Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Hira stared off into space. High School was a distant memory now yet the one person he could not forget was the only person he had ever take a photograph of: Sou Kiyoi.
He still could not process exactly what had happed behind the school that last day, when Kiyoi pulled him close, and pressed his lips, hard, to his, after asking, no, demanding, that didn't he have anything to say? Hira's mind did not work well under pressure, and it went into a fumble, Kiyoi became upset and pushed him down, his phone falling into a puddle.
Second year of University, and Hira STILL could not make it make sense inside his brain.
WHY DID THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MAN IN THE WORLD KISS HIM, OF ALL PEOPLE?
~~~~~~~~~~
Sou Kiyoi gritted his teeth and in a monotone, followed the script. "I love you!" It was perfect, the words, action everything, but it was dead. It carried not ounce of feeling and the Iruma, the director, and the cast knew it. He was perfect for the role, and every scene was fantastic except this one, and the kiss scene.
"Cut!" The director screamed, throwing the script to the floor, in frustration. He had dismissed the rest of the cast hours ago, leaving him and Kiyoi, and for the last two hours, working just on this one scene. "Look, Kiyoi, haven't you ever been in love? You're heart is breaking, and you're trying to win the girl back. Put those fucking emotions into the words, into all of your movements. Make me believe you and you've nailed the scene."
His face dead of all emotions, Kiyoi simply shrugged. The director ran his fingers threw his already rumpled hair. "Take a few days off. Go on a date. FIND the emotions you need, Kiyoi. I really don't want to recast at this point because other than connecting with your emotions, you are perfect in the role." He bent down and picked up the badly abused script. Rolling it up, he used it like a baton and shook it at the man. "I'm serious, if you can't act with emotions when we restart, I am re-casting the roll."
Flopping to the floor, Kiyoi lay on his back and contemplated his life. Everything had gone wrong after meeting HIM. The strange boy who worshipped him in high school.
The boy he had met in his final year, after transferring in for his last year. He was always transferring schools. It wasn't his fault, he didn't cause trouble. He... was an afterthought.
His mother had remarried and he became a burden. They didn't think of him, or school. They moved, and took him with them, so he often transferred mid-term, until his younger brother started school. Then, it became important to settle in one place. They choose this town, this high school.
Toshima, just north of Shinjuku, the largest theatre and Red Light district in Tokyo.
Entertainment was a huge part of Japanese heritage. Kiyoi remembered the first time, at fifteen, walking down the crowded streets, and hosts trying to recruit him. He shivered slightly. He wanted to be an actor, not a porn star. He wanted to be INSIDE the TV, one of the small people that were always laughing and happy. Something that was not there in his every day life.
Those little people inside the box, they were there, every day, to keep him company. He didn't need to be used, like dirty water, to be tossed away later.
The only person who ever looked at him, really looked at him, and didn't just see his face, or body, was him. That boy... and he was different. Kiyoi only knew that the boy didn't know what he wanted FROM him, but it definitely wasn't his love, because after he kissed him, he waited and waited, and nothing.
His first heartbreak. "Fuck!!" He screamed suddenly, sitting up and bringing his knees tightly to his chest. Why did that damn director have to make him think of Hira? Had he not worked damn hard to forget about him? About solemn eyes that followed his every move, his stutter, his fierceness... and overwhelming gentle touch?
Why didn't he call his name after the kiss? Why hadn't he run after him? Why had he never called him after they graduated?
Had they not become friends, at the very least, the ostracized boy and the lonely one?
Slowly, Kiyoi stood up and got ready for his actual paying job. Interactive theater was brainless, easy work. After 3 months, it didn't matter if his mind was there or not, he could do it sleep walking.
~~~~~~~~~~
"I...I...I... d..d..don't understand, Doctor." Hira pushed through his discomfort. "Are you saying I might have been misd...d...d..diagnosed?"
"I reviewed your medical charts, Hira." The doctor leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Even though we have been studying autism for many, many years, and Asperger's Syndrome," She said the last part carefully, " has been known since the early 1960's, it's very hard to diagnose."
"I am not just shy because I s..s..s..tt.t.tt.ttutter?" Hira forced out, his face flushing.
"Do you feel that way?" The doctor pushed gently, curious about his feelings. "Has anyone ever actually asked you if you ARE shy, or if you are just embarrassed about being FORCED to do things you didn't want to do."
Carefully, and slowly, Hira considered. He liked this new doctor. She never rushed him for answers, giving him time for his slow brain to consider all aspects. "I don't feel shy." He thought of Kiyoi. "If I want something, I will pursue it."
The doctor nodded. "You're very smart, Hira. Do you remember those tests I had you take the last time?"
Hira nodded. They were easier than some of his studies at University. "Yes."
"I.Q. tests. I don't normally give them to my patients, Hira, but they help when diagnosing Asperger's." She took a deep breath. "They measure intelligence. Above normal is 115, and genius is 140." She paused to allow Hira time to process, shuffling the papers again and took out one, sliding across the desk to him. "I wish your guardian could be here..." Sighing softly, she continued. "This is your score, Hira."
Hira took the paper with shaking hands, positive that he was well below the 115 the doctor spoke of. At first, his slow brain was not comprehending was he was looking at. Finally he looked up at the doctor. "Why does this piece of paper say I have an I.Q. of 142? Is that not a genius?" He was so shocked, he forgot to stutter.
The doctor pulled out another paper and read, "Asperger's syndrome is often described as a milder form of autism or as "high-functioning autism". It is a disorder that is often not recognized because children with Asperger's are often bright and verbal and are able to function well in everyday life. So their challenges in social interaction are often brushed away as just odd behavior."
"Hira, I believe that all of your "odd behavior" and even your stutter, are part of the Asperger's Syndrome."
"N..n..now what?" Hira asked, still trying to process. "D..d..d..d..does this c..c..c..c..c.hange my life at all?"
"Yes and no. I will start the papers to register you as a recognized disabled person." She paused and met his eyes. "But you have already done every treatment offered, to a high functioning child of Asperger's, you were just not recognized as having a disability."
Leaving the doctor's office, Hira felt like a zombie. Routine always saved him when his emotions were tangled. He needed his camera so he headed to the University Photography Club. Walking in, there were several seniors there, most who, while they didn't personally like Hira, they did approve of his passion for photography.
There was one exception: Kazuki Kayama. He had an older brother who also stuttered, but over came it with love, patience and lots of work. The minute he met Hira, he had felt an instant connection and it hadn't just been because of the love of cameras, or the stutter. There was more.
Hira had no idea how beautiful he was... with his smooth, clear olive skin, eyes that saw through to your soul, and hair that flopped over to hide those all knowing eyes.
If he would just show even a wee bit of interest in socializing, Hira would have friends, no, he would have people of both sexes lining up to date him. But to Kayama, that was part of Hira's charm: he was completely oblivious to everything that was positive when it came to him.
He wasn't negative. He wasn't positive either. He was completely neutral. He had a different way of seeing the world they lived in and Kayama liked that viewpoint.
After two years, Kayama knew all of Hira's odd ticks. He was upset today. It made him want to take him in his arms and protect him from all the bad things that happened in HIS little world. Over the years, they had developed a type of friendship, not as deep as Kayama wanted, but one that was good for now.
Kayama was a patient man. But he wouldn't wait forever for Hira to notice his interest before making his move, only until others noticed what a good man he was.
"Hira." Kayama waited until he sat down and started to check over the new Nikon camera that had replaced his Canon Rebel. Hira didn't even look up. He was a bit jealous of the camera, he couldn't lie to himself. It was beautiful, and expensive, and it would be years before he could afford one, but it was the WAY Hira held the Nikon Z 6ii that had Kayama so envious.
He wanted his hands to touch him that way, holding him gently. "Hira," Kayama tried more forcefully, now more than ever sure that he had indeed forgotten they had made plans for today for his birthday. "Hira, are you ready to go?"
Absently, Hira stared at Kayama. "Go where?" His fingers ran over the smooth, black body of the camera before slipping everything back into the carry bag. He was taking it with him. He needed it today.
"I have tickets for my brother's theatre, Hira. I reminded you, several times." Kayama was very patient. Hira could and often did forget things he wasn't interested in, but if he made a promise, he always followed through. HE promised the day would be spent with Kayama.
"Oh... okay." His fingers ran over the camera bag. "Can I take my c..c..camera?"
Kayama wondered if Hira would even look at him directly today. Something was definitely bothering him, if he needed his camera. "Yes, but you can't take pictures."
Absently, Hira shrugged and gave away the first bit of really personal information ever in two years. "T...tt...ttt..tthat's fine. I've oo...oo..only ever photographed oo..o..one person. I...I...I wasn't very g...g...g...good."
A small shoulder shrug and Kayama nodded. He had all the confirmation he needed now. Over the years, Hira was usually pretty relaxed around him, and stuttered less, taking all the time he needed to speak. It made no difference today. What had upset him?
Chapter 2
Kiyoi did neck exercises and shrugged his shoulders. He wondered why he was suddenly doing this part, when for, the last week, he was only supposed to be a bit player, serving beverages and supporting the other actors.
He had done this character all last week and while fun, it was too intense after his stressful rehearsal, requiring interactions with the guests, not just taking drink orders. He didn't realize, while in high school, this was the life for many actors, being a waiter. Sighing deeply, he put on the hat, jumped a few times on the spot, loosening his limbs and stood by for his cue to perform.
It sounded like they had a full house tonight, a little odd for a Monday, but he guessed it wasn't that out of the ordinary since this was the last week of performances. He didn't know how many free tickets the cast had given to friends and family. When asked, he had turned them down. It wasn't that he was ashamed to do interactive theatre, he had no one to come.
"You could have called him..." Flashed through his mind and he viciously slapped down that thought. No, he couldn't. He waited two weeks and tried to call HIM. He changed his number. The end. Kiyoi shook his head and plastered on the fake smile he had perfected by the time he was ten years old. He never realized it glazed his face, making it appear like a statue, not just blocking out how he felt, but giving him a remote, older feeling as well.
The Stage Direction gave the circular motion with her hand and whispered "And Go!" in his mic, and Kiyoi went, pulling his hat down low over his eyes, a half smirk on his face. He entered through the doors, walked through the center aisle, directly through the tables to the stage where two lucky tables at the far end of the theatre were high on the stage were a key part of the performance.
Kiyoi hoped that they were good sports, as this was a mystery play. They needed to interact with him, as he said his lines. Both tables looked up at his entrance eagerly and his heart fell, as his eyes met with... his.
For the first time ever, he stumbled, only slightly before recovering and carried on as if nothing happened. But he saw, each time he interacted with HIS table, the shock and dismay written all over his face, but the underlying emotion, the one that could never be hidden between them was still there.
This man who turned his whole last year of high school upside down still cared in some way. It was there in the way his eyes followed his every move, how he intently listened to his every word, how he pulled back from his touch.
Anger rose within himself, and Kiyoi used that, pouring all of that emotion into the performance, bouncing from one table to another, using the prop hat to shield his true feelings every time he glanced HIS way.
Why hadn't he called him to let him know his new number? Hadn't HE said "I love you" first?
After three long exhausting hours, it was done. As usual, the director, Kazuki Yohei had a after show gathering planned. It was almost mandatory if you wanted to work the next show. Kiyoi hadn't made up his mind yet, but seeing as he was having difficulty with his other play, had started to attend the parties.
His agent said he couldn't live just off of CF's.
He changed into his street clothes and joined those already gathered in the restaurant, and he was there with the guy. What were they? He fought instant jealousy as Kazuki Yohei clapped his hands and announced brightly, "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to my younger brother, Kazuki Kayama and his boyfriend, Kazunari Hira. Thank you all for making it a special night."
Kiyoi's eyes narrowed, dangerously so. Hira wouldn't ask him out in high school, despite declaring how much he loved him! Hira changed his number after HE took the first step and kissed him? He wanted to grab the smug looking boyfriend and beat him to a pulp when Hira's words, still so soft and slow, sunk in.
"I d...d...don't remember being asked, Kayama." Each word was like a stone among the laughter and brightness of the cast.
"Brother, I was going to ask Hira AFTER at dinner!" Kayama replied, bowing slightly to Hira. "I'm sorry, Hira, I think Yohei is so excited to meet you after listening to me talk about you for years."
Kazuki nodded. "I hear you are a fan of one of my cast. Sou, come here and meet Hira. Kayama says he stops and watches every one of your CF's. "
"N...n...not a fan, e...e...exactly." Hira mumbled, looking away as Kiyoi approached.
"Hello Stalker, we meet again." It was interesting to watch his face go several shades of red, Kiyoi decided. He still has feelings for me. So what the fuck happened?
~~~~~~~~~~
Jealousy. It instantly flooded Kayama's blood, heating him from the inside. These two had a past history and it hurt that Hira had never spoken of it. Well, it was his own fault for including the handsome actor as part of the surprise, but how was HE to know that they would personally know each other, when Hira dodged all questions?
"You two have met already?" Kayama asked, acting disappointed, looking at Hira, who had bright red ears.
"Mm, h...h..high s..s..s...sschool." Listening to how upset Hira was, at meeting Kiyoi almost made up for being jealous. The actor was arrogant, boldly meeting Hira's eyes. It made him want to punch him right in the nose.
Drawing deep calming breaths, he forced himself to pay attention to the conversation and NOT Hira's body language, which he had found usually told him more about how he truly felt. His ears perked up as the arrogant man bold continued, "Isn't it true, Hira, you were my stalker back then?"
Instead of answering, Hira's ears went darker, and color flashed across his smooth skin. He shook his head, slowly, eyes downcast. Kayama, who found everything about Hira of the most importance, had never seen this side of him. They had a past, these two. He found his jaw clenching, back molars grinding in pure frustration.
He needed to know. Now. Hira was his! His pure, untouched gem... his to love and cherish.
Offhandedly, the actor shrugged when Hira didn't respond. "We always have an after show party. Since it's a special occasion and all," His eyebrow raised suggestively, "Why don't you two stay and celebrate with us?" He turned his back after that and faded into the cast.
Hira's head lifted and Kayama watched his eyes follow Kiyoi as he walked away. He could bet, within a yen, that Hira knew exactly where he was inside the darkened restaurant, as his brother excitedly followed up with the suggestion, as did many of the cast members.
"Please stay!"
"We've heard so much about you from Sensei!! Please, stay!"
"Kayama, Hira," Yohei smiled gently, "For ruining your big moment, stay. The night is on me."
Shaking his head, Kayama declined. "No, I don't think so. I asked Hira out to dinner." He took Hira's hand and squeezed gently, reassuring, knowing that he didn't like to be crowded.
From out of nowhere, Hira suddenly surprised him. "I...i..i... don't m...mm.m.m.mind. Staying." His face was downcast and Kayama couldn't see his expression properly. "You choose."
"No, another time, Brother." He gave a nod to the cast, including them in the refusal. "It's my birthday and I would like to spend the time with Hira." He gave a saucy wink, and the cast laughed, all except that one guy, the one that made Hira start to stutter really badly.
The one he THOUGHT was going to be a pleasant surprise.
Hira nodded, only then remembering he had promised to cook hot pot for Kayama, his favorite. It had become a routine between them, with Kayama's relatives supplying the fresh vegetables. "Another time." His chest heaved, pleased he managed to be calm enough to speak without stuttering. It had amazed him that once he had graduated from high school, it had calmed down unless he was agitated or upset.
"Well," The director suddenly reached out and patted both young men on the shoulders, causing Hira to flinch, "This show runs for another week and there are cast parties every night. You're welcome to join us any time." He turned his back and left them, disappearing into the crowd of young actors.
Kayama turned to Hira and smiled brightly, his feelings evident to everyone but Hira. "Shall we? I'm hungry." Hira nodded and followed him docilly out the door.
Unbeknownst to the pair, Sou Kiyoi watched them greedily. "I'm not sure who you are, Kazuki Kayama, but you will have to step aside. Hira is mine. Always has been, always will be." He walked over to the bar and asked for a ginger ale and whisky.
He didn't often drink but he needed one now. What was Hira thinking, when he obviously couldn't even HIDE the fact that he still felt the same way about him?
~~~~~~~~~~
Kayama fought hard to restrain himself. He wanted to hold his hand, to claim ownership, to make him talk to him. In many ways, Hira was very selfish and he knew that if he forced him to do things in a normal way, he would loose him.
Direct thinking had never worked but circular had. So he would try that tonight to satisfy his needs. Starting small, as they walked to the train, "Why didn't you tell me you went to school with Sou? I wouldn't have arranged a meeting with him if I had known."
"I told y..y..you I didn't like him." Hira said, briefly, his eyes downcast. Suddenly, his hands twitched and he pulled out his camera. He stopped and angled it up, taking several pictures. "It wasn't important."
"Why do you watch his CF's so intently, then, Hira?" Kayama pushed. "Tell me so I understand."
"Unr..r..resolved emotions." He was looking through the camera, swinging it left and right, up but never down. "He called me s..s...stalker, c..c..c..c..c.."
"Shh." Kayama now touched Hira, upset with himself for hurting Hira on this special day. "I'm sorry, Hira. It's none of my business. You don't have to tell me."
Pressing his lips together tightly, Hira nodded. "Hotpot." It was all he had to say. Kayama would know that he accepted his apology. He dreaded the actual confession from him, knowing there was no way he could be his boyfriend.
He only had One God. One King. One Love. One person who made his heart pound and beat so fast that he felt like he was flying apart at the seams and HE still hated him.
Graduation day had proven that, when he had said good bye with a kiss.
Why did it have to be the most beautiful man he ever met, Sou Kiyoi?
Chapter 3
Three Days Later...
Kiyoi stood in the rehearsal room and said his infamous lines. This time, he used everything, all those twisted, hurtful feelings that were bound up around Hira. He threw them out into the room and left them hanging and the director clapped.
"That's fucking brilliant, Sou! Brilliant! I don't know what you had to do, or did, but keep it up." Iruma walked over to him and grabbed his hands. "What was it, the threat of being fired?"
