Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's as simple as that.
A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who left reviews. I hope this next chapter is what you hoped. I didn't really have a plan because I'm really disorganized, but because so many people wanted another chapter I tried to formulate one. Hope this works ::crosses fingers::
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God I look hot.
And I'm not just saying that either! . . .These clothes Youji gave me definitely help me play the part. I just hope that no one gets the wrong idea just because I'm wearing these tight leather pants. I'm not a slut. But what luck that we were the same size! Now that I think of it, Omi would look really good in leather pants. Ahh! No! Not thinking about Omi in that way! That's the reason I'm going in the first place! . . . But I'm actually a little nervous. I have a feeling the club Youji picked out isn't the kind I'm used to going to.
. . . I can tell by the shirt he gave me to wear. Yick. It's even making the back of my chair look like a slut . . . okay, that didn't sound right. But seriously! I'm not wearing a black mesh shirt that practically reveals everything, and doesn't even come all the way down to the pants line. I tried it on, and THAT made me nervous.
Why the hell does Youji even have a shirt like that? Okay, you know what? Spare me.
I know that I don't usually go to clubs, but there are actually a couple good reasons I agreed to this. Number one: Forget about Omi, so that I don't go completely insane before this weekend is over. Number two: Show off these totally hot pants to as many people as I possibly can.
"Hey there, sexy," Youji waltzed in, grinning, "Why don't you try on the shirt?"
"I did."
"And?"
"It makes me look like a slut." I scowled.
"Ah, Kenken," Youji sighed, leaning against the wall, "Everyone looks like that where we're going."
"Well! Then I don't want to go!"
"I bet it looks really good on you. . ." He teased, "Why don't you try it on again?"
I sighed, "I guess that wouldn't hurt." So I put it on. Again. It looked the same to me. Youji whistled, and I turned sharply.
"You're wearing that, Kenken. It looks too damn good for you not to." The flattery made me blush. Youji saw that and smiled as he turned from the room, "Come on, hurry up. Aya and Omi should be waiting for us downstairs."
"Wait! . . . Omi? Aya?. . . Just hold on there a minute!" I stopped Youji from leaving.
"Oh, yeah. I hope you don't mind," Youji smirked, "I thought we'd make this a group activity. Aya seemed a little less than enthusiastic, but he agreed to come along."
"What about Omi? He's coming too?!" Youji suppressed a grin as he nodded.
Shit!! I'm supposed to be forgetting about Omi, not going on a date with him!!! Okay, so we're not technically going on a date . . . which would actually be nice but . . . NO KEN! FOCUS!! Omi is your FRIEND!!
. . . I know my feelings for him can't be helped, but our relationship can never be anything more than friends. My feelings are never going to go away, as Youji told me, and he would know. He's been holding onto love for more than any of us. And his remedy is just as he said . . . drinking, dancing, and getting laid. Somehow, I don't think that's worked very well for him, and so I have this eerie feeling it won't work for me either if Omi is the person I'm drinking, dancing and getting laid wi-WAIT! ARGH. That's not right at all. I'm just going clubbing with him. No big deal. I'm just . . .
Well, shit.
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Yep. That's definitely Aya giving me a 'look'. No, not the 'Aya-ice-glare- of-death' look, the 'hey-Ken-those-pants-are-tiiight' look. I'm scared. Heeeeelp meeeee.
And, yes, my spirits are a little better ever since Youji and I went downstairs, because Aya said that Omi had somewhere to go and would be meeting up with us later.
I so relieved. Man, I was really getting freaked-out back there, but I'm fine now.
Mmm . . . but you know, in some twisted way I feel a little worse because I know it's because of me. I acted like a complete idiot earlier. It's not a surprise that Omi wouldn't want to come so long as I'm coming.
Dinner was especially quiet without Omi's laughter. He finished quickly, said something briefly about the pancakes being delicious with a strained smile, and then just . . . disappeared. I'm really worried about him. I'm afraid that it's my fault. It's just that whenever he's sad I feel like it's my job to wipe that frown away. . . like I should just run up and put my arms around him, smiling as he's crying; telling him that it will all be okay. That would feel so right. And yet. . .
It's eating away at me. I can almost feel his lips on mine; almost feel my fingers damp from wiping his tears and hair from his eyes. But I feel so awful for thinking these things. I have no right. . . no reason to look at Omi in that way. I know that I want to protect him. But how can I protect him if I can't even protect him from myself?
Hopefully I can meet a nice guy and forget about Omi before we meet up with him later. I have time, right?
