A/N: Hello, dear readers. Thank you for your patience and your reviews. Even if you didn't leave a review, that fact that you read this story through to the end indicates it must have appealed to you on some level (and that makes me happy).
Endless thanks to Starbrigid who worked so hard to beta this, wading valiantly through my errors and offering me great advice. Without her first prodding email, this story never would have gotten off my laptop. Also, special thanks to GoldenEyes, who pushed me off my butt to get this posted. She's reviewed every chapter faithfully with great, specific encouragement.
Now, the final chapter. Minor spoilers for the end of the series, but not much. Apologies to everyone who still hoped that Arima would suddenly suffer amnesia and forget about Yukino altogether, falling in Hideaki's arms instead. Will it be a happy ending? No. A hopeful ending? Yes.
Chapter 13
Everything changed over the next few months. Arima was nervous, vulnerable, and seemed prey to sudden, overwhelming emotions, but he was also more open and genuine than Hideaki had ever seen. It was both painful and gratifying to watch Arima's sudden spells of embarrassment, his open astonishment at how quickly his friends accepted his explanations. Tsubaki, Aya and the others leapt at the idea of protecting Arima from his birth mother's harassment. Hideaki sat in the back of the classroom, the sun warming his back as he listened to their discussion of creative protection plots.
He didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved that Arima never talked about that strange night in the bedroom with the razor on the desk. He did know that he liked this new Arima, the boy who admitted what he felt and had stopped running away. Hideaki saw the way Arima watched Yukino walking in front of him up the path to school, head tilted, eyes wondering. They stopped to look at the lights strung on the railing around the courtyard. She lifted Arima's hand in hers and touched the healing scab, humming softly under her breath. Arima looked down at her head covered in the black wool cap. Her red-brown hair peeked out the edges. Arima's lips were parted and his eyes wide open, light filling his face like a man watching the sun rise in the valley.
One of the best perks of this new Arima was the fact that Hideaki got his friends back at last. Tsubaki acted as though nothing had happened and went about teasing him regularly. Aya barely noticed his presence, as usual. Rika regarded him with shy embarrassment until he convinced her that he had never held a grudge and was eager to talk to her again. They fell back into the usual comfortable routine after the success of Operation Remove Evil Mother, but things had changed irrevocably in the group. Everyone around him seemed to be moving in pairs, and with Arima no longer in need of his support or confidence, Hideaki was left like an abandoned sock in the bottom of the laundry basket. Tsubaki had Tonami, Tsubasa had her rock star brother-fiancée, Maho had her handsome dentist, Rika had Aya's shy brother, Aya was eternally married to her work, and Arima and Yukino, as always, had each other.
None of Hideaki's girlfriends had ever mattered to him as anything more than social objects or entertaining friends. Without Arima, he felt like a tree with all its buds snipped off. Some sudden frost had made it impossible for him to branch out while everyone else flowered with happiness. When had this happened? Before Arima he had been content enough as the quirky, pleasant child basking in the light of others' attention. He wanted to blame Arima for this emptiness, this numbing confusion. Loving Arima had sucked all the warmth from his bones. He felt as though someone had scraped out his insides raw and left him like a gutted fish. In the end, he had no one but himself to blame for this futile, foolish obsession.
-
Right before winter break, Hideaki had his final roof-meeting with Arima. This time, when Hideaki reached the open air, Arima was standing straight and tall with one foot resting on the ledge that supported the bars around the edge, a ship's captain looking out at the vast wind-capped ocean.
"Hey," Hideaki said, approaching him. "It's kind of cold out."
Arima turned to face him, leaning his back against the bars. His eyes looked bright and clear, shining with a sharp anticipation that softened slowly to pity. Confused and afraid, Hideaki deftly avoided Arima's open gaze and leaned himself beside the other boy, facing away from his friend. With the railing pressing against his ribs, he stared out at the landscape below as though there was nothing more fascinating than the wide lawns of the school grounds white with frost.
"So, a few more months and we're outta here," he said casually. The railing burned like solid ice against his bare wrists.