Kiyoi only shrugged. "I need the job." Like fucking hell he was talking about Hira to this man. He turned his back, feeling trickles of sweat roll down between his shoulder blades. "Are we done for today? I need to go to work."
"Yes, yes." The director clapped his hands, calling the attention of all the cast members. "Dismissed! Have a good evening, everyone. See you at 11 a.m. tomorrow for a full dress rehearsal. We don't have the room for the next day, so let's make tomorrow count."
People scattered like rats fleeing a sinking ship and Kiyoi was soon standing alone in the room. He walked wearily to his gear, piled in a corner and pulled on his light jacket, picked up his backpack and began to walk to the exit. His mind was elsewhere, so he failed to notice another actor was still there.
He walked right into him, Aoshima a fellow cast member in both the play and interactive theatre. "Are you headed to the theatre now? I'll join you."
Kiyoi was no fool. He had men hitting on him for more years than was legal. This man was predatory at best. "No, I have things to do first. I'll see you there." He shrugged off his hand and walked away, not looking back. Aoshima made him feel slimy, the way he looked at him, not the way Hira's gaze did. His blood sang then.
"One day, Sou, you will give in." Aoshima called out. "It's inevitable, that two good looking people like us hook up."
"Not even in your dreams!" Kiyoi yelled back just before he shut the door. "It creeps me out." He heard Aoshima laughing and it followed him home. He needed a shower badly today, to rinse the sweat, to cleanse his body.
To forget Hira, and the fact that when he declared his love today, he was really telling it to him. "Fuck!" His fist punched the wall. "Why is love so difficult?" His forehead bent forward and he cried, softly, in the shower. He hadn't done that after the first six months had past and there was nothing from Hira.
He had been too proud to go to his house and find out why he hadn't said "I love you." or even called him. Life was filled with 'what if's', at least, his was. Casually, he wondered if Hira ever played the 'what if' game.
Drying off, he decided it didn't matter anyway. He still had no way to contact him. Unless HIRA choose to see him again, things were exactly the same as they were the day they graduated.
He loved a creepy man, someone who he had given his first kiss to, then was abandoned. He wiped the fog from the mirror, and sighed. "You're very selfish, Hira. Not once did you ever ask me how I felt about you."
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira stared at his disability certificate. He didn't know exactly what this entailed but he still hadn't told his parents about either the diagnosis or the certificate. He was over 21, and an adult. They had left him, at 18, alone and moved.
So far, he had managed, thriving even, on his own. He learned to cook, clean and do his own laundry. He managed to balance a budget. If this is what geniuses did, he certainly was a genius.
He stared at his very first camera, the Canon Rebel DSL, placed proudly on the shelf. It allowed him to be invisible, to not be a part of the world when taking pictures. NO one saw the person behind the camera, only saw the actual camera. He liked that.
He could be actually taking shitty pictures and no one cared if you had a camera in front of you. It was the perfect disguise. It wasn't the reason why his parents bought it, it was to help him break out of his shell and participate in something.
It failed miserably.
He fingered the piece of paper and slowly read through the details again. He shook his head. It didn't make more sense on the second read either. Hira gathered that there was some sort of money coming to him... and he could apply for help, if needed.
Why did he need help?
Wasn't he managing to fit in just fine?
He fought off the need to crumple the paper and throw it away but in big letters at the bottom it said, "Please keep for future reference.", so he carefully filed it in his drawer with his other precious things, a box of photographs from high school, his graduation certificate and a yellow rubber duck.
Hira stood up, looked at the time and began to shake. Was he brave enough to face him? Perhaps if he wore a disguise and left before the end... just a peek.
His heart needed to see his god. If only for a little while...
~~~~~~~~~~
He knew the moment he stepped inside the theatre he was here. Kiyoi knew. Hira came again. He could feel it in his blood, the way his body reacted. He felt himself being watched, the same way he had been, way back in high school. He was drawn to it, found himself searching for him in the crowded bar.
Damn the darkened house, the crowded tables, with the spotlight on him! He needed to see Hira! See those eyes watching him intently...
'Ahhh hah! Found you!' He gloated internally, as he carried on, again stuck as the lead performer. After his "amazing" performance the night Hira had showed up, the cast refused to rotate, insisting that this was his role. He sighed and carried on, when his whole body, no, his heart wanted to confront him and demand answers.
The part of his mind not involved in the play wondered what the fuck was Hira wearing? Did he honestly believe he could hide from him? There was nothing in the world that could hide those creepy eyes and the way they followed him, especially not from him.
Tonight, he would drag those stupid glasses and even dumber hat off of him, and make him talk. Even if it took all night, he would find out why Hira never called him after they graduated.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ten minutes, no... the second Kiyoi started, Hira knew this was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He had almost forgotten about him, building a life that didn't include his God. He had put away all the pictures, the memories and mementos.
He had carefully moved on, even had a friend now. Joined a club for the first time.
He still did not know how to socialize but he was learning. He was excelling in university, something he hadn't the freedom to do in high school, where he had mastered the art of being invisible unless he wanted to be bullied his whole life.
Being called some variation of "Stutz" since kindergarten hadn't helped his self esteem at all. Back then, perhaps, it might have helped knowing that it wasn't his fault the way his parents kept telling him. Back then, maybe, the disability certificate might have helped.
But as his slower comprehension for social situations muddled through, he doubted it. Children, he witnessed, were cruel. Adults, were polite, while being just as ostracizing in a different way. He allowed his thoughts to drift as he watched Kiyoi. The same way as they did back then.
He never considered anything but how he felt about Kiyoi. How comfortable Kiyoi made him feel. How even if Kiyoi called him creepy, it didn't feel like an insult, but a caress. He sighed deeply, and left before the play was over.
He wasn't sure he was up to speaking with him on the day he found out he had a disability. His defenses were low. He dragged his feet, walking slowly to the train. A vending machine made him pause and a small, half smile crossed his face.
He reached into his pocket and took out some coins and inserted them. He hadn't been able to even look at a bottle of ginger ale since that kiss. Slowly, he inserted the coins and pushed the button, watching the bottle fall. He inserted a few more and a bottle of water fell down. Bending, he picked both up and looked back the way he came.
"Ohh!" He jumped back in shock, coming face to face with Kiyoi. "Why are you here?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi wanted to laugh but kept his face still, almost harsh, controlling all the emotions he felt. Hira never once asked anything about how he felt, not once, so why would he start now? "Creepy." He muttered, before saying, a bit louder, "Take off the hat, Hira, it doesn't suit you." Because I can't see your eyes properly, but he doesn't need to know that.
Hira only shuffled his feet, the drinks in his hands, and looked downward. Kiyoi, impatient, stepped closer and quickly snatched both the ridiculous glasses and hat off his head, tousling his hair back into proper order. "Is that for me?" He asked, nodding at the ginger ale. "Were you going to come back?"
"I...I...I... w..w...w...w.w." Hira started, but his nerves got the better and he just stopped, not finishing. Instead, he thrust the ginger ale out, and tucked the water into his bag, grabbing the hat and glasses, swiftly putting them into his bag as well. He still refused to meet Kiyoi's eyes.
"Hira," Kiyoi threatened, "I'll kick you if you don't talk to me."
"N..no." He said, softly, full of pain. "Y...you d...d...don't want me."
His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. "I wasn't the one who changed my number, Hira. Why did you do that?" He wondered if Hira knew that he watched him just as much, for that's what love is, when it's reciprocated. You watch that person, study their every move until you know what they feel in every situation. Hira never talked unless you made him talk, though.
At this moment, Hira was very uncomfortable, very upset and he didn't know why. He gave him, his first love, his first kiss. Why was love so hard?
"Water d...damage." There was more to it than that, but he'd never know. Hira wouldn't tell him. Hira's body language was depressing. He was rocking, and looking at the ground. Normally, Kiyoi only saw this in crowds. What had he said that had upset him this badly?
His heart trembled. They were still both in pain. He wondered if they would ever be happy. He took out his phone and thrust it under Hira's face, into his line of sight. There was no way in hell he was letting him escape again. "Give me your number, Hira."
Hira lifted his head and their eyes met. His blood pounded hard, and he heard it rushing through his veins. 'Yes,' Kiyoi thought, 'Yes Hira, look at me forever like that.' Aloud, he repeated, "Your number, Hira."
Chapter 4
Why did he do it? Hira twisted his fingers nervously the whole way home. He shouldn't have given Kiyoi his new number! He shouldn't have...
What if he called him? He was being sucked back into his spell, back down the dark tunnel where nothing else mattered but the shining god, the most beautiful man that was Sou Kiyoi. He could feel it, the almost obsessive need to pick up his camera and capture everything that made him Kiyoi.
Every thing that made him shine, that made him beautiful, so others could appreciate his god like beauty.
IT WAS WRONG! It wasn't wrong to be with a man, Hira knew that, but it was wrong to put them on a pedestal, to think of them like a god.
He couldn't help it. He was so low, below even the dirt that he walked on. He was worthless. Next to Kiyoi, he didn't even have reason to breath the same air. Kiyoi had every right to kick him, beat him... even kill him for loving him.
It was so wrong! He scrunched up his nose, sniffing. There was no way he would cry on the train. He jumped as his phone rang. OH MY GOD! He shrunk into his seat, hiding. He had never been so embarrassed since leaving high school. His phone never rang after 8 p.m. so he hadn't put it on vibrate.
He took it out and looked at the display. What the hell was Kiyoi calling him now? They just saw each other! Carefully, he answered and whispered, "I am on the train. I will call you back."
Cheerfully, Kiyoi replied, "You better."
He bowed his head in apology to his fellow passengers and sighed. Was he trying to kill him from being a social pariah? If so, he was doing an incredible job.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi stared at the phone, in shock. Why had he called him, knowing that he was still on the train? Confirmation of the right number? He didn't understand his motives any more, only his desire to be with Hira.
To drown in his eyes again, to feel them watching his every move. To have the sensations build inside his body, those tingles deep within. Fuck, he had it bad. He flopped down on the small futon, in his lonely one room apartment and screamed softly, "Fuck!"
It was nothing like Hira's home. Hira lived in an ancestral house. Wide open floor plan, with tatami floors, and a huge garden. During high school, after he had lost his first competition, and HE had been ostracized, it had been Hira who had rescued him. He had spent a lot of time at Hira's home, just the two of them.
They never spoke about anything, but he knew then, that Hira loved him. Why else would he take care of him like a spouse? He cooked for him, had his favourite beverage always there... even did his homework, if he felt lazy. Kiyoi had waited and waited for a confession, prepared and practiced his acceptance speech in the mirror, but nothing ever changed.
He was too shy to tell Hira that he had been scouted by a modeling agency. He might have, if Hira had properly confessed.
But it never happened. Instead, the first of his many CF's were published in a magazine and his classmates went overboard. Hira withdrew, and went back to silently watching him with those big, beautiful eyes.
The invitation to visit his house never came again. But out of all of the scrutiny he received, the only attention he had ever craved was Hira's.
Deep inside, he knew he was being an complete asshole, pushing Hira this way. He still remembered the far away look when Hira confessed to being left behind by his parents. He had felt that abandonment, deep in his soul. It didn't matter how old you were, whether it was five or six, like he had been or 17, like Hira, YOU needed someone close to love you.
Hira took it for granted that he wasn't worthy of love, the same way he did. He didn't even know when he punched the wall out of frustration, only when he felt the pain, the familiar sensations, the dripping of the blood, the colour... that it sunk in.
Kiyoi sighed and slowly walked to the bathroom. There, he ran cold water over his hand, washing away the blood, carefully examining how badly he scraped his knuckles. It wasn't that bad, he decided, as he carefully cleaned them and rubbed numbing cream over the wounds.
He changed into his pajama bottoms and waited, impatiently, for Hira to call. If he didn't within the next half hour, Kiyoi decided, he would call him back, as he put one of his favorite plays and yawned.
Hira would learn to trust him. Even if it killed both of them in the process.
~~~~~~~~~~
Naturally a slow walker, Hira now trudged home, dragging his feet. He didn't know Kiyoi's schedule but hoped with all his heart that he would be fast asleep when he called and thereby wouldn't have to talk, just leave a message.
A coward's way, he knew, but a necessary one.
So his usual walk that usually took ten minutes, ended up taking almost half an hour. It took a lot for Hira to become angry, but tonight, after all the stress, he was definitely agitated.
On his porch sat Kayama, asleep, leaning comfortably against the wall, tucked neatly against the door. For the first time, Hira wondered if he should go in the back door and avoid his classmate and his one sided feelings.
He even knew that it was his fault that the crush began. One day, Kayama gave him some vegetables and Hira asked him to come over for hotpot since there was so many. Kayama had followed him around, taking his picture and making him uncomfortable.
Since Hira didn't feel anything for Kayama except grateful for being friendly, he bluntly asked him, "Do you like me?"
This startled Kayama, who replied, "Yes, but you don't like men, so it's okay. We can be friends."
Then over dinner, Kayama asked why he never took pictures of people.
And this is where Hira's social skills failed him miserably. He even knew it the moment he said it. "I have but only of one person. They didn't turn out very good."
This made Kayama very curious. "Who was it, Hira?"
Instead of answering, Hira chose to eat. Kayama had never seen Hira try to avoid a question before and pushed. "Hira, who was it?"
"He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen." Hira answered, almost to softly for Kayama to hear. "He made me stop taking pictures."
"So you are like me?" Kayama focused on the only part that he wanted to hear - Hira liked men, too. "You do like men?"
Hira didn't bother to answer that. He wasn't that lacking in social skills. He knew that saying Kiyoi was a god, and Kayama would never compare to him would loose his friend.
It was better to stay silent and put up with the burden of a one sided love.
Wasn't that what he was also doing?
He jumped, when his phone vibrated next to his heart. He pulled it out of his inside jacket pocket and swiftly walked out of the gate on to the road and answered it. "Hello?"
"You didn't call me back." Kiyoi. He didn't sound happy or cheerful this time.
"I.I... just got home." Hira shifted his bag and rubbed his temples. His head was aching from the tension and trying to stay calm. The unwelcome guest on his porch wasn't helping either. He wanted to lay on his bed, cover his head and scream. Unbury the box of memories and dig out each one, fondling them carefully, like the precious gems they were.
Why now? Why did he appear NOW, just when he was almost over him, regulating him to the distant past?
"Hmm?" Hira muttered, realizing he completely zoned out at the soothing sounds of Kiyoi's voice, so tired he was. "What was that?"
"You're as creepy as ever, Stalker!" Kiyoi's voice sounded angry. Hira shrank back, even through the phone, his shoulders curled forward and his head drooped. "I need a quiet place to practice for the play. Can I use your house?"
Damn! Damn! Damn... Why didn't he ask me in person? "O...O...Of course. When?" Hira had learned in university, especially when nervous or tired, short words worked best to prevent stuttering. He worked hard and now had a very large vocabulary, one of the best, including other languages. In fact, English was his elective and he was excelling at it.
"I'll call you tomorrow and let you know when I'll be there." His eyebrows drew together, confused. Kiyoi sounded very happy again. He made a weird sound, deep in the back of his throat and wanted to scream out his frustrations.
He didn't understand anything, nothing at all!
Plus, he still had to deal with Kayama before he could sleep tonight!
~~~~~~~~~~
Kayama eavesdropped shamelessly at the garden gate. Everything that concerned Hira now involved him. He had immediately took notice of how protective Sou Kiyoi was over Hira and was positive that he was the reason for his low self-esteem.
His nose scrunched in disgust as he thought back to hearing him refer to Hira as a 'stalker'. Even then, it had made him want to punch him in the nose, disrupting the beauty and perfection that fascinated his man. Personally, he could see the classical lines of Sou's handsomeness, but the other adjectives Hira had used, those... well, those were not there.
His personality destroyed any true beauty since beauty began inside.
Hira was beautiful to him.
Take tonight for example: before he had arranged the meeting on his birthday, Hira would have been home, making dinner. They would have companionably had a meal together, he could have casually asked to stay the night, begging if needed, and Hira would have said yes.
Kayama wasn't used to not having his way. Hira didn't think the same way like everyone else. Despite the numerous hints he had dropped about wanting to take things to the next level, even asking him to be his boyfriend, every advance had been politely declined.
In that regard, Hira was scary. Kayama was positive if he made the first move and touched Hira, even slightly inappropriately, even with a simple kiss, their relationship as it stood would end.
He slammed his closed fist into the palm of his other hand. Whispering to himself, "I have to try. I have nothing to loose at this point." Suddenly, he sneezed loudly. And again! And again! "Hira?" He leaned against the gate, "Hira, are you coming? I think I need a cup of tea."
He felt the shivers start and glanced at the watch on his wrist. Fuck! He had been waiting almost FIVE hours outside for him! No wonder he was sick now. He even sat through a rain shower and even dried off. "Hira?" He sneezed again, now feeling like crap.
He moved as the gate swung open and Hira entered. His eyes widened at the way he was dressed but wisely said nothing, only followed him inside, kicking off his shoes and sliding into 'his' slippers.
He watched as Hira dropped his ever present bag and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a clear glass tea cup of a golden liquid that steamed. "Honey ginger tea." Abrupt. He disappeared, returning again, now dressed in casual clothes that he knew he slept in, with a bundle of more clothing, which he tossed to Kayama.
"This is the last time, Kayama." There was a note in Hira's voice Kayama had never heard before. "I can't be your boyfriend. I can't be your friend either, if you p...p..play games."
"Is it because of your ex-boyfriend? The beautiful one?" Kayama asked, broken by Hira's harshness.
"I've never dated," Kayama heard the honesty in Hira's voice. "Anyone. I'm going to bed."
Chapter 5
Everything felt so familiar. The walk from the train station to Hira's house was as if he stepped back in time two years. Even down to the same stimulation in his belly. Kiyoi felt a shiver run down his spine...
Excitement or fear, he was not sure, but he did know one thing: This time, Hira was going to talk to him. Even if he had to sit on him to ensure that he did not run from him, Hira was going to explain why he did not confess how he felt when he asked at graduation.
