CHAPTER 1: Warmth of the Sun
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Yaoi / Shonen-ai
SUMMARY: Kenji and Yugo have formed a life together. Yugo has become a
professional boxer and Kenji is attending a local school. However, emotions
brew just below the cool exterior of their public faces; Kenji filled with
half-realized memories and Yugo filled with confusion over his strange
feelings . . .
*
I poke at the scrambled eggs with my fork curiously, watching the yellow, globular mass quiver at the metallic intrusion of the utensil, sitting like a lump in it's own off-yellow watery pool. The grease fairly oozes over the malformed mass of congealed yolk and white, giving the whole mountain of it a kind of sickly flourescent gleam in the kitchen lighting.
Ewww . . .
"Kenji," I hear Yugo scold teasingly as he uses a spatula to flip some more pancakes into his plate, turning to throw a sweet smile over his shoulder at me. "It's edible! Don't poke at it like it's a science experiment!"
I frown at him, trying to look like an upset puppy. Maybe if I make that face he'll decide not to make me eat it . . . He can always do it to -me-. "I don't think it's inedible! It's just . . ." I look back down at the yellowish heap on my plate, trying to find the correct words to describe it . . . some eloquent adjective or phrase . . .
". . . Weird looking."
Yugo snorts and walks to the table, bearing the heaping platter of pancakes. "Aww, at least try it . . .!" There's that puppy face . . . His golden eyes twinkle. ". . . For -me- . . .??"
I bite my bottom lip. I could never refuse that face . . . He knows it, too, even after the short time that we've been together.
I sigh and fork some of the sticky, shiny yellow mess into my mouth. I make a face at the strange, grease and eggy taste of it, but continue chewing. It'd be rude to not eat Yugo's cooking, wouldn't it? . . . Though it may just be the death of me . . .
He smiles at me as he finishes drowning his pancakes in dark, brown syrup, covering the almost ridiculously tall stack entirely with a coat of liquid dark. "Tell me what you think?"
I swallow, unhappy with the slick sticky feeling as it slides down my throat, like a heavy unhealthy mass working its way down into my belly. Oh dear god, it's so disgusting-! However . . . I watch Yugo's expectant expression . . .
I force a smile. "Yeah. It's not so bad . . ." I inwardly sigh. I'm a bad liar . . .
He reaches across the table and ruffles my hair, smiling warmly.
Warmly . . .
"Hey, I'm not gonna' make you eat a single bite if you don't want to, Kenji . . ." He informs me, as if I wasn't already certain he'd never force me to do anything I didn't like and as if I wasn't even more certain that just a moment ago I'd choked-down something horrible just to see him smile. He lifts the spatula and scoops up a pancake, sliding it into my plate, at the same time removing his other hand from my steel blue hair. "You can have this, or whatever else you'd like,"
I smile softly and nod, reaching for a banana and the jug of orange juice, and set up my breakfast plate. There . . . despite what's left of the deformed yellow heap of egg, my plate looks rather appetizing now. As I sip my orange juice and fork syrupy pancake into my mouth, my mind drifts.
It's been more than a year since Yugo found me. He told me later that the burning place was actually a Tylon laboratory being destroyed around me and that I was being held captive there for some reason . . . I can't remember myself and I suppose it's all largely assumption on Yugo's part, but I believe him. I trust his deduction. However, he doesn't know and cannot guess much more about my past than what he already has.
It's weird not remembering, but Yugo says my memory will return eventually, if I can just wait. I'm content to wait, here with Yugo by my side.
Here, I'm safe.
Warm and protected.
Protected by -him-.
Still . . . I don't feel quite right . . .
I feel like I'm forgetting something horrible. Something that lies sleeping, dormant in the depths of my mind.
Sometimes I start to remember. I'll get a sense of déjà vu when I pass by a building or I'll get a flash of a half-realized image or memory . . . I'll wake up from a nightmare late at night, in a cold sweat, with Yugo sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room.
I start to remember . . . but then I feel that I -shouldn't-. As if remembering will set in motion some horrible event . . .
What is this sense of dread that torments me? I hate it . . . It's like some dark, ghastly memory, fighting its way to the surface of my mind. Only, something's keeping it down.
