There were days when Ken really appreciated his work in the flower
shop. Some days, just some days, the dangers isolation, woes, and, last
but not least, the intense cognitive dissonance of being an assassin just
seemed to melt away after a few hours of gardening and flower arranging.
It was easy to get lost in his own disguise and briefly believe that he
truly had a normal life. It was those few, all too brief hours of
contentedness than Ken cherished more than anything. Unfortunately, today
was not one of those relaxing days. Today, he was working with Omi.
Alone.
Ken bit his lip as he stole a glance at the younger boy. Omi was humming cheerily to himself, fiddling happily with a pot of azaleas. As usual, Omi's shorts were too short and his summer vest was revealing a tawny band of skin all the way around his abdomen. Omi caught Ken's gaze (he always caught Ken's gaze) and smiled. Ken looked away.
There was a series of loud thuds as the pack of girls who always swarmed through the flower shop crushed against the front picture window. There must have been two dozen of them out on the street, keeping a hormonal vigil over the two young men even after the store was closed. That's not without its creepy side, Ken though to himself. He knew there were rumors. Lots of rumors. And notebooks full of stories circulating at the local high school. Not to mention the drawings. And the photoshopped pictures. Ken was pretty sure he'd heard about at least one poem too. And who could possibly forget the questionably animated Flash! cartoon on that one website?
It was times like this when Ken really wished the flower shop had blinds, preferably metal ones. He could feel all the eyes on him and it gave him goosebumps. It's like all those girls expected them to put on some sort of show. He chanced another look at Omi, only to find him cheerfully singing a Morning Musume song to himself and shaking his ass. Before that image had even processed fully, Ken winced. The nanosecond of partial attention he had paid to Omi's wiggling hindquarters sparked a roar of chatter from the crowd outside. Somehow Ken's well-trained ears picked out "See? I told you so" out of the din.
That was the last straw. Ken stood the his fists clinched, trying to work up the nerve to do what he needed to do. It was time to have the talk with Omi. The talk Ken had been dreading for weeks now. Even now he didn't really feel like he was ready for it, but it needed to be done. There were some things he needed to get out in the open. It was finally time to be honest with his younger colleague about the way he felt about him. The tiny sliver of time as he turned to face Omi was the most excruciating thing Ken could remember. He still wasn't sure he was going to be able to say his peace without chickening out.
"Omi?" Ken began, clearing his throat. "Will you, uh.step into the back of the store with me? There's some stuff we need to talk about."
Omi looked at him quizzically, then smiled and nodded, trotting off to the back without so much as interrupting his song. He was still shaking his ass. Ken's first step behind him was met with a thundering roar of applause. He shook his head in disgust and followed Omi to the back. Sometimes he wondered why those girls didn't just go to the zoo and watch the monkeys hump.
**** "Okay Ken, what do you need to talk to me about?" Omi asked, his young voice crisp and vivacious.
"I just.I have some things I need to say to you." Ken could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. Even though he'd rehearsed this speech, this whole scene, over and over again in his mind, he couldn't believe he was finally about to say it to person who was meant to hear it.
"What about?" Omi's voice was shaky. By this point Ken was certain the younger boy knew something was up.
"Well, it's just.well, I'm sure you know what the girls say about us." Ken began shakily.
"Yeah," chimed Omi, smiling. "They think we're, er, what to girls call cute guys? Hotties?"
"No, no. I mean what they say about you and me specifically."
Ken suddenly became aware that he was not only staring at his feet, but blushing too.
"Actually they never really talk to me about anything specific when it comes to you guys." Omi crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling as if in thought.
Ken was getting a more than a little frustrated at this point. Omi's naivety wasn't making this any easier. He was hoping not to have to spell this out for him.
"No Omi, I mean they talk about you and I doing.things..together. Yohji and Aya too. Often in small groups, sometimes all at once."
Omi gave him a genuinely shocked look.
"How do they know about the bowling team!?"
Get out your tablets and your #2 pencils boys and girls, Ken thought bitterly, it's time for spelling.
"Man-humping, Omi, man-humping!" As those words forced their way past his lips, something in Ken broke, and he exploded, complete with wild gesticulations. "Mutual dudity! Sausage fests! Spot the submarine! Lightsaber duels with Oh-big-one Kenobi!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Omi had retreated a few steps in the wake of Ken's conniption fit.
Ken decided to use nice small words this time.
"They. Think. We're. Gay."
"But, but, but why?" Omi blundered, his mouth agape.
"Probably because we're four grown men who live and work together in a flower shop," snarled Ken. "That doesn't exactly exude machismo."
"Neither does actually using the word 'machismo'."
