After that, a new routine was established. I woke up early, got dressed, drank a cup of coffee instead of beer, took a handful of chupa-chups candy and arrived at the uni about half an hour before the lectures start. Waited impationately. Started talking five mintes before he arrived; it became some sort of an instinct eventually. As did the big broad smile which poped up on my face when he came in.

I just couldn't get this guy out of my mind. It didn't bother me, not really, I even enjoyed it – he was interesting after all, and the best listener I've ever met. Never interrupted me – well, never talked a lot, actually. He still was kinda... remote, you could say. Always seemed like a different world around him and his butterflies. Sensei praised him, and for a good cause. His paintings didn't vary a lot in thematics, but both technique and the energy in them were flawless. I didn't know why I had to keep myself around him or try to get his attention. It wasn't just one of my love-interest cases, despite the great looks and the great mystery, it was something else this time. Ouch, now that sounded very cliche... but that's how it was, that's how I felt. I felt a kind of addiction to this guy for some reason. Just had to follow him around.

Thus I had a new habbit to add to my list of chupa-chups, beer, and piercings (sometimes I wondered what would I do if the place on my ears finishes. Face piercings don't look so great...) – ah, figures out I have a lot of addiction to this life.

At first he did his best to ignore me. That was just amazing... no, really, I've never met someone who could imagine the gregarious-mode me as an empty place. And he did it with great skill. I was skeptical about it at first, but gave up after a while. This guy was made of stone. So I just decided to enjoy life and his company. I didn't believe he didn't need any friends. A guy who paints something like that just gotta be lonely, I thought. So… I was trying to fix that as much as I could.

I was finally honored with his attention about a month after his transfer. See, I had a huge tattoo on my back. I kinda liked it and… well, it brought back some memories. Turned out he liked it too. I was changing after I splashed paint all over my clothes accidentally – Mi-kun lent me his shirt – when he noticed it.

- A tattoo?

It was really rare for him to ask me whatever it was, so no need to say I was surprised.

- Yeah! I thought I had already brought this up, haven't I? – I was pretty sure I did... probably he just wasn't listening. – I'm not trying to hide it though.

- Strange... you don't seem to be the type with a tattoo.

That made two senteces in a row. Wow. Looked like a personal record... But I just took it for granted, as I always did. Now why wasn't I the type...?

- Honestly? – I answered. – Don't you know? Guys with a lot of piercings ought to have a tattoo as well, right?

Actually, he was right in some way. Normally, I wouldn't've made a tattoo – things like that freak me out a bit. I made it three years ago in the name of a girl I loved. Now, usually I don't like girls, but that one was a special case... and mostly platonic anyway. She pissed me off most of the time. She was five years older and way more experienced than I was. And she was a painter. Not a real one, no, it was all just for fun – she didn't have a chance to go to uni. Money thing. So there she was – stuck in a 100-yen store for a job and with a bratty high-schooler for a boyfriend. Not a very desirable situation... It was her way of thinking that I fell in love with. 'Not to go with the flow, not to go against it either... staying at the river bank is the best' was her policy. She also taught me to have fun. Sounds strange, huh? But – yep, there was a time when I wasn't so light and communicatable. People change, right?..

Not long after I finally started to take it easy she died in a car accident. I cried myself stupid. After a week of a heavy depression my parents didn't even know the cause of I firmly resolved I would become a painter. Walked on the street to take a breath of fresh air and somehow wandered off to a piercing and tattoo salon. Next thing I knew was me lying on the operation chair with one of her graphic sketches in my hand. It took several days and almost all my pocket money to make my back look like this, but once I came out – I was never miserable over her again.

- My tattoo is very real, - I said after a short pause, - I'd even swear to it. Do you have a similar interest?

The whole story seemed pretty silly now, actually. But I never regretted making the tattoo. It gave me confidence. Nice to have something to stand up to, isn't it? Okay, out with the serious talk... it's his stage. Serious talk, I mean. He was making this face again.

- Yes, - he said solemnly, - A deep interest.

Then it struck me that three phrases for this guy is almost a real conversation. No way, I thought. I did it! And with what?

- But you ignored me the whole time... 'till now. Could it be a fetish? – I grined slyly.

Sweet. I had been so right about teasing him – it's the most fun thing in the world, I think, looking at his face. Can't describe it.

But from then on, he stopped ignoring me. Not that we became really close friends (to my dissappointment), but he started talking to me, at least. Meaningless to say I was as happy as ever. Not to mention that I could finally surprise Sato with his know-everything attitude. And from here begins the real story.