I quickly took off my goggles and helmet, clutching my leather jacket closer to my mesh shirt, and got off my motorcycle, parking it in back next to Aya's car. I thought I'd take my bike jus' to give those two a little privacy, you know? Well, if you didn't know, then I guess you know now.
Now that I think of it, it's taking them a while to get out of the car. . . hmmm. . . Okay, never mind, they're getting out now. Aww. Youji's blushing. That's so cute. I'll make a note to ask him about that later.
"So, Ken? You're taking that jacket off at some point, I hope. . ." Youji called out as I walked over to meet them.
"I'll think about it."
"The entrance is over here. You ready?" he pointed to the alley by the side of the street with a wooden sign hanging above it. I nodded.
Walking in was something else. It was crazy. Youji was right about the mesh shirt. I would still blend in quite nicely if I took off my jacket. Too bad that's not happening anytime soon. Oh, crap. Where are Youji and Aya? I lost them already. On second thought . . . they probably lost me. . . on purpose.
Oh, well. I guess I'll head over to the bar. Youji's bound to turn up there sooner or later.
"Ah! Another customer!" the girl server came over as I sat and winked, "What can I get for you?"
"mm. . . I really shouldn't have anything. I've got a long night ahead of me." I answered, propping an elbow on the table and the adjoining hand on my head.
"Is that so?" She said, smiling as he cleaned a glass absent-mindedly, "Ah. I suppose it's just as well. I mean, one too many and you'll fall asleep and wake up with twenty dollars in your underwear," she laughed openly, "Of course that only happened to me once."
I chuckled nervously. I can't help it, "It's strange. You sure know how to cheer a guy up."
"Hey, it comes with the job description." She waited a minute before she raised her eyebrows, gazing down at me with a mock pout, "So what's eating you?"
"Oh, not much," I sighed, thinking about that last look Omi flashed me at dinner. He was so sad. I cringed. It's my fault, "Just friend trouble."
"Ah, really? So it's not some pretty girl who's got you so down?" She took a closer look at my face, shrugging before waving around a cleaning cloth, "I could have sworn that's the look of heartache. I guess I'm getting rusty."
"Yeah. . ." I decided not to say anything. I'm not in love with him. Okay, so I might be thinking a little about him, but it's just trouble between friends. I'm worried about him and his. . . mysterious disappearances, his distance from all of Weiss for these past few months. He's been the same, but. . . absent. It's just not normal to be home without the constant tapping of keys and clicking of the mouse from the basement.
It was then that I felt eyes on me, and looked up to see the lady staring down at me in sympathy.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your evening," I fingered the design on the corners of the counter.
"It's Yuriko," she smiled, "And you haven't ruined anything. I just wish you wouldn't act so sad. Granted, I haven't been at this job very long, but I now serve about fifty customers every night, and you are the sourest sober person I have ever seen."
"Yeah, I know," I sighed, "I should probably go dance."
I looked up with surprise to the defiant 'clunk' of the last glass on the counter.
"That's hardly enthusiastic enough. At least -look- like you're having fun!" She cringed, throwing her hands up into the air, as if to say that I was hopeless. I would have to agree. It surprised me when she reached for her coat, "Well, it's been a pleasure, Mr. . ."
"Ken."
"It's been a pleasure, Ken," she finished cleaning the counter with a quick wipe of a rag, ". . . but it just so happens my shift's over."
I looked up at her in acknowledgement, and she heaved a fantastic sigh.
"You are so cute," Yuriko looked at me in longing, "I hope that girl you're thinking about knows just how lucky she is."
"I told you, I'm not. . ."
". . . in love?" She finished my sentence, leaving me stunned as she grabbed her coat from underneath the counter and handed the ropes over to the next shift, "That's what they all say."
I'm trying to think of something to say, but the words just won't come out. She's already gone. She flashed me one last smile before she left. That woman really would have danced with me. . . I should have asked her . . . but I didn't. Why? Well, I guess it's really beginning to sink in. Because . . . well, it scares me, but she's right. I, Hidaka Ken, am in love.
God, that sounds odd. I don't think this has ever happened before. I don't know what I was waiting for to actually realize it. . . Maybe it was a bunch of cherry blossoms or roses in the background like in shoujo manga.
It's definitely the most blatantly obvious things that miss me entirely. It feels so right, and so wrong, but maybe that's what love is. I'm in love! Not only am I in love, but I am in love with my best friend. And you know what? I accept that. . .
Then why the hell am I in this club?
This is just another measure of my stupidity. Yep. I'm just doomed to be an idiot. An idiot in a mesh shirt. . . thank God I have a jacket on.
Wait. . . what is that music?
I turned around, attracted by the familiar song. I know this is one of Omi's favorites. It's not really a club song, but this singer's rendition makes it really easy to dance to. Omi should be here. He really loves this song.