Just the same way he always had done, Kiyoi pushed open the garden gate and saw Hira in the arms of that young brother of the director! The one that was supposedly his boyfriend.
They were kissing!
He slammed the garden gate loudly, to get their attention and said, "I see you're busy, Hira, have a nice life."
He didn't even know how to process how he felt as he walked, double-time, back the way he came. Why had he ever believed in those eyes?
Or the fact that Hira had come to see him perform again...
He was such a fool!
~~~~~~~~~~
Kayama woke early, feeling much, much better. Hira's family recipe for honey ginger tea was a miracle. It wasn't the first time it had cured a cold for him. Because he up so early, he noticed a small box under the low table he had never seen before, and curious, opened it.
Inside were all pictures of Sou Kiyoi and a yellow rubber duck. They were all incredible photographs! He really didn't understand why Hira said they were not good, because they looked like they were take by a professional!
To his eyes, he saw how much love Hira had for Sou. Obviously, Sou knew that Hira loved him so where was the problem? It really didn't matter to him, if he could convince Hira that his love for him was genuine and he would take good care of him.
Kayama had nothing to loose now. Even with Hira's words last night, he had to try one last time.
Slowly, he stacked the photos back into the box and failed to notice Hira walk into the room. Hira snatched the stack of pictures out of his hands, along with the box. "What do you think you are doing?"
"They're good, Hira." Kayama protested, pointing at the pictures, along with the box, clutched tightly in his hands. "Why don't you show them to anyone?"
Shaking his head violently, "They're not! He told me they're not! He told me I'm not allowed to take his picture anymore." Hira held them even tighter to his body. "They're mine. You had no right." Kayama saw the visible agitation building but had no idea why. They had shared pictures all the time, ever since they met.
Why were these different?
He had to go slowly, or he would lose everything... and then he saw the enemy. How did Sou know where Hira lived? Gritting his teeth, he threw caution to the wind. It was now or never. As the garden gate gently opened, Kayama approached Hira and grasped his shoulders, facing outside, turning Hira to him. "Hira, you know I care deeply for you. In fact, I..."
Hira struggled to pull free, but Kayama wouldn't let him go. "D...D...D...Don't." It was barely a whisper. "I told y...y...y..you no."
"Why not me?" Kayama pulled him close and kissed him, just as Sou Kiyoi stepped on the porch. He knew, as his lips pressed against Hira's, he felt the repulsion, the disgust in his body, it would never work and set him free. He stayed silent, only listening to Sou's parting line.
He had never, ever seen such anger flash across Hira's face, or disappointment before. He felt like a heel, a fool, and even more, for doing what he did. But isn't that what love makes out of a man? It turns you into an idiot?
He placed his hand on Hira's arm, "I'm sorry, but I had to try. I don't know what history you two have, but I had to try. He's not right for you, you know, Hira. You need someone ordinary, someone who will love and appreciate you the way you are." He gave a bow, 90 degrees and gathered up his stuff. "If you don't want to see me again, I understand."
Hira didn't say anything, only blinked, turned and ran.
~~~~~~~~~~
Down the path by the river, to the train station, Hira ran. It was the same path that every day for high school he rode his bicycle. It was his senior year that he met Kiyoi, whom became his god.
It was the year he fell in love for the first time.
He heard his blood thrumming in his ears, felt his lungs expanding and his muscles aching, since he hadn't run this hard since he had left high school. He needed to talk to Kiyoi. He needed to explain...
He almost ran right past him, sitting there on the bank of the river, at the spot where they used to do their homework when the weather was nice, before going back to his house. It was half way between the train station and quite private. If you didn't know it was there, you would miss it.
He stopped, and leaned forward, allowing himself to catch his breath, before walking up to him. "Kiyoi."
Kiyoi didn't turn around. "Go away, Hira. I don't want to talk to you."
Hira knew the sound of every one of his moods but he didn't know this one. He came closer, intrigued. "Kiyoi." He touched his shoulder. Kiyoi shrugged off his touch and hunched into a ball.
"I'm warning you, you selfish bastard, leave me the fuck alone." Kiyoi's words had a hitch to them, the pitch was off. Now Hira was worried, really worried.
He sat down beside him. "I don't love Kayama. Never did. Not boyfriend." 'Was that enough words?', Hira wondered, pushing past his discomfort in his need to be with Kiyoi. His self doubt and his need to show improvement over his stutter were at war. Would Kiyoi understand that he couldn't BE with him unless he was worthy?
The stutter had to go. The stutz of high school had to be invisible.
Kiyoi finally turned to face him, and now, Hira knew. That hitch, that funny sound in his voice, that tone he did not recognize was because he had never heard Kiyoi crying before. In awe, Hira reached out, one large hand, his forefinger extended and gently swept it underneath his eye, collecting a shining tear. He studied it for a moment and then met Kiyoi's eyes. "Why?"
Why are you crying? Why did you run? Why did you tell me to have a nice life? Why did you kiss me?
All of this, and more, were wrapped up in that one "Why" and Kiyoi choose not to answer it.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi knew that the minute their eyes met, he was doomed. He had nothing left. No self control, no self esteem, nothing but his pride.
It didn't matter at all, though, if Hira would not confess and say to him, tell him, how he actually felt. He didn't know anymore what to do.
So... just like in high school, just like at every other stressful time in his life, he hid. This time, he knew he could be physical. So he hit Hira. He hid how GOOD it felt to touch him, to feel his warmth beneath the palm of his hand.
The problem was that now that he had touched him, he wanted to do more. He wanted to force Hira to talk to him, the way Hira should, stutter and all. He always had time for him, to calm himself.
He also knew how selfish and self absorbed Hira was... but wasn't he that way too? He didn't remember a time, back then, when he even asked Hira once, how his day was.
Only on graduation day, as he waited around the corner, and waited, and Hira never came, did it occur to him that you reap what you sow. By pushing Hira away after the kiss, how would Hira see all the small things he did?
Would he have confessed to someone who always cooked for him, but never gave him anything? Would he have confessed to someone who always ran errands for him, but never went out of their way to even say thank you?
He knew when he heard him stutter, he had been ostracized his whole school life. Children were too honest to play with a kid so different. It was easier to tease and torment him. Hira had chosen to withdraw from all children instead of fighting for a place like other bullied kids.
He raised his hand again to hit him on his shoulder again when Hira didn't respond. This time, Hira held his wrist, firmly. "Don't." He chose to stare at his hand, rather than his face. Hira always looked elsewhere unless it was through a camera. Kiyoi gritted his teeth. "Why?" Hira repeated, squeezing his wrist.
Kiyoi choose to go with the obvious answer. "Kayama wants you. You two make a nice couple, Hira. You said it yourself, I didn't want you." He stood, trying to pull his wrist free and Hira tugged him down, surprising Kiyoi with his strength. He fell forward, falling into Hira's arms.
"Liar." Hira whispered, as he held him. "Tell truth." Hira held the hand that had been punching walls and his bruised knuckles stood out in the bright sunlight. "Why a..a...aare you so a...a...a...angry, Kiyoi? Why?" Hira pushed him for an answer as his thumb ran ever so gently across them.
Kiyoi fought back another round of tears. It was the gentleness in his touch, the look in Hira's eyes, knowing that the years apart had not changed how he felt in any way, nor had it changed Hira. They were still both fucked no matter how he saw it.
Hira would never confess, and he wouldn't either.
This time, when he tugged free, Hira let him. Sitting up, he pushed away and sighed, brushing his longer hair away from his face and letting it fall to the sides freely. "Hira," He started, then stopped. "Hira... I can't do this today. I'll call you."
He stood up, picked up the bag with the scripts in it, and walked towards the train. Why did he always feel like his heart was breaking into a million pieces around Hira?
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira watched until he faded from view and then stood up. He slowly walked back to his home and sighed as he saw Kayama sitting on the porch. "I told you to go." He was the last person he wanted to talk to.
Kayama shrugged. "I wasn't going to leave your house open and empty, Hira." A weird smile crossed his face. Hira didn't understand it. "I owed you this. It all happened because I was jealous of Sou."
Tiredly, Hira slipped off his shoes and sat down, dejection in every line. He didn't even pay attention today, just sat where he was comfortable. For Kayama, it was as if war had been declared: Hira was across the porch, not next to him.
As if Hira was a child, Kayama sigh, and slowly explained, "I saw him, Hira, well before you. So I kissed you so that Sou would see." He shrugged. "You were to fall in love with me over my mind blowing kisses and that would be the end of Sou!" He laughed. "What a failure."
"You are an idiot." Hira did not mince words.
It stung but Kayama nodded. "I am. You love him." It hurt to say it aloud. "Are you going to tell Sou?"
"No. I told you before, he doesn't want me." Kayama shook his head, wondering why Hira was the only one who couldn't see how badly Sou Kiyoi really wanted Kazunari Hira! He also wondered why Hira had never mentioned his disability to anyone.
Didn't he know that the university would have made sure to accommodate him? The only part of that carefully folded piece of paper in the box he had understood immediately was the word disability.
The rest, Kayama had to use google for. He had never heard of Asperger's Syndrome before and IF he hadn't, he doubted anyone he knew had. If it had said, autistic, that he would have known immediately. That he would have believed, too.
Hira was that different.
Chapter 6
A week went by and it was miserable.
Two weeks went by and life began to settle back into a routine. Hira pretended to forget about Kiyoi and for the first week, didn't even notice that Kayama wasn't coming to the photography club any longer until one of the seniors asked him where his partner was.
No, they didn't ask so politely, they teased him about his 'lover.'
Hira didn't even look up from cleaning his camera, carefully blowing the dust from the lens. "If you want to fuck him, go ahead. I don't." He gently put the equipment away, packed the Nikon into the camera bag and stood up. "If I am not w..w...wwanted in the club, I quit." As he was walking to the door, the senior stood up as well,
"Damn it, Hira, that's not what I meant. Fuck." He dropped his hand from his arm and sighed. "For months, all Kayama could talk about was how he was going to ask you to be his boyfriend on his birthday. Since then, we haven't seen him, and he won't pick up his phone."
The senior abruptly sat down, running his long fingers through his hair, messing it up good. "Can't you tell we're worried? Are you that slow? What happened?"
Hira's mouth formed an 'O' as his words sank in. Damn social skills! How was he supposed to know what was expected of him? No one had ever confessed before and he definitely hadn't tried confessing either! "Uhh, I tur..r..rned him d.d.d...down." His stutter worsened as the embarrassment of being noticed, of having his personal life talked about.
There was NOTHING worse than being the center of attention!
The other man in the room suddenly chuckled and put his hand out. "I told you so! Pay up!" The senior swore and fished out a 1000 yen, walking over and slapping it down in his hand. Then he walked over to Hira and slung his arm around his shoulders, guiding him to the couch.
"Hira, why? Do you not like Kayama?"
"Friend." It was all Hira had in him to say. He shrugged off the senior's arm and stood, clutching the camera bag. "Pictures." He walked slowly out the club room, feeling guilty. If anyone should quit, it should be him, not Kayama.
"He's weird, don't you think?" The one senior said to the other, flipping through one of the many photography books in the room.
The senior who had talked with Hira shook his head. "Not anymore. I think he has a disability, like my cousin. She is autistic and won't speak with anyone at all but when I show her pictures, she takes one and runs to that object." He tapped his lip silently. "Did you know Hira has a perfect grade point average? He could have gone to Toyoko University but didn't, and no one knows why."
"Are you serious? That kid has a perfect grade point average? And I've struggled with all my homework and I could have had him tutor me???" The other senior sat up and slapped the table. "I feel like an idiot."
"I think that's part of Hira's charm." The senior sighed. "He has no interest in anything or anyone, so nothing matters except studying and photography." He stared at the first picture Hira took for the club, a tradition for all members. It was a picture of a light standard, the full moon, framing a tree branch.
It felt lonely but wasn't, with all the light and leaves. "I believe that once Hira sees you, truly takes notice of you, you become the whole world to him. Heaven help that person."
~~~~~~~~~~
Two weeks!
It had been two weeks and again, it had been Kiyoi that had been left hanging. Yes, it had been him who had told Hira he would call, but honestly, deep inside, he had hoped that for once, Hira would take the first step.
Wasn't he always making the first move?
He was so damn tired of pushing and pushing, hoping for change. Hira was so selfish, never once considering he had feelings!
Practices were amazing, as he channeled all of his pent up emotions into them. Iruma had nothing but praise. His fellow cast were constantly asking him out for drinks after practice and for once, he was glad to be working at the interactive theater. At least there, he only had to deal with Aoshima.
Slowly, he gathered up his belongings, and sighed. "Why so tired, Kiyoi?" He felt a hand stroke down his back, pausing just on the curve of his lower back. Aoshima! Quickly, he ducked forward, out from beneath his questing hand and stood up. "I could make you feel so good. It wouldn't take any time at all."
Facing him, Kiyoi flattened all expression off his face. "Aren't you tired of me turning you down by now? I'm never saying yes." He sighed, exaggerating his sigh. "I'm bored of the new play we're putting on at the interactive theater. There's no real challenging roles."
"The new play, Kiyoi?" Aoshima cocked his head, intrigued. "Or are you missing your new playmate? The director's brother's boyfriend... what was his name? Kazunari?"
Damn him! If there was one thing Aoshima was very good at, it was sniffing out rivals. Pity that Hira was one hundred times better than Aoshima, otherwise, Kiyoi could have been happy sleeping around and making a name for himself, the way that Aoshima was.
'No,' Kiyoi thought sadly, not realizing that showed in his eyes, 'I could never BE an Aoshima. Now that I know what love feels like, truly feels like, I couldn't be like him. Ever.' "Go away, Aoshima. I have to prepare for drudgery."
Laughing lightly, Aoshima shrugged. "One day, if you need me, I'll be here, Kiyoi." He winked. "I have more experience in the matters of the heart than you do." He walked towards the door with a backhanded wave. "See ya!"
Just outside, stood Kayama, who had heard the whole exchange. He held up a finger to his lips, silencing Aoshima's greeting and they instead nodded. Kayama took a deep breath and finally, gathered enough courage to face Sou.
Damn it, it was hard to do the right thing! Kayama owed Sou the apology in order to make it right for Hira. He would do anything to make Hira happy and if Sou was the one that he loved, then an apology was the right thing. Just inside the door, he coughed to get Sou Kiyoi's attention.
Kiyoi had been lost in thought at Aoshima's words about love and advice. He had never, ever spoken to anyone about Hira. It wasn't that he was embarrassed, but that he had no friends or even anyone he considered family TO talk to.
Love advice? All that he knew about confessions? That came from dramas, or plays... or even those silly kids in school. It took him weeks to understand that the funny feelings that way Hira looked at him was actually LOVE!
"Kiyoi!" Kayama called again, "I need to speak with you." He was now worried. Sou's behaviour was... odd. He had spent most of his life with actors, since his brother Yohei was a director, and more than ten years older.. "Kiyoi, I..."
"I heard you." Kiyoi turned and faced him, finally. His face was bare, the mask was gone. Kayama was shocked at how thin he was! His face was down to bones, and his cheeks and jaw were so prominent, the skin stretched thin. "What do you want?"
"I'm sorry. I saw you at the garden gate that day and jealousy made me kiss Hira, even though he had already said no." Kayama bowed low, right even to the floor. "I am sorry for ruining the day for you. I had to make sure Hira had no feelings for me, since we have been together for two years."
Kiyoi shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Hira doesn't want me." He bent down, picking up his discarded bag, slinging it over his shoulder and walked to the door. "Do what you want."
Kayama felt his blood boil. These two were idiots! Why couldn't they just talk to each other and stop playing games? "Why are both of you saying the same thing? Hira thinks it's you who doesn't want him, and you think it's him. I know you love him, and I know Hira loves you." His eyes flashed. "There are a lot of people who are interested in Hira but he can't see anyone BUT you, you asshole. Set him free if you don't want him."
"I told him I wanted him the day we graduated." Kiyoi felt small, forgotten, as he confessed this. "Hira never even contacted me again. EVER." He pushed past Kayama. "Leave me alone." He ran for the door, knowing if he stayed the tears would come. Why was this day about Hira?
Kayama stared at Kiyoi's disappearing back. There was something missing from the story. Something that wasn't said or something misunderstood. Now that he had researched Asperger's Syndrome, he now realized that if you didn't say it clearly, Hira would never understand your intent.
Even someone as high functioning as Hira would never manage to blend in fully. His little quirks would make him stand out, like the stutter, or the lack of social skills. He would be able to be self sufficient but never be normal in society, hence the disability certificate.
Kayama sighed and left the practice studio, dejectedly. He had already made the decision to quit the photography club, in order to give himself a chance to put Hira back on the "friends only" category. It didn't change the fact that he wanted the best for Hira and if that meant Sou Kiyoi, then he was going to help Hira get Sou Kiyoi!
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira didn't like having his hand forced. That's exactly what Kayama did, by quitting the photography club. He also didn't like being noticed again by the seniors. He belonged to the special group of people who were "invisible." If Kayama in the club kept the seniors away, then Kayama had to be in the club.
'Elementary, my dear Watson!' It was so simple! All he had to do was corner Kayama and drag him back to the club and then HE could quit. Hira let out a chuckle, thinking about all the people who attributed the phrase to Arthur Conan Doyle*, but he knew better. All he had to do was find Kayama, who had an early class today and drag him back to the photography class. Therefore, here he was, sitting on the steps of the economics building. Waiting.
From his position, he saw Kayama walking up well before Kayama spotted him and could choose an alternative route. He stood up and just waited. "Why are you here, Hira?" There was a note in Kayama's voice he didn't understand, and if he was honest, he didn't care.
"You will be in club today." Hira was proud he didn't stutter. "If I am... p..p...problem, I go." His eyes narrowed. "You get?" Kayama blinked rapidly at Hira's statement. Ha! Running just as the senior had said. Hira waited patiently for his answer.
"Hira, I... need some time." Kayama replied carefully, now completely positive Hira didn't understand the situation. "We can still be friends but I need time."
