17: Secret obsession of mine.

Monday, April 17, 2017, morning

I hadn't thrown up yesterday after that early dinner and felt dirty about it. The day was shitty anyway. My body had longed for sleep so much that I had dozed off again after Kou's wake-up call in the morning and was nudged awake in panic by Hanabi shortly before breakfast. As a result, I had hardly had time to get ready, had discovered a very rare pimple on my forehead – was certainly born from sperm, sweat and/or foreign shampoo – had had to squat at the dinner table with much too tousled hair and was also painfully reminded afterwards that Itachi would not accompany me to university anymore, after I still hadn't heard the doorbell ringing three minutes before the bus was supposed to leave. So I sat tired, uncoiffed, pimpled, stressed, disgruntled and bloated in my regular seat in lecture hall 41-B. The chair next to me was empty and I hated it. Sure, I hated Itachi for his shitty behavior and his uncommunicative nature and his jealousy and just because of everything, but fuck, I missed him. I missed the closeness to him, his watchful eye on me. Hiashi hadn't said anything about the fact that I was again without a bodyguard after only one week. Apparently, he really wasn't concerned with my safety, but only with this game he was playing with Madara. They had certainly cleared Itachi's withdrawal and I wasn't important, so why tell me about it? After all, my father couldn't have guessed that I knew exactly why Itachi didn't want to play my shadow anymore, because he was a jealous, immature, possessive—

"Hey, Hinata," said a familiar voice behind me, pulling me out of my cursing thoughts. There stood Shino, as always with his electroshock hairstyle, hipster sunglasses and campy turtleneck. At the sight of him, I felt a little sick for a moment and that had nothing to do with the meanwhile digested chicken curry or his strange character. It was guilt. He would never know—at least I hoped—but I had drawn him into my world. It was only thanks to Genma that he stood there at all and looked at me through his uber cool glasses. "Oh.. Sh-Shino.. Hi.."

"Where's your great-cousin?"

I gasped softly. Of course. First Itachi attracted unnecessary attention by his presence, now by his absence. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the clique around Ino, who walked in and also looked at the empty chair to my right. In contrast to Shino, however, she and her friends seemed depressed. Not that Shino showed a lot of facial expressions, he was an ultra casual guy and stood above such things as emotions, but in his dark eyes behind the dark lenses I could see that he didn't think it was a shame that Itachi was gone. "He is.. He had to go back to Tokyo," I murmured, nibbling my thumbnail under the tabletop.

"Mh," Shino said in a subliminally mischievous tone. "Do you mind if I sit next to you again?"

My pimply forehead wrinkled slightly at this unexpected question, which he luckily couldn't see because of my bangs, but I nodded without being able to stop myself. That really surprised the shit out of me. Shino Aburame, the unapproachable, the weird, the strange bird with the hint of disinfectant as an aura, really wanted to sit next to me. Why? It wasn't as if we had had so much contact with each other so far. Or did he suspect that I had named him as an alibi boyfriend to my father so as not to risk the lives of – for him – strangers? Nonsense. This was such an abstruse idea, even by my standards, that someone like Shino, whose reality was innocent and meaningless, would never even fantasize about it.

He sat down, put his laptop on the table and gave me a small smile. Well, I interpreted it as a smile. He stretched his lips wide and lifted the corners of his mouth a little. You could see immediately that he was not practiced in doing such a thing. I imitated him, but then turned my gaze back to the whiteboard. I had to be grim today, my day was shitty after all.

And it didn't get any better when Kakashi came in. As soon as I smelled him, the memories of Friday night came back. His body on me, his lips on me, his cock inside me. I crossed my legs because my vagina suddenly pulsed uncontrollably, as if it needed a damn fuck like an addicted slut. Honestly, how permanently horny could a person even be?! It didn't help that Kakashi, because of the rather mild temperatures, had left his self-made dog hair-embroidered North Pole gear in the shade "Khaki vomit" somewhere else today – hopefully in the trash where it belonged. Instead, he wore a dark blue sweatshirt, the sleeves of which he had had to push up to penetrate my libido with his veiny forearms. Since he was no longer hiding in a furry collar, his neck was visible. And on this neck you could see a dark spot.

