Ch.3
Yuki
Yuki was sitting in the chair next to his dad, who was talking to the reporter. Yuki couldn't help but drift away. He found himself thinking about the pink haired boy, wondering what he was doing. He probably wasn't being bugged by an annoying psychotic reporter.
"Eiri, what does it feel like to be the son of, the most famous person in Japan?" The reporter asked snapping him out of his thoughts.
"I find it interesting to be the son of my father. I have always admired my father and I plan to be like him when I was a child and I still do." He said pulling something from the top of his head.
The reporter laughed and asked, "What is it that you like to do when you are in spare time and your father is busy?"
"That is a very simple question. I love to write. It helps me pass the time," He said.
"Well thank you for your time," The reporter said getting up and shaking his hand and his fathers.
Shuichi
Shuichi just stood there watching him. He couldn't believe that he was the son of basically the most known person. The worst thing was that he felt something for this person, a feeling he really couldn't describe. He stood there for nearly an hour, thinking. When he finally came out of thoughts, he realized it had at least been an hour. He started to walk home and thought that maybe he should walk though the park.
He walked through the park slowly trying to see if he was there. He wasn't and he knew he should give up. He kept walking slowly, not caring if it was late. He just had to see him one more time, then he would be done. He turned the corner just about to leave, forget about everything when he heard it. He heard his voice.
Yuki
"Father, I'll walk home, instead of going with you." He said to his dad, already headed for the park.
"Ok, but don't take forever and get home before your curfew," His father said. He hadn't even paid attention to him, but kept on walking. He was thinking about him. It seemed all he ever did was think about him. It would never work in a world of perfection something like this would send them heading to a place, a place that was so indescribable, so awful that it wasn't even possible to think of. Even though his father was the one who basically made these rules, he would never accept the fact of something so imperfect.
He walked toward the park looking for the boy when he saw a pink blob. Heart racing, he did the only smart thing to do at the time. He yelled 'Hey'. The pink blob turned and faced him. As he looked closer, he saw it was the boy. He walked slowly toward him wondering what to say. When they were close enough to talk, they had met in the middle of the park. The pink haired boy had a look of uncertainty on his face.
