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Chapter 6 - Forethought and Starry-Eyed
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"Aw, c'mon Bao," Ulala whined as they made their way downtown.

Baofu had no intention of taking her drinking again. "I have no intention of taking you drinking again."

"I had food today, though!" she insisted. "What if I only have one? Something weak and girly?"

He shook his head. "I said forget it. I'm not in the mood. Besides," he added, "I want to stop by the office and look over the file for the Sevens girl."

"Ohh," Ulala said, nodding in understanding. "You think she's related to this, don't you? No no," she stuck out her nose in mock bravery. "You don't have to tell me all your big secrets. I can make this sacrifice for you." He gave her a look and she grinned.

"You sure are dramatic," he said, trying hard to not sound amused.

She shrugged it off easily, humming under her breath. "You sure are grump-y," she sang.

They came to an intersection, and Baofu turned to cross the street. "I'll be at work," he said over his shoulder. "Call me if Badge Boy has anything interesting to say." She nodded and waved.

He followed the street for a couple of blocks before turning south towards their office. It was a beautiful night and a cool dampness hung in the air. It was the kind of weather he liked, because it cleared his head as he walked, and because the quiet chill allowed a handful of stars to shine even through the heavy city glow.

When he got there, the street they worked on was completely dark, save for two elliptical pools of light that fell from the street lamps. A cold northern breeze swelled up, stirring the leaves of a tree that lived in a concrete pot outside of their building. The branches waved gently over his head and a few stray leaves blew around his feet.

His hands shook slightly as he fumbled for his keys, and he pressed the wrong one up against the lock twice before finally finding the one that fit. The door swung open noiselessly and closed behind him with a muted thump. Inside, the small office was warm and dark and somehow both inviting and unsettling in its quiet. He hesitated at the entrance. He flipped the switch that triggered the halogen floor lamp and dim yellow light blanketed the room, revealing nothing more ominous than worn furniture and dusty corners.

My imagination, he thought as he shook his head and plopped down in his chair. I'm just worked up over the incident at the school.

And after all, who wouldn't be unsettled by what they found there? He tried to piece it together in his head as he rifled through a stack of loose papers. The boys were attacked by something; he had no doubt of that. The marks at the scene were enough to demonstrate that they couldn't have been fighting each other. Of course, what exactly they had fought was another matter entirely. He found the papers on the Ogawa girl and grunted victoriously, pulling them out of the pile.

He looked them over, scanning the notes her parents had made for any reference to either of the boys. Unfortunately, it seemed she was a real nowhere girl; she wasn't involved in any clubs, didn't associate with a group of friends, never had a boyfriend or any apparent romantic interest at all. He pursed his lips. I hope Suou or Amano gets a chance to question the kids who were attacked, he thought pensively. If they knew the girl, that would at least be a start.

You know they won't talk, a voice whispered in his head. And you know why they won't.

He set his jaw and forced the thought away. I'm going to reason this out, he told himself firmly. No more lucky guesses. No more strange coincidences. There has to be a logical explanation.

It was the one thing he had always known, the one thing he insisted on in the face of everything else. There's always a logical explanation. It simply couldn't be any other way. He looked intensely at the papers fanned out on his desk, searching for a clue, for anything that could tie all the ideas and theories together into something he could work with.

Despite himself, he felt a familiar sick dread creep into his heart. His eyes darkened as terrible visions played across his mind. There was no reason to the intuitions that plagued him; there was no order, no explanation to comfort him. The voice in his head whispered through chaotic thoughts: You can't escape yourself.

"Like hell I can't," Baofu said angrily. He shoved himself back, the wheels of the old chair squeaking at the sudden movement. He reached one long arm under his desk and searched around until his hand closed on the neck of the bottle he hid there. He pulled it out, his lips curling into a sardonic smile.

"Like hell I can't," he said again, and broke open the seal.

* * *

Ulala wandered around downtown aimlessly for a while, not tired enough to go home but too restless to get any work done. She found herself near the mall she used to work at, so she decided to stop in and take a look around. She was pawing through a rack of skirts on clearance when her phone buzzed in her purse.

She pulled it out and stuck it between her ear and shoulder. "Hello?" she said, picking up a dark blue miniskirt.

It was Maya. "Hey Ulala," she said. "What are you up to?"

"Very important things," Ulala said, holding the skirt up to her waist. "I'm looking at skirts. How do you feel about velvet?"

"But you don't need a new skirt."

"Hmm," she said, putting it back on the rack. "You're right, definitely not velvet. Are you home yet?"

Maya was talking to someone in the background. After a minute her voice came back over the line. "Uh, yeah, I don't have much time to talk. I'm still at Kismet. I'm trying to arrange an interview with the kids who were attacked, but everyone's clamming up now that the police are involved." There was more talking in the background. "Sorry about that. Listen, when you talk to Katsuya, can you tell him to call me over here? I think I need permission from an officer, and -" someone interrupted her and she trailed off.

