Another two weeks passed. Time crept along slowly, even as Lenne did everything she could think of to keep herself occupied. She cleaned the entire apartment, prepared everyone's meals, read through five thick novels—historical fiction, her favorite genre—and worked on her compositions. She wrote several poems that ended up in the trashcan on her computer's desktop before they were anywhere near completion.
Her feelings were far too complex to be simplified into words. She hadn't faced it before, but now Lenne was discovering that even the realm of poetry had its limits. There were a thousand things to say, yes, but she had no idea where to begin.
With a sigh, she instilled herself with patience. Looking at Shuyin's portrait through a blurred filter of sadness, Lenne forced herself to hold on. Just a little longer. Everything was certain to fall into place soon.
Alone in the middle of the day, Lenne tread deliberately through the apartment. She began to hum a made-up tune to herself. Words had failed to capture the beat of her heart that day, but this new melody was different. At last she felt some sort of release!
Lenne was singing now. Lyrics came to mind and she tried them out. Some fit; others didn't. She discarded, replaced, and manipulated phrases at will. Her song was far from completion, but, like her feelings, it was evolving. After a while, she felt comfortable putting it to rest for the time being.
She knew it was time.
Lenne left a note that informed her aunt and uncle she was gone in search of fresh air and a color other than the beige of the living room and kitchen walls.
It was not a complete lie. In a white dress and heels she went for her walk, hair free and sunglasses on. The thin straps of her dress supported an attractive corset-style top and flowing skirt. The cool wind was refreshing as it danced around her bare arms and legs. She felt traces of happiness for the first time since the concert. She observed with delight the laughing of school children (the boys eyeing her with unconcealed admiration), the smiles of friends—even the warning shouts of a man speeding down the street on his old-fashioned bicycle.
For a few minutes she was alive, sexy, and free. This was what life needed to be: this happiness, this carelessness, the mothers and fathers walking hand-in-hand with children, the friends locking arms on their way from class to karaoke, the businesspeople loosening ties between the office and their favorite bar.
However, it took only a closer look to detect the fear just beneath the surface. People clung a bit closer to their friends and stayed bit farther from strangers. There was apprehension in discreet looks upward at planes flying a little too low, there was true terror in response to every loud noise. People were afraid.
Lenne found herself eyeing the pavement more than the people now. She walked hurriedly to her destination, wanting to make it all go away. Not the people—no, she loved them, especially the children—but their poorly concealed fear.
Police officers in their white hardhats were stationed at every major intersection, tapping batons against their open palms as they eyed passersby. Digital billboards announced the mandatory curfew of sunset. Anyone found on the streets a half hour after dark would be sent to jail.
The peace was an illusion. The brilliant letters outlining martial law intimidated Lenne as much as anyone else. No one was safe after all.
It pained her inside.
At her frenzied pace she reached Shuyin's building in no time. She went to the basement and paused at least a meter from his door. If she got too close, he might be able feel her presence. Worse still was the possibility that she would be able to feel him.
Suddenly it was too soon. She had been so determined for days now, driven to frustration because she had yet to get the ugly business over with. But how in the world could she carry out her well-crafted plot? Get rid of him as she planned? Make things better for him as well as those he might hurt?
Lenne found herself stumbling backward. Her whole body was shaking. She wanted to be selfish and that dark part of her heart was gaining control. It was an ugly black cancer whose greedy cells were multiplying exponentially.
With a burst of self control, the woman forced herself toward the door. She hit it with one open hand, almost bruising that palm. She stood erect, biting down on her lip to keep her feelings in check. This would soon prove to be an impossible task as soon as the door opened. The woman let out a gasp.
It had been years since she had witnessed her lover in such poor shape. His face, taken over by an ignored abundance of facial hair, was dirty and pale. His eyes were sunken in, almost emotionless. His blond mane, as neglected as his new beard, flared out in every direction. He wore no shirt, either, revealing a muscular torso weakened by malnutrition. He wore only a pair of baggy black boxers.
It looked as though he hadn't eaten in weeks.
Lenne's eyes grew wide. She was thankful for the sunglasses—they served to hide some of the icicles of pain assaulting her heart.
