"Wai! Asaba!" two young voices squealed in utmost delight. Hideaki smirked at the sight of a pair of cute little blushing girls, staring up at him in absolute worship.
"You too are even more beautiful than I remember," he told them smoothly, soaking up the adoration.
Miyazawa's father stared angrily, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. "Who are you and what are you doing with my precious daughters?"
Entering the room, Miyazawa sighed and tried to calm her father. "It's Asaba, Dad. You wouldn't let me go swimming with him so I invited him here."
The flustered man continued to glare, hands nearly shaking with rage. "Oh course I wouldn't let you go with a boy like him! Look at that blonde hair. Look at those earrings! Boys like him only want one thing from my pure, innocent daughters."
Yukino seemed to ignore her father easily, directing Hideaki to sit on the couch where her two younger sisters could admire him all they wanted, bringing comic books and childish drawings for his desirable attention. Their mother looked up from her ironing to get a glimpse of him.
"You must be Mrs. Miyazawa," he said, turning the charm on full blast, "If you don't mind me saying so, it's no surprise that you have such lovely daughters. If only I had managed to meet you before your husband."
It made his entire day to watch her blush wildly as the young father roared around the house in a resentful rage, his face flushed red as the inside of a pomegranate.
"You're looking kind of thin," Yukino observed, watching him drink the juice offered by her blissful sisters. "And you're really sunburned now."
Hideaki shrugged. "I've been spending a lot of time at the beach, I guess, and I don't feel like eating much lately."
"Missing Arima, huh?" She smiled softly.
"Maybe," he said, a little defensively. "But you seem fine, doing all that stuff with all your friends."
Yukino leaned against the back of the couch. "Yeah, I've had fun with them, but that doesn't mean I don't wish Arima was here, that I don't wake up sad because I know I can't see him every day." She blinked and looked down at the floral print. "Sometimes when I hear his voice on the phone, it's almost like I can feel him, like he's really there and I can just reach out and pull his arms around me…" She sighed. "I thought I could be fine without him, but it hurts more than I ever imagined."
"He calls you a lot?" Hideaki asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"No," she replied distantly, "Just sometimes."
"Hmm," he murmured. His tongue burned with acid jealousy. There was nothing else to say.
-
He cooked ramen that night but couldn't make himself eat more than two bites. The savory sauce turned bitter in his mouth and the noodles felt uncommonly slimy. Nothing a man cooks tastes good.
A phone rang loudly in the empty apartment.
"Hello."
"Asaba." The voice sounded low and soft.
"Eh, Arima?" He tried desperately not to drop the phone and not stutter. Silence stretched on the other end.
"Are you okay, Arima?" he asked awkwardly, chewing on a lip.
"I'm…" the voice trailed off a little. "I wish I could see her."
The hard plastic of the phone dug into his ear. "Don't worry; I swore I'd take care of Yukinon and you'll see her in a few days, safe and sound."
"I know," Arima said, his voice breaking slightly, "But it's just so…empty here without her. I want…"
"Yeah, I know," Hideaki assured him.
Silence. Arima seemed to be breathing harder and then he spoke.
"I'm sorry, Asaba. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Hideaki felt a sharp stab of loneliness in his chest. "It's okay. You call me whenever you want and I'll listen."
"Um," Arima murmured, "Could you just talk for a while about something? I need to listen right now."
Two breaths and Hideaki sighed. "Okay… Well, the other day I saw this girl on the beach in a little green bikini and I wondered how she managed to keep it on. Did she glue it to her skin or was she just lying really still to make sure it didn't fall off? I wonder if they make swimsuits that you can just stick on yourself to look good when you sunbathe. You could just peel off little sticker tabs and stick it on your skin like velcro. It's a good idea, don't you think? We should market it if no one else has."
He babbled on for nearly half an hour, talking about Miyazawa's insane father, her cute sisters, the energetic little dog, his own father, the new games at the arcade, the dusty old books, and anything else that popped into his head until finally Arima thanked him and said goodbye, in a much steadier voice.
"I miss you so much I'll die before you get home," Hideaki declared melodramatically, "like the maidens of old awaiting the return of their warriors."
"Then don't expect me to come to your funeral," Arima grumbled.
-
Arima returned a day before he said he would and Hideaki didn't even learn about it until later. It turned out that he spent the whole evening with Yukino and the next day too. Hideaki greeted him enthusiastically and they settled into the familiar routine of half-serious arguments and long, content silences.
