80. Reprieve
Maybe a reprieve was best, but he wasn't sure if he could actually pull it off. When he came out of the bathroom and saw her in the kitchenette attempting to cook, he couldn't help but think how cute she was in her uncharacteristic domesticity.
And it took a stronger will than he ever knew he possessed not to go to her and slide his arms around her waist. Bury his face in her hair.
Especially when things clearly did not go as planned and she vehemently cursed, stomping her little foot. Aya wasn't meant to cook, but it was so adorable that she tried. He wandered over to the table and sat down to observe. Or, to be completely honest, cradle his chin in his hand and...gaze at her.
Her shoulders drew in tight when she heard the chair scrape against the floor, then she slowly relaxed. She glanced back at him over her shoulder.
"What exactly are you doing," he asked in soft amusement.
She looked back at the stove, and he knew she was giving it a glare as if some uncooperative enemy. "I am trying to make supper, but the water is being difficult."
He blinked at that, trying to unpuzzle that sentence, but not quite being able to decipher it. He slowly sat up. "Um...the water...?"
"Don't you laugh at me," she growled distractedly. Her heart clearly was not in it.
He flattened his voice out to something bland. "What is the evil water doing?"
She snorted. "It's not 'what' it's doing-it's what it's NOT doing. Why does it take water so freakin' long to boil? I wanted to get this done before you got out," she growled.
His eyebrows slowly raised, he sat in silence for a long, long moment. She suddenly spun around and pointed her spoon right at him. "I told you not to laugh at me!"
He gave her his most bland look. It clearly said, 'who's laughing'.
"Don't give me that," now dropping her weapon of choice to rest her fist on her hip. "I know that look from you."
Now he tried to look pleasantly curious, but her eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to win at tact, so he gave up and smiled at her. "The trick to boiling water is not to watch it," he informed gravely, as if he was imparting some great wisdom on her.
"I know that," she said, and the splash of pink across her nose was just too cute. He wanted to lick it.
He glanced past her, then returned his eyes to hers with clear meaning. "Well, apparently it works."
And just as she was meant to she looked behind her and squealed, quickly taking the water off the burner before it could boil over. He watcher her random movements around the kitchen that she generously called 'making supper'.
He could offer to help, but Aya at task was just as likely to run him over as accept.
Besides, it was entertaining.
"Quit that," she muttered, dumping something in the water, then stirring.
He curled his fingers against his cheek. "Hmm?"
"Quit watching me..."
And just like that, the facade of normality was gone. He gave a silent sigh and sat up. He couldn't pretend everything was okay if she wouldn't join in his act.
She sighed aloud, stopping right in her frantic movements to stare at the floor. She clutched the spoon at her side.
"I'm sorry. I know you're trying. I'm...I'm not really upset..."
Well, this was curious. He sat slowly back in the chair, tilted his head and regarded her turned back. Then something seemed to come back to him.
"Last week, when you were acting so strangely, and I thought you were sick..."
He watched her shoulders stiffen again, watched the spoon in her hand shake.
"You knew...?" Though she had just answered him, with the sudden rigid tension of her whole body. There were details about this situation that he didn't quite understand. Like what exactly tipped her off about his feelings...
Not that he was sorry. Not now...But his mind was piecing together a timeline, lines connecting shadowy dots, knowing these dots represented 'important events', even if he wasn't quite sure what some of them were.
He didn't worry, he would somehow get that information from her.
With slow, deliberate movements, she reached out and stirred what his mind randomly told him was ramen. It was inconsequential detail so he forgot it as soon as he realized it. He was more concerned with the amount of importance she seemed to be trying to force into such an action. It told him she was still determined to make him work for his answers.
And that told him that those answers were definitely worth working for.
But there was a proper time for everything, and he decided this wasn't it. She was radiating a prickly sort of presence. Something that screamed 'will retaliate, if pushed'. He slid the question to the back of his mind for later, and decided to reign their conversation back in to something more innocent.
"I hope you make mine spicy," he said mildly, sharp eyes watching to see if she was ready now to help him put on that act.
He watcher her consider it, then decide to follow him around that conversational bend.
"Of course," the exasperation in her voice was only slightly strained. She swallowed and turned off the burner. "It is the only way you'll eat it."
