my half-knowledge.
Goh disappears and I follow him to where he reclines in what is usually my chair. I sit on the far end of Hayate's couch. Awkwardly, since I don't know what's coming.
"I'm going to tell you." He says finally, and unlike me, he sounds normal. Like normal Goh. "I actually came out here with Shiori."
This is one of those stories where I start by sitting with a semi- perplexed/semi-disinterested feeling and try not to reflexively fall into a defensive, deep sleep.
"I met her back in Washington and we hit it off, strangely enough. I was tired of being the noble eldest son with such high expectations, and Shiori offered a bit of excitement. A bit of danger. Something that appealed to me . . . once. I needed to escape, I had pretty much screwed up my education at the university there and lost quite a bit of respect from the faculty."
He's watching me the whole time he talks, and it's a bit unnerving, his stare. But oddly enough, nothing he says makes him feel any different than the person I was getting to know. As if he is simply coloring in the corners.
"Here it's different though. Instead of destroying the perfect world set up for my parent's faultless son, I found myself on the bottom from the start. With this crazy idea that, maybe I didn't want to be there in her world." He leans forward, dropping his hands between his knees. "That I wanted to go back to school. That letting loose didn't have to mean disgracing myself. That caring for other people could actually be attractive."
I realize I've matched his own posture in my corner. A flutter in my stomach.
"Hayate may slip, but if what you say about him is right, Keisuke. He'll come around." Goh lifts an eyebrow, and I gather it's my turn to say something.
"So how did things end with you and Shiori?" I ask, feeling vaguely uneasy having to inquire, but not threatened.
"Badly," Goh chuckles, "Very badly. I think we've managed to settle on mutually despising each other. We used to have these juvenile sparring matches on the dance floor at Transylvania stealing each other's partners."
"Um," I remember something, "You don't think she settled on Hayate because of what happened that one night?"
"Hmm?" Goh thinks for a moment, "She's not that vindictive."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," He nods, sounding more certain even as his confidence drains in part from his expression. Then he shakes his head as if clearing it, "She shouldn't have any reason to bother Hayate more than he allows. She didn't scar me."
When I look up again, he's next to me leaning over just before sitting next to me. "Hayate'll recoup away from everything, but sooner rather than later he'll remember who his real friends are. She has a way of bringing people back to their senses in a round-about way."
"I hope so."
"And you, Keisuke," He teases, "Have such a charmingly innocent way of knocking all sense out of me." Ruffling my hair he adds absently, "Who else could convince me to play covert commando at this age?"
I half want him to say what he said earlier again just so I can be sure. I half want to push him back on the couch and show him a different urge that covert commando Keisuke was feeling since I saw him first that afternoon. Instead I say most practically, "Don't you have to study?" I lift a finger.
"Yeah, right." Goh chuckles and tries to distract me with his nose almost brushing mine.
"I'm sure you have to work tomorrow, I do." I lift another finger. He's smiling broadly while not looking at me because everything I've said is terribly true.
"Sleep is overrated, we're still young."
"You are." I hold up a third finger, "But I . . ."
I really can't dream up a good enough reason.
See, my defenses are practically dismantled. They had been since I thought I heard what Goh might have said. I don't care if he's been with that other girl, because he left her all on his own. We met entirely on our own.
He smells uniquely Goh, and a bit like dried pine needles. It's rather intoxicating, even as I hustle him down the hall toward my room.
There is no reason to make him leave really.
He catches me against the wall and pushes me back into it with a bit more forcefulness in his body and his roaming fascination with kissing my neck. It's different than when Hayate would angrily decorate the wall with my form. Trying something, I push back, rolling us around, and Goh lets me reverse our positions.
He grins as I pause uncertain what to do now that I'm holding him there. He just waits for me to initiate something more.
That smile softens a little as I lean back, giving breathing space. Honestly, trying to catch my breath. I'm a bit afraid to look into his eyes, because I know what he said and what that look does mean.
Just to our left. Just in the place where I turn my eyes. I see that picture from last summer. The one that Hayate took. Of me. And Sorata.
I think I see where I went wrong. I might adore Sorata. But love? When love can really be reciprocated, I can't hold on to anything else.
Putting my palms against Goh's chest, I turn back to him wondering. Wondering what's suddenly so different.
"I . . ." I'm stammering and darn it, he's narrowing his eyes. But gently.
"This time I'm going to get it right." He says, and taking my face with both hands kisses me as gently as if we'd never touched before.
***
Make a promise take a vow
And trust your feelings it's easy now
Understand the voice within
And feel the changes already beginning
***
I really couldn't dream up a good reason to stop what we'd started. So the universe gives me one.
No one ever thinks to turn their phone off.
