Chapter Twenty Six

Doukun seized the wallet from the table and threw it at Genrou, scrambling up and looking around frantically for his briefcase, while Genrou sat there frozen. As the younger man jumped over the couch and made a beeline for the row of desks along the side of the room, he shot a dirty glance back at the redhead. "Don't just sit there! Get up quick! You have to leave!"

Genrou, galvanized, leapt to his feet.

The photographer came back, flew over the couch again, and scooped up the pile of Polaroids, racing around and dumping the lot into an open drawer, before hastily slamming it shut and sticking a key in the lock. Before Genrou could move, Doukun was behind him, hustling him out.

"Get out! Get out!"

"I know!" Genrou gritted out, stuffing his wallet into the back pocket of the skirt and shaking Doukun's hands off him. "Wait, wait! Are you going to call me about it? After the competition, I mean? Or what?"

Doukun glared at him witheringly. "This is no time to be asking questions and making plans! I'll keep in touch!"

"You will keep your promise, right?"

The younger man gave a scream of frustration. "What promise?"

Genrou's eyes widened with accusation. "Your promise not to tell!"

"Oh, that. Yes, yes, I promise. Now leave!"

They spun as one, in horror, the tinkling of the bells hung above the door sounding much louder than it probably really was. The doorknob twisted.

Oh my fucking god…

As if in slow motion, the door began to open.

"Genrou!" a decidedly female voice screeched, as the door slammed open. "Genrou?"

Miaka. His relief had never been so absolute. Miaka, Miaka, it's only Miaka—

Doukun was staring at Miaka with undisguised fear and suspicion. "Who are you?"

"We've got to go!" she just about screamed, completely ignoring Doukun. "Someone's coming up!"

"I know! The boss of the studio!"

Miaka froze mid-panic, and gaped at him. "Is he now?"

Doukun growled and flung up his hands in despair. "You don't have time! Out! Out!"

Genrou swiftly made sure he had all his things, before rushing forward, shoving Miaka ahead of him. "She's my sister," he threw behind him as an afterthought, as the door closed and he all but dragged Miaka along with him. Left, right, front…where's he going to come from? Hastily, he made a decision, and veered to the right. He slammed the swinging doors open, and retreated with admirable speed into the side corridor which led to the washrooms. "Shhh," he hissed unnecessarily.

Miaka glared at him from between his fingers, which were tightly covering her face, and considered biting her twin brother. "Deed nyoo getch yor warret? Beccher nort roose it agaihn!"

He nodded distractedly, wondering if there was a stairwell anywhere. Was it too late to make a run for the escalators? He got up cautiously, and released Miaka, walking with timid steps towards the door…

And nearly fainted, accidentally trampling hard on his sister as he fell back, because not three feet away and separated only by a dusty plastic window in a door, Myou Juan strode past, blissfully unaware of the new temporary residents of the corridor.

Oh god, oh god…we…I…we…we fucking made it!

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"Honey! Are you all right? Oh my goodness! You have a bandage around your head!"

Houjun gasped for breath, and flailed in vain, under the onslaught of parent. "Mom! How—why—what are you doing here?"

"Why, I took a plane of course, my dear. Your father is with Hikou. My poor children!"

He took a deep breath, and then gently guided his mother to the chair by the bed. "Mom…mom…sit down. You're overwrought. I'm fine. The doctor says I can be discharged by tomorrow."

Her worried face instantly relaxed in relief. "That's wonderful, honey!" She reached out to grab his hand, and proceeded to pat it comfortingly. Then she stopped. And turned a narrowed, mock fierce glare on him. "Why didn't you look after Hikou?!"

Oh no…

"I…I…" he started off weakly, not knowing what to say. It did sound rather irresponsible to say you had been neglecting your brother for the sake of work, didn't it? The guilt returned in full force, and so did his headache.

Mrs. Ri noticed the change immediately, and bustled to reassure her elder son. "I'm not saying it's your fault, Houjun, honey! I was just…well, joking with you! Nobody, not even your father and I, have managed to control Hikou since he was a child! But anyway, I'm sure Hikou will be just fine. The doctor says he has a very high chance of recovery once he wakes up!"

Houjun blinked away his discomfort and shame, and swallowed the lump in his throat. I'm such a terrible brother… "Of course," he said thickly.

"But anyway, the reason we decided to come back as fast as we could was not because we didn't trust you to take care of Hikou. You know your mother…I was so worried I couldn't eat or sleep! Your father, though, wanted us to be back so that you could concentrate on your work. You have a very important event coming up soon, don't you?"

"No!" he practically shouted, not registering the surprise on his mother's face. "No," he repeated, slightly more calmly, "I want to look after Hikou too. You were right. I haven't been taking care of him. That's why he was speeding on the highway, and that's why he got into the accident. I don't even know what he's been up to, and I should have taken more effort to know, especially since you and Dad were away—"

She quieted him with a gentle hand. "Honey…look who's overwrought! I think, my dear, it is precisely because you stayed up so many nights to watch over Hikou, that you fell sick yourself. Let your father and I take over from here. It's been hard on you. And we know you have other responsibilities which you shouldn't be evading once you get well, should you?"

