Even Geniuses Get the Blues

by Ryuen

~*~

I frowned.  "I'm not...boring.  Am I?"

She stared at me for a long time, eyebrows pressing together on her forehead, and then she gave a little sigh and sat back in her chair.  "It's not that you're boring per se," she offered diplomatically.  "Just that you're...erm...not as exciting as, say...a lot of the other guys who want to date me.  I mean, seriously, Doukun, what would we do if we went out?  Check out books together?  Watch the History Channel?  What's your idea of a romantic evening?  A candlelit study session at the library?  Honestly, I think you're a great guy and all, but..."  She shook her head.  "I really don't think we should be anything more than friends right now.  We're just...not compatible enough."  Her eyebrows bent upwards.  "You understand, right?  I-I just really don't think it'd work out between us.  And, I really value your friendship!"

Ouch.

I gave a nod, managing to keep the tiny smile pasted on my lips for her benefit.  "No, I understand completely."  I let the smile grow a little wider, trying to ignore the fact that our waitress had finally arrived and was tapping a pen impatiently against a notepad.  "It's perfectly all right.  I value your friendship a great deal, too."

The waitress tapped a little louder.  "'Scuse me.  Ready to order?"

I swallowed.  I liked Kristen a lot--obviously, if I cared enough to actually ask her out, which was something I never did--but, the thought of sitting here and casually eating with her after what had just happened was a little too much for me to bear.

"Ah, that's all right," I said, rising from my chair.  "I was actually just leaving.  Lots of studying to do, after all!"

Kristen gave me a sad little smile, then nodded a goodbye--and, no matter what we might've said about preserving our friendship, I knew right then and there that things would never be the same between us again.  Maybe they would for her; she seemed like a pretty resilient individual, and I was fairly sure that she was the kind of person who could forget something like this without much trouble, take a few big steps backwards and pretend like I'd never said a word about us going out.  But, for me, it was different.  I couldn't erase what I'd done today, no more than I could change what she'd said in response to it.

I sighed, pushing open the door to the pizza shop and giving Kristen one last longing glance. 

She was perfect.  Beautiful, smart, talented, friendly, caring--but...  I sighed again, took a step outside, and heard the jangle of the door slamming shut behind me.

But she, like every other girl on campus, was not interested in me.

My hands slid into the pockets of my jeans, and I started off at a brisk walk towards my dorm.  It was okay, I told myself firmly.  It was okay that she wasn't interested.  I mean, it wasn't like I'd expected her to be, or like I'd actually thought that she would leap across the table and fall into my arms, or something.  No.  As a realistic, logical thinker, I could certainly see that the likelihood of something like that happening was small.

But...

I sighed again.  But, not even one date?  Not even a chance?  Just, don't-want-to-spoil-our-friendship-hope-you-understand, goodbye?  What was it about me that girls found so...so...un-datable?  Was it my hair?  My height?  My personality?  My intelligence?  Why was it that I could understand the most intricate functions of quantum mechanics and still could not look at a girl and understand what she saw when she looked back? 

I kicked at the sidewalk, hands still folded into my pockets.  "Happy Birthday, Doukun," I mumbled.

By the time I got back to my dorm, I really wasn't in the mood to just go sit in my room, so instead I turned up Victoria and headed for Starbucks.  I'd only recently begun drinking coffee--my parents had always warned me that it would stunt my growth, so I never drank any during my younger days, but by now that seemed a moot point.  I was five foot two--a pathetic height for anyone, least of all a boy--and, five foot two I was going to stay until I became an old man and shrank to five foot one or five feet or...I don't know, maybe disappeared entirely. 

Starbucks was insanely crowded.  Of course, it was about three, the time a lot of college kids finished their classes, so perhaps that was a partial explanation, at least.  Whatever the case, it was almost ten minutes before I could get to the counter and order my large iced mocha, and by then I was feeling so depressed that I actually broke from tradition and asked for whipped cream on the top. 

Then, armed with a heap of fluffed up sugar and already anticipating the welcome burst of caffeine, I  moved carefully away from the counter and started to search for a table.  I didn't really expect to find one, truthfully--despite the volume of customers, this particular Starbucks was actually not very large at all, and had perhaps only a dozen or so tables available.  The chances of one freeing up the moment I stepped away from the counter were...