I squinted into the crowd far off to see where the singer was singing his heart out. My heart skipped a beat.
Wow. I can't even see that far, but he's . . . really cute. God, am I blushing? Maybe I can actually get over Omi after all. Just the way that he held the mike; and the shine of the spotlight against his forehead. He twisted the wire around his left hand and walked across the stage, and I found myself freezing like an obsessed fangirl. That is scary. I never really believed in love at first sight, but maybe this is what they mean.
I pushed my way through the crowd of dancers and screamers; people who were clapping their hands to the music. Eventually, and after a great deal of maneuvering, I made it to about ten feet from the stage. It looks like I have some competition. Everyone seems to want to touch his hand or get up there on stage with him. . .
. . . You know, it could just be me, but that guy looks really like Omi . . . with the exception of that belt choker necklace, the tight silver pants, loose black tank. . . and this is one of Omi's favorite songs.
I know Omi likes to sing, but that's still not enough evidence to go on. I mean, there was that one time we were on a mission and he was on watch while I was going to execute the assassination. We always keep in touch through our headsets, and I remember he was humming to himself, but I don't think he knew that I heard, because a few minutes later he continued talking to me as if nothing had happened. The truth is I found it sort of calming.
. . . And of course there was that other time I caught him singing in the shower. That was an accident! No I'm not a perv! I thought it was my turn to take a shower, so I just walked in. I don't think he heard the door open, but I admit I stood in the doorway a good five minutes listening. NOT WATCHING! Listening. Okay. . . so maybe I was watching a little. . .
Geez.
I looked again at the singer on the stage, shifting positions to get a better view through the crowd. That's really Omi up there.
I froze. Wait. So that's why he was avoiding us? He said he'd meet up with us later because he was singing! Yay! It's not my fault! Well, at least his disappearances aren't my fault, but what about everything else?
I shoved the nearest, tallest person I could find in front of me, who of course immediately moved so I was in sightline again. Must get away . . . can't jeopardize our friendship. Must. . .
Shit. He's looking straight at me.
'Nonono, Omi' I told myself, unable to tear my eyes away from the boy on stage who seemed to have temporarily been frozen in time, 'the song's still playing! Sing the song, damnnit.'
"K- ken- kun?" My name rang through the microphones in an echo that baffled the entire club. And of course since Omi was looking at me, a good number of people were as well. The only people who seemed unmoved by this occurrence were the musicians themselves who kept playing without a care in the world, and thank God, too. I don't think I could stand the embarrassment if the entire place had their eyes on me.
Suddenly Omi's bright blue eyes perked up as he began to sing again, his smile growing as he motioned for me to come closer to the stage. Why? I have no clue.
Don't tell me he expects me to go up there with him. . . I backed away, ready to make a run for it, but put my heel down defiantly as I heard a voice from the back of the noisy club shout above the others. It appears our meeting had not gone unnoticed.
"Whoo! You go Ken! Knock 'em dead!" Youji grinned and waved at me from across the club with his arm slung around Aya's shoulder. Aya looked less than enthusiastic, but doesn't he always?
And then in some strange fit of madness, or perhaps it was just the sparkle in Omi's eyes, that despite the fact that we were best friends, I advanced to the stage. Omi grinned, and let out his hand. I took it, and of course, my foot slipped on the edge of the stage and sent me tumbling into the crowd.
I came up cursing and rubbing my head, which hurt worse than hell. Great. Just great. I get a chance to dance with Omi and I can't do anything better than fall flat on my face. All of these thoughts were remedied, of course, by the laughter in Omi's words as I looked up at him. It wasn't actual laughing, of course, but by the tears in his eyes and that unbearably cute expression, I could tell he was trying terribly hard not to crack-up.
This is embarrassing. And yet . . . strangely satisfying; but I suppose if you're going to be a clutz, you might as well do it right. Then again, I couldn't help but glance back and twitch in annoyance at Youji who isn't quite so conservative with his emotions, and happened to be laughing his ass off. Even Aya is smirking. That hurts.
I need to be invisible.
Better yet, I need some fresh air.
Glancing once more back at the crowd, which seemed to have forgotten me, and Omi, who seemed to be too involved in the music to notice me slinking back, I headed for the door.
It's really refreshing to step into crisp air when you've just been in a hot, sticky room full of people with body heat that really doesn't help the situation. Not to mention the sudden quiet, although traces of the bass guitar still hung in the air, it's still refreshing to feel the cold air that washes over you and almost through you; cleaning out cobwebs and recent memories that you wish could be forgotten.
I only wish it were that easy.