My ears were getting hot. There it was. There was the undeniable proof of what we had done. I shouldn't have sucked on him like that. On the other hand – he had perpetuated himself on me for at least a few days, so that was compensatory justice. Nevertheless. It was embarrassing. And even though it didn't say "Hinata Hyuuga was here" next to the fat hickey, I had the impression that everyone knew immediately that I was the cause of this unsightly bruise. For such cases, every man should have concealer in the house so that he does not involuntarily spread rumors. I could watch Ino and Sakura put their heads together a few rows of tables in front and started whispering. Splendid. EVERYONE would know. I buried my face in my hands for a moment.

"Good morning," Kakashi sighed in his lazy way and you could have thought he was as always, but I knew better. He seemed exhausted. I wondered if it was because of the sex with me or maybe it was more because of another fight with his wife. Rin certainly hadn't been thrilled to find him in a completely fucked up state on Friday. He was right, it was sad what had become of best childhood friends. He introduced today's topic and let his gaze wander over his students, whereby I noticed that he was navigating around my corner the whole time. He looked at Naruto in the front row at least five times, at me? – not at all. In me the question dug to the surface whether he was ashamed of having slept with me.

The answer to this followed at the end of the lecture, when the bell rang for the break and everyone packed their stuff,chatting.

"Um.. Hinata?" Shino suddenly asked.

I had just wanted to go to the front and talk to Kakashi – also because I wanted to know what he had to discuss with me, after all, he hadn't contacted me about it at the weekend – but now I blinked at the walking bird's nest next to me. "Huh?" I squeaked in surprise and cleared my throat quietly. What an embarrassing noise was even that?!

"Uh.." Was Shino.. nervous? He took a deep breath. "Would you like to go to the cafeteria with me?"

"What?!" I gasped in horror.

The delicate pink glow on Shino's cheeks darkened. "It's okay if you don't want to. I just thought, I.. I don't know." He got up jerkily, swung his backpack on his shoulder, which brushed my head rudely, and stalked away.

I didn't have time to think about him any further and to question anything, when a woody smell pushed itself into my nose. "Hinata..? Can I speak to you in my office?" Perplexed, I turned away from the patch of air where Shino's embarrassed face had been just a moment ago, glanced at Kakashi from below and had a moment of trouble sorting myself out. When he raised his eyebrows a little, I smoothed my hair over my ears and forehead so that no noticeable redness was visible, nodded, tucked my laptop under my arm and followed him out of the lecture hall. He led me past the students standing around and chatting happily up the stairs to the fourth floor. There he jerked the door to his office open, let me enter and closed it behind me. In the short darkness I perceived his presence far too intensely and once again my vagina reported. Would it be allowed to swallow his cock again..? I hoped a little for a "yes", but when Kakashi switched on the small lamp on his desk and turned to me, all arousal in me subsided. His gaze was.. Dismissive would be an understatement.

"Hinata..", he began, leaning against the tabletop and crossing his arms. He didn't look me in the face, just stared at my opal necklace. He sighed heavily. I could have helped him with something, but I didn't want to. He was to tell me in his own words what he had to say. "Oh fuck." He ran his fingers through his hair, closed his eyes and said very quickly, "I'm sorry about what happened on Friday."

"Uh.. What?" Didn't I want to let him finish?! "How.. What do you mean?"

"The.. you know." Sex? My goodness, we were both adults. "That... shouldn't have happened."

An unwanted anger boiled up in me. Where did it come from? No idea. "But it felt different that night..", I murmured and didn't even try to avoid a bitchy undertone. "It wasn't as if we hadn't had enough opportunities to stop ourselves."

For a millisecond, his irises flitted to mine, which were obtrusively pointed at him. Then he marveled at my chain again with interest, lowered his arm, propped them both next to him on the edge of the table and said softly, "I know. I also don't want to deny that I liked it, because I did. A lot, in fact. But.. I think that's the problem. It could have been a stupid slip, a short act of weakness, nothing more. But I.. Fuck." Now he stared at my shoes. "I already had already felt before, well before it.. got down to business, and during and after that I wanted to repeat it. But I can't do that. You are my student; I am your lecturer. The fact that this happens once is actually one time too many. I could lose my job because of it, and you know" – he laughed humorlessly – "I depend on this job. I can't go any further. I must end it before it even starts, before something develops that we no longer have control over. Now, we can still ignore it, at least superficially. Internal.. damn. Inside, I just want to rip your clothes off your body and fuck you mercilessly against the wall." Towards the end he sounded.. more eagerly, almost desperately.