"I wanted to apologize to you, Asaba," Arima said softly. He took a deep breath that made Hideaki's skin crawl with dread. "I talked with Miyazawa and I realized… a lot of things."
"Ah," Hideaki felt a caustic, fiery pain in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed against the rising bile of self-loathing. "No problem. It's cool." Shut up, shut up, shut up!
"I treated you badly," Arima continued doggedly in a low voice. "I ignored your feelings and I said a lot of… hurtful things. I don't expect you will forget them but I hope you can forgive me."
Hideaki tucked his numb hands under his sleeves and held them against his chest. "Sure," he said, drawing out the word for reassurance. He licked his chapped lips and swallowed the bitter taste again. "You owe me one, though. When I get the chance, I'm going to cry on your shoulder all the time in embarrassing situations and walk all over you like a cheap rug." He chuckled to relieve the tension and the skin of his bottom lip cracked painfully.
"That's fine. I want to be here for you," Arima said earnestly. "You were always there for me and I want to help you when you need it." He continued to stand with his back to the railing and Hideaki was glad that Arima couldn't see his face, couldn't see his struggle to keep his features in order. Arima lifted his left arm and slung it over Hideaki's chest, gripping his shoulder. Hideaki could feel the firm muscles of Arima's upper arm against his other shoulder, holding him steadily.
"Thanks," Hideaki rasped. He ran his tongue over the cracked skin of his lip. From this height he could see most of the school buildings, the silver ribbon of the river, and the little grove of trees over the stone bench, the one that bore the brief message, Wind loves sky. Arima's elbow pressed painfully against his breastbone.
"You'll find someone soon," Arima assured him. "You've always been popular with girls. I know you can move forward."
"Yeah," Hideaki agreed. Arima's arm felt like a chain on his chest, weighing his body down. The wind stung his eyes, made them tear and burn so he closed them tight and stretched his lips, strained his mouth into a smile that covered everything.
-
Snow began to fall that afternoon in fast flurry of white. When the wind blew it against the windows of the classroom, the flakes beat themselves against the glass like frightened insects. Leaving school, Hideaki knotted his colorful scarf around his neck and adjusted his book bag over his coat. He hadn't brought gloves and fretted inwardly at the thought of dry, cracked skin. The sharp point of an umbrella poked him in the side unexpectedly and he nearly jumped into the wall.
"No umbrella?" Yukino chirped, looking up at him with an adorably innocent expression. "You'll ruin your perfect hair."
He ran a hand through his bright locks, pushing them up messily. "I'm so glad you noticed. But shouldn't you be sharing your precious umbrella protection with Arima?"
She wrinkled her nose. "He's at cram school learning whatever future medical students can afford to learn."
"Ah," Hideaki sighed. "How to make lots of money and still look handsome, I imagine."
She opened the umbrella over them as they exited the building and he watched the snow begin to settle onto its thin membrane in small, dark shadows.
"I hoped we'd have snow for Christmas," Yukino said. "What are you doing for Christmas Eve, Asaba?"
"Are you inviting me?" he asked excitedly, dodging the question easily. "Let's leave Arima behind and go to Disneyland together! It would be so romantic."
She shook her head fondly. "You're changing the subject, of course. I'll let it go this time if you promise to give me some more advice."
"I charge 900 yen a minute for my counseling service," he quipped. "You'll have to set up an appointment ahead of time, but I'm afraid I can't promise much flexibility at this busy time of year."
"Ha, ha," Yukino said dryly. They walked by a park where children ran about in their thick winter coats, twirling and trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. Hideaki noticed that the snow was already thinning fast.
"You were around Arima a lot when he was struggling," she said slowly. "You saw parts of him that he never showed me. I guess I can admit that I'm still a little jealous of that…"
"But he tells you everything now," Hideaki protested. "Why are you complaining?"
She stopped walking and stood by a rickety park bench, closing her umbrella. Only an occasional flake drifted down now. "I never went through what he did. I had a perfect, happy childhood. No matter how horrible I feel about how he suffered, I'm stupid to think I'll ever really understand it." She smoothed the damp fabric of the umbrella with her fingers. A snowflake settled right above her left eyebrow and he stared at it mindlessly.