"Oh, right! I was supposed to call him," Ulala said, picking up another skirt. "What about chiffon?" She looked it over and wrinkled her nose. "Yellow's not my color, though."

Maya came back on, speaking loudly over the office noise. "Hey, I have to go, it just got crazy here. Talk to you later, okay?" There was a heavy click followed shortly by empty silence.

Ulala nodded mutely and clicked her phone off. Guess I'll call Big Suou, she thought, humming to herself as she dialed his number. His phone rang several times before he answered it.

"Suou here," he said gruffly, static crackling over the line.

"Big Suou?" Ulala said. "Where are you? Your signal is terrible."

The first part of what he said was garbled, but she managed to make out that he was in a police car heading back to the school. "- you with Baofu?" he asked, the noise suddenly diminishing to a low hum.

"Nuh-uh. He's at the office, and I'm shopping for skirts."

Katsuya paused. "...Oh. When you do see him, can you have him get in touch with me? I need to talk to him about the missing girl from Sevens."

Ulala suppressed a sigh. "Sure, sure. That reminds me, Ma-ya said you should call her at Kismet. Something about the police obstructing something-or-other." She trailed off, getting the impression that he wasn't listening anyway.

"What? Miss Amano said that? I'll give her a call, then. Oh, we're here. I need to go," he said. "Have a good night." Again, a click and then silence.

She blinked. She looked at her phone curiously, as though she weren't sure it was working properly, then shrugged and put it back in her purse. As she did, a timid sales girl approached her to remind her that the store was closing and that she should make her decision soon.

"Oh," said Ulala dully. "Thanks, but I'll just come back later." With that, she collected her things and returned to the street. Outside, she saw that the shop lights were dimming, flickering off; chairs were being stacked on tables, floors swept, window signs turned to 'closed'. The closing-shift employees called goodnights to each other as they locked up, and she felt strangely out of place as she walked past them.

These people all have a purpose, she thought to herself. They go to work, and when it's over they go home. She sighed morosely. What do I do? I never know what to do with myself when no one is holding my hand.

She shook her head, chasing away her negative feelings. I shouldn't be so self-pitying, she thought. I'm close to the office; maybe I'll go help Baofu. She nodded and smiled, feeling that this would be the right thing to do, and her pace quickened with sudden direction.

As she approached the building, she saw lamplight shining out of their office window. The night had grown decidedly chilly, and she hugged herself, looking forward to getting inside. When she tried the door handle, however, she was surprised to find that it was locked.

Dammit, she thought, irritated. Bao hasn't given me a copy of the key yet. She banged on the door with one gloved fist. "Let me in! It's freezing out here!"

There was no response, so Ulala knocked again, harder this time. Someone mumbled close to the door and it slammed open, yellow light spilling onto the sidewalk. She stepped back in surprise. Baofu's angular form stood darkly against the warm interior, braced on the doorframe with one outstretched arm. He squinted at her. "Oh, Ser'zawa... just you," he said, his voice slightly slurred. He was breathing heavily, the silhouette of his shoulders rising and falling.

She followed him into the office, watching as he stumbled against her makeshift desk. He pushed the screen aside roughly. "This place is too small, don't you think?" he asked loudly, of no one in particular.

"Bao?" she said tentatively, looking over his shoulder to his desk. An empty shot glass lay on its side next to an open folder. She looked down to see the corresponding bottle in his hand. Ulala didn't consider herself much of a pessimist, but this one was definitely half empty.
"Oh," she said, recognition showing in her eyes. I thought he didn't want to drink, she thought bitterly. "Hardly working, I see."

"Definitely too small," he mumbled. "No room for anything. We should," he trailed off, as though he wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. "Move. We should move."

Ulala sighed and shook her head. He's pretty far gone, she thought. I've never seen him this drunk. "Bao, we just got this place. You said you liked it," she said patiently.

"You're right," he said, his voice suddenly soft and thoughtful. "I do like it." He caressed the desk with clumsy fondness.

She watched him stroke the scratched wooden surface. "C'mon Bao, you really need to sober up," she suggested. "Call it quits for the night, okay?"

His head fell back and he looked up at the textured ceiling, his arms hanging loose at his sides. Ulala hesitated a moment, then walked over to him and gently reached for the bottle he was clutching.

He felt her hand and whirled around, snatching the bottle out of her reach. Warm rusty brown liquid sloshed out of it and fell to the ground with a sickening splat. "Dammit, woman!" he spat, the smell of alcohol now pungent in the small office. "This is none of your business! Why can't you just leave me the hell alone?"

A deathly silence fell over them. Ulala drew back and watched him with wide, hurt eyes. It certainly wasn't the first time a drunken man had thrown abusive words at her; in fact, she was practically an expert at dealing with them. She would slap him, get angry, yell and storm out. She would go home to Maya and eat ice cream and rant about what animals men are. Then, she would get over it, erase his phone number from her book and go back out to start it all over again with some other guy.