I shuddered with pleasure. My anger only simmered. "And if we just don't give shit a about all that? Because.. Kakashi.. I want to be fucked mercilessly against the wall by you. Here and now. I want to scream your name and feel you inside me and taste you and take your cum in me and—"

"Fuck, Hinata, stop," Kakashi gasped, grabbing his crotch with a distorted face. "I... can't do that. We can't.." He exhaled loudly. "We can't behave like wild animals. We are civilized people. We must.. Hinata.." His voice grew quieter and quieter as I approached him. I felt his hot, vibrating breath on my lips before I pressed them onto his. My hand slid to the shallow bump, which was well hidden in the shadows, and cupped his swelling erection with all five fingers. Kakashi moaned softly into my mouth and all his words became null and void in one fell swoop, because he mutated into a wild animal and demanded more by kissing me back.

I didn't hesitate. Hastily, I opened his jeans, took his semi-stiff penis out of his underpants and began to rub it without further ado. Kakashi briefly broke away, tilted his head back and let a rumbling "Fuck yeeaahh.." escape before he attacked my mouth again with lips, tongue and greedily flowing saliva. His hands did not remain idle, slipped under my T-shirt. Gently he scratched his fingernails over my sides, which reacted with delicate goosebumps. I pressed myself closer to his hot body, pumping faster and moaning softly to signal to him how much I wanted him. Fuck, no, how much I needed him. I didn't need his throbbing cock in my hand, but in my juicy pussy that was pining for him so much.

But something I had done brought Kakashi back from his euphoric trance. Abruptly he released himself from my lips, pushed me away and turned his back to me. "Shit.. No.. That..."

"Kakashi..", I said quietly and wanted to touch his shoulder, but he leaned forward, inadvertently escaped my fingers and whispered to his laptop, "Please, Hinata.. Please go now. We.. That's not right."

"I'm attracted to you, Kakashi, I—"

"Hinata!" he interrupted me ruthlessly. "I feel the same way and that's exactly why you have to go. I.." He swallowed audibly. "I will ask the dean to transfer you to another course. That.." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. I can't do that."

At these words, a fuse blew in me. "You know, I think Rin is right. You are a coward."

Kakashi lowered his head. "I know..", he breathed and his shoulders trembled.

I averted my gaze from him, walked out of his office and down to the next landing, where I stopped, closed my eyes and banged the side of my head against of the wall. WHY DID I SAY THAT?! I didn't really mean it that way. Yes, the thought had occurred to me briefly, but why had I had to say it out loud?! It was right what Kakashi said. Even if we both wanted to, there was too much between us. His job, the age difference, that he was still fucking married. Fuck. Why was I such a slut?! And then I insulted him, just because he acted rationally, unlike me. I was only fixated on my satisfaction, he played the adult and showed that there was more to this relationship than just sex, namely us as individuals and our relationship to each other – and thus proved maturity and courage, neither of which I was capable of.

I looked up the stairs in agony. Should I go back and apologize to him, at least make it clear why I reacted the way I did? But then I had to talk about King and this feeling that I felt again and again and couldn't really name. No.. Now I was a coward, displayed a disgusting double standard. I criticized everyone else when they didn't communicate well enough, and I myself continued my way to the cafeteria, as if there wasn't an already broken man sitting up there in the small, chaotic office and harboring whatever thoughts. We both needed some distance from each other. At least that's what I told myself, so as not to allow any feelings of guilt towards Kakashi. In truth, I just ran away from the confrontation. Fuck.

With a bowl of cold dango, which I wanted to nibble on for the sake of an alibi, I went out into the park. Almost all the students had made themselves comfortable out here on picnic blankets and the benches standing occasionally around. The sun was shining, there was no cloud in the sky, so I was also drawn to nature. I was uncomfortable being watched chewing, so I sat down at the roots of a small birch tree away from the crowds, balanced my dango on my knees and took out my cell phone to check if King had replied to my message from last night.