I'm afraid that just wondering about it will move the metal seal that keeps my demons away . . .
No! I mustn't remember! I have to keep it buried inside me! I don't know what it is, but I know that I SHOULDN'T remember!
I'm happy now. Happy with this life that Yugo and I have made. I watch him eat his scrambled eggs quietly as he glances over the funnies section of the newspaper, and I have to smile.
I like this place. I like -him-. I like the life that we have built together in this tiny apartment.
No matter what, I don't want it to change. I don't want our happiness to escape us, and I want us to be together . . .
. . . Forever.
*
For the past fifteen months, I've lived with Kenji. I've watched happily as his silence turned to smiles, and every day he seems to grow more and more spirited. At first, he was absolutely quiet. Sort of robotic, even. The most he did was cling to me, coo questions to me and glance around curiously. He was so silent and timid then . . .
And at first, the dependence he had on me was cute: as if I had a little brother or a son of my own.
Then, as time passed . . . I started . . .
I remember I must have realized when I first had to show him how to bathe. He didn't know how himself (at first he would stare at me and lift his arms, as if he expected to be hosed-off), so I had to help him.
I only felt a little red-in-the-face from blush as I instructed him, scrubbed his back for him, talked him through the process of washing himself with the bar of Dove soap I provided. It's one of those things you never think you'd have to show a person . . .
At the time, I didn't think much of it. He came out properly cleaned and smelling nice, and I seemed unfazed by the whole experience.
However . . .
It didn't seem so innocent an event when I started having dreams about him. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, panting hotly after having fallen asleep on the couch late at night, with Kenji asleep in our bedroom. I'd have had a dream about soaping up his pale skin, watching the water cascade over his lithe form, kissing his soft lips, sliding my hands over the slick wet body. I'd wake up, and I'd be . . .
I couldn't stand it! How could I think of the boy like that? He was just a child!
After the dreams started, I had to really concentrate on not reacting when he hugged me or cooed at me. I just couldn't keep the memories of my dreams out of my head when he was near me. I seemed to go out of my way to make it hard for myself to sleep in the same room with him. I wish I could make even that little bit more in the way of cash, maybe get us a bigger apartment so he can have his own bedroom, but all of my excess is sapped for tuition and school supplies and everything else that Kenji's education demands. I want him to have his own bed and give us that distance, and yet all I wanna' do is wrap him up in my arms and hold him. Every time his coppery eyes glint at me, every time he brushes his long, pale fingers through his deep bluish hair . . . I feel myself swoon underneath the calm exterior.
I . . . can't help it.
As we sit together (as we always do), eating breakfast before he goes off to school . . . I can't stand that he chose a banana over an orange for today's side fruit. It's always one or the other, and nowadays it's always a torture . . .
True, if he'd chosen the orange, I'd occupy myself with watching the juice drip down his chin . . . but a banana! It's worse because it's so phallic . . . Because when he leaves I might be hard . . .
God dammit . . . I HATE my imagination . . .
He doesn't seem to be paying attention, lost in thought (As he often is. He's such an introspective boy . . . Sometimes it seems like so much is going on inside his head, I could never even hope to comprehend it all) as he un-peels the banana. I bite my lip, trying to appear calm as I divert my eyes and shovel more pancakes into my mouth, as if I can douse my dirty thoughts with soft pancake and syrup. My mental mantra starts up again . . .
_Don't look, don't look, don't look . . ._
I look as he opens his small, pretty mouth and slides it in, taking a bite off of the tip of the bananaI quickly avert my eyes, feeling a burning sensation light up behind them, feeling the rush of euphoria that told me I was definately turning red in the face. . .
Dammit, dammit, dammit . . .!
His coppery eyes seem truly distracted as he chews slowly, then I can't keep my eyes from watching his long pale throat contract slightly as he swallows.
. . . I'm such a pervert . . . I'm such a horrible bastard for just staring and thinking these things . . . Kenji's my only, my family, my everything . . . Why should my libido ruin it for us?
Suddenly, his copper eyes shoot wide open and he jerks around, looking frantically to the clock. I jump myself, startled by his sudden movements, almost falling out of my chair.