Hira simply shrugged. "I don't make friends. People don't like me. They like you." He shrugged again. "I quit. You stay. Simple." Hira turned to leave and Kayama reached out and held his wrist, preventing him.
"I am your friend, Hira. I always will be. Whether you believe me or not, I am." Kayama smiled, knowing that Hira wouldn't catch how sad he really was. "I will be in club this afternoon."
With a simple head bob, Hira gently removed Kayama's hand and left. If he broke his word, he had the form ready to formally drop Photography Club. It didn't matter to his GPA. The only reason he had joined was because they told him University would be a better experience with a club.
For a while, it had been nice. It was time to move on, even if he had won respect with his pictures. It wasn't as if he would ever be able to put food on the table taking pictures.
It was time to learn about his disability. He couldn't ignore it forever.
~~~~~~~~~~
*it is not found in any of Arthur Conan Doyle's stories (published between 1886 and 1927). Instead, it seems that the first time Holmes expresses his signature phrase is in the 1929 film, The Return of Sherlock Holmes, with Clive Brook in the role of Holmes
Chapter 7
It had been a few days since Hira had confronted him and Kayama had confronted Sou. Kayama still hadn't worked things out in his head so he had gone to his older brother for help. "Hira's moping and just look at Sou, Yohei!" Kayama slammed the beer his brother served him on the bar and he twisted on the stool to face him. "Can you honestly say he looks healthy? Sane? We need to help both of them. We owe them."
Yohei stared at Kayama, his mouth open. "You want me to what? Why would I do that?"
"Look, it was your mistake. It's up to you to fix it. I've already apologized to both Sou and Hira." Kayama twisted on the bar stool and picked up the glass of beer and sipped. "Have you?"
"I didn't even KNOW the two were an item, you shit!" Yohei slapped his brother on the back making him cough on his beer. "I had no clue I was messing in another couple's relationship." He leaned back and sighed. "We're trained to pay attention to our audience and I didn't. Sou showed every sign of being upset that night. Aoshima told me later that Sou was drinking. Did you know he's worked for me over a year and has never drank, not once?"
"Are you serious? Everybody drinks socially!" Kayama turned to stare at his brother, mouth agape.
Shaking his head, Yohei only sighed. "Not Sou. He had ONE Whiskey. Just one, and Aoshima had to drag him out to a taxi, he was so drunk he couldn't walk. I remember asking him what upset Sou and he only shook his head and said he was in love."
Lifting his drink, Kayama laughed this time. "I bet you thought Sou was in love with Aoshima! You are so blind. Even I could tell that Aoshima wants Sou and he will have nothing to do with him. I wonder if Sou knows he has a friend there?"
Yohei shook his head. "Sou Kiyoi isolates himself. He builds walls and you believe you know him, but you don't. YOU are not with the real man, only a shell, a mask. If he would open up he would have a lot of friends. He does have a lot of friends, Kayama, but he doesn't socialize."
Kayama finished the rest of his beer. "That sounds exactly like Hira. He won't socialize either. He won't eat out in restaurants, or meet new people. That night, here, was the first time I met him somewhere other than the university or his house. In two years he's never been once to my dorm room."
He stood up and looked at his brother. "So? Are you going to help me or not? You have a lot of responsibility in this mess too." He chewed his bottom lip nervously. "There's one other problem. I learned something that Sou Kiyoi should know but I shouldn't tell him." Kayama glanced everywhere around the empty theater. "Is there any chance of being overheard?"
Yohei nodded. "Staff are coming in now. Follow me to the office." Silently, they walked the short hallway to the director's office. There was one problem. Kazuki Yohei did not know how thin the walls were since he had never been on the OUTSIDE listening. "What is it? We should be safe to talk now."
"Brother, I found a disability certificate at Hira's house. He has something called Asperger's. It's a type of autism. I shouldn't be telling you this but it's kind of fucking with my mind. He doesn't LOOK or ACT like he has a disability. What others see as weird, I find endearing." Kayama punched his own fist. "I've read up on it, but I still don't really understand it."
"I learned a bit about it in my psychology class." Yohei sat down in his chair. "It's not our place to tell anyone about Hira's disability. He obviously is doing well, if he is living alone. He's clean and fed, so no one has to check up on him."
"His house is neater than my dorm room." Kayama flushed. "Is that important?"
"Yes. If he can't do simple chores like that, a disability could put him under government care or in a group home, or he would be always considered a ward of his parents, never technically an adult." Yohei smiled. "Hira is fine. He can make his own choices. He just decides differently than we do. We need to respect that."
~~~~~~~~~~
Outside the office, Aoshima stood, hands on his hips, listening. He could be the bigger man, loosing out on the chance to fuck Sou Kiyoi but not to a liar.
Aoshima hadn't decided yet if he was going to help save or end Kiyoi's love. It was one thing to dream about fucking him for over a year, and then, holding him as he cried in his arms in the taxi going home, his heart breaking the night his next boyfriend announced to a crowd in front of him!
Aoshima had known then, that whatever sexual feelings he had for Kiyoi, were over. It was only brotherly love. Kiyoi really loved Hira. He also knew Hira really loved Kiyoi, when Hira boldly told them ALL off, that he had never been asked to be anyone's boyfriend.
That's when Aoshima KNEW, deep in his heart, that Kiyoi also fucked up. He hadn't the courage to ask either. He needed information. He was nosey and he loved to meddle in other people's affairs. The messier the better, especially affairs of the heart. He had stayed and eavesdropped on Kayama's conversation with Kiyoi.
It was wrong. He knew it. He wasn't going to apologize.
He was going to find out what this Asperger's disability was. Then HE was going to flirt with Hira and watch Kiyoi explode with jealousy. 'Yes,' Aoshima smiled as he went to change listening to the brothers say good-bye, 'That's the best thing.'
He left too soon. He missed the brother's plan to get Hira and Kiyoi talking!
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira fingered the form for dropping out of the photography club. Now that Kayama was back, it was time to leave. There was one time during the day where he knew the president would be there and Kayama wouldn't as it was when he had his economics class. Holding the envelop firmly in his hand, Hira opened the door to the club room.
Inside was more people than he expected. It didn't matter. They were all looking at flyers. That, too, didn't matter. What mattered was giving his resignation.
"Senior," Hira bowed, "May I?" By now, all the members knew he used a pidgin to speak to reduce his stutter. The president, surprised by Hira's interruption, nodded and stood up, motioning him to follow to a quieter corner or the noisy room.
"What is it, Hira?" The Senior leaned casually against the wall, curious. In all the years that Hira had been in the club, he had never voluntarily spoken to anyone, except Kayama and even that was rare.
Instead of speaking, Hira thrust the envelope into his hands, bowed to 90 degrees and turned to leave. As he took two steps away, the Senior reached out and grabbed his wrist, holding him in the club room. "Is this really the answer, Hira? It looks like you're doing the same thing Kayama was doing - running."
Hira turned and faced him, shaking his head. "No. Kayama came back b...b...b.because I leave." His shoulders rose and fell, not quite a shrug, not a sigh either. "We talk. I leave." He waved at the letter.
"That's not what I understood from Kayama." His eyes flashed dangerously but Hira didn't notice. Why would he? The only people who ever really cared about him moved away and left him more than three years ago. He didn't even really understand them and they were his parents! "You're a good photographer, Hira. You see value in ordinary objects that most people don't even notice."
This time Hira did shrug. He took pictures of things he liked. Isn't that what everyone did? What was the senior's point?
Angrily, the Senior grasped the letter, letting the envelop fall to the ground and ripped it to small, tiny pieces. "I'm not letting you quit while I'm president. You can next year, when I'm not here. He pulled Hira real close, watching him stiffen by his proximity, so the other members, who were now paying attention to them, wouldn't overhear. "If this is about Kayama, I suggest you work it out. Fast. I'm not letting him quit either."
Louder, the Senior gave a sarcastic smile and sweetly said, "I'll see you later today, Hira, during club hours. We have exciting news to share."
Barely, Hira refrained from flipping him the bird as he left. Now what the fuck was he to do? How was he to keep his promise?
~~~~~~~~~~
Yohei watched Sou Kiyoi act woodenly throughout the evening. His heart was definitely NOT in the present, here at the theater. He sighed deeply. He had to give it to his brother. HE had been blind!
'Tomorrow night,' He decided, 'Tomorrow night, we will begin Operation Connect.' Feeling like a damn idiot, he pulled the microphone closer to his mouth and whispered, "Sou! Act alive! We're here to entertain, not be dead people." He hissed, making the pick-up echo. "Do you need this job or not?"
He grinned, hearing Sou's affirmation echo back, tinny in his ears. Why hadn't he noticed the weight loss and listlessness? Now that he had, it was had NOT to see it.
He was glad he didn't have the task of getting Hira back to the theater. He had a feeling out of the two of them, dealing with the autistic man would be harder. Routine was important and so was their comfort zones. Theater was about removing everything that was comfortable, and taking you to new worlds.
Pulling out his phone, he sent the text to Kayama letting him know that he had made his final decision and when to bring Hira.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira had only stayed for the first 30 minutes of the club meeting. He had shifted in his seat, fondling his camera like a safety blanket, refused to acknowledge any greeting and did not meet anyone's eyes.
In other words, he was rude as fuck.
Kayama wondered if he even knew that this behaviour was considered rude or if he simply just couldn't help it? He didn't know and there was NOTHING online that helped to explain Hira's thought process. He had concluded that he knew everything about Hira, but now, he had accepted he understood naught.
The Club President had only gone through the first flyer and was starting to talk about the second when Hira grabbed his Nikon, and gave a bow, still without a word, and bolted. "Well, fuck. That went well."
"I'm sorry," Kayama said, quietly, "You should have let me quit."
"I'm not letting either of you leave. That brat... I told it to him, as well." The other club members were listening avidly. "Look, Kayama, I know this is just a hobby for you, but Hira is damn good. YOU may need the club credits to graduate, Hira doesn't." The Senior rubbed his temples. "Have you ever thought about what type of job Hira might be able to do? Really considered it?"
"No..." Kayama paused, then blurted out, "You don't think he can do a regular job!"
Another club member spoke up, quietly, "None of us do. We are looking for jobs right now and it's a tough market. If he doesn't have a good portfolio, not just grades..." He waved a sheaf of papers. The flyers. "We were going to try and get Hira to enter some contests. He has a good chance of winning, he's that good."
Kayama understood what the senior was saying. Hira's Asperger's Syndrome was NOT going to be accepted unless he advertised he had a recognized disability. Who was going to tell him? If he wasn't willing to speak up, he sure as hell couldn't tell anyone about the disability notice!
Chapter 8
On the banks of the river, Hira sat and watched the world go by. When did his life get complicated again? He rubbed his temples and sighed.
'The day the doctor told you were disabled!'
'The day Kayama wanted you as a boyfriend!'
'The day you saw Kiyoi again...'
"Fuck! No wonder I feel like I'm spinning out of control!" Hira bit his bottom lip, causing it to swell slightly. He spotted a small rock and picked it up, throwing it into the river, watching it skip across the gentle flow, before sinking. It reminded him of the days before Kiyoi, of all the solitary days, of just him and his camera.
Hiding from all the other kids who teased him mercilessly!
Kiyoi HAD changed him, changed his whole life the day he showed up late, while he had been trying to not stutter, not embarrass himself. From that moment, he had been the most beautiful man, and had only become more important, making him feel smaller, less important.
Less able to BE in his world, despite the love he felt for him. He had even admitted one day that the reason he needed his camera was to make him invisible. Hira jumped, knocking over the padded camera case, as his phone rang. Without looking at the display, he answered.
"Hello?" Completely disinterested. How could he have any interest? His life was spirialing out of control once again!
"Kazunari Hira? This is Kazuki Yohei. Do you remember me? Kayama's brother?" There was a slight echo on the line... and it rang in Hira's ears. Yohei's voice sounded hollow. Hira nodded before it sank in that he wouldn't see it.
"Yes." Blunt but he wouldn't stutter, and waited. What did he want?
"Are you available tonight? We have several staff members out with a cold and Kayama said that you are very talented with cameras and lighting, having worked with the university on the skits." 'Only because Kayama dragged me along,' thought Hira bitterly, listening with half an ear, as Yohei continued to speak. "I'm desperate, and I can pay, even if it's not much."
"Time?" He didn't even think about WHO would be there. It was a new play. What was the chances that Kiyoi was in it?
They finalized the details and said goodbye.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi did his prewarm up exercises, trying to find enthusiasm for the show. Aoshima sighed at the sight of his body, now leaner and thiner than he'd ever seen him. It was... scary. Kiyoi had even stopped responding to his teasing, pulling into himself.
How could anyone be so wrapped up in just one man? Shaking his head, Aoshima walked away, deciding he needed a smoke before the show. He had found a nice little corner, just past the spotlights, where an unmonitored exit door was. The guy, a few years older than most of the cast, who worked that particular spotlight was cute, and great fun to flirt with.
Just what he needed... As he flipped the cigarette between his fingers, and nodded to greet the man, Aoshima did a double take. It was Kiyoi's Hira! How perfect! Time to put his plan into action. Changing his walk, he STRUTTED over, and leaned on the spotlight, displaying his body. "How NICE to see you again!"
Hira didn't even respond, only continued to familiarize himself with the spotlight. Aoshima cleared his throat, several times. Now, Hira looked up and sighed. "I be rude. Go away. Not want."
Aoshima had a very thick hide, but not that thick. It would have hurt if he didn't know two things: Hira loved Kiyoi and he had Asperger's. Thanks to this, it wasn't personal. He leaned in, and whispered, "I don't want you, Hira. I want to help you. I want you to be with Kiyoi." He leaned back and sighed, exaggerating it as only an actor could. "Don't you want him? Take a break and come have a smoke with me?"
Hira shook his head. "No. Not want me, either." He bent his head back to his task and refused to talk anymore. Aoshima realized that Kayama was right. Both were stubborn and there had to be some sort of misunderstanding.
After his smoke, fuck that! He was telling Kiyoi that Hira was here and breaking him but bad. If he had to pick up the pieces of a broken heart, again, this time, he was going to find out WHY it was broken when this boy obviously loved him!
~~~~~~~~~~
Yohei had sent a quick message to Kayama that everything had been arranged for tonight. The show was about to begin and no one was aware that Hira was here. He rubbed his hands and the house lights dimmed, the waiters disappeared, and action was whispered through the mics.
Act one was a success, even if Kiyoi still wasn't quite up to his usual standards. The actors who were on wait staff moved through the tables and bar, serving drinks and snacks, interacting in character, until Act two began and the new play started with the house lights once again dimming. Yohei nodded, Kayama was right.
Hira was gifted with lighting. Each of the stars of the play was lit brilliantly, including the guests whom they interacted with. He was even better than the usual man whom operated that spotlight. He sighed softly, once again wondering if this was a good idea, knowing it was too late now.
The last break before the final act was the shortest, only ten minutes, and the house lights came up. Kiyoi was sweating profusely. Yohei saw Aoshima paying close attention to him and wondered if he should be also concerned. He shrugged it off. The two leads of the play disappeared into the back.
When the call to begin the final act came, Kiyoi looked even worse under the stage makeup. His face was pale and drawn, his words were forced. Other actors were noticing how sluggish he moved. Quietly, Yohei whispered in the mic, "Kiyoi, are you ok?"
"I'm fine." He whispered, tiredly. "I can do this."
In the back, Hira had also noticed, changing the brighter white filter, to a muted soft filter used for older actors, to smooth out their skin. He began to gnaw on a finger, worried. Was he sick? What was wrong?
Finally, actors took their bows, with Aoshima holding Kiyoi. Waiters circled around with the final bills. In the back, Hira carefully took out the filters and placed them back in the box. He began to unhook the wires and coiled them, rolling the spotlight to it's storage spot, placing the box next to the spotlight. He looked around, ensuring the area was neat and nothing would be a trip hazard.
It didn't take long, and Hira was ready to leave. He searched around the back area but didn't see Yohei anywhere. Gritting his teeth, he tapped the nearest cast member and softly asked, "Director?" using his tone to make it a question. He was too tired to try and concentrate on NOT stuttering.
The man pointed into the the main area and said, quite simply, "At the bar." Hira nodded thanks and slowly walked there. He stopped, dead, as he caught sight of Yohei talking with Koyoi leaning against the bar, looking quite unwell. His heart stumbled and he debated with himself.
He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, ready to leave when two hands pushed him forward. Aoshima leaned in and whispered, "Look at him, Hira, just look. Does Kiyoi look like he is doing alright without you? How long has it been since you two actually talked?"
Hira shook, and not just his head. He could feel his body tremble as he put distance between this man and himself. "Y...y...you don't un...un...un.derstannd. He n...n..n.never called." He blinked, fighting back the emotions.
Aoshima's brow wrinkled. "Hira, just answer yes or no, okay?" Hira nodded. That he could do. Aoshima continued, "If I understand, you two were close in high school."
Hira sighed and said, "No."
Reaching out and pulling Hira close to him again, Aoshima hissed, "Then why does Hira believe you were? He said you broke his heart! You confessed to him and never called him, ever."
Hira blinked, over and over again. HE confessed? When? How?
Fascinated, Aoshima watched the emotions blaze across the poor man's face. "What did you do, Hira? Do you even know?" He pushed him forward and sighed. "Go talk to Kiyoi and ASK him. Find out why he thinks you confessed to him. Clear up any of the confusion you both have so you can move on, Hira." He reached out and ran a finger down his impossibly clear skin.
Hira flinched and backed up, shocked at this stranger's intimate touch. Aoshima didn't mind though, now that he had decided on this path. He had an audience. Kiyoi and Yohei had noticed them talking, so now was the time to perform. "I would love to get to know you, better, Hira, once you put Sou Kiyoi in the past." He winked and stroked his cheek gently again, lifting his hand up to press a kiss in his palm.