"Going to answer that?" Goh teases. We're still in the shadows of the hallway, not making much progress but I'm finding something very sincere inside myself.
'I suppose," This is my voice, but I'm not quite sure how I manage much coherency at this point, "I should. Um, where's the phone?"
"This is your house," Goh hold me out at arm length, then as if thinking better of it steps up near me again.
"Oh yeah," I pretend to frown, then reluctantly trot down the hall into the kitchen and pick up the phone. Hours had passed since our adventures began that afternoon, and anyone calling me this late had better have a splendidly important excuse.
"Hello." I'm breathless still.
"Keisuke?"
"Yes?" I'm struggling to place the voice. Which is difficult to do when one of Goh's arms has snaked around my chest from behind.
"It's Dorothy."
"Right, right." Why the heck is Dorothy calling me? I roll my shoulders, feebly trying to free myself from the extra distraction.
"You haven't been around lately." She starts, but her words cause all of my attention onto them. Each one simple but specifically rehearsed.
"True." I say, only to indicate that she did have my attention.
"So I thought I should fill you in."
"Fill me in already." I'm grateful that Goh's there.
"Sasame was hoping that you'd come."
"Dorothy." I hear my tone darkening, because it's fearful. "I can imagine more terrible things if you keep stalling. Telling me would simplify it all."
"It's Sylvia's . . . father." Dorothy sighs heavily, "He's dead."
"Excuse me?" I say softly. Remembering her as I saw her last, all casual and just as awkward as I was--given the circumstances of happening across each other at the grocery store. The distanced way that we tried to assess each other's romantic ties if there wasn't one between us anymore.
"The funeral is Thursday." She turns to share the specific details. Mr. Noventa was an older man, but they were still exploring the exact causes of his death.
"Was there something suspicious?" I say, staying cool. Any investigation could bring about trouble for their family since they already were well- known in the local public news.
"It's not certain," She replies with almost clinical accuracy, "But it wasn't foul play, that much they have said."
"Thank you for telling me." It's simply enough said, "Is the visitation tomorrow?"
"I think they're having a brief gathering at their home. I'm sure you would be welcome there."
"I'll be at both. Thanks." Neither of us says good-bye. Some conversations are best left as such.
***
And how many words have I got to say
And how many times will it be this way
With your arms around the future
And your back up against the past
You're already falling it's calling you
On to face the music
and the song that is coming through
You're already falling
The one that it's calling is you
***
It's strangely distant. I wake up. Roll a bit, roll over and there is Goh. He's breathing with his mouth quite open, topless but borrowing a pair of my little used pajama bottoms. He seems to like them.
The first thought I have is, Mr. Noventa is dead.
He's sleeping on his side, with the bottom arm curling up under the pillow. His free arm reaching toward me. I must have been connected to him before. Somehow sleeping under his embrace without even noticing.
I notice we're breathing simultaneously. Breathing is essential for living. When you die, you don't have to do that anymore.
His hair, which has only gotten longer as I've known him is awfully tangled. Asleep he clicks his jaw shut and pulls the free arm in closer to his chest. I'm not there any longer. I'm surprised I was able to sleep with someone else in my bed. It's not something that I do often, and haven't for quite a long while.
I wonder what Mrs. Noventa thought when she woke up today. Did she expect her husband there?
I have to call the store. I'm not going in. Unless every single customer in this world learned to behave themselves overnight, I don't think I'd be able to function with my typical Keisuke Yuuki cheerfulness. Little things like a bag of chew bones being one short compared to the others seem very unimportant right now.
I don't know what Goh plans on doing. Last night he mentioned among other things that Chichiri would understand. And that his classes weren't that important. The first I believe, the latter-not so much so. From the work I saw on his table turned desk, I know he works diligently and I'm not ready to disrupt that needlessly. Or too frequently.
Mr. Noventa passed away.
That funny feeling again. I know the world outside is too busy to realize, or remember that fact for very long. But I'm almost seeing something important. I'm almost understanding something about myself. Oddly enough.
I can call work later. And I'll let Goh sleep just a little bit longer.
I put my head against the pillow and realize that our breathing is still in the same rhythm. As if nothing had changed. Nothing disturbed.
I'm not ready for him to hear me, but with these new concerns brought to mind, I can try. I can practice, mouthing the words, "I love you."
***
Oh won't you tell me again
Can you feel it
Won't you tell me again
Tonight
***
It's more unnerving to see everyone dressed so somberly.
Not that everyone had a dark cloud following them. For a gathering of mourners, no one is mourning. That has always perplexed me about such occasions. If my mother, or God forbid, Miaka had died I would have been a wreck. As it is, I'm probably the closest to tears of all of us. And for all the time I spent with Sylvia, I only saw her father on a few occasions.