"OH MY GOD! I'M LATE!" He shrieks loudly, jumping up from the table and rushing off to our bedroom like a bolt.
I'm only alone for a moment before he races back into the kitchen, now with his school uniform jacket on. He races around the kitchen like a chicken with its head chopped off, eyes darting about desperately.
I sigh, smiling at him. ". . .Your school bag's on the couch, Kenji,"
He turns and throws his arms around my neck quickly, not giving a second thought to kissing me on my jaw line, right in front of my ear. It's just a peck of a kiss, but to a man starved for psysical affection it seems like so much more . . .
"Thanks, Yugo!" He chirps his gratitude, detaching from my neck and spinning on the heel of his sneaker, racing to get his bag and depart. "Bye! I'll see you after school . . . Have fun boxing today!"
Then, in a rush of black uniform and blue locks . . . he's gone.
And, just as I thought I would be, I'm shamefully aroused.
God damned banana . . .
*
I grunt softly as I lift a weight in my hand and pump it once, then the other. Realizing that I'm sweaty from the workout, I set down the weights and sigh, utterly exhausted.
From the very beginning, my diminutiveness by compare to Yugo has annoyed me. I was so much weaker, frailer . . . -girlier- than he was. Even though he was always good to me and the way his golden eyes glistened as they peered into mine always made me lose all feelings of inadequacy, the comparison was still painfully there.
So, it wasn't very long before I started exercising in order to gain the strength that I needed to close the gap between his masculinity and my own relative frailty.
My voice is still girly, and when I complained to Yugo about it, he said 'No it isn't, it's already changed by the sound of it!"
I'd frowned at that suggestion, and Yugohad smiled and, as always, ruffled my hair.
I like it when he does that . . .
I look at the clock, toweling myself of sweat idly.
6:05. Yugo should be home from his boxing match soon...
I put the weights back in their proper places and go to the bathroom, throwing my towel in the hamper and peeling my sweat-soaked clothes off. I'll take a shower before he comes home . . . I want to smell clean and fresh when he gets home, not reek of sweat and testosterone.
I chuckle softly. _However, Yugo'll be pretty sweaty and dirty himself . . . There's really no point in me being clean, but still . . . I want to look my best for Yugo when he comes home._
I step into the shower and turn on the hot water, but the thought of Yugo lingers... I feel tingly for a moment, and I feel my chest ache.
That same ache . . . It hasn't gone away since Yugo first found me. It's not a physical, painful ache . . . but I can't describe it otherwise. It's this feeling . . . like a soft, warm coil tightening in my chest; like a sun-hot flower suddenly blossoming. It's only ever happened when I thought of him, or looked into his eyes, or listened to him talk. I wonder about it a moment, this mysterious tingle-ache . . . It's so mysterious; one of the emotions that I haven't quite decoded yet. I close my eyes and step under the rushing water, imagining Yugo . . .
Yugo's smiling face as he enters our apartment, sweaty from the match and yet unmarred by bruises. He's such a good fighter; rarely does anyone even get one punch in on him! I think of the familiar evening: Yugo has cocoa or some other drink with me and we sit down to watch the TV together. He'll talk about the match or the practice or something else and I'll talk about school or going out or something else. Then, the evening will stretch on and we might do go out for dinner at a restaurant or he'll try his hand at home cooking (no matter how dread the results may be, the attempt in itself is sweet). Then, we always end it by going to bed.
Bed . . .
My heart's been swelling the whole time, but I suddenly feel a cold, pleasant chill up my back, even in the heat of the shower.
. . . When I was younger, we shared the same bed, and after I finally got my own, there were still nights that I'd crawl into bed with him to escape the nightmares . . .
. . . If only . . .
I suddenly shake my head at that last inclination, shocked by myself. I blush and make quick work of shampooing my hair and scrubbing myself.
I make a small noise as the memory rushes back to me. When Yugo told me how to wash myself . . .
I continue soaping myself, trying to ignore the memory. My hands draw the soap bar over my chest and I blush, wondering . . .
. . . Would Yugo touch me there? . . .