At least, that was the plan. That's how it always went before, that's how it went in her head. But right now she couldn't bring herself do anything but stare back at him.

Baofu slumped back to lean on the edge of his desk, his jaw still set in an angry line. He looked intently at the bottle, swished the liquid around, then set it down next to him with a deliberate movement. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes as though he were suddenly very tired.

When he opened them she could see that they were worn and bloodshot. He looks better without his glasses, she thought numbly, then started to cry.

He looked up, startled by the soft noise. His eyes opened wide when he saw that she was crying, and before she knew what was happening he was there, next to her and surrounding her. His long arms bent around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. One hand reached up to stroke her hair. "I'm so sorry," he said softly, his voice heavy with regret. "Please don't cry."

Ulala stiffened, her face pressed against the cool fabric of his shirt. I can feel him everywhere around me, she thought in stunned silence. Afraid to breathe, or even to move at all, she just closed her eyes and let him hold her as her tears fell hotly onto her cheeks.

They stood that way for a long time, until her quiet shaking had stopped and Baofu's shirt was blotchy with tears. He drew back, keeping his hands on her arms, and looked into her face. She looked up at him with red and smudgy eyes. Suddenly self conscious, she touched her cheeks lightly with the tips of her fingers. "Oh," she said lamely, noticing for the first time the mascara stains on his shirt, and he almost smiled.

She sniffled and started to say, "I'm going to go find a restroom and salvage what little dignity I have left," but in reality all she got out was "I -" before her mouth was entirely occupied with his. Inside her head, a thousand voices sprang up, yelling questions, doubts, warnings; but on the outside, her eyes just rolled shut and she murmured in muted acquiescence.

He kissed her gingerly at first, his hands still resting lightly on her arms as though he expected her to jump away. When she didn't, and he became convinced she wasn't going to, he slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She let her hands rest lightly on his chest, which was still damp from her crying.

Where at first the embrace had been almost awkward, Ulala soon felt long-forgotten experience awaken in her partner. He stroked the small of her back as though he had always known exactly how to touch her; he kissed her just as though he had always done so. Something in her fell apart, begged with her to give in to feelings that were far too long in the coming. She broke away for air, taking in ragged breaths as he turned his head to kiss the line of her jaw. She held her eyes tightly closed, focused on holding on, on breathing, on remaining standing.

"Ulala," he murmured, his warm breath dusting her cheek. She was so enthralled by his presence that she could hardly think; he was so close to her, so close... she drew in a deep breath, the smallest smile almost touching her lips before the bittersweet smell of alcohol drifted into her awareness.

Her eyes opened then, as though she were waking from a dream. Her arms had worked their way around his neck, and her head was tipped back so far she found herself staring up at the ceiling. "Wait," she said, the word catching in her throat. Baofu muttered something into her neck and she swallowed and said it again. "Wait, please." She disentangled herself from his arms.

He let his hands fall to his sides and looked at her with an expression that was both confused and concerned. She stood back, feeling as though her heart was torn open and exposed as she stared at him dumbly. His shirt was stained and wrinkled, and without his glasses he looked naked, disarmed. "No," she said, and her voice sounded alien even to her own ears. "I don't want... I mean, not like this."

He blinked. "What? What's wrong?"

She gave a little laugh, still catching her breath. "Look at you. You're drunk. You're stupid. You don't know what you're doing." She shook her head. "I don't want to wake up tomorrow and find out that you're ashamed, or worse, that you don't remember anything at all. I want a better life than that, I..." She paused and looked up at him. "Don't you?"

Baofu didn't say anything, just looked back at her. After a long, heavy silence, he turned his head and closed his eyes. She watched his shoulders fall, and he seemed to diminish in the dim lamplight. "Are you going, then?" he asked dully.

"I -" Ulala choked on the words. What can I say? What could I possibly say? "Do you want me to stay?" she finally asked softly.

He said nothing, only furrowed his brow as the shadow of some bitter sorrow passed over his eyes. She took a deep, ragged breath, then turned and made her way to the door. It had long since closed behind her when Baofu finally looked up.

"I need -" he said, before he realized that it was just an empty room.

* * *

It was late when Maya got home. The apartment was dark, and she smiled wickedly to herself as she closed the door behind her. Guess Ulala's 'sick' again, she thought, making a mental note to tease her ruthlessly about it later. I wonder, will she be married before me?

She kicked her shoes off to the side and stretched languidly. "Bed bed beautiful bed," she sang lightly to herself as she bent to switch on a table lamp. "Bed beautiful -" the note fell flat in her throat.

Ulala was curled into a ball on the couch, her eyes raw from crying. A carton of ice cream sat in a puddle of condensation on the coffee table, and she was clutching her old hamster doll, which was only brought out in dire emergencies. She didn't even look up at her roommate, just stared straight ahead into empty space.

Maya looked at her best friend in shock. Baofu, she thought, her hands curling into two angry fists. "Alright," she said, wrath coloring her voice. "What did he do?"