Hira froze at his brashness. His body felt dirty and frantically, as soon as his hand was free, he started to rub it on his pants, trying to clean it. He forgot about the director and Kiyoi, anxious to wash his body, running to the washroom. The path led right past them both.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi stumbled, shaking at the sight of Hira with Aoshima. Jealousy flared at the ease that the scum touched his innocent man! Why couldn't he do that? He swayed on his feet as the low lights and the few remaining house lights danced in his vision. "I fucking hate him!" He swore lowly, forgetting he was in a middle of an argument with Kazuki Yohei!
"Aoshima? Sou, you know he's harmless." Yohei slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him back onto a chair. "Did you eat today? When was the last time you ate anything? You're not well, Sou." He tried again to touch his forehead, positive he might have a fever but Sou Kiyoi would not let him.
"I'm fine and it's not your business as long as I'm here for work." Kiyoi shrugged off his hands. His eyes bored hauntingly at the couple in the shadows. "Why is he here?" He couldn't take his eyes off of Hira. "Why, Kazuki?"
Shrugging, finally seeing first hand Kiyoi's obsession with Hira, Yohei only said, "I needed help. Hira was kind to come."
Silently, feeling both dizzy and nauseous, knowing that the lack of food, and drinking alcohol was catching up to him, Kiyoi only nodded. He could feel his eyes glazing and his body beginning to rock in the chair as he fought to maintain consciousness.
He glanced over at Yohei. "Don't... let him see me like this..." And with that he slipped into a dead faint, sliding off the tall chair straight into Hira's arms.
Chapter 9
As he washed his hands, Hira calmed himself and considered his options. There was only so much he could take. He had to leave NOW!
Leaving meant passing both Yohei and Kiyoi, even that asshole who touched him. If he did it again, he would become violent. He hadn't touched another man in anger since they had ganged up on Kiyoi in high school but it meant nothing to do so, if it meant he would be safe.
Safe... after Kayama kissed him, no one would ever touch him again, unless it was Kiyoi!
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to the hallway, and slowly, with his usual deliberate tread, walked into the main bar area. As his eyes adjusted to the lower lighting, he saw Kiyoi on the floor, and three people around him.
His breath caught and panic filled him. He ran, all reason gone from his mind.
Hira pushed someone out of the way, as he knelt down beside Kiyoi. "Kiyoi? Are you all right?" Carefully, he bent forward, listening for any sound. There was something, but it wasn't from Kiyoi, all he did, was roll towards the sound of his voice, his hand reaching out.
A gentle hand touched Hira's shoulder, to get his attention and he looked up. Yohei. "Hira, Sou Kiyoi has a fever. He acted today that way. We tried to get him to go home early but he just kept saying he was fine."
Shaking his head, Hira didn't say anything, just picked Kiyoi up. Once he cradled him carefully in his arms, shocked at how light he was, he said, "Taxi."
It was Aoshima who called for the taxi. Aoshima then stood back, observing. He was right. There was no way to interfere between these two. They needed to work out whatever issue was the problem. Instead, he bowed low, as he held the door open for Hira to carry Kiyoi out. "Hira?" He called out, and waited for him to acknowledge him.
Hira only stared at him.
Aoshima gave him a small half smile. "I'm sorry. I thought if I could make Kiyoi jealous, he might actually explain what the fuck was going on. I didn't know he was ill today. Good luck." He bowed again and disappeared into the theater.
Hira sighed, looking down at the pale, beautiful man in his arms. He was taking Sou Kiyoi back to his house.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi faded in and out of consciousness. At times, he could swear he was with Hira, at others, alone, forever alone...
Coolness came and went, words were spoken and gone... dreams came and went.
Gentle warm eyes watched him softly, wiping his forehead, his hands, his chest... A deep voice, with single words, "Up, lean, eat, sleep,..."
Snuggled, feeling safe, Kiyoi slept better than he had in years.
He never wanted to wake up from this dream, a dream Hira that held him safely, kissed him, wanted him!
He was sure that it was just a new dream to torture him. There was NO WAY in hell that Sou Kiyoi would be in bed with Kazunari Hira!
Not in this lifetime...
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira had never actually took care of a sick person and worried if he should take Kiyoi to the hospital. Kiyoi's temperature wasn't THAT high, though... so there had to be something else going on.
How thin he was... when was the last time he actually ate?
Carefully making rice porridge, Hira stood at the stove and pondered. Was he the best person to help Kiyoi? He had already been on the internet and searched out what to do. He had been to the pharmacy, purchased the fever aids asked the best way to feed a patient.
He also asked when to take them to the hospital... just in case. The pharmacist assured him he could do this... so he was willing to try, for Kiyoi!
It felt indecent, taking off his clothes. Hira shivered, as his thin, muscular frame came into view. He was so pale, compared to his larger body. He bit his lip, and dipped the cloth into the cool water and began to wash him, first his face, then arms, and his chest, down to his pants.
He pulled him up, leaning Kiyoi against his larger body, whispering, "Sit." And reached around and washed his back, carefully ensuring it was free of sweat. Then, he took his clean tee shirt and slipped it on, laying Kiyoi back on the bed.
Hira slipped his arm under his waist and wondered if he removed his briefs as well, or... when Kiyoi took that option from him. In a sudden burst of energy, Kiyoi pushed his own briefs and jeans off, and rolled on to his side, sighing as he was free.
The thought of his god, dressed only in his tee shirt and socks, in his bed, was freaking him out! Hira had to finish up the bed bath, feed him and get the medicine in. It was so late and he wanted...
Fuck, he wanted Kiyoi.
He moved to his wardrobe, pulled out a pair of pajama shorts, and rolled Kiyoi on to his back. Working swifter than he normally would, he finished the bath. He pulled up the pajama bottoms, trying not to stare at his... but instead noticed that there was a tugging sensation in his own. He groaned and got off the bed.
Food! For both of them would definitely held. Hira decided as he ladled out two portions of the porridge. Standing at the counter, he ate his bowl, before setting a tray and carrying it in to Kiyoi, who appeared to be sleeping in his bed.
Even back then, when Kiyoi practically lived here, he had only ever SAT on his bed. The few times he had spent the night, he had slept on the futon in the living room, the same as Kayama. He set the tray on his desk and picked up his camera.
A smile ghosted his face, as he silently adjusted the Nikon to take a picture of Kiyoi in HIS bed, his head on resting on his pillow...
"I could live forever, with this picture by my heart!" Hira breathed out softly, wonderment filling his voice at how fucking beautiful he was, there in his bed.
Kiyoi's eyes fluttered open and they met his, hazy with fever. "Hira," His voice rasped, "Love me, the real me is better than any picture." His voice low, and his hand had reached out weakly, trying to find him, before falling limp to the bed. Why were his dreams even denying him now?
Was this his god saying these words? Telling him to love him? Did Kiyoi not understand that he did, that he had ever since he first said those words back in high school, just before he kissed his hand? Kiyoi called him creepy then... so Hira folded up his feelings, worshiping from afar.
Was it worth taking a chance, now? No... the hurt ran too deep.
"Food, Kiyoi." Hira placed his camera down. "Sit, I feed you." He knelt on his bed, and slipped his arm behind his back, supporting him. Kiyoi's head fell forward, landing on his shoulder. Warmth spread through his body, his face flushed.
"Not hungry." Kiyoi mumbled. "Lemme sleep. Hira's with me in my dreams."
"No dream. Eat." Hira sounded firm, now. "I can't give you any medication until you eat." He reached around him, and pulled the pillow to support his head, and laid him in a half upright position before laying him back. Picking up the spoon, he pressed it against Kiyoi's lips. "Open."
In this manner, he fed almost half a bowl to Kiyoi. Carefully wiping his lips clean, Kiyoi's eyes opened fully, and he sighed. "A kiss would be nicer. You've never properly kissed me, even though I've kissed you, dream man."
Why does he think this is a dream? Why would I kiss him when that was goodbye?
Shaking his head, Hira sighed and reached for the various medications the pharmacy recommended: two paracetamol, and a fever reducing patch. His forehead was burning hot as Hira smoothed back his hair. He wondered if he should have placed it on right after the bath, but food seemed more important. Grabbing the towel, he wiped the sweat away and slowly smooth the patch on.
How to get a sleeping man to take pills? Hira didn't know... He shook Kiyoi gently and all he did was sigh and roll over, away from him. He grabbed the bottle of water and the two tablets and walked around his bed, to the other side. Now, he knelt on the bed and looked at Kiyoi.
What to do?
"Kiyoi!" He spoke loudly, hoping he would wake up. He didn't even move. Hira tried again. "Kiyoi, medicine." Kiyoi's mouth opened but he never moved. Hira sighed loudly. He couldn't give him pills on his side, he wouldn't swallow them. He didn't think it was possible.
"Fuck." He pushed Hira flat and swiftly, Hira was in Kiyoi's arms, pulled tight to his chest, still with the two paracetamol tablets clutched in his hands. He felt his heart beating close to his, felt the heat of his body, and OTHER parts aligning.
Don't think of other parts... don't...
"Mmm," Kiyoi moaned, his voice a bare whisper that blew across Hira's ear. "This dream feels so real I never want it to end..." Hira felt his arms slid around him, up under his tee shirt. He froze, not sure what to do. His hands began to sweat, clenched tight around the tablets, braced to hold his weight off the ill man. "I need you, Hira!"
Need me? I don't understand...
"How?" Hira shook, realization had set in. Nothing that actually happened right now, would matter. Kiyoi was too sick to KNOW what was going on. He probably didn't even know what he was saying.
As if this was a real conversation...
"Love me, Hira!" Kiyoi lifted his feverish face, his pupils dilated, wide in his gaunt face. "You were the only person who never wanted anything from me. Why did you make me love you, if you weren't going to stay with me? Don't you want me?"
Hira watched two big fat tears roll slowly from each eye, one first from the right side, then from the left. Using the hand that didn't hold the tablets, he used his thumb to gently sweep the tears away. "Want you. Want more. You said goodbye first."
"Never... I gave myself to you and you never came." Hira shook at Kiyoi's confession. "I waited and waited for you, around the corner but you never came. My first kiss..."
"Our first kiss." Hira whispered, as he bent his head and did something he knew he shouldn't: He kissed a feverish Kiyoi the way he dreamed of. Softly, gently, he tasted every inch of Kiyoi's mouth and it was eagerly returned... unlike that first kiss, the one that Kiyoi was so scared to give.
Hira didn't leave this time, falling asleep with Kiyoi tucked safely in the shelter of his arms as he sweated out the fever.
Chapter 10
Yohei called the next morning, Kayama in the afternoon. Hira dismissed them both, all of his attention on Kiyoi, who still tossed on the bed with a fever.
He had finally managed to poke the tablets in Kiyoi's mouth but water had proved difficult. All that had happened, was get both of them wet. Not that he minded, but it was distracting, drawing his attention away from what he needed to do...
Take care of an ill man, not lust after his god!
His aunt had been helpful. Not that they talked much, now that she was married, and had a child. Technically, when his parents moved, she had been assigned his guardian. HE hadn't seen her, not once, as she was a nurse in a busy hospital. Only after she married, and cut down to part time, had they met, and she apologized for leaving him to "manage."
He shrugged. He had been alone his whole life. An afterthought to aging parents, who didn't quite know what to do with a child who was different. They tried, but HE did NOT conform.
His aunt told him to kiss the patient, transferring water from one mouth to another. HE did not bother to correct her assumption that he had a girl over. He was an adult and she knew it. Unfortunately, Hira was not aware that his aunt had been teasing him and so followed through with her instructions.
Hira had taken a large mouthful of water, and pressed his lips to Kiyoi's, the contact felt familiar now. He heard Kiyoi make a small sound, and shift, then his mouth opened and water trickled from his mouth into Kiyoi's. Some escaped, dripping around their sealed lips. Hot arms slipped up around Hira's neck, pulling him closer.
"More..." Husky, warm... Kiyoi's voice was rusty from not being used. "More..." He shifted restlessly beneath Hira.
"Let go. I get." Hira tried to stand and Kiyoi held firm.
"You'll leave me, dream man. I want to stay like this forever, in a world of my own making." Kiyoi muttered. "You'll leave, and I'll cry." His hands clutched the soft, worn fabric of Hira's tee shirt, bunching it up, pulling him closer. "I'm so tired of crying over Hira..."
Kiyoi's head fell limply against Hira, as the tablets began to work. Gently, Hira laid him back in the bed and smoothed back his hair, breathing deeply. It was comforting to sit here, and stare, even with him ill, it didn't take away any of his beauty. "I don't understand, Kiyoi, not one bit. What did I do that made you cry?"
One more gentle pat on his head and Hira stood up. There were chores to do, food to cook... and laundry. He wished someone would have told him about the amount of laundry a sick person made...
~~~~~~~~~~
Ceilings...
His ceiling was modern: smooth and white. This ceiling wasn't... it was dark, with beams. Kiyoi blinked several times as consciousness returned. He felt the tightness on his forehead and grimaced, reaching up through his stringy hair, feeling the patch sticking in bits of his hair. With a small grunt, he pulled it off, and folding in half, held it.
He blinked again, sitting up. This was not his bed! This wasn't even his house!
What the fuck... Kiyoi looked around the small, but cozy room and wondered if Aoshima took him home. Nah, he didn't FEEL as if he had been violated. He felt safe and loved, as if someone took care of him, loved him.
His face flushed as he remembered dreaming of Hira. Intimate dreams...
Kiyoi blinked and looked around the room again. Dreams, huh?
I'm going kill him! How dare he rescue me again!
"Hira!" Kiyoi screamed, surprised that his voice had almost no power, and sounded as if it was gravel. "Hira, where the hell are you?"
It didn't take long before Hira showed up, standing in the doorway, a tray in his hands. He said nothing, sliding the tray onto the small end table near the bed. Hira nodded to him, and still, without saying anything, had the nerve to touch him. HE laid his hand on his forehead! Kiyoi shivered at the touch. Damn him!
Now, Hira sat beside him and finally spoke. "Food. Fever gone. Eat."
Kiyoi only stared at him. "I hate that, you know. I hate that you no longer speak to me, Hira. I don't fucking care about your stutter. I never did." He picked up the bowl, not surprised to see rice porridge, and began to eat. He had missed Hira's cooking, never really having home cooking before HE had made it - just for him.
This had seafood in it. Damn him. Can't he forget either?
Glancing over, he saw that Hira was now looking at his hands. Quickly finishing the bowl, he placed it on the tray, causing noise. Hira jumped. "Fuck, Hira, we need to talk, you know, a conversation."
"No." Hira's head was shaking. He stood up, backing away. "No." Kiyoi reached out and somewhere, with all that tasty porridge in him, found the strength to hold him, or maybe, Hira didn't WANT to run.
"Hira, I don't think I was kissing myself when I was sick. Why did you kiss me?"
"Didn't." He shook his head violently, avoiding Kiyoi's eyes. But Kiyoi knew all of his tells, having watched him, intently, for a whole year.
"Stalker, don't lie to me. I know you kissed me." His voice shook and Kiyoi fought back tears. He wasn't running this time. He was too tired, still sore from being sick. They needed to work this out. "Why did you say you love me back then?"
"I do! I do love you. the way you love a god!" Hira blurted out, his face suddenly going red. "I c...c..ccould have s.s.stayed b..b.b..b.beside you forever, but you said good bye."
Anger flared, heating his body, hotter than the fever did. Kiyoi made an odd little sound and then swung his hand, but Hira was faster, catching it, and holding it. "I'm not a fucking god, Hira! I'm just a damn man! Just once, did you ever think about what I was feeling? That I could ever have feelings FOR you?"
"I'm not good enough for you!" Hira yelled. "I s...s.s.s.s.s.....stutter!" He dropped Kiyoi's hand and stood up. "You kissed me. You pushed me down. You left me. You broke my phone. IT WAS GOOD BYE!"
Kiyoi's mouth dropped open. It was his fault. All his fault... Stupid Hira didn't SEE the same dramas as he, to understand that was HIS confession! "Oh fuck me!" He blinked, as the tears came. He was the fuck up, not Hira.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira watched with interest as his eyes glazed with the tears, then fell. He knelt in front of Kiyoi, "Why?" once again, reaching out with his large hands, sweeping a thumb to wipe away a tear. But this time, he put his thumb into his mouth and tasted it. He watched as Kiyoi's eyes widened, his mouth formed an 'O'.
Softly, deeply, he asked again, "Why?" and watched as Kiyoi only shook his head. Not an answer. On his knees, their eyes met and locked. He lost himself in the watery depths of his beautiful god.
Until Kiyoi hit him. "I hate you! Creep! Stalker! I confessed on graduation day! I wanted you to follow me, to say you really loved me." There was a look on Kiyoi's face that Hira didn't understand.
Damn it, was this also part of social skills he would never understand? A kiss was a confession? When he kissed his hand that was him confessing? He told him he loved him... but he didn't actually say that to become a couple! He just wanted him to know he was important to him!
"It's a thin line between love and hate.*" Hira resorted to what he did best in uncomfortable situations. He said the first thing that came to mind. He watched with almost clinical detachment, as Hira raised his hand to hit him again. Just before he struck him, Hira caught and held it, tightly.
"Why?" He tried to infuse as much emotion into the one word as possible. He NEEDED to know all of it! He still didn't understand the tears, or why he was called creepy or stalker if his stutter wasn't the problem. Why he loved him...
"What do you want from me, Hira? Do you want to break me even further? Fucking stalker! Watching me everyday, taking care of me, never asking me for anything." Kiyoi's voice cracked. "Saying you'd die for me before telling anyone."
His eyes were haunted as he stared at Hira. "What was that if not love? Why did you let me love you if you didn't want me too?"
Ahh fuck.
"I'm not good enough." Hira said simply, looking at the floor. "I'm just 'Stutz."
His head lifted as hands began to pummel his shoulders. "Stupid! Fucking idiot! You NEVER asked me! You never said a fucking word! You're so stupid!"
Hira took it all. He was all of that, and more. Now, with a recognized disability, he was even less of a man for his god. He wasn't good enough for Kiyoi.