"So what?" he said. She jabbed the umbrella in his direction and he sidled away. "I mean, what does it matter if you haven't experienced what he has? It's not like he needs someone to stand around and pity him all day." In the park, one of the toddlers fell down into the wet grass and started wailing. "He needs someone who can make him happy. Worrying about this stuff just shows how much you love him, silly girl." The snowflake on Yukino's brow had melted into a clear, perfect water droplet and he reached to wipe it off with his thumb. "You guys are so good together. You'll probably be together for the rest of your lives and turn into one of those feisty old couples with a million bratty kids."
"Hey," she grumbled. He saw her fingers go to her stomach unconsciously and a sudden incredible suspicion swelled in his mind.
"Will I be Uncle Asaba?"
Yukino looked down at the umbrella in her hands for a moment before lifting her head to glare at him. "Maybe someday, if you're not too nosy." She looked away, feigning nonchalance. "Of course, I plan to finish college first." Her breath showed white in the chill air. The silver clips in her hair glittered with condensation.
"I thought we weren't keeping secrets anymore," he teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"As if you're not keeping your own," she said with a vehemence that startled him. "All that fighting over Arima back when I first met you… I thought it was just a joke."
"It was a joke," he assured her, feeling suddenly naked and afraid. "It was a silly game. We both knew who he wanted. There was no competition."
She gripped the umbrella, pulling it close to her body and raised her free hand to cover the side of her face. Her eyelashes trembled against her fingers. "I've been so jealous of you all this time… but now I just feel sad."
He threw up his hands in a dramatic gesture of confusion. "Why? Be young! Be happy! Be in love!" When she didn't reply, he touched one of her silver hairclips gently, smearing the condensation on it and clouding its bright surface. "You are so incredibly lucky, you can't possibly be sad."
She pushed her fingernails into her skin and her face crumpled. "Asaba," she sobbed. In a sudden rush, she pressed herself against his chest. Automatically, he closed his arms around her, sheltering her shaking body. A snowflake melted on the back of his neck and trickled between his shoulder blades. One of the children in the park complained loudly that she was cold and wanted to go home. Hideaki wanted to go home. He wanted to lock himself in his apartment. He wanted to fall asleep in the bath and never wake up. He didn't want to stand outside a park in winter, comforting a distraught Yukino who was crying for him, of all people. Her compassion rattled inside him, like noisy marbles shaking in an empty cup.
Yukino continued to cry softly against his coat and he tried to calm her, rubbing circles into her small back. "You're fine," he murmured soothingly. "Don't cry over something like this." He saw her future stretched out on the horizon, brilliant and fruitful, her destined marriage to Arima, her successful career, her beautiful children. In his own future, he saw blank stretches, empty spaces, bleak expanses of nothing. He bent his head so that his nose touched the top of her warm hair. "Little sister, don't cry over nothing."
-
For winter break, Yukino went with Arima to stay at his family's fancy vacation home in Tateshina. Hideaki spent his winter break trying not to resent them. He wondered if Yukino was really pregnant and what Arima's reaction would be if she told him. As the illegitimate son of another illegitimate child, would he be terrified by the symbolic pattern? Hideaki couldn't really picture him as a father. However, he felt completely certain that Yukino would be an excellent mother—exuberantly loving, overly organized, and highly protective of her offspring.
When Arima returned to school after break, he said nothing about children. The first thing he asked Hideaki about was music, particularly jazz music. His exact words were, "Hey, you're into music, right? Do you know where I can order an import CD by Arima Reiji?"
-
On Hideaki's birthday, the gang gathered briefly after school to get ice cream sundaes at the shop near the school. They all crowded around a table in the corner and conversation immediately gravitated to the fact that Arima's dad, the popular American jazz pianist was coming to Japan.
"He said he'd contact you," Maho told Arima. "Have you heard anything yet?"
Arima shook his head and Yukino spoke up. "What is he like? You guys met him in New York, right? Is he as scary as his music?"
Maho frowned. "No, he seemed very polite, very Japanese. Yusuke said that his music has changed recently. It's much easier to listen to."