I just made a complete idiot out of myself in front of Omi. His laughter is comforting, but it stings at the same time. I looked back at the door once more and nearly jumped when I saw Omi emerge from it.
"Ken-kun!" He ran up to me, worried, "Why are you going? What's wrong?" His voice cracked from the hoarseness of singing.
"Omi? Aren't you singing?" I asked, just as surprised, if not more, than he was.
"Yes, but I'm done for tonight. That was the last song. I'm so sorry you fell, I should have held onto your hand more tightly," Omi frowned.
"No, it wasn't your fault," I smiled, "Hey, cheer up! I thought I'd end your performance with a big bang, you know. . .? But that was a little more literal that was necessary," I laughed lightly.
"Come on, then," he surprised me by grabbing my hand, "I'm not letting go this time!"
I looked into his eyes, and for once saw the friend that I had grown to love and held his hand tightly back. He felt the squeeze on his smaller hand and smiled; his eyes never leaving mine, before both of us headed back into the club.
Everything was a blur as the music took me into a trance. I realized after a few minutes had passed that the figure I was dancing with was no mirage, it was Omi. I'm so happy that he wants me to have a good time so he's dancing with me to help me get more comfortable, but he has no clue what it's doing to me.
This is seriously driving me insane. Why is he getting so close?
I backed away a little, and Omi just inched closer until our noses were just a foot apart. Omi must see me as a really good friend if he's willing to dance like this with me, but he has no idea how much I'm sweating. Gods, it's so hot dancing, and the fact that the person I'm dancing with is making me nervous just makes me sweat even more. I seriously need to take off my jacket, but if I do that, then everyone will see that mesh shirt. This includes Omi. I cannot let him see that. It's Youji's. . . it's humiliating.
But then again, Youji did say it looked 'damned good'. Aw, what the hell. . . I then slipped the jacket off my arms and tied it around my waist. It was probably just the lighting but I thought I saw Omi's cheeks flush red for just a second. I can't stop looking at him. He's just so incredibly cute dancing there, and his outfit is almost more than I can handle.
Just as if he were dancing on stage, I felt people watching us, jealous of me for being with him. I tried to step away to show that we really weren't together, but Omi kept coming closer and closer with each dance step, until I gave in and let him wrap his arms around my neck . . . which I realized immediately was a terrible idea. My stomach tightened.
Think happy thoughts . . . think happy thoughts. . . I stared up at the ceiling, trying to forget that my best friend just wrapped his arms around me. . . happy thoughts. . . happy thoughts. . . happy thoughts about me and Omi . . . no!. . . more happy thoughts. . .
Refocusing my view on Omi from the ceiling once more, I saw a man behind him with blood red hair. He was smirking menacingly, and tapped the unsuspecting Omi on the shoulder. I felt my small friend jolt as he quickly removed his arms from around my neck.
"May I cut in?" The red-haired man said, though I could only read his lips through the obnoxious music blasting through the place. Wait. This guy wasn't asking me to leave so he could dance with Omi. . . he was asking Omi to leave so he could dance with me! No way!
Omi looked confused as I was suddenly swept away into the crowd. Let me assure you, I was no more surprised then he was. Then, the red-haired man started reaching around my waist, bringing me closer . . . well, needless to say I pushed away and ran for the crowd where I had lost Omi before I was grabbed by a hand from behind.
"Where do you think you're going, gorgeous?" The man's red sunglasses on top of his head reflected the light, sending a stream of it into my eyes, causing me to withdraw my hand and shield my eyes upon instinct.
"Away from you," I answered bitterly.
"Hmm. . . I always like a good challenge. Especially with such a tasty mind like yours," The redhead smirked and I was officially creeped-out.
"Let go!" I tore my arm away from his hand, and as I blinked in the action, he was gone. ". . . the hell?"
I looked around frantically on all sides, but with no avail. That was definitely mastermind. . . but why would he be here? Why was he calling me 'gorgeous'? That's just scary. Could that have been a warning?
"Ken-kun!?" I heard Omi call from the crowd as he broke through, "Ken-kun, what did Schwarz do to you?"
"I honestly have no idea," I rubbed my head in thought, "But I think I'm definitely done with clubbing for tonight."
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A/N: Big thanks to Jacques, IamVash1225, A Spell, Tainted Halo, KarotsaMused, s.h.i.r.o.i.k.e.t.s.u.e.k.i, elfin girl, Cathy Barton, Felflowne, Evil Cheshire Cat, Riisha, and Keitorin for leaving reviews! They made me so happy! I hope this chapter is up to standard!