"Sorry." He whispered. "Sorry." Hira didn't know what else to say. He just bowed his head and waited.
~~~~~~~~~~
Exhausted, Kiyoi listened to his apology and felt... nothing. If Hira was apologizing, where did that leave him?
Alone with his broken heart! Again! Damn him!
"Go away, Stalker. I'm tired." He closed his eyes, unable to watch him leave again. He heard rustling, and he rolled on to his side, letting his tears leak slowly, silently, soaking the pillow.
Why did Hira kiss him? Take care of him during while he was sick? Again, nothing in his damn life made any sense? Why did he apologize and for what?
He waited for a while and realized he needed to pee. Groaning, he slid out of bed, and wobbled, fighting for his balance after being in bed for so long. Fuck, he thought, I forgot to ask how long I'd been here.
As he shuffled to the door, he saw a opened drawer, close to the floor. Odd, in the past, he had never seen anything out of place in the room. Curiously, he knelt and pulled it fully open. There, carefully placed was a small box, a yellow rubber duck and a letter, crumpled from being read often.
Kiyoi picked up the letter and silently read it. He growled in anger, crumpled it tightly in a ball and then carefully flattened it out and put it back. Eyes glittering, he took out the box and flipped it over.
"Fuck you, you asshole." He fell back in shock as pictures of their shared past lay scattered around him. "Fuck you!" His voice escalated, until he was screaming. "Why don't you ever just tell me the fucking truth!"
He picked up one of the very first pictures must have ever taken of him, one of him drinking from a bottle. It was beautiful, better than any of the stills the professionals took. Hira saw him this way, even back then.
Kiyoi knew then, Hira really did see him as beautiful. Hira couldn't hide his love in these pictures.
~~~~~~~~~~
*Mar 27, 2018, Psychology Today
Chapter 11
Hira stood frozen at the low table when Kiyoi screamed. Now what? Hadn't he apologized and left? Slowly he shut his laptop, not bothering to close the browser window and sighed.
What did he do wrong now? He got up and shuffled to the door and stopped, wondering if he should knock before entering. He decided against it. This was his home and Kiyoi was still sick, or he would have left.
He opened the door and gasped. He heard his blood thudding in his ears. He dropped to his knees, and began to rock, feeling his world exploding. "W..w..w...w..wh...a..."
He hadn't been able to NOT finish a word since he was five. Instead, he just knelt there, clutching his chest and rocked. Kiyoi stared at him.
Now, this was a side of Hira he had never seen before. Kiyoi wasn't sure what that letter meant, but he didn't care much. The pictures were more important. "What are these, Hira?"
Hira only rocked back and forth, not even looking at him. Kiyoi grabbed several and knee walked towards him. "Hira, I will rip these into tiny pieces, if you don't talk to me. What the fuck are these?"
"No good. Not for you. I stopped." Hira yelled, reaching for them. He almost fell in his haste as Kiyoi moved them away. "You told me to stop so I did." His voice broke. "You told me to stop... but I didn't want too. I can't take pictures of anyone else."
Kiyoi stared in fascination. There was no stutter, nothing but rocking back and forth, with his eyes glazed. Was it tears? Was Hira crying for him? "Why would I tell you to stop, Hira?"
"I don't know! I'm no good." Hira yelled, his arms crossed protectively. Suddenly, his voice dropped. "I'm not good. Not good enough to take your picture, you're beautiful. I'm ugly." Lost inside of himself, he rocked, trying to find safety, stability. "You said to stop. I never took you picture again."
"Why are you doing that, Hira?" Slowly, Kiyoi moved closer, wondering if Hira was even aware he was still there. Fuck! Why did he have to be sick and to talk NOW? "What is Asperger's Syndrome?"
"Don't know. Don't know... Don't know..." Hira's eye fluttered and he refused to look at Kiyoi, just kept rocking back and forth.
Did I break him? After everything we've been through, was this the final straw to breaking Hira, the one I want? Kiyoi reached out and put his hands over Hira's crossed ones. Slowly Hira stopped rocking and just took deep, gasping breaths. As they slowed, Hira lifted his head and looked at him. I was wrong. He never cried.
But there was still something showing in the depths of his eyes that Kiyoi couldn't recognize. He thought he'd seen everything that Hira's eyes had to say. He'd stared at him for so long, just as long as Hira had watched him. Softly, "Hira?"
Kiyoi was lost in his eyes. So he was not expecting it when Hira uncrossed his arms, linked their hands and pulled, causing him to fall into his chest. What the fuck... He's kissing me!
It felt familiar. Warm. Like coming home. Kiyoi groaned as he lay half across of Hira's lap. He shifted, feeling his body respond to the stimulus of his kiss. He wanted... more.
More of everything. Their hands unlinked and he felt the tremble in Hira's hands as they cupped his face, holding him still as his lips devoured his mouth, tongue plunging deep. Blood flowed where it shouldn't, and Kiyoi moved, trying to ease the aching. He slid his own hands under Hira's shirt, needing more...
It was then, Kiyoi realized, they made a mistake. The gates had been unlocked but nothing had really changed. Hira's mouth had moved to his jaw, his neck, licking, and sucking... driving him crazy. He couldn't think but he had too. Pulling back, Kiyoi whispered brokenly, "Hira... what are we?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi's words hit Hira with such deadly accuracy. What could they ever be? A rising star and the stutz? Nothing...
"T...t...tt.tttthhere is no we." Hira slowly let go, his hands dropping to his sides. He felt shame flood his body. He was too lowly to want his god. Yet, he did! It was worse now! Kiyoi knew he was damaged!
Slowly, Hira pushed himself up off the floor, and turned to leave, the shame was too much. Suddenly, he landed hard on the floor. He had felt it, the kick that swept his feet from beneath him but when did Kiyoi have time to stand up?
Kiyoi stood looking down at him. In Hira's eyes, the look on his face was disgust. The words were filled with hate. It was what he deserved.
"I hate you!" Kiyoi said quietly. Hira rolled over, not able to look at him, just listening. "I fucking hate you. I hate how I want you, I hate how you won't talk to me. I hate how you make me feel... and most of all, I hate how you keep running away from me." Kiyoi kicked him, not hard, as his mouth dropped open.
Hira reached out and held his ankle. "Not worthy." He whispered, broken. "Not... good enough." He let go and sat up, leaning against the bed, burying his head in his knees, not able to watch Kiyoi leave, again. He heard rustling and his shoulders began to shake.
It was safe now. Safe to let all of the emotions out.
Kiyoi was finally gone. As he had done all through growing up, it was a primal yell that started it, followed by even more, increasing in volume until his throat was raw. The same ones that used to scare his parents. He needed to moved then, and rolling always worked well. He didn't care what others thought, it was what HE needed to let out how he felt. It worked, it expressed how he felt. The ending was always the same too: great gasping sobs, uncontrollable, until Hira was able to finally bring himself under control.
There was NO WAY anyone would stay with him if they ever witnessed this.
After all, his parents had taken the first opportunity to leave, why would Kiyoi stay? He was just Stutz... damaged goods. Not worthy of love.
~~~~~~~~~~
As the shock and arousal faded, the pressure of his very full bladder returned. Kiyoi stepped around Hira, and finally managed to make it to the bathroom. Closing his eyes, he relieved himself, sighing in relief.
Upon opening them, he gasped. Nothing had changed in the intervening years, not one thing. Hira was still using the exact same model of toothbrush, hairbrush, towels... even the same brand of soap and shampoo!
Was his house a fucking time capsule? No wonder he felt like home...
Ah, I'm tired! Kiyoi thought, as he looked in Hira's tiny mirror, studying his sunken cheeks, pale skin. He put his palms on the sink and sighed. Why did he bring me home? Is he really disabled? But nothing was ever said during school... and it's mandatory for the teacher to stop bullying of all disabled students.
His lips pursed as he thought back. Hira had never, ever been treated any differently. Had he hidden his disability to be treated normal? But that didn't make any sense! He could have had a much easier life...
No, he wouldn't... the kids would have picked on him in secret and you know it. Kids are fucking cruel.
He washed his hands and face and slowly walked back to the bedroom and stopped, hearing the most animalistic sounds. Hira? He sped up and stopped again, to see Hira rolling around on the bed, keening, and crying.
What the fuck? Is he hurt? Did I hurt him when I kicked him?
I've never seen him cry before... The wonder of seeing Hira expressing an emotion, any emotion, was too much. It brought out the softer side of Kiyoi, the side that wanted to protect him, the way that Hira had always protected him.
"Hira?" Kiyoi didn't even think that there was a possibility he could hurt him physically. Hira had only ever protected him. The hurt had seemed one way, like two passing ships in the water, unable to stop. "Hira, what's wrong?" He tried to lay his hand on the rolling body and it was impossible.
He sighed and did what he had become accustomed to doing when it came to Hira - waiting. Eventually, it had to stop, didn't it? Until then, he had to find his phone, or maybe Hira's. There were things he needed to know.
So, standing, he went on a hunt. His tummy growled loudly. It figured. Even with all the emotional stress, once he was with Hira, his appetite had returned. Kitchen first, he decided. Hira had prepared more porridge. Kiyoi grinned in satisfaction and grabbed the large spoon in the pot. He used it to take a large mouthful.
"You do make good porridge." He snagged a bowl off the dish rack and served himself a bowl, eating it standing up. Once his hunger had been taken care of, he resumed looking for the phones. Ah! There, by the futons, were the phones. Hira's was on the charger and his was next to it.
He sat down on the futon, still covered in the same neat afghan, hand made by his grandmother, or so Hira had told him once. Powering up his phone, Kiyoi checked first his calendar, to see if he had missed anything important. Other than rehearsals and three performances at the interactive theatre, nothing.
He sighed in relief. He dialed the director and updated him on his condition, just to learn that Kazuki Yohei had been keeping in touch with Hira. Yohei had also been in touch with Iruma. Kiyoi sucked in his bottom lip, thinking hard.
There was too much that didn't make any sense to him. How did he reconcile the man who was sobbing and rolling around in the bed right now, having an obvious breakdown, with the man who took such gentle care of him during his illness? How could Hira be disabled and be smart enough to live alone, go to university, and...
"Fuck this, Kazunari Hira! Stop playing with me!" Kiyoi stood up, a look of determination on his face. "I don't give a shit about that disability crap because I love you. Stop with the fucking games and give me an explanation I can either accept and live with or one so bad that I can move on!"
~~~~~~~~~~
In the bedroom, Hira slowly wiped his face clean of the snot and wandered to the bathroom. He wasn't sure how long this fit lasted and he didn't care.
He usually didn't remember what triggered the episode and he NEVER tried to recall them. They terrified him, they terrified his parents. He hung his head, ashamed he had one today.
His last one was the day before his parents left. Or maybe it was two days... The day they left was calm. HE shook and stuttered, but didn't DO anything but stay still.
Slowly, filled with shame, unaware of his surroundings, he pulled his clothes from his body, knowing he had to become clean once more. HE needed to bath.
Chapter 12
Kiyoi's mouth dropped in shock as Hira walked past him, his chest bare and his hands, his hands were pushing both his loose trousers and underwear off at the same time!
He blinked, taking in eyefuls of a much more muscular body than he expected. His bare back was well defined, leading down to a smooth dip before sweeping out to a nicely rounded curve of his buttocks, and shapely thighs. He closed his eyes, the sight now burned on his memory, as his body responded and his pants became tight.
How many sleepless nights had he dreamed of this man? Of holding him, touching his body intimately? Kissing him until they were both breathless and panting? His hand slipped down and he palmed his hardness, feeling how full he was.
Would I ever have a better chance to find out the truth? "There is nothing more defenseless than a naked man."* Kiyoi snorted. Now he was even acting like Hira! Throwing back his head, in an open act of defiance, he stood and pulled off his shirt, tossing it in a corner.
He pushed off the pajama shorts that belonged to Hira and left them where they lay. Now, also nude, he bravely marched towards the sound of running water and his future.
Run now, Hira! Run, see how far you get from me, naked!
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira sat on a low stool, using his hand to spread soap, slowly and methodically, over his body as the water ran. The room was steamy. His eyes were unfocused and his hand patted around, searching for the small towel to scrub his skin.
He blinked, and then sighed, leaning forward, as he felt the strong sweep of the towel scrub his back. His eyes close in pure enjoyment. His chin dropped to his chest. He rolled his head to the right, then to left, and then all the way around, loosening tight muscles as the towel ran up and down, with long strokes, cleaning his back.
Hira couldn't help himself. It had been too long since someone had touched him. He had never been to a sauna, or a hot springs before, with anyone, and couldn't remember the last time anyone washed his back for him. He moaned with pleasure as the towel moved, now washing his neck and shoulders, moving down his arms, carefully paying attention to his hands, washing both sides.
The strong hands washed underneath his chin, giving a massage, close enough to be considered a back hug, but never actually touching him except through the wet towel, but came low down to his pectoral muscles, lightly brushing over his nipples.
After the episode, which left him exhausted, and mindless, Hira felt as if he was floating. On the low stool, he spread his legs, to ease the tension. The towel covered hand moved, following the side of his body, down his hip, to his thigh, and around the front curve, to his toes. He finished on leg, and moved on to the other.
Only then, did Hira hear it. A soft sound, repeated over and over. He cocked his head and listened. "Stand up. Stand... I can do this. Let me finish... Stand up."
So Hira did. The stool skittered across the wet floor and he heard a sigh... "So big, so hard, Hira." He knew that voice. He didn't want to open his eyes, this could be HIS dream. The towel ran hard over his the cheeks of ass and he shivered. Was it supposed to feel this good, having someone touching your ass?
The dream hands moved to his front and the towel moved across his nipples, down his abdomen, now clenched against the sensations building, showing off his six pack, down to his hips. "Damn, Hira, who knew you had this hidden under all those baggy clothes!"
Slowly, Hira opened his eyes. He needed to see. This... this really wasn't a dream. Because he'd dreamed about this. He'd fantasized about it, to his carefully hidden pictures, slowly stroking his cock. The same man who now held it, almost exactly the way he fantasized.
Slowly, his mouth gaped, just slightly, as Kiyoi ran the towel over his testicles, his other hand grasping his cock so firmly. He almost stumbled, as he reached behind him, looking for the wall. Hira needed to support his shaky legs. His god, was on his knees, looking up at him!
Hot. He was boiling. The sound of his blood rushed through his ears and he felt like his heart was going to pound right out of his chest when Kiyoi stood up, slapped the wet, soapy towel against his abdomen, tickling the tip of his sensitive cock, still held in his tight grip.
"My turn, Hira. Wash me." Hira blinked, uncomprehending. Kiyoi slapped his belly again, bubbles flying. "Hira... wash me."
Why was his voice filled with so much longing and pain? Hira slowly took the wash cloth and pressed it against his belly, moving it in a slow circle. Kiyoi groaned, loudly. Their eyes met and Hira's hips bucked, his cock thrusting in Kiyoi's tight grasp.
His voice rough, almost gone, Kiyoi whispered, "Don't lie to me, Hira. Do you love me?"
Wordlessly, Hira nodded. How could he hide it, here? His body admitted everything already.
"Then fucking love me already!" Kiyoi raised his hand and hit him, once, where his heart was. "I've loved you since high school, stalker, so make love to me!"
Hira cocked his head, and wordlessly, wiped a tear away from the cheek of the most beautiful man he'd ever met. His hands went around his waist and he pulled him tight, the pressure of groins causing friction as their hard cocks rubbed together as he kissed him the way he wanted, deep and thorough.
Kiyoi felt a change happen within Hira. As they kissed, he lost his hesitancy, shyness. Who was this man, kissing him? It was Hira and it wasn't! He moaned, deep from his belly, as blood flowed to his nether regions. His strong hands blurred his mind, and Kiyoi forgot everything but the taste of his lips, the feel of his touch and how he felt.
More... more... He wanted more! Kiyoi wanted it all! Moaning against his mouth, Kiyoi felt his hands exploring muscle after muscle, until Hira lifted him out of the way of the water, whispering, "Turn it off. The water, turn it off."
Like a robot, Kiyoi did. He couldn't think properly. Even being carried, Hira's lips were busy, so were his hands. His head lay back, fully exposing his neck to him, and Hira took advantage, sucking and nibbling. How strong he was, to lift HIM to his mouth, to then suck on his nipple!
Kiyoi had to speak up, had to tell him... how come it was so hard to say he was a virgin? Slow down, Hira, I want you, but I've never done this before. But no matter how much he opened his mouth to say it, Hira took it as he wanted a kiss!
You do want his kissing! This IS what you asked him to do! Love YOU!
When they reached the bed, and Kiyoi straddled Hira, it was as if Hira read his mind. "I've n..n..never done this. I want you." Hira's gaze was honest, direct and Kiyoi shivered, knowing that he only saw him, as a man. Not as a god, or beautiful or whatever.
Right now, they only loved each other, wanted each other. "I want you too, Hira." From his position on his lap, he pulled Hira close enough to touch his forehead. "Make love to me, Stalker." It didn't matter if neither knew what they were doing, together they'd figure it out.
Hira tilted his head, and captured his lips, as if making a promise. He pulled Kiyoi close enough to touch their hardness together again, small twitches driving him mad.
Kiyoi broke the kiss, whispering, "More... I need something..." His voice cracked with need, longing and Hira snapped.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for Kiyoi! He picked up Kiyoi and laid him flat on the bed, and laved on nipple, then the other, until he shivered and moaned when he blew on them, his hand held his hardness, not really playing, just held it, while his mouth was busy.
Every so often, Hira would look up the length of his slender body to see what Kiyoi was doing and adjust what he was doing... HE needed the sounds. They urged him forward. He chased the those little noises. It told him he was doing a good job in pleasing Kiyoi.
It was when he slithered lower, and licked there, that Kiyoi changed. Hira felt it, beneath his hands, not just heard it with his ears.
Hadn't he spent a whole year watching his every move?