Frustrated, I realized that he didn't, even though he had read it. Great. Now I felt even more shitty because of him. This day was trash. Didn't he miss me too..? Yeah I know, he wanted to think, but for how long? During our last argument, if you could even call it that, I hadn't answered for days, then bluntly asked for time and after almost a whole week of radio silence we had finally reconciled. Therefore, I was absolutely not in a position to complain about anything, after all, King had thrown an apology after his flight and had thus shown a much more level-headed attitude than me, but this break still felt way too long. And once again I wondered why it was necessary at all. In his apology, he said he loved me and hoped I didn't hate him, which meant he didn't want to give up on us. But why did he have to think then? What was so devastating about my face that he had to figure things out? Shit, it could have gone so well on Friday. King would have shown me his face, I would have realized that he was the handsome, twenty-three-year-old heir to a real estate empire, we would have laughed, told each other how much we loved each other and would both have fallen asleep happily with the caressing thought that our dream partner was actually someone for the future. But no. King had to "think" and I've been whoring my way through half my circle of acquaintances ever since. If I had known where all this would lead, I wouldn't have said yes to the face reveal. Everything had been good between us beforehand.

I let my dango sink, from which I had bitten off only once. If I disregarded the fact that King was repelled by my appearance, because with his apology he had at least taken away this fear from me a bit – why the time to think it over? I leaned against the bark of the birch tree, closed my eyes and listened to the distant babble of voices of the other students, the chirping birds in the treetops and the rustling of leaves. I tried to visualize exactly what his reaction had been. First twitching hands, no breathing – he had been frightened. Then heavy breathing and cramped fingers – he had had to deal with something that was bothering him. Finally, the deactivation of the microphone and his dismissive message – he hadn't wanted me to hear his voice and had panicked. And afterwards a [It wasn't my intention to hurt you] and [I have to think about a few things].

Slowly I opened my eyes again. At that time, I hadn't thought about what this reaction could mean. It had simply robbed me of all confidence on various levels. But now that I could look at the scene a little more soberly, a question arose in me that I had previously thought absolutely impossible: Did King and I already know each other?

As if out of nowhere, a shadow moved in. I turned my head because of the noise his shiny shoes made in the meadow and startled when I saw Madara walking slowly towards me, his hands buried in his trouser pockets. He had also adapted his clothes to today's weather and was not wearing a jacket as usual, but only a dark gray button-front shirt – the sleeves of which he had rolled up just like Kakashi, honestly, they did this on purpose! – with a dark red tie. As always, he seemed absolutely out of place outside of some expensive and modern environment, but shit, he looked good. Single strands of his long, black mane blew over his piercing eyes, which were constantly fixed on me, while he approached me in smooth and yet very lurking movements across the lawn. He was like a nobly dressed predator and I was his prey. "Hinata," he said quietly when he was less than two steps away from me and stopped. "I want to apologize to you."

Instinctively, I knitted my brows. "You? Apologize? For what? That you spied on me?"

Madara lowered his eyes. He really did seem sad! That was an expression I would never have expected on his proud face, and it did not suit him. "Yes, that's exactly what I want to apologize for. I can imagine what that must look like."

I put my dango aside—perhaps quite glad that I had now found an excuse not to eat it—and rose. That didn't help much, because he was much taller than me, but at least it didn't make me feel quite so tiny anymore. "Can you really?" He was silent and I continued, "Can you imagine how I felt when I discovered this? Madara, you installed a camera in my bedroom. I don't even want to know what you saw as a result."

"Nothing you might think now," he quickly interjected and took one of his hands out of his pockets, just so that it could hang limply down his body now. "I haven't watched you do things that are inappropriate. I put the camera there, or rather had it put there, because I was concerned about your safety. I just wanted to know that you would get into your bed every night without damage, no more and no less."

"And am I supposed to believe you? You didn't even peek in when I changed or.. did other things? No?" He shook his head without a word. I snorted contemptuously. "Honestly, Madara, I can lie to myself better than you do."