Every day Arima spent more time with his girlfriend and even Yukino's gaggle of friends began to refer to him as 'her husband.' It seemed an apt title, Hideaki thought, as he watched the way Arima touched Yukino so gently and couldn't seem to keep from smiling whenever he saw her. Occasionally, Hideaki noticed the path Arima's eyes traced over her slender body, the pure, unselfish yearning in his focused gaze.
"Have you ever…gone far with a girl?" he asked Hideaki awkwardly as they leaned against the wall, sipping their sodas.
Hideaki nearly choked on a fizzy swallow, trying not to laugh and sputter at the blush on Arima's face.
"Uh, I guess you must be pretty experienced," Arima mumbled, looking at the cold can in his hand.
"Well…" Hideaki drawled, "I'm no virgin but I wouldn't exactly say one time makes a sex god."
Arima's head jerked up into a stare. "Only once? With who?"
Raising his can for another sip, Hideaki smirked. "Don't look down on me for this, but actually she was my babysitter."
He thought Arima's head might explode any minute.
"What the…you…!"
"Eh," Hideaki sighed. "I was fourteen and my dad thought I still needed someone to look after me when both my parents were gone, so he paid this college girl who worked in his office to stay at our house." He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Needless to say, when he found us together, he decided that I was old enough to be on my own."
"Oh." Arima looked at his soda as if it were a foreign object. "Hn."
"Yeah." Hideaki took another drink. "But I've been pretty careful with girls since. They are my lovely, innocent little lambs who should remain eternally pure and unspoiled. I love them all, but not the same way you way you feel about Yukino."
He met Arima's vulnerable gaze steadily. "You love her, right?" On his tongue the soda felt suddenly nauseatingly sweet. "Take a chance, Soichiro. Go for it, you kendo stud, you!"
Blushing furiously, Arima smacked him on the side of his head and he dropped his soda, ducking and laughing. But he didn't really want it anyway.
-
Much as Yukino adored her beautiful Soichiro, she also seemed quite attached to her recently acquired group of remarkable girls who followed her around and commented loudly on everything around them. At first Arima smiled when he saw them together: cute little Tsubasa, tomboy Sakura, bookish Aya, confident Maho, and sweet Rika all gathered around Yukino like a flock of birds on a rice field.
Lately though, his smile seemed strangely stiff, and his eyes hid emotion automatically. Hideaki tried to take his mind off the darkness by inviting himself to Arima's house once again using the pretense of cooking dinner, in the absence of Arima's parents, while the dark haired boy did paperwork for the student council.
"My dad is such an asshole," Hideaki complained, breaking stiff noodles to fit in the boiling water. "Thinks that studying is all a person needs in life." He pulled a wooden spoon from the counter. "You like miso flavor, right?"
Arima grunted, scribbling information across another form. His hand moved with rapid determination.
"How old is this calamari?" Hideaki asked, poking at a package from the fridge.
"I have no idea," Arima said without looking up, a gleam of sharpness in his voice. "I don't buy the damn groceries."
Sighing, Hideaki watched the fridge door close with a dull thud. "You know, no matter how many friends Yukino makes, she'll always be crazy about you."
Impassive, Arima continued to fill out the paper before him leveling the stack methodically. "I have nothing against them. She's happy. So I'm happy." His jaw twitched slightly. "Besides, she doesn't belong to me…or anything like that."
The faucet dripped idly in the background. Hideaki moved to the table and sat in the chair next to Arima, leaning his head against the other boy's firm shoulder, the fabric of the shirt warm against his cheek. "I'll never leave you, kid."
"Like I care," Arima grumbled. But he didn't make any move to push the fair head from its comfortable place on his shoulder. "Your dad is right," he told Hideaki sternly. "You really should study more if you don't want to end up working at a gas station or something."
"Don't mind," Hideaki murmured, trying not to breathe or move too much. "I'll ask you for money when you're some big shot executive."
He could almost feel Arima scowl. "I'm going to be a doctor or a manager of the hospital," Arima said. "I can't let my family down."
I can't be like them…"You won't," Hideaki whispered, listening to the comforting scratch of Arima's pen. His eyelids fluttered drowsily against the fabric of the shirt. He thought he might like to stay like that forever.
The noodles on the stove began to boil over, hissing emphatically.
-
That night Hideaki dreamed.
He wandered a church with huge stained glass windows and long halls lit with brilliant sunlight, the edges of everything glowing, ethereal. He found Arima sitting in an alcove, looking away through the splintered colors of the stained glass at something far beyond. His head turned slowly, looking to Hideaki with gentle silence, features blurred with light.