Thanks to everyone for reading! Comments, criticisms, or any feedback you may have are always appreciated. ^_^
A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who left reviews. I hope this next chapter is what you hoped. I didn't really have a plan because I'm really disorganized, but because so many people wanted another chapter I tried to formulate one. Hope this works ::crosses fingers::
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God I look hot.
And I'm not just saying that either! . . .These clothes Youji gave me definitely help me play the part. I just hope that no one gets the wrong idea just because I'm wearing these tight leather pants. I'm not a slut. But what luck that we were the same size! Now that I think of it, Omi would look really good in leather pants. Ahh! No! Not thinking about Omi in that way! That's the reason I'm going in the first place! . . . But I'm actually a little nervous. I have a feeling the club Youji picked out isn't the kind I'm used to going to.
. . . I can tell by the shirt he gave me to wear. Yick. It's even making the back of my chair look like a slut . . . okay, that didn't sound right. But seriously! I'm not wearing a black mesh shirt that practically reveals everything, and doesn't even come all the way down to the pants line. I tried it on, and THAT made me nervous.
Why the hell does Youji even have a shirt like that? Okay, you know what? Spare me.
I know that I don't usually go to clubs, but there are actually a couple good reasons I agreed to this. Number one: Forget about Omi, so that I don't go completely insane before this weekend is over. Number two: Show off these totally hot pants to as many people as I possibly can.
"Hey there, sexy," Youji waltzed in, grinning, "Why don't you try on the shirt?"
"I did."
"And?"
"It makes me look like a slut." I scowled.
"Ah, Kenken," Youji sighed, leaning against the wall, "Everyone looks like that where we're going."
"Well! Then I don't want to go!"
"I bet it looks really good on you. . ." He teased, "Why don't you try it on again?"
I sighed, "I guess that wouldn't hurt." So I put it on. Again. It looked the same to me. Youji whistled, and I turned sharply.
"You're wearing that, Kenken. It looks too damn good for you not to." The flattery made me blush. Youji saw that and smiled as he turned from the room, "Come on, hurry up. Aya and Omi should be waiting for us downstairs."
"Wait! . . . Omi? Aya?. . . Just hold on there a minute!" I stopped Youji from leaving.
"Oh, yeah. I hope you don't mind," Youji smirked, "I thought we'd make this a group activity. Aya seemed a little less than enthusiastic, but he agreed to come along."
"What about Omi? He's coming too?!" Youji suppressed a grin as he nodded.
Shit!! I'm supposed to be forgetting about Omi, not going on a date with him!!! Okay, so we're not technically going on a date . . . which would actually be nice but . . . NO KEN! FOCUS!! Omi is your FRIEND!!
. . . I know my feelings for him can't be helped, but our relationship can never be anything more than friends. My feelings are never going to go away, as Youji told me, and he would know. He's been holding onto love for more than any of us. And his remedy is just as he said . . . drinking, dancing, and getting laid. Somehow, I don't think that's worked very well for him, and so I have this eerie feeling it won't work for me either if Omi is the person I'm drinking, dancing and getting laid wi-WAIT! ARGH. That's not right at all. I'm just going clubbing with him. No big deal. I'm just . . .
Well, shit.
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Yep. That's definitely Aya giving me a 'look'. No, not the 'Aya-ice-glare- of-death' look, the 'hey-Ken-those-pants-are-tiiight' look. I'm scared. Heeeeelp meeeee.
And, yes, my spirits are a little better ever since Youji and I went downstairs, because Aya said that Omi had somewhere to go and would be meeting up with us later.
I so relieved. Man, I was really getting freaked-out back there, but I'm fine now.
Mmm . . . but you know, in some twisted way I feel a little worse because I know it's because of me. I acted like a complete idiot earlier. It's not a surprise that Omi wouldn't want to come so long as I'm coming.
Dinner was especially quiet without Omi's laughter. He finished quickly, said something briefly about the pancakes being delicious with a strained smile, and then just . . . disappeared. I'm really worried about him. I'm afraid that it's my fault. It's just that whenever he's sad I feel like it's my job to wipe that frown away. . . like I should just run up and put my arms around him, smiling as he's crying; telling him that it will all be okay. That would feel so right. And yet. . .
It's eating away at me. I can almost feel his lips on mine; almost feel my fingers damp from wiping his tears and hair from his eyes. But I feel so awful for thinking these things. I have no right. . . no reason to look at Omi in that way. I know that I want to protect him. But how can I protect him if I can't even protect him from myself?
Hopefully I can meet a nice guy and forget about Omi before we meet up with him later. I have time, right?
I quickly took off my goggles and helmet, clutching my leather jacket closer to my mesh shirt, and got off my motorcycle, parking it in back next to Aya's car. I thought I'd take my bike jus' to give those two a little privacy, you know? Well, if you didn't know, then I guess you know now.