"I'm not lying to you," Madara said calmly, but in a serious tone. "I didn't see anything of you before our night that would be more than you're showing right now. I understand that you think I'm a pervert grooming after you, but I'm not, Hinata."

"Why not?" it shot out of me. At first I was surprised by my impetuous nature, but I was happy to let it guide me. At least it made me not run away like with Kakashi, and unlike my favorite professor, Madara deserved such a temperament. "Why did your morality draw the line right there? Installing the camera is ok, but taking a look at it and getting horny on me isn't?"

"No, it's not," Madara replied firmly.

"Is it because it's basically my childhood room and you're reminded too much of how young I am?"

"No, that—"

"Madara, what am I to you?" I breathed and gradually came closer and closer to my agitated core, which I had ignored since yesterday morning. "You said I'm a kid in your eyes because I'm eighteen, and yet you monitor my room and sleep with me and let me call you 'daddy' and.." I swallowed and took a deep breath. "Do you actually know what kind of aftertaste that has?"

Madara ran his free hand through his hair and replied with a vague tremor in his voice, "Of course I do. And don't think I wouldn't loathe myself because of it. I am well aware of how young you are, and many people may consider me a predator because of this, but I have never and would never have forced you to take any step in any direction that you do not want to take. You call me 'daddy' because you want to, not because I asked you to. Besides, you explained to me at length why I shouldn't look at you as a child – which I don't do. In my eyes, you're a woman. I'm sorry for what I did and what impression it must have made on you," he murmured and took another step towards me, which would have required me to tilt my head far back to look him in the eye, and therefore lowered it. It was much easier anyway, instead of getting lost in his gaze as usual. His smell and the warmth of his body, which he brought with him by this approach, were aphrodisiac enough, and I fought with all means against my freaking libido. "It was never my intention to hurt you."

I shuddered at these words and my brain screamed for salvation. It finally wanted to sever that connection because it would make everything so much easier. "You know I like buttercups because of the camera, don't you? And that's why you called me that, isn't it? 'Cause you know I like them. Because you saw them in my room in my drawings. That's the only reason. You recorded this detail and linked it to me. You allowed yourself to get to know me better without talking to me. You took advantage of that.."

I could tell from his legs that he was shifting his weight a bit. Quietly he said, "Take advantage of you.. Do you really think that way about me?"

A gasping laugh escaped my mouth and I looked up into Madara's face again, which was unfathomable. "That's my problem, Madara, I can't think in your presence. When you're around me, all logic in my brain blocks and I just want to be touched by you. But that.. I can't do that. I don't want that. Fuck, I want to sleep with you, even though I should hate you. You hurt me like hell with this action and even if you may have your dubious reasons for it, they don't undo it. Still, I want you to touch me and fuck me like it's our last time before the end of the world. Something is wrong in my head and I have to figure it out before I can make any decision. There is just too much happening, I feel too much, which confuses me and throws me off my game. I.. Please, Madara, I.."

"Hinata," he interrupted me. His face was stony. Why was it so difficult to read him? "I don't want to force you. If the closeness to me is too much for you, then I distance myself from you."

"Is that what you want?" I asked quietly.

There was a long silence in which we merely stared at each other. Then Madara did something that was very uncharacteristic of him. He broke eye contact, looked at my shoes and said, "I don't know what I want, Hinata. You mean a lot to me, but I realize that it's not easy between us. Whatever it is, it's complicated, and I think a little distance is good for both of us." He looked up again. "I came here to apologize to you. That's what I did. Everything else is not something we have to clarify in this place and time. Just please let me give you my number so you don't have to feel obligated to come near me or I have to hope to bump into you by chance at a kinky gay bar." He smiled, but I didn't want to react because I knew it would have made me weak, so I handed him my smartphone without a word. He typed in his number, called himself, causing it to vibrate softly in his pocket, immediately hung up and gave me my phone back. Our fingers touched briefly and I immediately pulled my hand away from him. It was just a matter of avoiding any physical contact, otherwise I would be all over him. And although my vagina wanted nothing more than this, I had to stand firm. I had meant what I had said. I had to think. Shit, King, now I know how you must feel.