Inexplicably overcome, Hideaki stretched his fingers to catch the other boy's glowing face, almost invisible in the white light surrounding it. Arima's eyes swallowed him whole in their cool darkness. Helplessly, Hideaki tilted his head forward as Arima's arms wrapped around him.
They kissed once, an insubstantial pressure of lips, and Arima dissolved into his flesh in a warm wave of radiant light that suffused his body. Hideaki felt his skin tingle and looked down at the open palms of his hands, his long forearms shining incandescent in the luminous emptiness.
Waking, Hideaki lay sleepless for hours vainly trying to remember every detail, trying to make the contact into something real. But he couldn't remember what Arima really looked like, what the kiss felt like, or why he melted away so silently.
He bunched up the blankets and held them close to his chest, heart beating with dull pain. A bittersweet taste lingered in his mouth.
-
Kendo practice had ended, but no one knew where Arima had disappeared to. Hideaki finally found him, sitting in a space between the lockers and the wall, his knees drawn up to his forehead, both hands covering his eyes. For a moment, the Hideaki could only stare anxiously at the closed off figure of his friend, drowning in the shadow of the lockers.
"Arima," he said, voice unsteady.
No sign of acknowledgment came from the boy tucked against the wall, but after a moment he lifted his face slightly, hands sliding down on his knees, to reveal chillingly blank eyes that regarded Hideaki without emotion.
"What?" he said, voice sharp.
Hideaki shuffled his feet and wiped both palms on his trousers. "Um, are you okay?"
Slowly, Arima unfolded his body and stood. He looked away from Hideaki, face set in stone, remote detachment in his eyes. "I'm fine," he said shortly. Hideaki started to move toward him unsurely, but Arima turned completely and walked away without another word.
Hideaki watched him go, fear stirring in his throat. Picking up the pay phone, he slipped in his yen and dialed Miyazawa's number. Her mother told him that Yukino had gone out with some friends to see a movie. Hideaki groaned.
-
"Yesterday? He went to visit his family, I think," Yukino said, frowning, "Do you think they did something to him…or maybe made him feel guilty?"
Hideaki sighed and covered his eyes. "I don't know what happened. He isn't talking to me, but obviously something about that visit upset him. Do you know anything about his family?"
Yukino bit her lip. "I know they're all mad at his parents and Arima is under a lot of pressure to be perfect. That's what forced him into wearing a mask for so long." She twisted the small ring on her white finger. "But we agreed to give up those masks."
Hideaki shrugged. "I only know that he loathes visiting those people. Maybe they remind him of stuff…I don't know. Maybe something else set him back into ice-boy mode."
Tilting her head, Yukino looked thoughtful. "He seemed fine today. We talked about the books we were going to read over the summer, and he's going to the beach with me and the girls this afternoon…"
"The beach?" Hideaki exclaimed, eyes widening with excitement. "I'm coming too!"
Yukino rolled her eyes. "Fine. Just don't blame me if Tsubaki shovels sand down your shorts or something." She ruffled his hair playfully but he could see traces of worry lingering in her eyes.
Grinning, Hideaki grabbed his bag, checking to see if he needed to return to the apartment for swim shorts. The sun burned high in the sky and the wind blew gently for once. Perhaps the chance to unwind with his girlfriend would drive Arima's dark mood away.
-
Rika and Maho and Aya were all gathered around Yukino as she waded into the waves, squealing at the cold water. Tsubaki watched them possessively, giving Hideaki a smug look that made him distinctly annoyed. She acts likes she owns them all, that greedy girl! He glared back at her until his eye caught a little blonde girl digging by herself in the sand, humming a childish tune under her breath.
Before he could make a move, Arima trotted up to her side, holding a toy squid. "Shibahime, I'll give this to you if you promise to stay away from that perverted old man over there, okay?"
She nodded sweetly. Hideaki seethed. "Perverted? Old?" He chased Arima into the ocean and splashed water at him vainly as the dark-haired boy laughed and danced nimbly away.
"Who's been staring at his girlfriend in that swimsuit all day?" Hideaki growled, "You're calling me perverted?"
"There's nothing wrong with admiring the scenery," Tsubaki declared, sliding her arms around the shoulders of Rika and Yukino with a confident smirk.
"Lesbo," Hideaki muttered under his breath. He was a little afraid the tall, athletic girl would shovel sand down his shorts if she heard him.
He sat on the cold, rough sand near the surf and helped Tsubasa build a sandcastle, under Arima's watchful eye. But as soon as he had erected all the towers she attacked it with a gleeful growl, demolishing all his work in seconds.