But, just as I lifted my eyes to scan the room again, the three girls who'd been sipping cappucinos immediately in front of me gathered up their possessions, rose to their feet, and walked out the door, leaving behind a free, clean, and empty table.  Blinking in surprise, I slid forward, dropped my bookbag onto one of the chairs, and sat down.      

As I sat there, dunking my finger into the whipped cream and then drawing little bits of it to my mouth, I began to realize just how lucky I'd been, getting a table.  The place was, if possible, even more crowded than it had been when I'd come in--the line stretched out the door and onto the sidewalk, and nearly every single table but mine was completely and entirely filled.  But, still, despite being rather deafening, the noise was good.  The rumble of so many voices, all blending together...it cancelled out the buzzing of my own thoughts, made it possible to just sit, drink, and listen.  It made it possible to forget that I was seventeen today and no one had noticed.  It made it possible to forget that Kristen had been my closest friend and now was not anymore.  And, most of all, it made it possible to forget that the semester was almost over, and then I would be back under my mother's smothering roof, working at Eat'n Park and preparing for next semester and praying that the summer would end quickly. 

It's too bad my scholarship doesn't cover summer classes.  I would certainly rather be in school than bussing tables and washing dishes.  Perhaps, if I earned enough before the summer semester started, Mom would let me at least take one or two classes...?

I was just realizing that I'd somehow fallen back into my depressive mood when, unexpectedly, a shadow fell over my vision.  Startled, I glanced up...and, saw that a boy, perhaps a year or two older than myself, was standing there in front of me, a steaming Starbucks cup cradled in his left hand. 

"Hi!" he greeted cheerfully.  "I don't mean to bother you, but do you think I could sit down?  It's just that all the other tables are taken, and I noticed that you seemed to be alone...  You're not waiting for someone, are you?"

Me?  Waiting for someone?  You must have confused with some other introvert.

I offered a polite smile.  "No, I'm not waiting for anyone."

He brightened.  "Oh, great!  Mind if I sit down?"

I stretched out a hand to gesture to the chair...and didn't realize until I did so that there was a large dollop of whipped cream rising up from my thumb like a giant white wart.  Flushing, I grabbed up a napkin and wiped it away, horribly embarrassed for some reason, but the boy just laughed and sat down.  He was only a few inches taller than me, which immediately set me at ease (if there's one thing I appreciate, it's other short guys), and I actually think he was thinner than I was, which was something I hadn't thought possible until that moment.  As it was, though, he looked slender whereas I just looked emaciated--his face was smooth-skinned and heart-shaped, his complexion fair to my downright pallid. 

The one thing about him that most caught my attention, though, was the strange coloring of his hair and eyes.  They were varying shades of violet, the eyes a rosy-brownish violet to the hair's purer, darker violet, but where his bangs fell into his eyes, I got the impression that the two shades were blending, somehow, melding into one...

...and, suddenly, I snapped out of my musings with the realization that he'd said something.

"Sorry?" I managed.

The boy grinned and ducked his head a bit--the movement sent a thick purple ponytail swaying behind his head.  "Ryuen," he repeated. 

I blinked.  What the...?  What language is he...

"That's my name," Ryuen amended, stretching a hand over the table for me to shake.  "Chou Ryuen."

Vaguely surprised, I nonetheless lifted my hand (checking first to make sure there was no whipped cream on it, of course) and accepted the shake.  His fingers were cool against mine, smooth and soft like Kristen's.  "Ou Doukun," I said evenly.  "It's, ah, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too, Doukun."  His fingers slid from mine, then, and wrapped around the Starbucks cup, which I could now see contained the heated version of my own drink, minus the whipped cream.  Carefully, Ryuen lifted the cup to his lips, closed his eyes, and took a long, slow, savoring drink. 

"Ahhhh," he breathed afterwards, lowering the cup back to the table top.  "Thank God for coffee."

I smiled, drawing a sip from my own cup.  "Yes."  I meant to say more, but he plunged onward into a new avenue of conversation before I had the chance to.

"So, are you a student here?"

I offered a nod, casting a baleful glance at the large, lumpy bookbag still residing in the chair beside me.  "Yes.  Second-semester freshman."

