The sound of a nervous boy doing calf raises on the porch, waiting for the door to be opened.
The buzz of insects swarming around the flowers I held.
The steps, increasing in volume as they neared the closed door.
I could still hear the ringing of the doorbell. I shuffled in my place and adjusted my tie, hoping this would be as easy as meeting her parents. For some reason, I didn't think it would.
The doorknob turned, and the door opened silently. There stood before me the one person who'd ever intimidated me...
Six foot three with a mop of jet black hair and cold, calculating gray eyes. Takashi "Mori" Morinozuka had always stuck with his cousin, staying completely silent for several years of our schooling. Up until late middle school, I hadn't heard him speak once. I didn't think much of him... Up until I joined the art club jusdt before high school. That's when I met Ouka. Well, 'met', for lack of a better term. Honestly I just watched her. She had such a steady hand... And she was so creative. I wanted to talk to her so badly... but for two years I was too scared. Every time the club was dismissed, and I wanted to say something, that same strong, silent giant came to pick her up- precisely on time.
Then finally, he got involved in that host club... It was like a blessing. I could finally talk to Ouka freely after the club, because she had time before her brother came to get her. However, it still kind of took me a year to work up the courage. But then I did it. It was just one day when I was watching her work, admiring her smooth thick strokes, when she stopped painting. It took me a moment to realize she was looking back at me. I started, blushing, and returned to my own canvas, trying to focus. Through my peripherals, I'd seen her watch me for a moment before finally turning back to her paints. I fiddled with my brush a bit more before I stopped to watch her again. From my slightly diagonal view of her, I could see the corner of her mouth raised in a smile. The red brushed across her cheeks was richer than the red on her canvas. It was because of that that I decided to talk to her that day. Best choice I've made in a while.
But now there was a weight on my chest. I'd known for nearly three years now that I'd have to talk to him to get his permission to be with his sister. I felt bad about not having talked to him yet, especially with the kiss and what not. I knew it was overdue, so when Ouka told me she wanted me to meet her big brother and his fiance, I accepted readily.
Now I kind of regretted that.
He stood in the doorway silently, one eyebrow raised in a sort of disapproval. I took a deep breath and smiled reaching my right hand out to shake his. He stared at it silently for a long moment.
I kept my hand extended, determined not to show the awkward I felt. "Hey, I'm Kaito. I don't think we've ever officially met." Still smiling.
His face twisted almost sourly, and he continued to ignore my hand. I felt my smile falter, my hand loosing a bit of height as I started to pull it back. Suddenly a springy girl with chest length brown hair and glittering blue eyes bounced into the doorway, her hair in a bit of a mess, wearing an apron coated in flour and some other foods I couldn't quite identify. She was grinning from ear to ear like someone that was just high on life.
"Oh, good, you're right on time!" She giggled, "Don't mind this sourpuss," She held up a hand to her mouth, like a child trying to keep her whispers secret, and whispered very loudly, "He smells fear." Then she reached out the door for my still partially extended hand and pulled me inside.
I glanced at him as I was tugged into the house, he didn't look happy. He was giving the energetic girl a pained and annoyed look. I took a moment to examine her further. I would think that she's the girl Takashi is marrying, but based on the apron, I'd also think she was kitchen staff. She looked American. She had very light, milky skin that was peppered with freckles. Her hair was a rich brown, one you'd never find on a Japanese girl naturally. She was also taller than most Asian girls, and was definitely build differently... Most girls from Japan were petite and slight, but she was busty and curvaceous. I chose to ignore that. She snatched the flowers I'd been holding and ran to get a vase and fill it with water. She said something about being done soon, and disappeared, so I turned back to the tall boy beside me.
He leaned against the doorframe, dominating the space around him with ease. "She's getting ready upstairs, and Rebekah is cooking. Looks like we get to sit down and have a nice chat while we wait."
I smiled half-heartedly. "Fun-tastic..."