Then, my eyes shoot open and I frown, shaking my head vigorously, water flying from the damp tendrils and smashing against the shower walls. No! I shouldn't be thinking like that!!
Yugo . . . Yugo and I will live happily together . . . I don't want to ruin it by acting like a hormonal schoolgirl! We've built this beautiful world . . . Yugo has given me a chance at being human . . . I swear, I will not ruin it!
*
I stand outside the door to our apartment, scared to come in.
I know. Big old Yugo the Wolf, afraid? Must be pretty horrible . . .
But no. All that awaits me behind this door is Kenji . . .
-MY- Kenji . . .
I furrow my eyebrows and frown solemnly. I . . . I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep myself from doing anything stupid around Kenji . . . I'm starting to snap. Every waking moment is spent dwelling in thoughts of him, in my own self-imposed agony of love and lust. Every day, it's a certainty that I'll want to kiss him or hold him, just a little . . . but . . . but it's -wrong-! All this time, waiting and wanting him . . . and he's a -boy-. A -young- boy, at that!
I take a deep breath, clearing my mind . . . and sigh it out as I enter . . .
Kenji looks up from setting something down on the small dinner table, eyes seeming to light-up instantly as I enter. Kenji . . .
"Yugo!~" He leaps on me the moment I'm in the door, hugging me happily. Wait . . . he smells like . . . food . . .?
He steps back and smiles and I notice that he's in an apron, the beat- up and long suffering ragged blue apron we've had for years. I blink.
"I made us dinner," He informs me sweetly, grabbing my hand after I close the door and pulling me with him to the dining table. I blink perplexedly as I see the elaborate setting . . .
A lit candle sits in the center of the table, two table settings on either side of it (so that we'll be looking at each other through the whole meal . . .). The napkins and silverware are delicately placed, perfectly placed. There's a bowl of food for each of us already set in the exact center of the plates. Despite the fact that our kitchen ware is -anything- but spectacular, the table looks glorious . . . fit for any upscale restaurant!
He gazes up at me, blushing in the dim light. His copper eyes twinkle amber in the candle glimmer. ". . . What do you think?"
I smile widely, eyes misting. He went to all this trouble, just for me? "It's -wonderful-, Kenji!" I turn to him and hug him, mussing his hair affectionately. He smells sweet . . . so sweet . . .
I let go and look down at him, still smiling. "How'd you make this?"
Kenji looks down and to the side, smiling slightly, as if embarassed. "I . . . went out and bought chicken and shrimp. We already had rice . . . so it wasn't too hard to put it all in the wok and cook it."
I blink. ". . . We have a wok?"
He looks up at me shyly, smiling softly. ". . . I got us one," He smiles even more brightly at that revelation. "The only cookbook you had was 'Specialty Cooking for the Wok', and I've been saving up, so . . ."
He looks so sweet . . . He went through all the trouble.
My chastity snaps.
I reach out and cup his chin. He was smiling and looking at me before, but when I touch his face he stops smiling, looking up at me and merely pausing. His lips are parted and he looks a bit confused, cheeks turning a soft pink. ". . . Yugo?"
I lean forward, our lips so close I can feel his breath on mine as he gasps. I close my eyes and our lips brush gently . . .
I give him a quick kiss on the lips, so light I can't even be sure if I really kissed him.
I'm shocked at myself, suddenly mortified at my brashness, but I am a quick man. I pull away and smile at him, trying to make it seem as if it were just a friendly gesture rather than . . . anything else. Trying to cover-up before I ruin everything.
"Thank you, Kenji," I chirp thanks, gesturing to his seat. "Join me?"
He's still blushing, still staring at me, as if cautiously guessing at my intent here . . . but he chuckles softly, shaking off the wonder and confusion, and slides into his seat quietly. "I have soy sauce too, in case you want some."
I look at the bottle and raise my eyebrows.
He laughs. "Yeah, I bought some of that, too."