Ryuen gazed at me levelly.  "Well," he said slowly, "let me give you some advice, then, Doukun, and something that I wish someone'd told me when I was just a freshman."  He cleared his throat, then leaned forward and locked me into a strangely-intense stare.  "Good grades are important, but don't let them become your whole life.  There's so much more to college than just getting a good G.P.A., and some things that are a lot more important."

It felt like something cold and hard had thudded into my stomach; the words hammered into my soul like sharpened spikes, leaving me feeling injured and hurt and vulnerable.  This boy had just, after only two minutes of conversation, somehow managed to stumble onto the subject that most bothered me about my life, and pull it back up into the light as effortlessly as I imagined he ordered coffee. 

I...I -know- there are more important things than studying.  I -know- it.  Do you think I don't want to have friends and a girlfriend and people who care about me?  Do you think I don't -want- to have a social life?  I do!  But, what can I do about it, now?  It's too late.  It's...it's too late.

Somehow, I managed to maintain my composure, hiding my grimace behind a lengthy sip.  "I'll...I'll keep that in mind," I told him, trying not to sound too impolite.  "Thanks."

Apparently I didn't, because Ryuen continued without much pause.  "So, how old are you, Doukun?  You're a little young to be in college, aren't you?"

"I'm sixt--"  I broke off, and felt a slight blush color my cheeks.

You can remember and quote every mathematical theorem you've ever learned, but you can't remember how old you are.  That's great, Doukun.  That's juuuuust great.

"Seventeen," I amended, hoping I didn't sound too stupid.  Despite what emotions he might've dredged up in me, I found myself really liking this Ryuen person, and--strangely enough--caring what he thought of me.  "Sorry," I continued with a sheepish smile, "I just turned, so I'm not really used to being seventeen, yet."

"Oh, you just turned?  When?"

"Um...today, actually."

Ryuen's face lit up; his palms fell flat onto the table, and for a minute I was truly afraid that he was going to leap up from his chair and hug me.  "Happy birthday!!!" he exclaimed.  "Hey, what the heck're you doing moping around Starbucks on your birthday??"

I winced.  "Ah, I was...thirsty?"

Ryuen opened his mouth to say something else, but then his gaze shifted suddenly, and a wide smile spread over his face.  "I told you you shouldn't have let all those girls go ahead of you!" he called, rising to his feet and staring at something just past my left shoulder. 

I turned...and was just in time to see a tall, broad-chested man moving gracefully towards us, a Starbucks cup in one hand and a blueberry danish in the other.  He had an amazing presence, although I coudn't pick out exactly why--there was just something about him that commanded respect and attention, something solemn and almost imperial about the raise of his chin, the posture of his shoulders.  Or, maybe it was the fluid way he walked, or the long chestnut hair that swept back behind him like a royal cape as he moved.  Whatever the case, the breath was caught in my lungs at the very sight of him.

...which was a good thing, I suppose, because then at least there was no air left for me to gasp with when, unexpectedly, Ryuen glided forward, wrapped his arms around the tall man's neck, and kissed him on the mouth. 

I glanced around in shock, wondering if these two realized that this was Western Pennsylvania, for God's sake...  But, surprisingly, no one in the crowded Starbucks seemed to even be giving them a second glance, which seemed really strange to me, particularly since the last gay couple I'd seen embrace in public had shortly found themselves surrounded by a flood of curse words and nasty glares.  It wasn't until the two separated that I realized that the majority of these people probably thought that Ryuen was a girl, what with his slenderness and his height and his hair and his...well, all right, all of him.  As a matter of fact, now that I looked at him...

I shook my head.  No.  No, he was definitely a him.  He was wearing a fairly tight-fitting brown collared shirt that probably had been designed for a girl, but where the neckline cut deeply, I could clearly see a very flat, very male chest.  Ryuen was a boy.  But, even so...

How did I know, just to look at him?  It never once crossed my mind that he might be a girl, but...how could it not? 

As Ryuen and his...erm...companion were heading back to the table, now, I decided to explore that line of thought later, and grant them my full attention.  After all, how often was it that I found myself sitting in a Starbucks on my seventeenth birthday with two gay guys and a blueberry danish?

I took a sobering drink of my iced mocha.

Not all that damn often, Doukun.  Not all that often.

~*~