Saitou sits in one corner, smoking without anyone's complaint. Mr. Noventa might have not been his biological father, but he came back from his station as soon as they knew. Mr. Noventa had passed away Monday night. While Sylvia and I were in the grocery store.
Sylvia has her public personality on and I hardly recognize her as she slips from one circle of conversation to the next. Making sure everyone is comfortable and happy, of all things. She only seems to let the masks slip when she's with Heero and Hilde who watch her very carefully and protectively. Hilde even leaves Heero's side to link with Sylvia's elbow and to assist her with the circuit of political obligations.
I'm not quite sure where to put myself, and insanely entertain myself for about five minutes with the idea of becoming a Keisuke-coat-rack and hiding myself under the various raincoats and jackets. Appropriately enough, as soon as I left to join the family and close friends at Sylvia's home, the clouds rolled in and began sprinkling the ground with additional gloom. I really don't know if I'm helping matters.
It helps that Sasame and Himeno arrive shortly after I did.
"Keisuke." Himeno says simply, glancing at Sasame with a fleeting look of nervousness. But Sasame immediately goes to Sylvia, only distracted for a moment by giving Saitou a brief address of sympathy. "I'm not terribly good at these things."
"I can't say that I have much experience either. Except in Sylvia's family." I try not to sound too jovial even as I try to lighten things for Himeno, "I was around when her grandfather died and her grandmother. It's uncanny how similar these occasions are."
"I barely remember my mother's funeral." Himeno whispers, and it doesn't seem right to speak much more loudly. "I wanted to forget the whole affair and simply remember her my own way."
"I hear you, kiddo." Adding my heartfelt agreement, "But they say that these ceremonies are important for some people, or at least for some inexplicable reason we can't quite sense on the surface."
"To finalize things, and move on." Himeno suggests. She's wearing a simple black dress with a lacy collar flattering her shoulders and neck. She looks splendid and I tell her so. A rosy tint spreads out from her nose and covers her cheeks. "Thank you." She adds, "I came to support Sasame. He really liked Mr. Noventa."
I want to ask more about why they came together, but, of course, the time isn't appropriate for that. Time seems terribly consumed by the heavy weight of the atmosphere of the hall. The same shining red woods as at the party weeks before, but now leaving a more somber impression upon us all.
The funeral will be brief and less demanding. And Goh will be there. He'd accepted my alternate plan that he spend his Wednesday as normal and excuse himself for the briefer memorial service the following day. Watching as his just awake expression had shifted from slightly confused and disagreeing to persuaded and persistent. I'm not going to start being irresponsible with his willing companionship.
I'm distracted a moment when I see Saitou rise to greet one of the next visitors. A shorter fellow in uniform like Sylvia's older brother. Wiry dark hair curling out from under the cap worn during their full military dress. He's a stranger I haven't met before. Very squarely shaped face and dark, deep set eyes. He stands out in the same way that Saitou does, except Saitou knows how to place himself into the shadows and out of the public's attention. They both go to Sylvia where introductions are made, the newcomer bowing a fraction to honor her loss.
"Keisuke." Himeno whispers, nudging me slightly. I glance down at her, when I immediately realize that she had intended to warn me of something coming from the other way. I turn back and I'm . . .
I stand straighter, "Hello, Sorata."
***
Each and every heart it seems
Is bounded by a world of dreams
Each and every rising sun
Is greeted by a lonely lonely one
***
Kay: Glad to hear from you, as always! I'm relieved that Keisuke and Goh's feelings are coming through as sincere. Especially, since Keisuke has to redefine how he's looking at the world in order to include Goh into it. He also had all those years to make Sorata the center of it, which will probably be hard for Keisuke to shake off no matter how well he thinks he's doing so far. *shrugs* I'm never certain what's going to happen from one chapter to the next, so we're both along for the ride. *grin*
Kathy: Thank you for the review! I'm so glad that people are reading and enjoying all of the characters (even if they have to be filtered through Keisuke). I like Hayate a lot myself, he's such the noble brooding sort. Like Kiena said, Pretear characters don't get a lot of exposure in fics, so I'm glad you've attached to both Hayate and Goh.
Until next time.
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Just in case any of you are absolute Keisuke nuts like me and read every single fic that someone smuggles him into (yeah FF.net search engine!) . . . I wanted to let you know that my friend Karin-sama wrote a chibi-neko fic with Keisuke in it. Um, if you read it you'll probably notice that she wrote it with every intention of making *me!* blush furiously through the entire thing. She succeeded. The story is "Greener Pastures" at http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=929104 since it's part of a series, you may or may not want to read the first chapters of her story at http://karinsama.blogspot.com/