Ken snatched Omi up by the collar, giving him a shake for good measure.
"Don't make jokes, man. You're part of the problem here."
Omi squirmed until Ken set him back down. He tried to look defiant but still came across as completely perplexed.
"How am I making people think we're gay.?"
"Okay, first of all, I'm your friend. You understand?" Ken and Omi nodded back at forth. "It's just. Well, I wear jeans and a t-shirt, all the time. Aya wears jeans and a t-shirt. Yohji wears.well, Yohji wears what Yohji wears. You.."
"I what?"
".look like a queer elf."
Omi blinked.
"You wear hot pants and a little leather vest. And not just every once in a while. You dress like this every single day. Where did you even get that many sets of those clothes?"
"There was a sale."
"You didn't used to dress like that," Ken continued, ignoring him. "You used to actually wear shirts sometimes. Then one day it's like you woke up and decided to pioneer the 'renaissance girly-man' style of dress. Did somebody tell you it was cool or something?"
"Well some of the girls."
"And for God's sake, if you're gonna' sing while we're working, don't sing 'Girl's Psychology'. I don't mind you're singing, I just hate hearing that song for hours on end. And don't shake your ass. Please. Hell, maybe you could even try to, I don't, grow some stubble so you don't look like you're eight. Maybe that's part of it too."
"So what you're saying," Omi began slowly. "is that my vest and short shorts get to you?"
"Yeah, you could say that." Ken agreed.
"And you notice singing even when we're working in a crowded store?" Omi spoke slowly, and Ken could tell there were gears turning in his head.
"I do, but like I said, I don't mind the singing, just the songs."
"And on those rare instances when I decided its time to shake some tail, it really has you bothered?"
"Jesus, yes. It drives me crazy."
"You also put a lot of thought into stories about you and I doing, well, naughty stuff. Enough thought that you felt you had to talk to me about it."
"It's something that's been on my mind for a while." Ken sighed. "It just seemed like something we should get out in the open."
Omi nodded to himself.
"Sounds like you have some sort of crush on me or something."
Had anyone been listening closely enough, they could have heard Ken's soul scream. Sadly, Omi had already walked back into the front of the store, and Ken himself was lost in a catatonic stupor of sorts spawned of a potent combination of abject rage and fear for his sexuality, so the once- in-a-lifetime screaming soul fell upon deaf ears.
"Hey Ken!" Omi called back from the front room.
Ken barely noticed his own reply.
"I'm locking my door at night from now on, so don't get any ideas." Omi laughed.
Nope, it definitely wasn't one of those relaxing days.
Ken bit his lip as he stole a glance at the younger boy. Omi was humming cheerily to himself, fiddling happily with a pot of azaleas. As usual, Omi's shorts were too short and his summer vest was revealing a tawny band of skin all the way around his abdomen. Omi caught Ken's gaze (he always caught Ken's gaze) and smiled. Ken looked away.
There was a series of loud thuds as the pack of girls who always swarmed through the flower shop crushed against the front picture window. There must have been two dozen of them out on the street, keeping a hormonal vigil over the two young men even after the store was closed. That's not without its creepy side, Ken though to himself. He knew there were rumors. Lots of rumors. And notebooks full of stories circulating at the local high school. Not to mention the drawings. And the photoshopped pictures. Ken was pretty sure he'd heard about at least one poem too. And who could possibly forget the questionably animated Flash! cartoon on that one website?
It was times like this when Ken really wished the flower shop had blinds, preferably metal ones. He could feel all the eyes on him and it gave him goosebumps. It's like all those girls expected them to put on some sort of show. He chanced another look at Omi, only to find him cheerfully singing a Morning Musume song to himself and shaking his ass. Before that image had even processed fully, Ken winced. The nanosecond of partial attention he had paid to Omi's wiggling hindquarters sparked a roar of chatter from the crowd outside. Somehow Ken's well-trained ears picked out "See? I told you so" out of the din.
That was the last straw. Ken stood the his fists clinched, trying to work up the nerve to do what he needed to do. It was time to have the talk with Omi. The talk Ken had been dreading for weeks now. Even now he didn't really feel like he was ready for it, but it needed to be done. There were some things he needed to get out in the open. It was finally time to be honest with his younger colleague about the way he felt about him. The tiny sliver of time as he turned to face Omi was the most excruciating thing Ken could remember. He still wasn't sure he was going to be able to say his peace without chickening out.
"Omi?" Ken began, clearing his throat. "Will you, uh.step into the back of the store with me? There's some stuff we need to talk about."