"You're an animal!" he complained, hands on hips. "That structure was a work of art, one of my best designs!"
"The best part is knocking it down," she informed him happily, stomping on the wreckage for good measure. "I'll let you destroy the next one."
Carefully extracting himself from that situation, Hideaki turned to the more pleasurable activity of ogling a shirtless Arima, without arousing the suspicions of Miyazawa or Tsubaki. This took great skill and careful sideways glances, but no one had mastered the art of beauty observation like Asaba Hideaki.
Shining with seawater, Arima's normally milky-white skin was tinged soft pink from exposure to the sun. His kendo-ka muscles showed off his light frame to an advantage and his strong, lean body moved through the water with all the awkward grace of youth. At one of Yukino's comments, his face lit up and twisted into another rare, genuine smile. Hideaki wanted to touch the back of his slender neck, catch the sleek, dark head in his hands. But he watched instead as Yukino held Arima's arm and pulled him toward the beach, her lovely young body leading the way. Their bodies knew each other, Hideaki realized, with a sudden shiver.
Sitting to the beach blanket, he brushed the sand and salt water off his skin with a towel, pretending to be more interested in the sand under his toenails. As Yukino and Arima approached his position, Hideaki turned to give Arima a sultry look through his dark sunglasses. "You want to rub some suntan lotion on me with those big, strong hands of yours, Soichiro?"
Arima refused to look at him but he could see the muscled shoulders tighten with embarrassed aggravation.
"Like hell!"
-
The air felt heavy as a wool blanket, smothering the entire city. Hideaki opened a window and sprawled on his bed, sweating and sipping lukewarm tea in the empty apartment. He could hear doors opening and closing and the couple downstairs arguing over dinner. Somewhere a baby cried.
Sometime later, he awoke briefly to the sound of rain on the roof. Cool, clean air drifted in through the window. Smiling with relief, Hideaki pulled a light blanket over his shorts and T-shirt, curling up to enjoy the relief from oppressive summer heat.
When the phone woke him, it was completely dark and rain had started to pool on his windowsill, mixing with the layer of dust that had coated it earlier.
"Hello?" he said groggily, pushing the phone to his ear.
"Hey, Asaba." The voice sounded muffled, as if the person had a cold or been crying.
"Arima?" He sat up, completely awake. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
A slow pause. "No."
Hideaki pulled his cold feet further under the blanket. "Is it Yukino?"
"She's fine. It's me," Arima said, a small, stifled catch of breath in his voice. "We…made love, I guess…and it was fine…it was really good. But it didn't change anything…it didn't change me, I mean."
Hideaki tried to gather his scrambled thoughts. "Are you…?"
"There's something wrong with me!" Arima declared vehemently. "And I can't get rid of it, no matter what I do." His voice trembled slightly. "I thought maybe…being that intimate, that close to her would drive it away…but…after she left, it's still here. It's always here!"
Hideaki drew in his breath, confused and afraid. His numb fingers gripped the phone like a lifeline. "What are you talking about, Soichiro? What won't go away?"
Arima's breath came harshly, in small sobs, and then it stopped suddenly.
"Arima?"
"I wish I had never been born," he said, voice calm and level. "My mother should have killed me when she had the chance. She wanted to."
"Arima!" Hideaki gasped. "That's not—"
"Just talk to me," Arima pleaded, cutting him off, "Just say something, please."
"I'm coming over to your house," Hideaki said, heart racing, "I'm coming right now."
"No!" Arima cried. He was breathing hard again, voice shuddering with each word. "Please, Asaba. Just talk to me like you did before. About nothing."
Shivering, Hideaki pulled his blanket closer. His mind felt blank with fear, but he began to speak…about Tsubasa's toy squid and Tsubaki's closet lesbian secret and the reasons why Pocari Sweat should be the national drink of Japan and all the benefits of eating hot ramen every day.
Eventually Arima seemed to relax again, chuckling softly at one of Hideaki's outrageous statements or sniffing in disgust. "You're an idiot, you know," he told Hideaki.
"But that's why you love me," Hideaki reminded him lightly.
"Yeah. Thanks for talking to me, Asapin. I'll see you at school."
"Okay," the blonde boy said weakly, his pulse racing unexpectedly. The receiver clicked in farewell and Hideaki set down his own phone reluctantly. It was such a simple statement, and of course Arima didn't mean it like that, but he couldn't help running the words like water through his head several hundred times before he could find sleep again.
"…that's why you love me."
"Yeah…"