Such certainty in her knowledge of him-it made him happy. But, at the same time, it strangely make him want to surprise her. He hadn't known he was like this before. That he could be like this. Playful, passionate...completely in love. Now he understood why people chased so desperately, all their life even, for the intangibles of this feeling. Could you even say that he lived before?
He gave a wry smile at that, ducking his eyes in dry amusement. Now I see where the phrase 'fools in love' comes from. And yet, I can't seem to mind.
Though she told him not to watch her, he found himself doing it anyway. It wasn't as if he could really help it. She was what he wanted to look at. What he wanted. In that sense, his eyes instinctively stalked her. And if he even tried to look away, he knew it would only work so long as she kept completely still.
And Aya could not be still. It wasn't in her nature.
He followed her movements as she prepared their simple dinner, as she clearly hesitated a short moment then turned and came to the table.
He shifted as she approached, turning in the chair to face the setting she would occupy. He decided he liked this small table, and the gentle intimacy it implied.
Though another part decided that he would like the small table better if it was completely gone.
Her chair seemed loud as she pulled it out, her skirt rustled as she sat down.
Everything you do is so cute, he wanted to say, but held his tongue. Knowing as true and gentle as those words would be, they would still make her uncomfortable.
Again, she lifted her chopsticks and waited patiently for him to do the same. Her mannerisms amused him. He obliged her silent prompt, and habitually swept up some noodles.
He let the silence wrap a thoughtful cocoon around them as they ate.
This has been a strange day, he decided. And oddly long. But at the same time, too quickly approaching tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have to share her with others. Tomorrow I will have to go hours without seeing her.
It wasn't a welcome thought, but necessary. And it made him want to hold on to these last few hours for as long as he could.
Even if all they did was continue this strange sort of push-pull non-fight they had fallen into.
"Is it okay," she broke the silence hesitantly. Whether her caution came from doubt in her culinary skills, or the thoughts such silences generated, he could not determine. But this did not bother him, he would answer her.
"Perfect," he said brightly, smiling at her, though to be honest, he couldn't focus much on the taste. "You have truly out-done yourself this time."
"Oh stop," she said, though a little quirk tilted up the left side of her mouth. "Don't try to flatter me like some boy. It isn't any better than normal, and you know it."
"Well, I disagree. It is better, because you made it for me. And...I am a boy. Am I not suppose to act like one?"
She gave him a measuring look, as if to gauge the amount of flirtation in his voice. And maybe how to counter it?
"No," she finally said slowly. "You are suppose to act like my brother. That is a different breed all-together."
He fell into silence again, wondering if she kept drawing back from 'normalcy' because she had something she wanted to say. He would talk about it if she really wanted to. But it had to be her decision this time.
She looked down at her ramen, poked and prodded at it as if searching for something. She wasn't going to find it in her food, he knew. She took a deeper breath, not quite a sigh yet, but the echo of one.
"I'm sorry, I am trying to put it out of my mind, but I'm clearly not as good at it as you are..."
Looking down at his own bowl, he frowned. "I'm not 'good at it'," he said. "I am just pretending, because I thought that was what you wanted. I can promise you that...You, and me, and what we are, and whatever we will be in the future, is all I can think about. I'm sorry I gave you that impression, but I thought that's what you wanted...?"
She lowered her chopsticks, staring with blind eyes at the steaming bowl between her hands. "To be honest," she whispered, "I don't really know what I want. Not like...I don't want...But more that I want so much, so many different things...that I can't tell which want is stronger. And which ones are even possible..."
He watched her, feeling a little breathless. This girl was so much. So, so much. Too much for some. But for him, these strange and unapologetic ways she tended to speak, to move, to live...only made his heart beat faster with love and want. "That's why I wish you would talk to me. I can help you, Aya."
She sighed, smiled weakly at the same time. "I know you think you mean that, Aki, but you're not an objective outsider in this situation. You wouldn't mean to, but you would still try to lead me onto the path that you want." She shook her head gently, swaying her gold hair from side to side. "I wouldn't blame you, either. We want what we want. I would do the same if I were you, with probably less subtlety..."
He didn't refute any of it, it was all likely true. "You can still talk to me. Still listen to me. You can decide what will help, and what is just my selfishness. I want to...make this easier on you, if I can..."