Omi looked at him quizzically, then smiled and nodded, trotting off to the back without so much as interrupting his song. He was still shaking his ass. Ken's first step behind him was met with a thundering roar of applause. He shook his head in disgust and followed Omi to the back. Sometimes he wondered why those girls didn't just go to the zoo and watch the monkeys hump.
**** "Okay Ken, what do you need to talk to me about?" Omi asked, his young voice crisp and vivacious.
"I just.I have some things I need to say to you." Ken could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. Even though he'd rehearsed this speech, this whole scene, over and over again in his mind, he couldn't believe he was finally about to say it to person who was meant to hear it.
"What about?" Omi's voice was shaky. By this point Ken was certain the younger boy knew something was up.
"Well, it's just.well, I'm sure you know what the girls say about us." Ken began shakily.
"Yeah," chimed Omi, smiling. "They think we're, er, what to girls call cute guys? Hotties?"
"No, no. I mean what they say about you and me specifically."
Ken suddenly became aware that he was not only staring at his feet, but blushing too.
"Actually they never really talk to me about anything specific when it comes to you guys." Omi crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling as if in thought.
Ken was getting a more than a little frustrated at this point. Omi's naivety wasn't making this any easier. He was hoping not to have to spell this out for him.
"No Omi, I mean they talk about you and I doing.things..together. Yohji and Aya too. Often in small groups, sometimes all at once."
Omi gave him a genuinely shocked look.
"How do they know about the bowling team!?"
Get out your tablets and your #2 pencils boys and girls, Ken thought bitterly, it's time for spelling.
"Man-humping, Omi, man-humping!" As those words forced their way past his lips, something in Ken broke, and he exploded, complete with wild gesticulations. "Mutual dudity! Sausage fests! Spot the submarine! Lightsaber duels with Oh-big-one Kenobi!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Omi had retreated a few steps in the wake of Ken's conniption fit.
Ken decided to use nice small words this time.
"They. Think. We're. Gay."
"But, but, but why?" Omi blundered, his mouth agape.
"Probably because we're four grown men who live and work together in a flower shop," snarled Ken. "That doesn't exactly exude machismo."
"Neither does actually using the word 'machismo'."
Ken snatched Omi up by the collar, giving him a shake for good measure.
"Don't make jokes, man. You're part of the problem here."
Omi squirmed until Ken set him back down. He tried to look defiant but still came across as completely perplexed.
"How am I making people think we're gay.?"
"Okay, first of all, I'm your friend. You understand?" Ken and Omi nodded back at forth. "It's just. Well, I wear jeans and a t-shirt, all the time. Aya wears jeans and a t-shirt. Yohji wears.well, Yohji wears what Yohji wears. You.."
"I what?"
".look like a queer elf."
Omi blinked.
"You wear hot pants and a little leather vest. And not just every once in a while. You dress like this every single day. Where did you even get that many sets of those clothes?"
"There was a sale."
"You didn't used to dress like that," Ken continued, ignoring him. "You used to actually wear shirts sometimes. Then one day it's like you woke up and decided to pioneer the 'renaissance girly-man' style of dress. Did somebody tell you it was cool or something?"
"Well some of the girls."
"And for God's sake, if you're gonna' sing while we're working, don't sing 'Girl's Psychology'. I don't mind you're singing, I just hate hearing that song for hours on end. And don't shake your ass. Please. Hell, maybe you could even try to, I don't, grow some stubble so you don't look like you're eight. Maybe that's part of it too."
"So what you're saying," Omi began slowly. "is that my vest and short shorts get to you?"
"Yeah, you could say that." Ken agreed.
"And you notice singing even when we're working in a crowded store?" Omi spoke slowly, and Ken could tell there were gears turning in his head.
"I do, but like I said, I don't mind the singing, just the songs."
"And on those rare instances when I decided its time to shake some tail, it really has you bothered?"
"Jesus, yes. It drives me crazy."
"You also put a lot of thought into stories about you and I doing, well, naughty stuff. Enough thought that you felt you had to talk to me about it."
"It's something that's been on my mind for a while." Ken sighed. "It just seemed like something we should get out in the open."
Omi nodded to himself.
"Sounds like you have some sort of crush on me or something."
Had anyone been listening closely enough, they could have heard Ken's soul scream. Sadly, Omi had already walked back into the front of the store, and Ken himself was lost in a catatonic stupor of sorts spawned of a potent combination of abject rage and fear for his sexuality, so the once- in-a-lifetime screaming soul fell upon deaf ears.
"Hey Ken!" Omi called back from the front room.
Ken barely noticed his own reply.
"I'm locking my door at night from now on, so don't get any ideas." Omi laughed.
Nope, it definitely wasn't one of those relaxing days.