*
^^" I don't care if that was dirty, . . . they're not *really* brothers, remember?? And ya gotta' admit, the banana cursing was funny . . . P.S., you can't read the rest of the UtMOtS story on Fanfiction.net anymore due to the bann on NC-17 stories, so go to my Bloody Roar Yaoi Shrine ( ) or AdultFanFiction.net ( look in GamesBloody Roar and you'll find me)
*
I poke at the scrambled eggs with my fork curiously, watching the yellow, globular mass quiver at the metallic intrusion of the utensil, sitting like a lump in it's own off-yellow watery pool. The grease fairly oozes over the malformed mass of congealed yolk and white, giving the whole mountain of it a kind of sickly flourescent gleam in the kitchen lighting.
Ewww . . .
"Kenji," I hear Yugo scold teasingly as he uses a spatula to flip some more pancakes into his plate, turning to throw a sweet smile over his shoulder at me. "It's edible! Don't poke at it like it's a science experiment!"
I frown at him, trying to look like an upset puppy. Maybe if I make that face he'll decide not to make me eat it . . . He can always do it to -me-. "I don't think it's inedible! It's just . . ." I look back down at the yellowish heap on my plate, trying to find the correct words to describe it . . . some eloquent adjective or phrase . . .
". . . Weird looking."
Yugo snorts and walks to the table, bearing the heaping platter of pancakes. "Aww, at least try it . . .!" There's that puppy face . . . His golden eyes twinkle. ". . . For -me- . . .??"
I bite my bottom lip. I could never refuse that face . . . He knows it, too, even after the short time that we've been together.
I sigh and fork some of the sticky, shiny yellow mess into my mouth. I make a face at the strange, grease and eggy taste of it, but continue chewing. It'd be rude to not eat Yugo's cooking, wouldn't it? . . . Though it may just be the death of me . . .
He smiles at me as he finishes drowning his pancakes in dark, brown syrup, covering the almost ridiculously tall stack entirely with a coat of liquid dark. "Tell me what you think?"
I swallow, unhappy with the slick sticky feeling as it slides down my throat, like a heavy unhealthy mass working its way down into my belly. Oh dear god, it's so disgusting-! However . . . I watch Yugo's expectant expression . . .
I force a smile. "Yeah. It's not so bad . . ." I inwardly sigh. I'm a bad liar . . .
He reaches across the table and ruffles my hair, smiling warmly.
Warmly . . .
"Hey, I'm not gonna' make you eat a single bite if you don't want to, Kenji . . ." He informs me, as if I wasn't already certain he'd never force me to do anything I didn't like and as if I wasn't even more certain that just a moment ago I'd choked-down something horrible just to see him smile. He lifts the spatula and scoops up a pancake, sliding it into my plate, at the same time removing his other hand from my steel blue hair. "You can have this, or whatever else you'd like,"
I smile softly and nod, reaching for a banana and the jug of orange juice, and set up my breakfast plate. There . . . despite what's left of the deformed yellow heap of egg, my plate looks rather appetizing now. As I sip my orange juice and fork syrupy pancake into my mouth, my mind drifts.
It's been more than a year since Yugo found me. He told me later that the burning place was actually a Tylon laboratory being destroyed around me and that I was being held captive there for some reason . . . I can't remember myself and I suppose it's all largely assumption on Yugo's part, but I believe him. I trust his deduction. However, he doesn't know and cannot guess much more about my past than what he already has.
It's weird not remembering, but Yugo says my memory will return eventually, if I can just wait. I'm content to wait, here with Yugo by my side.
Here, I'm safe.
Warm and protected.
Protected by -him-.
Still . . . I don't feel quite right . . .
I feel like I'm forgetting something horrible. Something that lies sleeping, dormant in the depths of my mind.
Sometimes I start to remember. I'll get a sense of déjà vu when I pass by a building or I'll get a flash of a half-realized image or memory . . . I'll wake up from a nightmare late at night, in a cold sweat, with Yugo sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room.
I start to remember . . . but then I feel that I -shouldn't-. As if remembering will set in motion some horrible event . . .
What is this sense of dread that torments me? I hate it . . . It's like some dark, ghastly memory, fighting its way to the surface of my mind. Only, something's keeping it down.
I'm afraid that just wondering about it will move the metal seal that keeps my demons away . . .