Hideaki inhaled a little of his milkshake and coughed hard. Tsubaki whacked his back helpfully, nearly shoving him into the table.
"Oh, happy birthday, Asaba," Rika said shyly. "I have something for you."
She presented him with a lovely framed color pencil sketch of a costume design that they had worked on together for the play. It made him smile fondly at the memory and Rika blushed happily.
Aya gave him a book about host clubs in Japan while Arima and Yukino had pitched in to buy Hideaki an expensive set of new paints and brushes. Taped to the package of paints was a note in Arima's firm handwriting: 'Go to Art School!' After a little thought, Tsubasa decided to give him a pink ribbon from one of her pigtails. She climbed over the back of his chair to tie it in his hair, humming cheerfully as her fingers worked. Tsubaki was thoughtful enough to present him with a large package of condoms, much to the mortification of Arima and Tonami.
"You're eighteen now," Tsubaki said matter-of-factly. "You can have sex with older women and they won't get sent to jail."
"Really?" Yukino asked curiously. "I thought that only worked the other way around, with an older man."
Tsubaki shrugged. "Okay Asaba, you can have sex with older men, then. Enjoy."
"Don't give him any ideas," Aya advised.
"Hey, you guys," Tonami protested, his face deeply stained with color. "We're in a public place, you know."
Hideaki waved the packet of condoms at him threateningly and the taller boy jerked away, tipping his chair backwards onto the floor and causing everyone to burst into laughter. Tsubaki tried to help him up, but she was laughing so hard, she could barely take his hand.
Afterwards, Hideaki followed Arima and Yukino back to Arima's house where they ate the delicious strawberry shortcake that Shizune-san had baked. Yukino asked her about how Arima helped her in the kitchen when he was a child and her boyfriend colored and protested as his mother detailed his moments of sweet innocence. "You're all growing up now," Shizune said a little sadly. "And I know you'll be wonderful, successful adults, but there's nothing like the voice of a child."
The three of them went upstairs to pick a video out of Arima's antiquated collection. Yukino flipped through the plastic cases with a despairing expression. She confirmed that he had an older version of 'The Phantom of the Opera' somewhere in the house and went downstairs to ask his mother about it. Alone in the room with Arima, Hideaki shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to stare at the mahogany desk behind Arima, completely cleaned of blood. Idly, Arima scratched at the pinkish scar on the back of his hand. Hideaki watched the movement of his fingers until he realized what he was doing. His eyes darted to the wide bed, the polished door. The room felt suddenly too small for his huge, awkward body.
Arima cleared his throat nervously. "Um, thanks for telling me about that music store. I ordered a copy of my dad's CD and it came in on Friday." He gestured toward the small player on his desk. "You want to hear it?"
"Sure," Hideaki said. His voice filled the room, too loud and overeager.
Arima put the CD into the player and a familiar song began, a haunting piece of music that made the fine hairs on Hideaki's neck stand up. An icy-hot chill raced up his spine and he breathed deeply. Arima stared back into his wide eyes and whispered, "I know." Electricity tingled in Hideaki's fingers, the back of his arms. He felt the beat of the notes in his pulse, filled with lonely, fierce desperation. He felt as though it mirrored the muddy, shaded waters of his own heart, drawing him into places he didn't want to see.
Arima turned off the music and turned back to his friend. "It scared me so much when I was a kid. I cried when I heard him play." He reached out and pulled the pink ribbon out of Hideaki's hair. When he held it in his hand, the loose knot slipped apart and it hung over his flushed palm, limp and shining.
-
In January Arima's father toured Japan and reunited with his son. From what Hideaki heard, there were good times and bad times. Arima got to know his dad but also had to face his rejection. He learned about his family's torrid past, his adopted father's guilt, and the tyranny of his perfect grandfather. Arima Reiji played several concerts in Japan and Hideaki never saw one. He did, however, make copies of the CDs Arima had bought and played them over and over in the confines of his small apartment until he felt he could understand and bear the pain and beauty in the music.
In February, Hideaki posed for Rika's midterm project. She painted a portrait of him against a background of blue sky, despite the fact that he modeled for her in the dim art room. The shadows on his face in the portrait were all wrong. She painted his hair as though it moved in the wind.
