The sun was setting in the distance. Ulrich was seated opposite her, coffee beside him, Dante's Inferno cradled in his hand. Yumi never took him for the bookish type, and perhaps he was just trying to impress her because he hadn't turned the page in well over an hour. How long had it been since she had watched someone like this? Observed them without any fear of the unavoidable backlash of being caught? Studying without any intent, no ulterior motive behind a pretty smile or a helpless flutter of eyelashes; the concept seemed alien and with a bit of the emotion that was so familiar to her, Yumi raised her defenses higher than ever. And yet, what was the point? He was keeping her here, not just in his apartment, but in his world, without so much as lifting a finger. It was that stupid innocence in his face, that ready smile, those charming letters, strung together with feeling and made impossible to resist. What was she supposed to do when the defense she'd so cleverly crafted in direct correlation to her previous relationships was rendered useless now? Ulrich was like nothing she'd seen before. It wasn't that he was pure and wholesome, it wasn't that he was as smart (if not smarter) than her, it wasn't anything pinpoint precise. It was him. It seemed as if the universe had picked the best out of everything and assembled it into one person. Ulrich wasn't perfect, no one was, but he was pretty damn close.

Which was the problem, naturally. Yumi had a nasty habit of comparing herself to the men in her life; smarter than her father? better than William? There was always something, always an upper hand to be gained. Here, there was no challenge, no ante, no attack. Ulrich was simply sitting before her, sipping coffee, reading. She was just siting in front of him, watching his eyes go from left to right and again. There was no malice, no ploy, no manipulation. Yumi was in awe.

"You know," Ulrich started conversationally. His eyes never left the page. "You could just sit here, next to me."

"I could," Yumi agreed slowly. "But where's the fun in that? I'd rather sit here and watch you pretend read."

"I've read this book before," Ulrich said, thumb flickering through the pages and smiled as they fluttered back into place. "I've read the entire Divine Comedy."

He finally looked up and there was something in his eyes, as if he had just said something terribly important and she was supposed to say something in return. Someone had forgotten to give her the script, however, and Yumi said nothing. "Impressed," he asked, and a slow, lazy smile characterized his face. If he was expecting her to inflate his ego, he'd come to the wrong person.

"No," Yumi replied flippantly. "The framed portrait of the cover of Gatsby in the hallway, the littered pages of music on the floor near your bedroom, which I can only assume slipped out from your room by air, the wide collection of classical and alternative music you listen to, it's all given you away." A smile, because Yumi couldn't help herself. "I'm afraid I've discovered your secret," she lowered her voice conspicuously. "Despite what everybody else thinks, you actually have a brain."

Ulrich actually laughed, but in his laughter there was something else. Something sad and triumphant. In an odd way, Yumi felt like she had said exactly what he needed to hear. It was painfully similiar to that night, in this same place, when she'd declared she wanted to become a doctor.

Maybe they were more similar than she had originally thought. Maybe there was something to the way they were around each other, relaxed and almost automatic. Maybe there was something to the fact that no matter how hard she fought against it, against him, Yumi only wound up getting closer, deeper.

She wanted to know. "Why me? Why are you trying so hard? How could you say that you ... love me?" The word sounded like a curse, like something blasphemous.

"See," he grinned. "That's the thing about other people. They see the magnificence in us even when we don't. If you saw yourself the way I see you, you wouldn't be asking me those questions."

"You're wrong," Yumi retorted. "No one knows you better than yourself; people love each other blindly. If everyone knew everyone absolutely, I'm pretty sure people wouldn't fall in love as fast, as easily. You see," she mimicked. "People don't fall in love with people. They fall in love with beauty, grace, charm, money, the works. When those things fade, it's no wonder people get divorced or have affairs."

"That's sad," Ulrich murmured as he watched the remains of his coffee lap listlessly in the cup. "You don't believe in love, or at least, you don't want to believe it. But that's alright. Do you know why?"

Her voice was almost inaudible, "Why?"

The triumph was dazzling now, it was buried in the corner of his mouth, in his irises, in his heart. "Belief is logic. You have to think to believe. Love is feeling. You don't have to think to love, you just have to feel."

"You should work for Hallmark," Yumi commented dryly. "Have you ever read Romeo and Juliet, Wuthering Heights, Othello?"

"I have," Ulrich put his coffee down, ready to counter. "Have you read Jane Eyre, Twelfth Night, Candide?"

"Now," Yumi paused, for dramatic effect. Her lips were already made into a lavish smile. "I'm impressed."

It was around nine that Ulrich proposed she'd sleep over. "So that Kiwi won't feel alone," he explained. Yumi wasn't buying it, but agreed because she didn't want to walk or take the bus this late or be imposing and force Ulrich to drive her home.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to sleep on floor," Ulrich looked sorry. "I haven't looked into furniture yet and you can't sleep in my room, for obvious reasons."

Or not so obvious. When Prince Charming incarnate denies you a commodity, that meant something was amiss.

"I want to see your room," Yumi declared suddenly. If he knew some of her secrets, it was only fair that she return the favor. "Don't look at me like that, you know what I mean."

"There's nothing there," Ulrich replied.

"Why can't you trust me," Yumi accused. "You're hiding something in there."