No! I mustn't remember! I have to keep it buried inside me! I don't know what it is, but I know that I SHOULDN'T remember!
I'm happy now. Happy with this life that Yugo and I have made. I watch him eat his scrambled eggs quietly as he glances over the funnies section of the newspaper, and I have to smile.
I like this place. I like -him-. I like the life that we have built together in this tiny apartment.
No matter what, I don't want it to change. I don't want our happiness to escape us, and I want us to be together . . .
. . . Forever.
*
For the past fifteen months, I've lived with Kenji. I've watched happily as his silence turned to smiles, and every day he seems to grow more and more spirited. At first, he was absolutely quiet. Sort of robotic, even. The most he did was cling to me, coo questions to me and glance around curiously. He was so silent and timid then . . .
And at first, the dependence he had on me was cute: as if I had a little brother or a son of my own.
Then, as time passed . . . I started . . .
I remember I must have realized when I first had to show him how to bathe. He didn't know how himself (at first he would stare at me and lift his arms, as if he expected to be hosed-off), so I had to help him.
I only felt a little red-in-the-face from blush as I instructed him, scrubbed his back for him, talked him through the process of washing himself with the bar of Dove soap I provided. It's one of those things you never think you'd have to show a person . . .
At the time, I didn't think much of it. He came out properly cleaned and smelling nice, and I seemed unfazed by the whole experience.
However . . .
It didn't seem so innocent an event when I started having dreams about him. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, panting hotly after having fallen asleep on the couch late at night, with Kenji asleep in our bedroom. I'd have had a dream about soaping up his pale skin, watching the water cascade over his lithe form, kissing his soft lips, sliding my hands over the slick wet body. I'd wake up, and I'd be . . .
I couldn't stand it! How could I think of the boy like that? He was just a child!
After the dreams started, I had to really concentrate on not reacting when he hugged me or cooed at me. I just couldn't keep the memories of my dreams out of my head when he was near me. I seemed to go out of my way to make it hard for myself to sleep in the same room with him. I wish I could make even that little bit more in the way of cash, maybe get us a bigger apartment so he can have his own bedroom, but all of my excess is sapped for tuition and school supplies and everything else that Kenji's education demands. I want him to have his own bed and give us that distance, and yet all I wanna' do is wrap him up in my arms and hold him. Every time his coppery eyes glint at me, every time he brushes his long, pale fingers through his deep bluish hair . . . I feel myself swoon underneath the calm exterior.
I . . . can't help it.
As we sit together (as we always do), eating breakfast before he goes off to school . . . I can't stand that he chose a banana over an orange for today's side fruit. It's always one or the other, and nowadays it's always a torture . . .
True, if he'd chosen the orange, I'd occupy myself with watching the juice drip down his chin . . . but a banana! It's worse because it's so phallic . . . Because when he leaves I might be hard . . .
God dammit . . . I HATE my imagination . . .
He doesn't seem to be paying attention, lost in thought (As he often is. He's such an introspective boy . . . Sometimes it seems like so much is going on inside his head, I could never even hope to comprehend it all) as he un-peels the banana. I bite my lip, trying to appear calm as I divert my eyes and shovel more pancakes into my mouth, as if I can douse my dirty thoughts with soft pancake and syrup. My mental mantra starts up again . . .
_Don't look, don't look, don't look . . ._
I look as he opens his small, pretty mouth and slides it in, taking a bite off of the tip of the bananaI quickly avert my eyes, feeling a burning sensation light up behind them, feeling the rush of euphoria that told me I was definately turning red in the face. . .
Dammit, dammit, dammit . . .!
His coppery eyes seem truly distracted as he chews slowly, then I can't keep my eyes from watching his long pale throat contract slightly as he swallows.
. . . I'm such a pervert . . . I'm such a horrible bastard for just staring and thinking these things . . . Kenji's my only, my family, my everything . . . Why should my libido ruin it for us?
Suddenly, his copper eyes shoot wide open and he jerks around, looking frantically to the clock. I jump myself, startled by his sudden movements, almost falling out of my chair.
"OH MY GOD! I'M LATE!" He shrieks loudly, jumping up from the table and rushing off to our bedroom like a bolt.