"You can't," a simple statement, but it still hurt. "I don't think that something like this is suppose to be easy. Things that come easy don't really mean anything..." She looked up at him now. "The more I struggle with this...it's only because you mean that much to me. You understand that, right?" But then she continued before he could even answer. "You want to know my thoughts?" she offered, then continued yet again before he could properly open his mouth to speak. "Can you listen to me without trying to influence me? Can you just hear what I have to say without speaking in defense, or...or... seduction?"
That was an honest question, and he wasn't sure how to answer, except with the whole truth. "I don't know," he said bluntly. "The only thing I can promise you is to try, Aya. But shouldn't I be allowed to offer my opinion? I can promise to hear what you have to say. I can promise to consider it, to try to look at it from a subjective angle, but how could I possibly promise not to react or respond?"
"You can't," she said, "and I understand. But now that leaves me with trying to figure out what I can risk saying, and what I can't. What am I strong enough to deal with. And what I'm not. Words cannot be taken back, Aki...And I am not a strong person..."
He was surprised at that, he blinked at her. "You are," he said quietly, but with real conviction. She gave him a corner-eyed look that said 'don't patronize me.'
"You are, Aya. You are the strongest person I know. You are actually trying to think this through, while I just gave in. You are brave, and compassionate, and you think for yourself, and that's why I don't know why you are so concerned with what I might do or say in reaction-it won't matter. Because you will still make your own decisions."
She shook her head, then covered her forehead with her hand, thumb and middle finger rubbing into her temples. "Aki, you just don't get it, do you?" She dropped her hand, took a deep breath, then looked at him squarely. "There is more at stake then 'will I, won't I'...And what you say and do will always matter to me. You are my brother and my best friend. Of course it matters. Because you matter.
"I love you. And that's why this is so difficult. These are my thoughts, this is my struggle. I love you. I want you. But am I in love with you? And is that love strong enough to live outside the norms of society...
"You would think I would know myself better than this. That one would be able to tell the difference. The desire makes everything so much harder. If I could just separate myself from it enough, maybe I could figure it out, but how do I do that?"
He bit his lip to caution himself to silence, for as long as he could. But he could feel words piling up in his throat, just waiting for the moment when he lost the reigns on his mouth.
She wasn't looking at him now. She had placed her elbow on the table, with her cheek not exactly cradled, but pressed against her palm. She was staring down at the tabletop, clearly without seeing it.
"But if I could just shove the desire away, then that would be the answer all on its own, wouldn't it? But I can't. I've tried..." Her cheeks pinkened slightly, but not with embarrassment, she didn't even seem aware of the reaction. His hands curled into fists as she continued.
"So, it comes back to that. I love you, but am I in love with you? And how can I honestly tell?" She shook her head. "That's not even considering if a relationship is actually possible. Even if we love each other-could we really be together? Can I live with what really being with you would mean?"
She snorted, "I don't think I'm a very good person. That last question doesn't seem near as important as all the others..."
She took a breath, looked at him.
He looked back. Her expression was expectant, but she had asked him not to respond. So, of course, in true Aya-style, she wanted a response from him. But she was going to have to ask him for it. He hadn't exactly promised, but he did want to prove something here.
As he sat there and did not speak, she frowned, tilted her head curiously. "Well...?" She prompted.
"Well, what?"
"Don't you have something to say?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Of course, are you saying you want to hear it?"
She frowned when she realized she was contradicting herself. But, as per usual, she let the realization of contradiction slide right off and went with her true self.
"I am not saying I want to, but maybe I need to...?"
Not good enough. "Yes or no, Aya," he said calmly. No more of these half-answers. There were too many of them already.
A spark of frustration made her narrow her eyes, but she spoke distinctly. "Yes."
Even in a different context, even so grudging, that 'yes' sounded compelling to him. She had said so many 'no's' lately, not with just her voice, but with her body, that he savored the taste of at least one verbal positive from her.
Because many more times she had said 'yes', but never out-loud. He wanted to hear more of it. He was going to hear more.
Because it was so clear that she was in love with him. The answer was in how desperately she was trying to think this through. And the fact that she just...couldn't. Couldn't think past her feelings.
But how to tell her that? How to make her see what was so clear to him? How to tell her that she already had all her answers, if she could just get past her denial...