Shuyin was leaning heavily against the wall. He raised his gaze to reveal lifeless eyes colored only by suspicion, as if she were a phantom he'd seen once too many times to believe.
Against her will, Lenne reached out a hand to touch her lover's face.
He jerked his head up now, shock evident on his sunken features. One limp hand reached up and fastened itself around her wrist. Gaining strength, he pulled himself to a stand. "It's you?"
"Yeah," she replied, using all her strength to hold back tears.
No, she insisted within herself. You came here to say—
"Lenne…"
Shuyin's voice was weak. Him calling her name, though, was strong enough to pull her closer. To see his pain firsthand—pain she herself had inflicted…
No…
He staggered far enough to close the last distance between them. He swallowed her body up in his arms, which were strong and warm despite their fragile appearance.
"Shuyin, you idiot," she cried softly into his shoulder after he fell against her.
It was she who felt like an idiot, however.
Lenne, you weakling. You came here to say goodbye.
About half an hour later, Lenne found herself entering Shuyin's bedroom to check up on him. She carried on a tray a steaming bowl of miso soup as well as some rice and a simple chicken dish she had cooked up from a package found in the man's freezer.
He was waking up now. He groaned with the effort it took to sit up on the pillows she had stacked behind him. Still, the man was the first to break the heavy silence.
"So I'm an idiot?" he asked weakly, smiling at her somewhat mischievously.
"Of course!" she cried, letting her emotions overwhelm her yet again. "You had all this food and you weren't eating it! You know you could've…"
Lenne couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't imagine a world where Shuyin didn't exist, at least not without going into fits again. She had, after all, come to prevent that fate from being an option—and here he was slowly carrying out a death sentence on himself.
"I tried to eat," he told her softly. "I did. But I just couldn't keep it down. Thinking you might be gone…it made me sick."
"What?"
"And why would I want to live if you weren't here anymore?"
"Shuyin, what do you mean? Oh, nevermind… Just eat something now."
He obeyed as she stood and watched over him. She had never considered the possibility that he didn't know she was still alive. Of course, what would have hurt him more? To know she was dead, or that she was living and breathing and ignoring him? She had a feeling the latter would have killed him before now.
Lenne found an excuse to be alone.
"I'm going to run you a bath. You smell awful." She tried to laugh as she said it, tried to make it a joke, but found that impossible.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
But it wasn't fine. She jabbed the control panel of his bathroom with trembling fingers, turning the water on as high as it would go. The room was quickly filled with steam and the sound of boiling water tumbling down into the tub. With this as her cover, Lenne put her back against the wall and slid downward to sob into her knees.
The outburst was short-lived; she forced it to be that way. With the aid of the bathroom mirror, Lenne washed out her red eyes until they appeared normal. She even made sure to employ the use of a neglected comb from Shuyin's drawer to straighten out her hair.
"Finished with your dinner yet?" she asked loudly as she reentered the bedroom.
"Almost," he said, greeting her with a wave of his chopsticks. He slurped down the last of his soup and took the final bites of his rice.
"Good," she said with true relief. He wasn't as close to death as he had first appeared if he found the strength to eat so quickly—right? Lenne knelt at the side of the bed. "Do you feel sick at all?"
He shook his head. "Not a bit. Not with you here," he added, placing his hand over hers.
Lenne involuntarily drew back. He was reaching out to her in a way that was difficult to resist. "You think I'm going to touch you when you smell like that? I think it's about time we got you cleaned up."
It was a slow and painful process to get Shuyin out of bed and down the hall, and a rather breathless one to rid him of his remaining item of clothing and help him step into the small shower room of his apartment. Lenne rose to leave him be, but he grabbed her hand.
"You can't do this by yourself?"
He didn't want to admit it. That was all right; she was already aware of his answer.
"Okay." Lenne knelt again. She took a small plastic bucket, filled it with warm water, and poured it over his filthy body. She repeated the process several times, trying to let the water go slowly so that it wouldn't splash onto her dress.