I'm only alone for a moment before he races back into the kitchen, now with his school uniform jacket on. He races around the kitchen like a chicken with its head chopped off, eyes darting about desperately.
I sigh, smiling at him. ". . .Your school bag's on the couch, Kenji,"
He turns and throws his arms around my neck quickly, not giving a second thought to kissing me on my jaw line, right in front of my ear. It's just a peck of a kiss, but to a man starved for psysical affection it seems like so much more . . .
"Thanks, Yugo!" He chirps his gratitude, detaching from my neck and spinning on the heel of his sneaker, racing to get his bag and depart. "Bye! I'll see you after school . . . Have fun boxing today!"
Then, in a rush of black uniform and blue locks . . . he's gone.
And, just as I thought I would be, I'm shamefully aroused.
God damned banana . . .
*
I grunt softly as I lift a weight in my hand and pump it once, then the other. Realizing that I'm sweaty from the workout, I set down the weights and sigh, utterly exhausted.
From the very beginning, my diminutiveness by compare to Yugo has annoyed me. I was so much weaker, frailer . . . -girlier- than he was. Even though he was always good to me and the way his golden eyes glistened as they peered into mine always made me lose all feelings of inadequacy, the comparison was still painfully there.
So, it wasn't very long before I started exercising in order to gain the strength that I needed to close the gap between his masculinity and my own relative frailty.
My voice is still girly, and when I complained to Yugo about it, he said 'No it isn't, it's already changed by the sound of it!"
I'd frowned at that suggestion, and Yugohad smiled and, as always, ruffled my hair.
I like it when he does that . . .
I look at the clock, toweling myself of sweat idly.
6:05. Yugo should be home from his boxing match soon...
I put the weights back in their proper places and go to the bathroom, throwing my towel in the hamper and peeling my sweat-soaked clothes off. I'll take a shower before he comes home . . . I want to smell clean and fresh when he gets home, not reek of sweat and testosterone.
I chuckle softly. _However, Yugo'll be pretty sweaty and dirty himself . . . There's really no point in me being clean, but still . . . I want to look my best for Yugo when he comes home._
I step into the shower and turn on the hot water, but the thought of Yugo lingers... I feel tingly for a moment, and I feel my chest ache.
That same ache . . . It hasn't gone away since Yugo first found me. It's not a physical, painful ache . . . but I can't describe it otherwise. It's this feeling . . . like a soft, warm coil tightening in my chest; like a sun-hot flower suddenly blossoming. It's only ever happened when I thought of him, or looked into his eyes, or listened to him talk. I wonder about it a moment, this mysterious tingle-ache . . . It's so mysterious; one of the emotions that I haven't quite decoded yet. I close my eyes and step under the rushing water, imagining Yugo . . .
Yugo's smiling face as he enters our apartment, sweaty from the match and yet unmarred by bruises. He's such a good fighter; rarely does anyone even get one punch in on him! I think of the familiar evening: Yugo has cocoa or some other drink with me and we sit down to watch the TV together. He'll talk about the match or the practice or something else and I'll talk about school or going out or something else. Then, the evening will stretch on and we might do go out for dinner at a restaurant or he'll try his hand at home cooking (no matter how dread the results may be, the attempt in itself is sweet). Then, we always end it by going to bed.
Bed . . .
My heart's been swelling the whole time, but I suddenly feel a cold, pleasant chill up my back, even in the heat of the shower.
. . . When I was younger, we shared the same bed, and after I finally got my own, there were still nights that I'd crawl into bed with him to escape the nightmares . . .
. . . If only . . .
I suddenly shake my head at that last inclination, shocked by myself. I blush and make quick work of shampooing my hair and scrubbing myself.
I make a small noise as the memory rushes back to me. When Yugo told me how to wash myself . . .
I continue soaping myself, trying to ignore the memory. My hands draw the soap bar over my chest and I blush, wondering . . .
. . . Would Yugo touch me there? . . .
Then, my eyes shoot open and I frown, shaking my head vigorously, water flying from the damp tendrils and smashing against the shower walls. No! I shouldn't be thinking like that!!
