Chapter Two Omi's perspective
Nagi seldom spoke unless he was spoken to and when he did it was customarily in a voice devoid of excitability accompanied by a gelid expression. I wished Nagi were more open, for I'd have loved to see emotion shine through those beautiful eyes. I know most males don't want anaught about themselves to be considered 'beautiful,' but that's what Nagi was. He had a powerful mind and a strong will in an exquisitely delicate body. The majority of boys do not notice those sorts of things about each other. This was simply more evidence to indicate what I already knew: that I was gay.
I'd loved Ouka, of course, and still wanted revenge for her death, however, I never cared for her the same way that I could discern she did for me. I loved her as a friend and when she continuously illustrated that she had romantic feelings for me I finally decided to kiss her to bring her happiness because that is what friends do for each other. That's why when we discovered we were related Ouka was heartbroken and I was glad.
The rapid clicks Nagi's fingertips caused as they skimmed across the keyboard distracted me from my thoughts. His hands were nice too. He possessed long slim fingers like mine; ideal for working with a computer, yet his were paler from his lack of activity in the sunlight. My mind imagined more interesting tasks than typing Nagi's dexterous fingers could do.
"Bombay, are you sick or something?"
"No." My cheeks reddened, knowing my eyes must have been glazed over since I'd permitted my thoughts to wander to places they shouldn't go, especially not about my sworn adversary. God, what was wrong with me? Aya would be furious if he knew. I hoped he, Ken, and Yoji weren't too worried about me.
Nagi's placid gaze shifted from me to the monitor again. He had not even turned his head in order to regard me. Nagi never moved unless it was necessary. I speculated that derived from not needing to move much because he wielded a talent for telekinesis. Instead of giving the false impression that he was lazy Nagi's lack of motion drew more attention to the phenomenon that his every movement contained a purpose and was flawlessly poised and graceful. It added to his beauty.
I wondered why he did not type with his psyche; I knew he turned book pages with them. I decided to ask. "How come you don't hit the keys using your gift?"
Without taking his eyes off of the screen he responded, "As anyone with any sense knows the human mind thinks of things faster than the body can do them. What isn't common knowledge is that when reading the mentality doesn't process each letter individually, but the word as a whole, which is why misspelled words are often still understandable. As a result, when I try to transcribe with my mind it attempts to hit too many keys at once because it is pondering an entire word, not each letter. If I concentrate I can use my telekinetic powers, but in this particular case using my hands is easier-" Nagi's brisk tone abruptly paused. "I'm boring you, aren't I?"
"No," I said truthfully, shaking my head to emphasise the point.
Aloofly, he affirmed, "Crawford, Farfarello, or Schuldich would have told me to shut-up if I lectured them like that."
"Don't worry, I asked 'cause I wanted to know. I'm starting to figure out why they call you Prodigy." I meant it. I prayed that Nagi would consider my comment in the positive way that I intended. How much does his brain weigh? His vocabulary is amazing, especially when he's talking about data! Know-it-alls are usually annoying, but something about Nagi's intellect is...sexy. I didn't wish to be friends with Nagi. I could kill him if I needed to and I realised that he would have no qualms about killing me, however, I did want us to be more than enemies who felt uncomfortable being in the same place. Ken says that my friendly nature will get me into trouble someday, but that's probably merely on account of him and his comrade, Kase, having a poor relationship.
Nagi appeared slightly taken aback as if he was unaccustomed to receiving compliments. Then his features were unreadable again. "Let's see how well you type." He erected himself and I took his place in the leather computer chair that was still heated from his body. "This is only a history essay I'm submitting to a website, so there's no harm in letting you see it."
After perusing the paper one single time I transcribed several paragraphs without requiring another glance at it. I was acutely aware of Nagi standing beside me as cold and immobile as a statue.
Eventually he picked up one of my pinkies with his forefinger and thumb and placed it upon a different button. "It would be simpler if you started with this digit there." His skin was as soft and smoothed as it looked. He had not ever touched me before, for even when we battled there had been no need, and I felt my ears burn.
He stared at my flushed flesh like he had never found anything so fascinating. I was oblivious to the reason of the unexpected attentiveness. He stood behind me and covered each of my hands with one of his own. Next, he ran his fingertips up my arms painfully slowly until he reached my face. He couldn't see it, though he must have been able to feel how searing hot it had become considering the notion that he inquired, "Do you always blush so easily, Omi?" His voice was not monotonous as it usually was; yet I could not begin to fathom whatever affectivities were in it. The hands drifted up through my hair and then disappeared completely.
Swiftly, I spun around in the seat to view Nagi's face, but I could not since he was strolling out of the room. All I witnessed was the back of his head.
I inhaled deeply to return my accelerated heart rate to normal. Only when I was calmer did I recognise that Nagi had referred to me by actual name. I had been here for three days and that was the first time he had done it. I enjoyed hearing my name come from his lips. Possibly, I luxuriated in it more than was appropriate.
My body shivered and I did not comprehend why, though I knew it wasn't from fear or disgust. I was getting into something that might be unwise and I had little hope of getting out of it. I was too engrossed to want to get out of it.