Now that I think of it, it's taking them a while to get out of the car. . . hmmm. . . Okay, never mind, they're getting out now. Aww. Youji's blushing. That's so cute. I'll make a note to ask him about that later.
"So, Ken? You're taking that jacket off at some point, I hope. . ." Youji called out as I walked over to meet them.
"I'll think about it."
"The entrance is over here. You ready?" he pointed to the alley by the side of the street with a wooden sign hanging above it. I nodded.
Walking in was something else. It was crazy. Youji was right about the mesh shirt. I would still blend in quite nicely if I took off my jacket. Too bad that's not happening anytime soon. Oh, crap. Where are Youji and Aya? I lost them already. On second thought . . . they probably lost me. . . on purpose.
Oh, well. I guess I'll head over to the bar. Youji's bound to turn up there sooner or later.
"Ah! Another customer!" the girl server came over as I sat and winked, "What can I get for you?"
"mm. . . I really shouldn't have anything. I've got a long night ahead of me." I answered, propping an elbow on the table and the adjoining hand on my head.
"Is that so?" She said, smiling as he cleaned a glass absent-mindedly, "Ah. I suppose it's just as well. I mean, one too many and you'll fall asleep and wake up with twenty dollars in your underwear," she laughed openly, "Of course that only happened to me once."
I chuckled nervously. I can't help it, "It's strange. You sure know how to cheer a guy up."
"Hey, it comes with the job description." She waited a minute before she raised her eyebrows, gazing down at me with a mock pout, "So what's eating you?"
"Oh, not much," I sighed, thinking about that last look Omi flashed me at dinner. He was so sad. I cringed. It's my fault, "Just friend trouble."
"Ah, really? So it's not some pretty girl who's got you so down?" She took a closer look at my face, shrugging before waving around a cleaning cloth, "I could have sworn that's the look of heartache. I guess I'm getting rusty."
"Yeah. . ." I decided not to say anything. I'm not in love with him. Okay, so I might be thinking a little about him, but it's just trouble between friends. I'm worried about him and his. . . mysterious disappearances, his distance from all of Weiss for these past few months. He's been the same, but. . . absent. It's just not normal to be home without the constant tapping of keys and clicking of the mouse from the basement.
It was then that I felt eyes on me, and looked up to see the lady staring down at me in sympathy.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your evening," I fingered the design on the corners of the counter.
"It's Yuriko," she smiled, "And you haven't ruined anything. I just wish you wouldn't act so sad. Granted, I haven't been at this job very long, but I now serve about fifty customers every night, and you are the sourest sober person I have ever seen."
"Yeah, I know," I sighed, "I should probably go dance."
I looked up with surprise to the defiant 'clunk' of the last glass on the counter.
"That's hardly enthusiastic enough. At least -look- like you're having fun!" She cringed, throwing her hands up into the air, as if to say that I was hopeless. I would have to agree. It surprised me when she reached for her coat, "Well, it's been a pleasure, Mr. . ."
"Ken."
"It's been a pleasure, Ken," she finished cleaning the counter with a quick wipe of a rag, ". . . but it just so happens my shift's over."
I looked up at her in acknowledgement, and she heaved a fantastic sigh.
"You are so cute," Yuriko looked at me in longing, "I hope that girl you're thinking about knows just how lucky she is."
"I told you, I'm not. . ."
". . . in love?" She finished my sentence, leaving me stunned as she grabbed her coat from underneath the counter and handed the ropes over to the next shift, "That's what they all say."
I'm trying to think of something to say, but the words just won't come out. She's already gone. She flashed me one last smile before she left. That woman really would have danced with me. . . I should have asked her . . . but I didn't. Why? Well, I guess it's really beginning to sink in. Because . . . well, it scares me, but she's right. I, Hidaka Ken, am in love.
God, that sounds odd. I don't think this has ever happened before. I don't know what I was waiting for to actually realize it. . . Maybe it was a bunch of cherry blossoms or roses in the background like in shoujo manga.
It's definitely the most blatantly obvious things that miss me entirely. It feels so right, and so wrong, but maybe that's what love is. I'm in love! Not only am I in love, but I am in love with my best friend. And you know what? I accept that. . .
Then why the hell am I in this club?
This is just another measure of my stupidity. Yep. I'm just doomed to be an idiot. An idiot in a mesh shirt. . . thank God I have a jacket on.
Wait. . . what is that music?
I turned around, attracted by the familiar song. I know this is one of Omi's favorites. It's not really a club song, but this singer's rendition makes it really easy to dance to. Omi should be here. He really loves this song.