In March, Mika-Mika, the neighbor girls' cat, was tragically killed by a car. Hideaki helped conduct a funeral, supplying both flowers and incense sticks. They constructed a little cardboard shrine, complete with a crayon portrait of the dearly departed. Later, he helped them pick out a new kitten from another litter and held it in his cupped palm, lifting it up under his chin. He smelled the warm fur and felt the movement of tiny, blind life squirming against his skin, intent on survival by any means.
In April he kissed a girl in a club with heavy music that thundered inside his head. She smelled like perfume and sweat and tasted like saliva. He looked through catalogs of wedding dresses with Yukino and Tsubasa. His father called to ask about graduation and Hideaki assured him that he would pass all his classes. "I even cut my hair," he said, neglecting to mention that it had almost grown back since September. They said nothing about his plans after high school. His father told him that they would both be there, his mother and his father.
"I didn't think you'd make it at that place, but you did," his dad said. "Congratulations."
In May, he went strawberry picking with Yukino and Arima, her idea for a senior trip. Hideaki tried his best to be funny, useful, silly, resourceful. He packed a lavish, extensive lunch. He challenged Yukino to a berry-picking contest and fell into a shallow stream. Yukino glowed like a ripening fruit but her swelling belly and full breasts barely showed under her loose sundress. The back of Arima's neck turned pink with sunburn and his fingertips stained brilliantly with berry juice. Hideaki couldn't bite into a strawberry without thinking of tasting those fingers.
In June, graduation came and went with many gatherings and partings. They barely had time to take a picture of the group before Tsubaki and Tonami flew off like wintering birds to a hot, exotic country. As a graduation gift, Hideaki's parents gave him a cell phone and told him how proud they were in many practiced, dried words. He smiled and thanked them, playing the game to make them happy, at least this once. He posed for pictures until his face hurt and his eyes burned from countless flashes. Girls hung on his arms and pleaded for "one more, one more."
Arima kissed Yukino out in the open, in front of a hundred people. She lifted her face as though accepting an expected gift. He held the back of her head, pushing her hair over one ear, and covered her mouth, briefly, fully. Hideaki left his parents talking to Counselor Kawashima and wandered behind the building where he found Aya. She sat against the brick wall, her neat, formal dress pulled tight against her calves, smoking a cigarette. Seeing him, she nodded lazily and lifted the diploma in her hand as though admiring its shape. "First day of the rest of your life, eh?"
-
The wedding followed quickly after graduation. Yukino asked Hideaki to design the invitations and he sketched a portrait of the happy couple. Originally, he had them seated in front of the river, but Arima complained about the mosquitoes and they had to move indoors. Arima sat stiffly at first and made mechanical facial expressions, but after Hideaki teased him enough and Yukino made faces, he finally broke into a brilliant natural smile.
After three years of struggling, Hideaki found no difficulty in sketching Arima's face this time. Arima's beauty seemed so much more genuine and fit with Yukino perfectly. It was like sketching two sides of a vase, not such much for their similarity but in the way they complimented each other. He looked over the preliminary sketches with satisfaction, inked them, and added soft colors.
They had planned a Western ceremony for the main event and a traditional ceremony to satisfy Arima's family—or so he claimed. Hideaki suspected it might have something to do with the fact that Yukino got to wear both a fluffy wedding gown and a sleek kimono. When she put on the lacy dress with its long, transparent veil, she looked like a princess from the clouds, full with child and beautiful as a dream.
A week before the ceremony, Hideaki was scheduled to meet the couple in order to discuss arrangements for the refreshments that he had planned and look over the accommodations. He took the train down to the nicer part of town and walked to the location. As he came in sight of the impressive brick building where the wedding would be held, his cell phone rang. It was Arima, apologizing profusely. "We had to wait forever to get seated at the restaurant," he explained, "and now we're stuck in traffic. Maho, Aya, and Dad should be coming too, so if you see any of them, let them know we'll be late."