Under his mouth, Kiyoi lifted his hips and thrust, deep into Hira's mouth, groaning... "What the hell, Hira, what are you doing to me?" His hands dug deep into Hira's shoulders, holding on for dear life as Kiyoi road out the sensations that were building inside him. "Hira... I... I... "
With a loud pop, Hira let go of his member and whispered, gruffly, "Come... show me." His hand cupped his balls and rolled, his mouth went back to what it was doing, licking and sucking his swollen member. He could feel the blood throb and Hira, glanced up to see Kiyoi watching him.
They locked eyes and held them. Kiyoi sank his hands deep in his hair, pushing it out of the way, and guided his movements, finding the perfect rhythm. "That's it, ohhh, yes..." His head fell back, and his hands tightened their grip, almost pulling out Hira's hair.
Just then, Hira's tongue pressed along the seam, just behind the head of his member, and slipped across the tip. it was exquisite. It was... delicate. It was torture.
It made Kiyoi orgasm. He shot deep inside the warmth of Hira's mouth, using his hands to hold him still, as he thrust deep, hearing him gag. Breathing heavily, sweating... he lay back and took deep breaths trying to come back to earth.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Kiyoi opened his eyes to see Hira watching him, with what looked like the most satisfied look EVER on his face. He still had an erection, despite how sated Kiyoi was.
That asshole did exactly what I asked of him! He loved me! No, He made love TO me...
~~~~~~~~~~
* Author Phaedra Weldon, from the novel Wraith. This is considered dark fantasy. The Last Herald Mage was a trilogy released by Mercedes Lacky from 1989 to 1990 (Yes, I KNOW I'M OLD) but then Mercedes did the amazing thing and OPENED UP HER UNIVERSE to other authors! A WHOLE COLLECTION of Anthologies were released and Phaedra Weldon was/is one of the most prolific. If you love sword/sorcery stuff with a sexy gay man who's been tortured his whole life before being loved, READ the Last Herald Mage. You won't regret it!
Chapter 13
Hira watched as Kiyoi rolled over and started to shake. What did he do wrong? Wasn't it his turn now? Wasn't that how lovemaking worked? He didn't understand...
But after everything, he could live with it. HE had something to remember. Kiyoi had given him a gift from the god himself. Slowly, wearily, Hira slid off the bed and went to get dressed. To him, it was quite clear that Kiyoi found him lacking in some way.
His head bowed, once again, looking at the floor, he completely missed the pillow Kiyoi threw at him, while shrieking, "Don't you dare leave, Stalker! Don't you dare make love TO me and leave me!"
"It's okay, Kiyoi. You don't have tt.t.t.." Hira drew in a deep breath and tried again, "to." His breath puffed out softly. He kept his eyes firmly on the pillow that hit him, and he bent down and picked it up. "I know."
"Know what, Stalker? Because," Kiyoi spun the startled man around and made Hira look at him. "I don't know anything. I know I want you, too." He wrapped his arms around Hira's neck and kissed him.
Shocked, rather stunned, Hira stood still for a moment then he melted. He tilted his head and took control of the kiss. The only part of his body that moved was his lips, so soft and gentle. It didn't last long, only long enough for Hira to taste Kiyoi's tears on his lips.
With a soft grunt, Hira pushed Kiyoi away. "I don't understand anything, Kiyoi! I'm not good at this. I don't know what to do!" His hand went up to wipe a tear away and it dropped, without touching him. "I don't know what you need."
"You, asshole, you!" Kiyoi punched him, almost helpless. "You never tell me anything, about what you're going through. You do what you're told but never let anyone in." Kiyoi hit him again. "It hurts, Hira, hurts." He pounded his chest. "I don't know why, but it hurts, here."
Hira caught and held his hand. "It shouldn't, Kiyoi. I'm not worth it." He shook his head. "I'm... disabled." The word felt funny. It was the first time he'd said it aloud. "I... "
"I don't fucking care!" Kiyoi grabbed Hira's shoulder's and pulled him close. "How are you different than me? Explain!"
"I stutter. I can't..." No, wrong words, Hira knew immediately, as the look on Kiyoi's face changed. "I d.d..don't know how to be in social situations. I'll always be weird, Kiyoi. I t.t..ttt.ttthink different."
"I hate you." Kiyoi whispered. "I really do. How is that supposed to keep us from being together? It's just an excuse, Hira." He wiped his own tears away. "I don't talk to anyone either. I've never told anyone about you. I couldn't even tell you, I was too afraid of being hurt."
Kiyoi watched, as Hira's eyes changed, even though there was no change in his body, only his eyes. They darkened, deepened in colour, making it even harder to know what was on his mind. "It hurt, you know, back in high school, when you stopped talking to me. The only place I was just Kiyoi and it was gone overnight."
"I...I...I..." Hira started, then took a deep breath and began again, "I was sure you didn't need me anymore. You were popular. I was just Stutz."
"Stop saying that! I never called you that! Never, did I?" Kiyoi screamed, spit flying. "Did you ever think of how I felt?"
"Every day. I always con...conn.nn," Hira stopped, unable to continue, his face red. "I t.thth...thought of it, every day. I told you, I think wrong. How can I see your feelings your way?"
"I get it now." Kiyoi went and pulled on some clothes, the first ones he saw, not caring if they were Hira's or his. "I understand. That's your real disability, Hira. YOU don't want to actually know who I am, or learn to live in the world around you. You're happy living in that damn bubble."
He pushed him against the wall furthest from the door. "Stay away from me, Hira. Stay far, far away. I hate you." Kiyoi ran from the house, as fast as he could, before the tears started.
It was time to forget Hira. It was now time to move on, and learn to live a normal life.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira sank to the floor, and sighed. Well, that went well. It was finally over. He could now truly say that he was alone. He got up, and although the sun shone, he pulled on his pajamas, and with the smell of Kiyoi in his bed, slept.
For almost sixteen hours, he slept. It wasn't unusual after an episode for him to sleep that long. What he didn't realize, was that he HAD made friends. He now had people who would miss him. With Kiyoi gone, Yohei had no reason to phone. When Hira did not show up for school the next day, Kayama was worried.
"Yohei," Kayama bit his nail, "What should I do? The senior is telling me it's my responsibility to bring Hira to the photography club? He's not answering the phone."
"Go get him." Yohei's voice was quiet. "Kiyoi didn't show up for rehearsal at the theatre, and called in again today. Why did Hira let him go, if he's still sick? Go check on him, Kayama."
"I don't..." He didn't get far before there was a different voice speaking.
"Listen, brat. YOU started this, you finish it. Take care of that boy. I'll look after Kiyoi. Then we stop meddling. Got it?" The phone abruptly disconnected. Kayama stared at the beeping cellphone in his hand. Who the fuck was that?
He hit end and then dialed the senior. "I'm going to Hira's. I won't be at club." He hung up before the senior could respond. He walked slowly, enjoying the sunny day. At Hira's, the gate wasn't closed, which was very unusual. He pushed it open, and entered, closing it carefully behind him. He walked up to the porch, slid off his shoes and walked to the door, raising his finger to ring the bell, but the door wasn't closed.
Anxious now, he slid it open all the way and ran inside, yelling loudly, "Hira? Are you okay?" The house looked fine, it wasn't a robbery, so what happened. He skidded to a stop, seeing something very unusual. A trail of discarded clothing, leading from the bedroom to the bathroom. He'd never been in Hira's bedroom... not once.
He bent down and picked up the discarded clothing, brow wrinkling at the fact that there was two shirts, only one pair of pants... his head hurt. He knocked gently on the door and then opened it. The smell of sex was faint, but there.
Oh... no wonder Hira was in hiding. He put the clothes down on the only chair in the room and sighed. "Hira, wake up. You missed school." The lump under the covers didn't stir.
Kayama gingerly leaned over and shook it, hoping against hope that it WAS Hira, not Kiyoi or he'd die of embarrassment. "Hira, wake up."
"Go away, sleep." It was mumbled, but audible. Hira! Kayama smiled with relief. He pulled the comforter off of the sleeping form and laughed at the rubber duck printed pajamas but gasped at the sight of upper body. He was nude from the waist up. He had a well form physique, one that made his mouth water. What a pity Hira wanted that pretty boy so badly.
Hira sighed, and swung his legs out of bed. "What do you want?"
Kayama couldn't help himself. He really couldn't. "You." It just came out.
Lips twisted, "Not funny." Hira pushed himself to stand, stretching as he got to his feet, completely unaware of how he looked, with his bedhead, long muscular frame and now, perfectly accented six pack abdomen.
It made Kayama drool with want. "What a waste, Hira." He sighed, shaking his head. "What a waste. Well, it doesn't matter. Go, take a shower. You still have to live, even if you don't always get what you want."
"What are you talking about?" Hira pushed back, coming to a dead stop. "I don't understand." Kayama was one of the few Hira felt comfortable admitting his social failures. "Explain."
"Sou Kiyoi." Kayama shrugged. "It didn't work out with him, just like you don't want me, he doesn't want you?" He looked at Hira, brow raised, daring him to deny it.
Hira didn't say anything, just left the room. It was fine with him, for Kayama to NOT know, to not understand his failings. Kiyoi did want him, he just didn't want him the way he was.
Legs shaking, Kayama sunk to the floor. "Fuck, that was scary!" He'd thought he knew Hira in every mood, but he'd never seen THAT look before. A few deep breaths, and he shook it off, standing up. He wandered out to the living room, looking for something to do. Spotless.
Walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. This was not Hira's kitchen at all, which was usually spotless as well. Kayama grinned. He could do the dishes for him. He sniffed the pot on the stove and the soured smell made him gag. He tossed it out, and put it to soak. He looked for some rubber gloves. Finding none, he sighed and started to wash the dirty dishes.
It freed his mind to think, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. How was he going to make Hira tell him what happened? It was obvious that there had been two people here... he sighed, trying to scrub the dried on porridge from the bowl that Kiyoi ate from.
"Fuck, I know this wasn't you, Hira! You always wash your dishes immediately." The bowl clattered back into the sink, slipping from suddenly lifeless hands. "I know you'd never ruin your favorite pot either." Kayama grumbled, trying the sponge to loosen the sticky porridge.
Suddenly, the pot was snatched from his hands and firmly placed in the sink. "Leave it." Kayama spun around and gasped. Hira had his usual expression on his face but wore nothing but a towel, hung low on his hips. He closed his eyes against the wave of desire that flooded his body.
Cautiously, he opened them, but Hira hadn't moved. "I see the way you look at me." His voice was flat, no inflections at all, exactly Hira like. "Do you want to fuck me?"
Kayama ran at least emotionally, or at least he tried. His blood pounded in his ears. He'd waited forever to hear something similar... He didn't want to fuck Hira, he wanted to love him. "No, Hira, I want to love you."
Hira hung his head. "That's useless. I don't know what love is. I need to learn about sex." Slowly, he turned, and begun those very slow, deliberate steps to his room to get dressed. He didn't notice how the handle of the pot now lay, and it caught the edge of his towel, pulling it off his waist. Hira stiffened momentarily, before walking again, not bothering to pick up the towel.
Kayama gritted his teeth, seeing that perfect peach, and moaned. "You want a teacher? Okay, I'll do it. I'll sleep with you."
"I have slept with someone." Hira said, calmly. "I need to have sex with another person."
Kayama blinked. "They're the same thing, Hira. Just a gentler way of saying it. Am I still able to fuck you, then?"
Chapter 14
Hira considered it. Would having sex with Kayama make him understand why Kiyoi was upset with him? Why he wasn't worth touching?
He sighed deeply and shook his head. There was no point to it. "I'm an idiot. Go home, Kayama." He bent down and picked up his towel, Kayama now forgotten.
Kayama growled low in his throat, thoroughly pissed. There were few things that actually made him angry, but one of them had been apologizing to Sou Kiyoi. If it turned out to be for nothing, then someone would pay.
"Hira, stop." When Hira didn't, Kayama ran after him. "Hira, I don't care if we do or don't fuck, but I will tell you this, stop playing with people's emotions."
"How did I do that?" Kayama barely heard his answer, so he pushed him against a wall, the picture near him rattled. Hira only blinked back at his sudden move. Kayama wanted to shake him, hit him, anything to have that bland expression change.
"What did you say? I didn't hear you clearly, Hira. Say it so I understand." Kayama pushed his chest. "Say it again."
Slowly, deliberately, without any change of expression, only his voice louder, Hira repeated, "How did I do that? I don't know how to be with people." Gentle Hira, the man Kayama thought he knew so well, finally used his superior strength. He raised his arms and pushed him back. Kayama flew into the common room, landing on his backside, barely missing the low table that was in front of the futon.
Hira walked over to him, unaware that his towel had again fallen from his hips. He stood over him, then dropped into a low squat. "Go home, leave me alone. I need to think."
Kayama shivered, watching Hira's backside walk away. He was filled with many conflicting emotions, from lust, desire and admiration, plus a new, unfamiliar one: fear.
Why am I afraid of Hira? He wondered. You know why, because you never really knew him!
~~~~~~~~~~
Once Kiyoi had arrived home, everything turned to ash. He forgot he was boiling eggs for the ramen and the water boiled out. Who does that? He'd even set a timer... He burned the instant noodles because he got lost in thought...
It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. After being with Hira, he knew Hira was the man for him. The only man who would ever see him for who he was, not just for his outer appearance, but inside. Those photographs proved Hira did see him, all of him, not just the outside.
He pulled the photo out of his pocket, the one he'd stolen from the box and smoothed it out. Carefully, he propped it up next to a small yellow rubber duck. "I wonder why Hira has a rubber duck?" He ran his finger down the small toy. "I am grateful I saw your brother that first day of school, bobbing in the sewer. You gave me Hira."
He sighed, and decided that since he was not working once more today, he was going to have to forget Hira first. However long that took, he had to do that before life continued. Was it even possible to forget Hira's touch, his kisses, his mouth...
He closed his eyes, and immediately everything came rushing back, including doubt. "You asshole! I can't..." He dropped to his knees with tears standing in his eyes. "Fuck it all!" He crawled to a low cabinet below his most prized possession, his large screen TV, and opened it. Inside, at the back, was a bottle of rice wine.
It was dusty, because it had been given as a gift for his first paying acting job from his mother. He snorted, as his hand clasped around it. Trust an alcoholic to give alcohol as a gift to a barely legal son... then again, he swore he would never drink and look at him, since he met Hira once more!
There had to be a better way to forget him! He looked at the bottle held tightly in his hand and put it down, laying flat on the floor. His eyes closed and a wave of tiredness hit. I wish I would fall asleep and the world would be different when I wake up. I wish I'd never met him!
But in the very back of his mind, a tiny voice reminded him, No, you don't. Stop lying.
~~~~~~~~~~
Yohei's fist hit the bar. Kiyoi hadn't called and wasn't answering his phone. Iruma said he didn't show up for rehearsal either. "Fuck. This is a major fuck up." He picked up his beer and took a long drink.
"What is?" Aoshima's cheerful question startled Yohei, causing beer to go everywhere. Aoshima laughed loudly.
"Damn it, Aoshima! Don't sneak up on me!" Cursed Yohei, as he reached around the bar for a cloth to wipe up the spilled beer. "What do you want? How come you've not gone home?"
Shrugging, Aoshima walked around the bar and helped himself to a beer. As he pulled the tap back and watched the beer flow into the mug, studying the foam, "Did you hear from Kiyoi today?" The beer overflowed and he wiped the bottom, before placing it on the bar and walking back around and sitting on a stool.
"Why?" In the dim light, curiosity gleamed in Yohei's eyes. "You know that's confidential information, so why are you asking?"
Picking up his beer, Aoshima studied the amber colour of the draft beer before taking a sip and telling a partial truth. "I've wanted him for a long time, Yohei. You know that." His face was calm, relaxed, showing nothing.
Yohei snorted. "I've worked with you far too long, Aoshima. Stop digging for information and tell me what you really want. If it was about fucking Sou Kiyoi, you'd be banging on his door, not talking to me." He picked up his beer and drained it. "Go home."
Aoshima giggled, soft and light. "I should have known that I couldn't fool you. I want to know how it went with that boy, Kazunari, isn't it? You set up Kiyoi with him, letting him take him home when he fainted and no one's seen him since. But you know something, what is it?" He raised his beer, as if to cheer.
The weight of his decision suddenly felt heavy, and guilt came crashing down on him. Yohei sighed deeply and walked around to pour another beer. "Let's say that things turned out as expected and leave it there. If you want to know details, I don't have them." He lifted his own beer mug and cheered back, then downed it all once.
"Damn it, Yohei, why did you let Kazunari take him then?" Aoshima's mug hit the bar hard. "Don't you know how fragile Kiyoi is? That boy broke his heart and if it's happened again, Kiyoi may never recover!"
"Fuck off, asshole! Do you think it's any better for Hira? Hira doesn't understand how we 'normal' people think or act, or even how to behave in everyday social situations. When we project our expectations on him, it's completely unacceptable, wrong, but we do it anyway and JUDGE him for his behaviour." Spittle flew from Yohei's mouth as he defended Hira. "We believe we're right and he's wrong but there is no right or wrong, just a big fucking miscommunication."
Tiredly, Yohei sank to a barstool and waved his hand. "Go home, Aoshima." He repeated. "I can't do this now. It's just a fucking mess and it's one I created, so just go home."
Aoshima stared at him, wondering why Yohei was taking the blame, when the misunderstanding happened long before either knew him. "Okay, I'll go. I'll see you tomorrow." He bowed, and walked to the exit, glancing back to see the director, sitting on the stool, head bowed, looking very defeated.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi rolled over, his head was pounding but he didn't know why. I didn't drink. He knew that because there was no sour taste in his mouth. He pushed himself up off the floor and rubbed his temples, yelling, "Okay, Okay!"
The door. Someone was at the damn door! Why they were knocking instead of using the intercom, he wasn't sure. Carefully prying open a sleep stuck eye, Kiyoi peered through the intercom and swore. He pressed the button. "Go away, Aoshima, I'm not letting you in."
Aoshima held up a bag, waving it in front of the camera. "Not even for breakfast and coffee?"