I squinted into the crowd far off to see where the singer was singing his heart out. My heart skipped a beat.
Wow. I can't even see that far, but he's . . . really cute. God, am I blushing? Maybe I can actually get over Omi after all. Just the way that he held the mike; and the shine of the spotlight against his forehead. He twisted the wire around his left hand and walked across the stage, and I found myself freezing like an obsessed fangirl. That is scary. I never really believed in love at first sight, but maybe this is what they mean.
I pushed my way through the crowd of dancers and screamers; people who were clapping their hands to the music. Eventually, and after a great deal of maneuvering, I made it to about ten feet from the stage. It looks like I have some competition. Everyone seems to want to touch his hand or get up there on stage with him. . .
. . . You know, it could just be me, but that guy looks really like Omi . . . with the exception of that belt choker necklace, the tight silver pants, loose black tank. . . and this is one of Omi's favorite songs.
I know Omi likes to sing, but that's still not enough evidence to go on. I mean, there was that one time we were on a mission and he was on watch while I was going to execute the assassination. We always keep in touch through our headsets, and I remember he was humming to himself, but I don't think he knew that I heard, because a few minutes later he continued talking to me as if nothing had happened. The truth is I found it sort of calming.
. . . And of course there was that other time I caught him singing in the shower. That was an accident! No I'm not a perv! I thought it was my turn to take a shower, so I just walked in. I don't think he heard the door open, but I admit I stood in the doorway a good five minutes listening. NOT WATCHING! Listening. Okay. . . so maybe I was watching a little. . .
Geez.
I looked again at the singer on the stage, shifting positions to get a better view through the crowd. That's really Omi up there.
I froze. Wait. So that's why he was avoiding us? He said he'd meet up with us later because he was singing! Yay! It's not my fault! Well, at least his disappearances aren't my fault, but what about everything else?
I shoved the nearest, tallest person I could find in front of me, who of course immediately moved so I was in sightline again. Must get away . . . can't jeopardize our friendship. Must. . .
Shit. He's looking straight at me.
'Nonono, Omi' I told myself, unable to tear my eyes away from the boy on stage who seemed to have temporarily been frozen in time, 'the song's still playing! Sing the song, damnnit.'
"K- ken- kun?" My name rang through the microphones in an echo that baffled the entire club. And of course since Omi was looking at me, a good number of people were as well. The only people who seemed unmoved by this occurrence were the musicians themselves who kept playing without a care in the world, and thank God, too. I don't think I could stand the embarrassment if the entire place had their eyes on me.
Suddenly Omi's bright blue eyes perked up as he began to sing again, his smile growing as he motioned for me to come closer to the stage. Why? I have no clue.
Don't tell me he expects me to go up there with him. . . I backed away, ready to make a run for it, but put my heel down defiantly as I heard a voice from the back of the noisy club shout above the others. It appears our meeting had not gone unnoticed.
"Whoo! You go Ken! Knock 'em dead!" Youji grinned and waved at me from across the club with his arm slung around Aya's shoulder. Aya looked less than enthusiastic, but doesn't he always?
And then in some strange fit of madness, or perhaps it was just the sparkle in Omi's eyes, that despite the fact that we were best friends, I advanced to the stage. Omi grinned, and let out his hand. I took it, and of course, my foot slipped on the edge of the stage and sent me tumbling into the crowd.
I came up cursing and rubbing my head, which hurt worse than hell. Great. Just great. I get a chance to dance with Omi and I can't do anything better than fall flat on my face. All of these thoughts were remedied, of course, by the laughter in Omi's words as I looked up at him. It wasn't actual laughing, of course, but by the tears in his eyes and that unbearably cute expression, I could tell he was trying terribly hard not to crack-up.
This is embarrassing. And yet . . . strangely satisfying; but I suppose if you're going to be a clutz, you might as well do it right. Then again, I couldn't help but glance back and twitch in annoyance at Youji who isn't quite so conservative with his emotions, and happened to be laughing his ass off. Even Aya is smirking. That hurts.
I need to be invisible.
Better yet, I need some fresh air.
Glancing once more back at the crowd, which seemed to have forgotten me, and Omi, who seemed to be too involved in the music to notice me slinking back, I headed for the door.
It's really refreshing to step into crisp air when you've just been in a hot, sticky room full of people with body heat that really doesn't help the situation. Not to mention the sudden quiet, although traces of the bass guitar still hung in the air, it's still refreshing to feel the cold air that washes over you and almost through you; cleaning out cobwebs and recent memories that you wish could be forgotten.
I only wish it were that easy.
