Chapter Five
The phone rang unceasingly, echoing about the house, which for its quiet and lack of movement within was almost certainly empty.
Almost, but not quite, for the sleeping form sprawled over the bed with a huge, innocuously yellow pillow squeezed tight over the head, red hair tangled in ringlets spilling from beneath.
Riiiiiiiiiiing!
He opened his eyes and tossed the cushion aside with one hand.
"SHUT UP!" he screamed at the phone. "SILENCE! BE QUIET! GO AWAY!"
He glared through one eye at the fat orange plastic cat that was his telephone, perched lazily on his desk, still emanating a look of heavy content. With a growl, he sat up, pushed the sheets off his body, and stood, stumbling as he pulled his boxers straight. He walked to the desk, eyeing the phone suspiciously as the memory of what he had done the day before suddenly crashed in.
Oh no…what if it's them calling? He stared with a changed expression at the jangling appliance, appalled.
What if they're calling…? Genrou gulped.
What if they're calling to tell me I didn't win?
He gritted his teeth.
"What are the chances that I could really have won anyway?" he demanded at the wall. It stared back at him blankly, and he could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his neck.
With a strangled cry, he leaned down and savagely grabbed Garfield about the neck, waiting a few seconds with his eyes closed tightly, before finally bringing himself to set the receiver to his ear.
"Hello?"
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Houjun stretched, feeling his entire body creak wearily in protest. He had been up the whole night, developing the negatives, and it was now twelve thirty. He glanced over at Tomo. The quiet young man was still working stealthily away at his own workbench opposite Houjun's.
He flexed his fingers with a slight frown on his face, looking down at the remainder of the rolls of film to be done, before turning away and taking a few steps in Tomo's direction.
"Yes?" the younger man asked, his back still facing Houjun, not bothering to turn around.
"I'm going to go for a coffee break before I come back to finish this," Houjun confessed sheepishly. "Do you want anything from the canteen?"
Tomo stilled and for a moment, Houjun thought that the younger man would shrug him off quietly, as he was prone to do far too often, not out of rudeness, but simply out of sheer habit and lack of interest.
Then Tomo turned slightly.
"Just let me get this one done. Then I'll go with you."
Silence filled the space between them then, as Houjun nodded and leaned against the wall, his eyes closing against his will. He did tend to get too caught up in his work every now and then, especially when there was a big project like this one, and inevitably, he would lose his sleep. When that happened, he would, also inevitably, end up catching shut-eye just about anywhere he could.
"Hey."
He started in surprise, opening his eyes to see Tomo in front of him. Very closely standing in front of him. So close that he could see the long curling lashes of the younger man against porcelain skin, the deep, brilliant green of his eyes.
It was hypnotizing.
Then Tomo looked away, breaking the spell. Houjun shook himself out of his trance, his cheeks heating up slightly at the knowledge that he had been caught staring. The taller man walked back to the bench and picked up the film that he had been washing.
"Look at this."
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"Genrou?"
The owner of the name in question exploded, almost dropping the phone. "KOUJI?"
There was amused laughter on the other side of the line. "You sound terribly over-excited, kid."
Genrou slumped back against the wall, trying to calm his pounding heart. "No! I mean, no, I'm not."
"Just happy to hear from me then, huh?"
The redhead contemplated hanging up the phone.
"I just called to find out how you were doing, Genrou. My friend told me you painted Ayuru Miyari's Armani with fish sauce."
Genrou exhaled slowly. "God, Kouji, I'm so sorry, I swear it wasn't my fault. That blondie wasn't looking where he was going, and I had this humongous tray in front of me, and then it just happened—"
Kouji chucked softly from the other end. "I'm not calling to scold you or blame you, kid. And don't feel bad about it. It did keep me laughing for a day."
"Very funny."
"I think so too."
"Go to hell, Kouji."
His mentor laughed.
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Houjun walked over, coming up beside Tomo as the younger man twirled the negative absently. Almost as if it were an afterthought, Tomo handed the film to Houjun.
"Remember her?"
Houjun took the negative and held it up to the dull light.
His eyes moved from the smooth curve of shoulder to long, graceful neck, and then up to the face. Even from the bare print, he could see that the light and shade on the photograph was superb, in the shadows of the hair, the tilt of the chin, and the expressive, almond-shaped eyes that looked out from beneath stray bangs.
A sudden sense of déjà vu washed over him.
I feel like I've seen all this before…not in the studio…but somewhere else…
He brushed the odd emotions aside when he realized that Tomo was still waiting for an answer, and nodded in apology for his distraction.
"Yes, I do. I kept wondering if she was already a model, though."
A small smile spread over Tomo's face as Houjun handed the negative back to him. There was an expression on his face that the older man recalled seeing only when his friend had done something he was happy with, and in his heart, he felt glad for Tomo.
"Let's go get that coffee."