Yugo . . . Yugo and I will live happily together . . . I don't want to ruin it by acting like a hormonal schoolgirl! We've built this beautiful world . . . Yugo has given me a chance at being human . . . I swear, I will not ruin it!
*
I stand outside the door to our apartment, scared to come in.
I know. Big old Yugo the Wolf, afraid? Must be pretty horrible . . .
But no. All that awaits me behind this door is Kenji . . .
-MY- Kenji . . .
I furrow my eyebrows and frown solemnly. I . . . I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep myself from doing anything stupid around Kenji . . . I'm starting to snap. Every waking moment is spent dwelling in thoughts of him, in my own self-imposed agony of love and lust. Every day, it's a certainty that I'll want to kiss him or hold him, just a little . . . but . . . but it's -wrong-! All this time, waiting and wanting him . . . and he's a -boy-. A -young- boy, at that!
I take a deep breath, clearing my mind . . . and sigh it out as I enter . . .
Kenji looks up from setting something down on the small dinner table, eyes seeming to light-up instantly as I enter. Kenji . . .
"Yugo!~" He leaps on me the moment I'm in the door, hugging me happily. Wait . . . he smells like . . . food . . .?
He steps back and smiles and I notice that he's in an apron, the beat- up and long suffering ragged blue apron we've had for years. I blink.
"I made us dinner," He informs me sweetly, grabbing my hand after I close the door and pulling me with him to the dining table. I blink perplexedly as I see the elaborate setting . . .
A lit candle sits in the center of the table, two table settings on either side of it (so that we'll be looking at each other through the whole meal . . .). The napkins and silverware are delicately placed, perfectly placed. There's a bowl of food for each of us already set in the exact center of the plates. Despite the fact that our kitchen ware is -anything- but spectacular, the table looks glorious . . . fit for any upscale restaurant!
He gazes up at me, blushing in the dim light. His copper eyes twinkle amber in the candle glimmer. ". . . What do you think?"
I smile widely, eyes misting. He went to all this trouble, just for me? "It's -wonderful-, Kenji!" I turn to him and hug him, mussing his hair affectionately. He smells sweet . . . so sweet . . .
I let go and look down at him, still smiling. "How'd you make this?"
Kenji looks down and to the side, smiling slightly, as if embarassed. "I . . . went out and bought chicken and shrimp. We already had rice . . . so it wasn't too hard to put it all in the wok and cook it."
I blink. ". . . We have a wok?"
He looks up at me shyly, smiling softly. ". . . I got us one," He smiles even more brightly at that revelation. "The only cookbook you had was 'Specialty Cooking for the Wok', and I've been saving up, so . . ."
He looks so sweet . . . He went through all the trouble.
My chastity snaps.
I reach out and cup his chin. He was smiling and looking at me before, but when I touch his face he stops smiling, looking up at me and merely pausing. His lips are parted and he looks a bit confused, cheeks turning a soft pink. ". . . Yugo?"
I lean forward, our lips so close I can feel his breath on mine as he gasps. I close my eyes and our lips brush gently . . .
I give him a quick kiss on the lips, so light I can't even be sure if I really kissed him.
I'm shocked at myself, suddenly mortified at my brashness, but I am a quick man. I pull away and smile at him, trying to make it seem as if it were just a friendly gesture rather than . . . anything else. Trying to cover-up before I ruin everything.
"Thank you, Kenji," I chirp thanks, gesturing to his seat. "Join me?"
He's still blushing, still staring at me, as if cautiously guessing at my intent here . . . but he chuckles softly, shaking off the wonder and confusion, and slides into his seat quietly. "I have soy sauce too, in case you want some."
I look at the bottle and raise my eyebrows.
He laughs. "Yeah, I bought some of that, too."
*
^^" I don't care if that was dirty, . . . they're not *really* brothers, remember?? And ya gotta' admit, the banana cursing was funny . . . P.S., you can't read the rest of the UtMOtS story on Fanfiction.net anymore due to the bann on NC-17 stories, so go to my Bloody Roar Yaoi Shrine ( ) or AdultFanFiction.net ( look in GamesBloody Roar and you'll find me)