I just made a complete idiot out of myself in front of Omi. His laughter is comforting, but it stings at the same time. I looked back at the door once more and nearly jumped when I saw Omi emerge from it.
"Ken-kun!" He ran up to me, worried, "Why are you going? What's wrong?" His voice cracked from the hoarseness of singing.
"Omi? Aren't you singing?" I asked, just as surprised, if not more, than he was.
"Yes, but I'm done for tonight. That was the last song. I'm so sorry you fell, I should have held onto your hand more tightly," Omi frowned.
"No, it wasn't your fault," I smiled, "Hey, cheer up! I thought I'd end your performance with a big bang, you know. . .? But that was a little more literal that was necessary," I laughed lightly.
"Come on, then," he surprised me by grabbing my hand, "I'm not letting go this time!"
I looked into his eyes, and for once saw the friend that I had grown to love and held his hand tightly back. He felt the squeeze on his smaller hand and smiled; his eyes never leaving mine, before both of us headed back into the club.
Everything was a blur as the music took me into a trance. I realized after a few minutes had passed that the figure I was dancing with was no mirage, it was Omi. I'm so happy that he wants me to have a good time so he's dancing with me to help me get more comfortable, but he has no clue what it's doing to me.
This is seriously driving me insane. Why is he getting so close?
I backed away a little, and Omi just inched closer until our noses were just a foot apart. Omi must see me as a really good friend if he's willing to dance like this with me, but he has no idea how much I'm sweating. Gods, it's so hot dancing, and the fact that the person I'm dancing with is making me nervous just makes me sweat even more. I seriously need to take off my jacket, but if I do that, then everyone will see that mesh shirt. This includes Omi. I cannot let him see that. It's Youji's. . . it's humiliating.
But then again, Youji did say it looked 'damned good'. Aw, what the hell. . . I then slipped the jacket off my arms and tied it around my waist. It was probably just the lighting but I thought I saw Omi's cheeks flush red for just a second. I can't stop looking at him. He's just so incredibly cute dancing there, and his outfit is almost more than I can handle.
Just as if he were dancing on stage, I felt people watching us, jealous of me for being with him. I tried to step away to show that we really weren't together, but Omi kept coming closer and closer with each dance step, until I gave in and let him wrap his arms around my neck . . . which I realized immediately was a terrible idea. My stomach tightened.
Think happy thoughts . . . think happy thoughts. . . I stared up at the ceiling, trying to forget that my best friend just wrapped his arms around me. . . happy thoughts. . . happy thoughts. . . happy thoughts about me and Omi . . . no!. . . more happy thoughts. . .
Refocusing my view on Omi from the ceiling once more, I saw a man behind him with blood red hair. He was smirking menacingly, and tapped the unsuspecting Omi on the shoulder. I felt my small friend jolt as he quickly removed his arms from around my neck.
"May I cut in?" The red-haired man said, though I could only read his lips through the obnoxious music blasting through the place. Wait. This guy wasn't asking me to leave so he could dance with Omi. . . he was asking Omi to leave so he could dance with me! No way!
Omi looked confused as I was suddenly swept away into the crowd. Let me assure you, I was no more surprised then he was. Then, the red-haired man started reaching around my waist, bringing me closer . . . well, needless to say I pushed away and ran for the crowd where I had lost Omi before I was grabbed by a hand from behind.
"Where do you think you're going, gorgeous?" The man's red sunglasses on top of his head reflected the light, sending a stream of it into my eyes, causing me to withdraw my hand and shield my eyes upon instinct.
"Away from you," I answered bitterly.
"Hmm. . . I always like a good challenge. Especially with such a tasty mind like yours," The redhead smirked and I was officially creeped-out.
"Let go!" I tore my arm away from his hand, and as I blinked in the action, he was gone. ". . . the hell?"
I looked around frantically on all sides, but with no avail. That was definitely mastermind. . . but why would he be here? Why was he calling me 'gorgeous'? That's just scary. Could that have been a warning?
"Ken-kun!?" I heard Omi call from the crowd as he broke through, "Ken-kun, what did Schwarz do to you?"
"I honestly have no idea," I rubbed my head in thought, "But I think I'm definitely done with clubbing for tonight."
~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Big thanks to Jacques, IamVash1225, A Spell, Tainted Halo, KarotsaMused, s.h.i.r.o.i.k.e.t.s.u.e.k.i, elfin girl, Cathy Barton, Felflowne, Evil Cheshire Cat, Riisha, and Keitorin for leaving reviews! They made me so happy! I hope this chapter is up to standard!
Thanks to everyone for reading! Comments, criticisms, or any feedback you may have are always appreciated. ^_^