"Listen," Ulrich started. "I'm just trying to ... protect you, that's all."

Yumi raised an eyebrow. "Unless you keep a collection of cabbage patch kids or some less than decent movies in there, I don't see the danger."

"It's my parents," Ulrich muttered. "I have a lot of pictures of my parents in there ... and I don't want you to see them."

"Why not?"

Ulrich laughed, but the sound was different. It was half composed of bitterness and of anxiety. "You'll see soon enough," he replied vaguely.

If anything, Yumi became more suspicious, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Ulrich laughed nervously. "My parents like to ... check on me every now and again. Tomorrow is every now and again."

"Huh," Yumi said, unintelligibly. "I don't have to be here, you know."

"I know," something flickered in his eyes. "There are some other people coming too. I want you to meet them."

This was getting more mysterious by the second. "Your parents or the other people?"

"Both," Ulrich conceded.

"But," Yumi paused, making sure she was calculating correctly. "You just told me you don't want me to go into your room because there are pictures of them in there ... but you have no problem with me meeting them?"

"They're, um, scary looking?"

"In my world," Yumi was almost smiling but precaution held her firm. "When people meet each other, they see each other."

"I'm not who you think I am," Ulrich admitted. Yumi's eyebrow rose even further. Here it was, the deep, dark secret. He was a henchmen for the mafia, a pimp, a transvestite; in New York anything was possible. He added reluctantly, "... I've got money."

Yumi looked at the apartment and then back to him. "Really," she said sarcastically. "I would have never noticed."

"Well, my parents are the ones with the money," he went on, agitated. "They're the kind of people that think money is everything. I don't really like them and they don't really like me --"

"Point taken," Yumi interjected. "If you haven't noticed, I'm penniless. Wouldn't that make your parents hate me or something? And who are these other people?"

This time, Ulrich's smile was genuine. "Do you remember when I told you that Kiwi belonged to a friend who was traveling?" Yumi nodded. "Well, he's staying here for a couple of days. The other two people I want you to meet are coming with my parents. Since they have a common destination, they're going to meet up in an airport in France."

"Friends of yours?"

"Yes," Ulrich's smile widened. "I think you'll like them."

"I still don't understand why you want me to meet your parents."

"Well," Ulrich seemed a bit reluctant. "I guess I should be completely honest with you. The thing is, there's this girl coming with them. She's from a high profile family, good standing in society, a lot of money."

"In other words," Yumi completed wryly. "Your parent's dreamgirl."

"Yeah," Ulrich seemed relieved that she understood. "They've been trying to get me to marry her since I was twelve. I wanted them to stop nagging me so I told them I was with someone."

Yumi saw where this was going. "So you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend while they're here?"

Ulrich's mouth curved into a grin, "Who said anything about pretending?"

Yumi had the decency to blush, "I already told you I'm not going to date you."

"And there's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

Yumi's blushed intensified. There were a couple of things that came to mind, "Nope."

"What if I kiss you?"

His very eyes were laughing at her. "You flatter yourself," Yumi said coolly, a contrast to how she felt inside. "What makes you think you're such a great kisser?"

Ulrich shrugged, "You could be right. Every single girl that I've kissed up to this point could have been sparing my feelings. You know," he paused dramatically. "It's horrible living in doubt. Why don't you put me out of my misery? I'll kiss you and you can tell me how it is."

"Nice try."

It was three in the morning and Coldplay was playing softly in the background. Ulrich had supplied Yumi with four comforters, three pillows, two cushions, and a tiny radio that ran on double A batteries. In the end, however, Ulrich felt so guilty about Yumi sleeping on the floor that he had decided to join her. They were now on the floor, side by side, staring at the ceiling. Ulrich was inherently asleep, but not quite, and Yumi couldn't shake the strangeness of her life. A month ago she had a shallow, predictable boyfriend. She had been closed off emotionally from everyone, always two steps behind, five minutes too late. Her life had an inane quality to it, a routine that had been comfortable. Now everything was different. Yumi wondered what it would have been like if she had been late to the bakery, or left early that day. If she had never run into Ulrich, where would she be? In the same place, was the easy answer.

Alone, was the hard one.

Meeting Ulrich's parents didn't scare her. The symbolism of the meeting did. How serious was Ulrich about her? Did he really love her? What was love to him? It couldn't be the same thing it was to her. It had only been little over a month, there was no way he could feel something so profound, so ridiculous. And yet ... Didn't Ulrich defy everything in her life? And what about these friends of his? Meeting new people always made Yumi particularly defensive -- she'd put up a polite facade until she decided what to do with them. However, because of Ulrich and his stupid ability to render her absolutely helpless, she'd have to face the judgement of his friends.

To think she wasn't even his girlfriend.

Her mind returned to her earlier thoughts; Ulrich wasn't chaining her to him. He hadn't kidnapped her, wasn't blackmailing her or manipulating her. Yumi was here, in this place, in this time, because she wanted to be.

Which, in retrospect, was the scariest thing of all.

--

Can anyone guess who the "other" people are? What do you think of Yumi's progress as a person? Oh, and for those who think William is gone forever ... he's not. You're going to be seeing a lot of familiar faces soon ...