For me, there was no better way to cool my head than to pursue my favorite hobby. I didn't have many anyway and sure, I could have just drawn, but there was one thing that inexplicably always made me come down. On the way home from the bus stop, I made a detour to a nearby flower shop. The small bell on the door announced my entry and the owner of the shop, a very friendly man with autistic traits named Yamato, raised his head at this sound and smiled at me. "Hello, Hinata-chan, long time no see."

"Yes, hello Yamato-san," I greeted back. "Forgive me for not coming around for a while, but I've been busy lately. The university has started, you know?"

"Oh, you're studying? That's nice."

A hearty bud swelled up in my chest. I liked Yamato. Our conversations never went deeper than the one we just had. He knew nothing about me, I knew nothing about him, there had never been more than superficial small talk – and that's exactly why I enjoyed talking to him so much. I didn't have to hide anything from him, because he simply wasn't interested, whereas with him I could give free rein to my spleen about flowers. How often had we spent hours with excessive dialogues about the care and design of different species. Once Iroha had actually become indignant because he had stood too close to the offspring of a burdock out of sheer boredom and he had to fight a hopeless battle against its flowers, which had mercilessly caught in his suit – and he had lost, of course. I would never forget his cursing. These visits to Yamato had been an absolute highlight of my childhood and teenagerhood, even with the annoying supervision of my father's bodyguards, because they had meant that I had been allowed to leave the estate at least a few steps.

Today was the first time I saw Yamato since I was released from isolation, and it was liberating that he didn't even ask me why I wasn't in the company of a grumpy-looking man in a gray suit as usual. "I need something particular, Yamato-san," I introduced our flower-heavy exchange without further ado. "I want to press a special flower."

Yamato's brown eyes lit up. It was obvious how excited he was that he had been able to pass on his passion to me. "In what way?"

"I need one that has a special meaning."

"Including its color or do you want it in yellow?"

I thought for a moment and decided, "Purple is best. It should be one that illustrates royalty and looks particularly noble and unique. Can you think of anything?"

Yamato thoughtfully put two fingers to his chin. "Mhhh... Royal.. Noble.. Unique.. Well, there are many flowers that represent royalty and nobility, especially in purple. Lilies, the flower of the aristocrats. Tulips in the color purple stand for prosperity, which in ancient times was synonymous with nobility. Peonies are also called 'queens of flowers'. The iris has always been associated with the royal family. Azaleas and orchids are considered noble and worthy of a king in purple. You see, there are many flowers that illustrate kingship. But if it's supposed to be unique, then, yes, then I've got something for you." After his glowing and highly insightful lecture, he left the sales room through a door behind the counter and did not return until three minutes later, in which I had looked halfway interested at a bouquet of lush roses and pistochia, and I had briefly wondered if King knew what purple meant and had therefore deliberately set this color on his lamp. In his hand, Yamato held a single, large flower with six petals, which were yellow at their root and turned a pinkish purple at the top of the lanceolate leaves. "It's a gloriosa," Yamato explained and handed it to me. "It's also called the 'Crown of Fame' and is quite exotic. Is that something you have in mind?"

He didn't need to ask me that question. As soon as I had a first look at the flower, I knew that it was the right one. It sounded strange, but it awakened a feeling in me that immediately screamed for 'King'. With shining eyes, I nodded. "Yes, it's perfect."

Yamato seemed satisfied, put the gloriosa in a transparent box made of hard plastic and took the money for it. We said goodbye to each other and I made my way to the Hyuuga estate. "Tadaima," I muttered into the empty hallway and went upstairs to my room, where I put my bag next to the door and fetched a cardboard box from the top shelf. I heaved the bulky press onto the desk, covered it with wax paper and turned the gloriosa between my fingers. Crown of fame.. That was a truly apt name for this plant. With its wavy petals and protruding stamens, it really looked like a richly decorated crown, although it also reminded me of a flame. A beautiful, yellow-purple fire, like the one that blazed between King and me. Or wanted to blaze. Or should.. I sighed heavily. It hurt to miss someone, especially if you didn't know this person better and had no other contact options than the chat on a site for pervs and exhibitionists.