He didn't know what to say, and he cursed himself. His mother was right. By taking leave now, he would be abandoning one duty for another. "No…I shouldn't."

"That's my boy," she rose and gave him a huge, bear hug. "Stop feeling guilty, sweetheart. That's my job. You go ahead and do what you're supposed to do, and do it well, you hear me? That's where your responsibility lies now. And I'm not saying you can't drop by every day."

Houjun managed a smile, leaning into the reassuring warmth and comfort of the embrace. "Thanks, Mom," he whispered.

He would pour all of his energy into the upcoming competition. Then he would ask Myou Juan, and his other contract agencies, for a much-needed break, leave from work for a while, and spend more time with his family. He owed everything to them, and he knew he'd been neglecting not just Hikou, but his parents as well, ever since he had started getting busier and busier. He promised himself silently that he would never be so absorbed in his career again.

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[One week later]

March 5, 2002

Dear fucking journal,

It's one day before the competition. I'm scared shitless, and I feel like quitting the whole barfing thing. So much has happened since I made that deal with Doukun, and…argh, I'm just getting edgier and bloody more worried every time I even fucking think about what could happen.

Miaka is such a two-face. She's worried as hell about me, and I know because she brought me apple pie when I went straight up to my room after dinner. Heh. What a great sis. She promised to go with me tomorrow, and I figure the worse that happens if I really, like, uh, chicken out, is to…well…make her take my place instead. Who the fuck is going to figure it out?

Well. He would. I am such a freaking loser. I have a crush on a man who already has his man. I mean, hey, he's gay so I should have a chance right? I'll never fucking admit this to anyone…but I swear from what I remember of that other dude is that he's bloody gorgeous. I mean…shit, have you ever seen anyone pull off hair that long in plaits? 'Course, I'm still devoted to my—ugh, he's not mine!

Well, Doukun called up just now to wish me good luck. He actually fucking reassured me, heh. He's such a riot. I guess it was bloody lucky he found my shit instead of someone like, oh, Houjun or something. Or Nuriko or Saihitei, who have been trying to contact me for fucking coffee or something fucking mundane like that. I've been avoiding them, obviously. I swear I'll give myself away, I'm so bloody rattled nowadays. I don't even dare to go out that much in case I meet someone who thinks I'm a girl when I'm a guy, or who thinks I'm a guy when I'm a girl…shit, did that make sense?

Ahhhh! I know I'm fucking whining, but gah! So many things could screw up tomorrow, and all of them probably will! Someone's going to spill my beans, and then I'll be in for some serious crap.

Fine, I fucking, fucking confess that it probably wouldn't matter if he wasn't going to be there.

But he is going to be there!

I do hope he's better now, anyway. Last I heard from Miaka, who heard from someone called Tacha or Taka or something like that, he's already been discharged and is all gunned up for the competition. But hey, that's expected right? I mean, he's an award-winning photographer, for god's sake.

Maybe I'm just letting my stupid mind run away with fucking impossibilities. Maybe he won't even notice I'm there. There'll be so many beautiful men and women there tomorrow, and I'm sure I can't compare. He'll be too busy to even look at me, let alone smile at me, or talk to me…

I miss him awfully, fuck. He's such a nice person, and he's got this way of making me go all bloody weak. He's definitely going to be better looking than every single model there and…oh fucking god, am I gushing?

Miaka better not read this. I have to find a new place to lock my stuff up. And—oh shit, the pen's leaki—

Okay, pen fixed. Right, where was I?

I don't know how I'm going to resolve this mess after the competition. Doukun's the only one who knows, and who has some fucking peace with the whole thing, but the stupid part about this whole crap is that I never thought about how I would tell him, or Nuriko, or…well, anyone who knows me as Tasu Leika. I already promised Doukun…so it's not like I can run away and disappear anytime soon.

And since Doukun will be showcasing me as a male model…I guess that fucking answers everything, doesn't it?

I don't want someone else to tell. Since they'll fucking eventually have to know, I'd rather be the one to tell, I think. I'll tell them personally—I'll tell him, after the competition ends tomorrow. Yea, I will.

Hn.

I guess making a fucking resolution really does help. I hope I don't lose my guts, though I have this terrible shit feeling that I might.

Damn it…I hope Houjun doesn't hate me when he knows. I'll fucking give anything in the world just to have a chance. If we can't be, like, together, at least we can be friends, right?

I guess I'll find out soon enough. It's late now, and I'm bloody tired of fretting, so I think I'd better get to bed. Can't have fucking eye-bags tomorrow, can I?

Genrou closed the journal with a loud yawn, reaching up to stretch. He pushed book and pen aside, turning and flopping heavily onto the pillows as the bed creaked in protest. With a little sigh, he wriggled deeper into the soft sheets, and within moments, he was fast asleep.