Yes, it's short. But I had an evil physics project. Sigh.
Taka
slept late and slept badly, his dreams echoing with the cries of children. By
the time he woke up, Suboshi had left. He let out a quick breath of relief.
Hopefully all mornings would work out this well. The bed was made; everything
had been put away. Actually, Taka considered, if the freshman weren't Suboshi
he might have made a good roommate. Gone most of the time and neat, he fit the
top two qualifications. Taka thought about going to see Miaka. She'd have a lot
to do today: eating breakfast, getting a schedule, having a snack, finding her
classes, eating lunch. Taka laughed aloud. The student union would be the best
place to find her, if he wanted to show her around before she had to eat again.
Taka was feeling tired and happy when he returned to
his room that evening. Tired from running all over campus; happy because that's
how Miaka always made him feel. He nearly forgot to dread returning to his
roommate lost in the faint euphoria of her love. Maybe he could tell Todd that
Suboshi had hit on him; that might get him a new roommate. Or a lecture on
tolerance. As he approached his room, he noticed a strange sound. The sweet,
mournful notes of a flute hovered uncertainly outside the door. Taka opened the
door and stood in the doorway, watching his roommate. With his eyes closed and
the flute at his lips, he would have thought it was Amiboshi. Suboshi finished
the song, opened his eyes, and nearly jumped out of his skin.
"You play well." Taka didn't have
to make an effort to be nice; he had genuinely been impressed with the music.
"I didn't know you played."
"I took lessons when I was younger,
but I never was any good." Taka watched Suboshi hurriedly dismantle the flute
and return it to its case. He searched for something to say.
"You must really love it." Suboshi jerked his head up to look at Taka,
his eyes wide with pain.
"I hate it. The sound of a flute
makes me feel physically ill." Taka stared at him.
"Then why do you play it?" His
mouth twisted into a cruel mockery of a smile.
"Because I love it. Why else?" He
tucked the case under his bed. Hesitantly, he added, "You've heard me play
before."
"Have I?" Taka hadn't wanted to
think about it, but he knew he had. He had heard the flute play another sad
song the day he'd opened the door to his house to find nothing more than
battered flesh and spilled blood. The memory made his stomach turn. That sick,
cruel, evil little boy… Taka glared as Suboshi pulled his knees up to his chest
and wrapped his arms around them, his right pointer finger scratching absently
at his left arm.
"You have." Suboshi lowered his
eyes until they could focus on a spot just in front of Taka's left shoe.
"Aren't you going to the party? The one the RA mentioned?"
"I wasn't." Taka sat down at his
desk, proclaiming the room his. He watched Suboshi rise and walk to the door.
"Then…I guess I should." He placed
his left hand on the doorknob, his right clamped so tightly around the left
wrist that both hands had lost all color. Taking a quick breath, he left the
room, leaving Taka to his peace.