"No problem," Hideaki assured him. "We'll be here whenever you get here." He ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. The sun had dipped beneath the horizon and the uncomfortably warm day was cooling off pleasantly. He climbed the steps of the building and looked at his reflection in the glass of the doors. They were locked, of course, and no one else had arrived yet. Resigned, he sat on the edge of the cement steps and dangled his feet idly. The pale blue flowers on the bush next to him were beginning to wilt and he picked some off, tearing them apart between his fingers and tossing the bright pieces into the air like confetti.
Someone laughed softly to the side of him and he slid off the steps, startled. Near the sidewalk stood two thick stone posts that supported the big sign for the building. A man leaned against one of them, his dark clothing blending in with the shade of the sign. The sight was so familiar that Hideaki swallowed, suddenly drawn back three years to his first day of high school when he had stood transfixed by the image of a dark boy swallowed in the shadow of a granite pillar. He stood and moved closer to see the stranger's features and his breath caught painfully in his throat. Those eyes, that face, they were remarkably similar, coldly, devastatingly handsome.
"Arima?" he said before he could stop himself. His voice sounded strange in his ears, too breathy and expectant against the pound of the pulse in his throat. He felt as though he had just run around the entire building. A wisp of smoke crossed his vision. The man lifted a cigarette from his lips and smiled at him with an edge of condescending amusement.
"Yeah, that's me." His voice was low and smooth. His hair was as black as Arima's but longer, framing his hypnotic eyes and high cheekbones. He looked like a model, spoke like a musician, and smoked like an artist. "But I don't think I'm the Arima you're looking for."
Hideaki couldn't control the dizzying rush of euphoria that filled his chest when Arima Reiji looked at him like that, all sarcastic nonchalance and sly, keen interest. He couldn't stop the grin that split his features, burned into his face. "I think maybe you are," he said.
-
Hideaki hadn't seen many babies in his life, but he knew that none of them could be as beautiful as Yukino's infant girl. Arima Sakura had wide, dark eyes and wisps of soft, sable hair. She never cried once in the entire duration of Hideaki's visit at the hospital but stared at him precociously, calm and alert. "She shouldn't even be able to focus yet," Yukino told him. "I think she's going to be another little prodigy."
"With parents like you two, no one will be surprised." Hideaki kissed Sakura's downy forehead and her mother's warm cheek. "I'll miss you guys."
Yukino sighed and smoothed her baby's black hair. "Something tells me you're not going to art school," she said.
"It can wait. I'm flying to America next week. Reiji's manager hired me as an assistant for his tour." He shrugged to hide the excitement that raced up his throat when he said the words. "Just fetching coffee and taking suits to the dry cleaner, you know."
Yukino pretended to scowl. "Lucky bastard," she complained. "You can barely speak English."
"Yeah, but he doesn't know that." He looked out the window at the dead leaves caught in the sill. "My dad is going to kill me when he finds out, so I need to leave as soon as possible. Say hi to Soichiro for me."
Yukino sighed again at the prospect of telling Arima. "Come back to visit us within the next year or I'll revoke you from your position as my child's godfather," she threatened. And then, with uncontainable affection, "Good luck, Hidebaka, if you really need it. You're one of those beautiful idiots who can succeed at anything, I think."
He exited the hospital to the parking lot outside, whistling a jazzy tune under his breath and caught sight of a stressed-looking Arima Soichiro rushing for the doors with a shopping bag on each arm. Briefly, Hideaki considered going to speak with the young man but he shook his head fondly and turned away, letting his friend return to his brand new family in the warm hospital room.
The path around the parking lot was planted with thick azalea bushes and towering, dark-leaved maple trees that rustled dryly in the sudden hot wind. In a few weeks those big leaves would color, and fall to cover the ground until someone raked them up or blew them away. When Hideaki extended his arms he could see the patterned shadows of the leaves rushing over his skin, changing in the wind with sudden flashes of light. He felt as though he could barely contain the vibrant music rising in his mind, in his throat and he began to sing a steady, wordless tune, in an off-key voice. The sun blazed through the clouds and the leaves above Hideaki as he danced carelessly down the shaded path by the parking lot, alone and unafraid.