Or, I thought to myself, as I dabbed the gloriosa with a cloth to dry it, maybe I knew him. My flash of inspiration, we would have already met, could still be an insane fantasy, a monomania with nothing more to it, but I had to keep my head busy somehow, otherwise I would go crazy. And the thought that he had recognized me was more comforting than anything else—because otherwise that would mean he found me disgusting, and I disavowed that.

I looked at the colorful flower insistently. Who from my environment could it be? I didn't know many men, and I wanted even fewer to be king. The first thing that came to mind were all the bastards who had abused me over the course of the last few years. If one of them was the secret love of my life, I would prefer suicide. Right now, King was the only thing I could really look forward to in my life, none of these pedophile sons of bitches should ruin that for me. Yes, maybe I was a bit dramatic, but that's how I felt. King was my everything, my hope for a normal future. I was convinced that when I finally met him and we both knew who we were, everything would be fine. Then I had the man by my side whom I loved, and who loved me.

"Please, don't be a son of a bitch," I whispered to the gloriosa, picking up a fine brush to buffer coarse particles off it.

So. If I assumed, which was after all my greatest request to this cursed universe, that King didn't know me from one of the meetings, how else? There weren't many alternatives. Those would be the university and..

I stopped, and in shock I dropped the flower. Was it possible that.. no.. right? With trembling fingers I picked up the gloriosa again and straightened a petal, although it had not even been crooked. But I had to keep my hands busy to prevent a train of thought – and I failed. Did King belong to my.. clan? His reaction would fit. He had realized who I was and had panicked because he had fallen in love with the Hyuuga princess.

Thoughtful and with slight beads of sweat on my forehead, I leaned back in my chair. There were some members that I could exclude, ignoring the age of each of them, because if King was indeed twenty-three, no one in my environment would come into consideration at all. After a short heart attack, I crossed my own father off the list. Not only would I have really killed myself if he had been King, but there were plenty of occasions when he had obviously been busy elsewhere when King and I had been texting or video chatting. The last time this was the case was on our anniversary. In the same way, Kou was eliminated, who once almost caught King and me. Neji? Same as Hiashi. Well, at least I could rule out having shown myself intimately in front of a blood relative.

But more distant cousins..? Tokuma and I had the same great-great-grandfather, Hamura Hyuuga, and Iroha was my fourth-degree great-uncle. Cheers to a long history of somehow incest and nepotism. And I was worried about age gaps. At least I didn't fuck my own brothers, it was something. It would be legal with both of them and others of my family, but I just put all my hope in the one card that ignored all Hyuuga as King.

I continued to paint brush the gloriosa. So no Hyuuga and no old git of meetings – in the best case. I could also ignore the men from the Ame, they were all rock gay, there was no one who was bisexual. That narrowed it down considerably. All that remained were all penis-equipped people from the university, Yamato and.. I let the flower and brush fall. There were a few who knew me more or less well and who could be shocked for different reasons because I had visually identified myself as Hinata Hyuuga.

My gaze wandered to my cell phone. Madara thought we needed distance from each other. Had he acted similarly to King? And then Genma's strange behavior. Had it perhaps not only been related to this crackle between us, but also to the fact that he was King? And finally, Itachi. I had wondered anyway why he was so jealous when we had hardly spent any time together. Nobody reacted so violently with a little crush when he learned that his flame had slept with another man. Unless, of course, I was more than just a spontaneous crush to him.

I tore myself out of my rigidity, blew once on the gloriosa and placed it between the wax paper, which I clamped between the heavy plates of the press, then gradually tightened the four screws and absentmindedly looked at the wooden lid specially painted with buttercups. I could think as much as I wanted about possible candidates for King, but it didn't help. Even before that, I had fallen into brief delusions that one of the four men I was inexplicably attracted to could be my true love in secret. Now it was no more than before. I picked up my smartphone and wrote in the chat with King: [I know you asked for time and I want to give it to you, but I just want to ask you one question: Have we met before?]