Shuyin lifted a sponge and began to wipe the grime from his arms and legs. Lenne wet his hair and shampooed it, reminding him gently to close his eyes. She alternated scrubbing and rinsing his body before deeming him clean enough for a soak in the deep and spacious Japanese-style bathtub.
He looked up at her. Now that his face was clean, she could see his cheekbones even more easily. She traced them with care. "Come on," she urged, afraid of what she had just seen flash in his dark eyes.
She was happy to see his body sink beneath the water. Even a half-starved Shuyin was enough to stir certain feelings within the woman. Now that he was clean, the scent of him was working on her. She sat next to the tub and tried to keep her hands off of him.
Her defenses fell apart easily.
Lenne ran her fingers through his wet hair, rubbed his stiff shoulders—kept herself in constant contact. She had come here to end it with Shuyin, but, now that he needed her more than she needed him, there was no way to say goodbye. Looking at him now, as he rested his tired head within the curve of her arm, she could no longer imagine him taking another man's life.
Twenty minutes passed slowly and comfortably. Lenne let her fingers splash the top of the green water (she'd added bath salts to better relax her companion.) The opaque water was the perfect temperature to ease both their fears.
Lenne looked at his peaceful face, finding she wanted to kiss him. She began to squirm in place as her desires mounted. She stood again, walked away to get a towel. "C'mon, it's time to go back to bed."
To her surprise, Shuyin slowly but surely stood and climbed of the tub free of assistance. At that time she beheld him fully and her whole body flushed. He took the towel and together they dried him off.
"You got your dress all wet," he announced playfully.
Lenne looked down to see that her white dress was soaked through to reveal her underclothes. No wonder he was smiling like that. She hit his arm lightly.
Shuyin gently pushed her out of the bathroom. "Give me a minute," he said, his voice sounding a bit stronger than before.
Encouraged, Lenne returned to the bedroom. She pulled her wet dress over her head and placed it near the heating vent. In Shuyin's closet she found a robe, which she quickly put on.
What am I thinking about doing? she growled at herself. Taking care of him is one thing…
Lenne sat on the edge of the bed wringing out her damp hair. It was all wavy now that it was wet. She let out a big sigh and fell back into the comforter. She was overwhelmed with feelings she hadn't expected to confront. First overwhelming pity and now this…?
She turned on her side and folded up into a ball. She did not notice Shuyin's reappearance until he touched her bare leg—well, not only touched it, but stroked it, beginning at the ankle and letting his hand progress upward.
Breathing hard, she struggled to sit up. The robe fell open. Shuyin lowered himself to the bed and pressed his newly-shaven cheek against her chest.
"Mmm," was the best argument she could come up with as he pulled the robe off of her entirely.
Then a thought struck her. Lenne backed away. Now that she felt the cool air of the room on her burning skin, she remembered the scar pattern on her back. If they were about to do what Shuyin wanted—oh, Hell, she wanted it just as much—there was no way he wouldn't see or feel it.
"What is it?" he wanted to know.
Lenne reached over and touched the light switch imbedded in his bedside table.
Shuyin protested, leaning over to undo her handiwork.
"Uh-uh," she said, catching his arm and pulling his hand to her mouth. Her lover took the bait, pressing his fingers between her lips. Now, her only remaining task was to keep his hands from her back.
They reoriented themselves on the bed, Shuyin guiding their bodies together. Where had he found all this energy?
"I want you," Shuyin declared before fastening his hot mouth onto her neck and sucking passionately. He came up for air and told her again, pulling the towel from his waist.
"No…" she breathed, but her body was telling him the opposite. "You need to rest—Shuyin—"
Their lips met and he used the opportunity to bring them even closer together. His skin was soft, warm, and moist against her own. Tears came to her eyes, but, at the same time, her body shuddered with pleasure at his powerful caresses.
The man grew unusually aggressive in his actions, his strength reawakened in the heat of passion. Lenne cried out for him to stop, but he must have known she felt otherwise because he kept going.
"No," he moaned loudly. "I've got you… I'm not letting you go…"
She grabbed at his face and pulled him into another kiss.
After that, there were no more half-hearted protests.