King wasn't online and I was unsure how long my desperate-sounding message would rot under my equally desperate [I miss you..]. But since I had already unlocked my phone, I could just as well take care of something that, for once, had nothing to do with King – well, at least not in that sense. I dialed Genma's number, which I had saved last night as a precaution under "Shino" before such a debacle happened again, and let it toot a few times before finally a deep, bassy voice answered. "Um.. Yes?"

"Hi, Genma," I said softly and looked at the door. Iroha's call for dinner would not come for half an hour.

"Hey.. What do you have on your mind?" Genma didn't seem too dismissive, which built me up mightily.

I swallowed hard. Somehow, I had imagined it would be easier to tell him about my decision. "I.. Well.. You said you wanted to hand over my case. I-is that fixed, well.. Do you still want that?"

Genma was silent for quite a long time, which killed a confident spark in me, but then he let out a long-drawn-out sigh and said, "It's difficult, Hinata. I should maintain an exclusively professional relationship with you in my position, but I don't know if I'm still capable of doing that. You mean more to me than a witness should, and that can and will inevitably cause me problems at some point. Sometimes I don't think about the consequences of my actions in advance and if there are any personal feelings involved, I can't guarantee that I will remain rational. I want to continue to be there for you, but.. Yeah, it's difficult."

"I know..", I murmured. "And that's why I thank you again for what you did for me yesterday. You saved me from a lot of shit."

A soft clearing of the throat sounded. "Yeah.. How are you? Did any of this have an aftermath? And how did this situation come about in the first place?"

"That would probably be too long for a secret phone call." Genma snorted in agreement. "Can we meet tomorrow and talk about everything? I mean, I still have two years of Gin'nome-kai history open that you don't even know yet. Because Genma, I.. This actually has nothing to do with anything that is going on.. well, between us, but I don't want to talk to anyone else. Your colleagues can be as nice and competent as they are, but I don't trust them. You've proven to me once again that I can rely on you, and I want to finish this with you."

"Yes, I understand. And maybe that's a mistake, but I want that too. My boss gave me the task of getting you on board, so it's my job not to let you drown again." How fucking poetic. Heavens.. Why did he fit so well? I closed my eyes and continued to listen to his voice, which continued in a husk tone, "You trust me about this and I don't want to disappoint you, Hinata. So.." He inhaled loudly. "If everything backfires and the shit sticks to our shoes in the end, then that's just the way it is. But I have given you my word, so I shall keep it. Tomorrow at ten in the library?"

"Sounds doable," I smiled and unconsciously bit my lower lip. Yes, I know it wasn't a date, but somehow.. it felt like one. "See you tomorrow then."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow..", Genma said quietly and I would have bet all my belongings on him smiling.

I put my phone next to the flower press, which the gloriosa would make into a beautiful addition to my small collection within the next few days. How was it possible that I loved King so idolatrously and yet my heart beat faster every time I interacted with another of the Four Horsemen of my unbridled libido apocalypse? Was it just my postpubertal hormones that were riding the carousel? Possibly, after all, they had been massively neglected during my teenage years, because I didn't want to have anything to do with sex at first and then there had been no one really there to entertain them. So, it was not surprising that they went crazy with every halfway attractive man.

From the stairs I heard footsteps. They were too heavy to be Hanabi's, especially since I was sure she was in her room, so I wasn't surprised when there was a knock and Iroha called me for dinner. The only thing I was surprised was how much time I had wasted in my own thoughts, which, although I went downstairs to choke down a few rice crumbs and a little roasted beef, did not stop.

Somehow, I couldn't determine it myself, they ended up with Itachi. Maybe this was because he was the only one with whom I still had something to clarify. Sure, things weren't going well between Madara and me either and with Kakashi I had maneuvered myself into a supposedly hopeless dead end, but Itachi was someone I definitely owed a conversation to. On Friday I had behaved like the last ass towards him. He just wanted to do his job, didn't he? And his reaction hadn't been so bad that I had to be mad at him for days. And damn, I still missed him. He would certainly ignore me if I called him or wrote him a message. After that, at least that's how I put it together in my hormone-fueled brain, I had no choice but to sneak out after Kou's patrol and face Itachi in person. We had to sort it out, shit, otherwise I'd die of a guilty conscience and a hint of longing.

"King_size94 read your message"