Kiyoi stomach churned. He ran for the bathroom, and bent over the toilet. Weakly, he pushed himself to stand and sighed at his appearance. He looked better at Hira's. He felt better, over there too.
Damn it, he was doing it again! Hira! Hira! Hira! I have to stop thinking of Hira!
Slowly, he walked back to his door and opened it. "Not one question, Aoshima. I won't answer anything."
Aoshima eyed him, how loose his clothing was. "Did you drink last night?" He held up his hand and crossed his heart. "I promise, it's one of me few questions."
Shaking his head, Kiyoi pointed to the wine bottle. "No. I thought about it, but I didn't do it." He laughed, more at himself. "You know I'm a lousy drinker." He grabbed the bag of food, leaving the coffee for Aoshima.
Companionably, Aoshima watched as Kiyoi ate the food, while he drank the coffee. Sighing softly, he leaned forward and wiped the last of the powdered sugar from the corner of Kiyoi's mouth. "You're like a child sometimes. You have a sweet tooth, hate coffee, won't drink alcohol and won't sleep around. What else do you like, hmm?"
Kiyoi ignored him, gathering up the garbage and walked to the trash bins, sorting out the recyclables. He sighed, his mind wandering. He didn't even know that much about Hira and he said he loved him. Life really was a mess.
So lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Aoshima. He felt it, when Aoshima took him in a back hug, holding him tightly. Kiyoi struggled. "Let me go, asshole!"
"No. That boy had his chance. He let you go, Kiyoi, so it's my turn." Aoshima pressed a kiss below Kiyoi's ear, right on the pulse point. "I can love you the way you need to be loved. Any time, any place. I'm not a boy, but a man." He swung Kiyoi around and pushed him against the cupboard that housed the bins, pressing his lips against Kiyoi's.
Kiyoi's knee came up hard, and Aoshima grunted, hands holding his jewels. "I told you before, I'll never sleep with you. Get out of my house." His words held no animosity, but they were firm. Kiyoi went to move past him, but Aoshima's laugh stopped him.
"You've changed, Kiyoi. Once upon a time, you'd let me tease you." Aoshima voice was light, despite the pain from his groin. "You had sex with that boy, didn't you?" He watched, with interest as Kiyoi's faced changed.
His eyes darkened, with unshed tears. His voice thickened, as he fought them back. "Fuck off, Aoshima, as if I'd ever answer that." Kiyoi walked with as much dignity as he could find to the washroom.
Aoshima sighed softly. Yohei was right after all. It WAS a major fuck up. What had happened between these two lovebirds?
Chapter 15
It took Hira a whole week before he felt like going back to University. He knew it wouldn't affect his GPA at all and he could care less about the Photography Club, despite the fact that they were spamming his phone. It was so bad he was tempted to change his sim card once more.
He would have done it but for one thing: his parents. They rarely contacted him and he detested calling anyone first. He never knew what to say, and speaking when he couldn't see a person made his stutter worse. They had been so angry after Kiyoi had broken his phone.
The psychologist had told his parents to stop placing expectations on him and the stutter would improve. It didn't. The same psychologist then said HE already placed their expectations on himself, and it was too late to correct the problem.
By then, he was seventeen. He fully understood how to eavesdrop on all the private sessions the doctors had with his parents. Privately, he agreed with his father, when they drove home from these sessions and he'd say, "They're full of bullshit." and his mother would go, "Shhh." glancing over her shoulder, staring at him.
For some reason, despite having almost a perfect GPA his whole schooling, his parents always thought he was slow, unable to think for himself. Right up until the day they left, his mother had purchased all his clothes, done his laundry etc. The only thing she had let him do was learn to cook. Hira was very grateful for that. It had been a lifesaver, and allowed him freedom for the first time ever.
Kiyoi had been right. He did live in a bubble. He liked seeing the world through it. It was safe, insular. What was so wrong with being safe? Just like looking through the viewfinder of his camera, if no one saw how you felt... well, he had been judged his whole life.
You miss him. Call him, apologize and beg him to come back! Hira shook his head. I can't! I don't know what I did wrong! Until I understand, there is no point in it.
He withdrew. Socially awkward before, Hira was now socially distant as well. He didn't care that the club seniors worried, and blamed Kayama. If it hadn't been for the fact that Kayama needed the credit, the paperwork for dropping out of the photography club would have been filed with the administration office.
Hira didn't understand that he had empathy. That this WAS feelings, associating with people, only in his own way. He had developed relationships, important ones.
Hira knew that the Senior did not have the authority to prevent him. He even understood, at some level, that the Senior believed in his talent, otherwise, he wouldn't be going to these lengths. It no longer mattered to him.
All of his previous joy in taking photos was gone. After looking at those old photographs, and being with Kiyoi, he now knew was the light, the joy in his pictures.
Yesterday had been the day to do the bills. It was usually Hira's favorite day, figuring out the budget. Last month he had spent too much, and had wastage because of taking care of Kiyoi but he had no regrets. If he could, Hira knew he would do it all over again.
He looked at the amount of money left over and sighed. Taking care of Kiyoi had made one thing clear: As an adult, his small single bed was inadequate. He needed a larger bed. Was that enough money left over or would he need his savings? He walked back into his childhood room and looked around. Was there even enough room in here for a larger bed???
Hira studied the space carefully. He didn't need his desk anymore. He rarely studied at home, preferring to use the university's facilities. How much of his stuff did he need? One wall was storage... small bins, large bins, all neatly stacked next to the wardrobe that held his clothes. Hira was a packrat - a hoarder. Of course, he wasn't as bad as a hikikomori.
Squeezing his eyes tightly, Hira felt his hands forming into fists. The storage had to stay! That was his memories! Nothing was disorderly, or out of place. He needed his memories, he couldn't forget anything! Carefully, he went to the very center and opened the swinging doors. There in the center, was a small memorial shrine. It wasn't honouring the ancestors, but it was set up exactly.
I'm an idiot! I have to stop this! Hira put his hands together and bowed. "Please, help me. Help me be better." He took several deep breaths and closed the doors. He doesn't care, so why am I still doing this? He walked over, and bent down, and pulled out the memory box, the rubber duck and his disability certificate, reopened the doors. After carefully adding them to the small items from school, he spoke once more.
"Kiyoi, I'm leaving these in your care." Hira bowed again. "I'm too stupid to know which path to take." He bowed for the last time, a perfect 90 degrees. Then just before he closed the doors, he said, with a lighter heart, "I'm going to grow up now. I'm buying a proper bed."
Part of him wondered why he still cared when it was his god who left. The more socialized part, the part of him who craved Kiyoi's touch, knew he was going to attempt to be normal, even if he failed, once more.
The only way to know was to go shopping. Hira hated shopping. In every store, there were CF's of Kiyoi. He would get lost, forget what he was looking for and stand in one place, sometime for hours, looking at the giant adverts of his face.
"Wanting something is not enough. You must hunger for it. Your motivation must be absolutely compelling in order to overcome the obstacles that will invariably come your way.*" Hira sighed, as he put on his shoes, and stood up, a sudden weariness overwhelming him. He no longer had the willpower to leave.
He hung his head and started the slow walk to the train station.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi had slowly begun to work, thanks in large part to Aoshima. He never realized how much of a good friend he was, even if he could be... many things. Sympathetic, kind, but mainly a bully. Everything he needed to keep him sane while he got his shit together after leaving Hira.
Even if he never explained exactly what happened, Aoshima didn't care, or at least, it didn't seem to matter. He acted exactly the same and that's what Kiyoi needed: a good friend.
Not a lover or someone who wanted to be a lover. The only lover he wanted was Hira, even if he wasn't wanted. No, that wasn't right. He was wanted, but only to be worshipped, he wanted to be an ordinary man.
He sighed deeply and looked at his manager, and attempted to cross his legs in the extremely uncomfortable white fake pants, with the sheer white top, with the short leather jacket, settling for sticking them straight out. "Is this the best outfit you could find for this event? I'm itchy!" His balls ached. He was positive they were being strangled.
"It's the theme, Kiyoi. You look amazing. Smile today and they'll renew your contract, I'm sure." His manager smiled happily. "You test so well with high school girls and that's the target market of this brand of cosmetics."
Kiyoi picked up his phone. He had been spending hours trying to find anything on Hira. Did he not have a footprint ON social media? He found nothing! No Instagram, no Twitter, Line, TicTok or Facebook... nothing! What young man didn't have social media? As each day went by, he found his dreams becoming more and more explicit.
He woke up hard, drenched in sweat. Almost as if they had made love... He closed his eyes and shifted, uncomfortably, glad his pants WERE this tight. He had no room to expand. His manager poked him, in his side and he jumped, eyes wide. "What the fuck!"
"Shh. Not so loud. We have some middle age women today, and a few men too!" The manager was dancing in excitement. "I always said that you had a classic style that would attract both sexes, Kiyoi! We need to capitalize on it! Let me see if I can get you the lead in Priscilla or something... you like plays."
Not for the first time, Kiyoi, rolling his eyes, took a deep breath. "Priscilla Queen of the Desert IS a musical, not a play! I don't do musicals!"
"Whatever! You can learn. You dance, don't you?" The manager looked at his watch and waved his hands excitedly. "It's time, Kiyoi! Go earn us some money, boy! Remember to smile!" He showed his teeth and Kiyoi took a deep breath, wondering how he ended up with a creep for a manager.
~~~~~~~~~~
Malls! Hira hated them with a passion. Overcrowded and well, overcrowded. He kept his head down and headed to the first furniture store he saw. The beds were all too modern and not built as sturdy as he wanted. He looked at the saleswoman and said, quite bluntly, in his manner, "It won't fit my decor." He bowed and left.
The woman turned and started crying. "He didn't have to be rude. He didn't even listen!" As her co-worker comforted her, Hira was in the next store. Similar furniture, so he didn't even talk to anyone, he just walked out.
By the fifth store, Hira realized that modern furniture was all there was in his price range. This was not going into his family home. Definitely NOT, with its tatami mats replaced on a regular schedule! He still remembered the arguments his mother and father had, about bringing in the beds and futon frame, moving from sleeping mats, to actual beds.
He was going to honour that, and keep the heavy, older style. But how? You're even more stubborn than your father and haven't touched a single penny of their support money since you graduated high school! They don't need to know how you earn a living!
But they don't know that! Hira bent his head, and walked to the ice cream store near the open plaza. He met the server's eye, and pointed to the vanilla cone, holding up one finger. Bowing in thanks, he placed his money on the tray and accepted the simple cone. Taking it, he walked on the edges of the very large crowd of women, trying to block out their loud chatter.
He stopped dead, letting the ice cream melt down his hand, as the large poster of Kiyoi suddenly dropped from the second floor, dressed in nothing but a pair of tight black leather pants and black angel wings, holding up two different bottles. A slogan was written across his bare chest, the most challenging look on his face.
"If I held the fountain of youth in my hands, would you buy it?"
Hira thought he was deaf for a moment. He wasn't. The women were screaming so loudly, he couldn't hear anything else, they drowned out all other sound. He bowed his head, even more ashamed of himself. He walked away, cupping one hand under the quickly melting ice cream.
I don't deserve to love him too... I can't even buy us a bed.
After disposing of the lost treat and washing his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked the same. He gave a nod. It was time to accept it. Time to give up. Slowly, Hira shuffled out of the store, completely unaware that Kiyoi had seen him.
~~~~~~~~~~
* Les Brown was a former Ohio State Representative (USA), and became one of the world's most renowned motivational speakers.
Chapter 16
Kiyoi froze, and almost stumbled when he saw Hira staring at the giant poster. He had been furious with his agency and manager for accepting this CF. He felt like he was one step away from doing AV's. All during the shoot, he fought with both the photographer, and the advertising company on how much skin he was willing to reveal.
Afterwards, he was so angry, he threatened to leave them, and buy out the rest of his contract. How, he had no idea but if they ever made him take off his clothing again, he would break it somehow.
From a distance, he heard his manager whispering, "Move, damn it! They're waiting."
Kiyoi took a deep breath and slowly walked, bowing here and there to the table set up with a lot of the advertised products, the woman he'd met at the photoshoot, and another man. He turned to his manager and glared. "What's she doing here? I told you, no more. I'm not a piece of meat!"
"This is it, Kiyoi." The manager replied, talking while maintaining his smile. "Move, she's the owner. You need to fulfill the contract. This is it, we didn't renew." Kiyoi gave an abrupt nod and finished the walk to the table, to the incredible cheers of the crowd.
Except for Hira, he noticed. He only glanced once more, and then looked down, so pitiful, and snuck away. Fucking coward! Now he won't even stay and breath the same air!
The product launch / fan meet / autograph session was to last 2 hours. It went beyond that, almost four, because of how many people showed up, wanting to meet "the most beautiful angel."
It had gone almost perfect, except for one small problem: the owner of the company. As a strong business woman in a man's world, she was used to getting her own way. Who was this lowly model telling her no? She did not like it, so she brought her husband, to convince him.
This did not help her case at all. Instead, it brought almost all of Kiyoi's childhood traumas to the forefront. New uncles every week, abandoned while she was out and drinking, until his mother married when he was eight years old. Then, still abandoned and left to fend for himself because he wasn't important, unless someone told her he was pretty or cute.
How he hated his looks, even to this day! But that bitch, she did not take a hint, nor even his politely worded refusals. She even ignored her husband, when he tried to stop her. His manager stood back with a smirk on his face, which only inflamed the situation. After two hours of having her hands crawling up the damn tight white pants, under the table that the fans couldn't see, Kiyoi had enough.
He raised his hand, a pre-arranged signal for a bathroom break. The stupid woman took it to mean she finally broke Kiyoi and decided to follow him, which is exactly what Kiyoi expected. He had stopped half way to the washroom, and was leaning against the wall, face devoid of expression.
"Listen, Bitch, I am not your toy. If you touch me one more time, I am going to sue you for harassment and defamation." Then without even looking at her, Kiyoi turned around and headed back to finish the gig. He hadn't grown up, alone, in the entertainment district for nothing.
She screamed, "I'll tell everyone you're gay! You can't do this!"
Kiyoi held up his phone, which had recorded the whole interaction, and waved it over his head. "Thanks, I now have proof for the courts." He laughed as her screams probably woke up her ancestors three times removed. He sighed softly as he slipped his phone back into the small inner pocket of the leather jacket. All those years of fending off unwanted advances had finally paid off.
Pursing his lips tightly, he made a decision. It was time to change managers, even if if he couldn't change agencies yet. He needed someone professional in his corner, someone who was a friend. A friend like Aoshima... fuck, when did Aoshima become close enough to be counted as a friend?
~~~~~~~~~~
The Photography Club called an emergency meeting and did not notify Hira. Kayama looked at the five seniors and sighed as he sat down. "Am I in trouble?"
The Club President gave a small bow. "No, Kayama, you're not in trouble. We are here to brainstorm about what to do concerning Hira. I believe you have information that we need." He leaned back, crossing his legs.
Another senior, one Kayama could never remember his name, picked up a coffee, and took a sip. "The President believes that Hira is a genius. Is he?"
Kayama coughed, covering his mouth. He had never considered Hira as one, but he could be. "Well, he does have a perfect GPA, if that's what you want to know, and I've never seen him doing homework, like other juniors."
Glances were exchanged among the group before the President spoke again. "Hira will never tell us, Kayama, and we want to help him. Why are you keeping his secret?"
Head bowed, feeling even more guilty, Kayama whispered, "Because I found out from snooping. Hira didn't tell me either. His life could be so easy if he actually admitted to having a disability. I don't know why he won't." He shrugged, a helpless one. "I don't understand it, this disability. I researched it, but I don't understand it."
"What is it?" "Tell us?" So many spoke at once, until the Club President raised his hand and finally order was restored.
"Kayama? Since you know, tell us. We can help carry the burden, at least." It was gentle, understanding.
Taking a deep breath, almost the same way he confessed to his brother, Kayama blurted, "Asperger's Syndrome" Everyone but the Club President now had a blank look on his face.
Nodding, the President sighed. "I thought he might be a high functioning autistic. He must have slipped through the cracks in the system for a long time. With the right preparation, we might actually be able to find him a job in photography."
"He's destroyed, shattered, Senior. He's not interested in anything anymore. He fell in love in high school and I did something stupid. Now, he has a broken heart. His camera is gathering dust."
Shrugging, the Senior laughed. "So we fix his mangled heart. It only proves that even if he has no interest in most things, he has in something. Hira found his muse."
"Muse?" Kayama rolled the word over his tongue. "Muse." Repeating it, he nodded. "Yes, Senior, it fits."
"Then we need our broken hearted savant, Kayama. We found a contest for Hira, and we already entered him. He has six weeks to take the picture." The look on the Club President's face made Kayama's heart stutter. He blinked and turned his back, stopping when a hand landed on his shoulder. "You know where he is. Lead the way."
Kayama shook free and took off at a fast pace. He didn't turn around to see if he was being followed. He had to figure out what this new feeling was.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira rolled his shoulders, then started on simple neck exercises, to loosen his tense muscles. He hadn't said a single word in three, maybe four days, not even to himself. He missed his weekly awkward phone call with his parents, something that had only happened three times in the past four years.
He drew in a deep breath, still feeling tense, knowing something was going to happen... then decided to hell with it. Home was safer than the library. His work was done. He was here to stalk Kiyoi anyway, and for that, he was better off NOT doing it.
Decision made, he slid his books into his bag and stood up, head down and walked right into Kayama and the Club President. He felt... nothing. Hira stopped, and backed up, giving in to his need for personal space, dropping into a comfortable waiting stance.
"Hira." The Senior greeted him blandly, while Kayama gave a small nod. Hira noticed that Kayama stood several paces behind the Club President. Very unusual. He filed it in the back of his mind, for later use, if necessary. He gave a slight nod in response.
The president reached into his backpack and pulled out a paper and held it out. Hira blinked. They stayed like this for a few minutes, neither moving until the senior had enough, thrusting the paper into Hira's chest and holding it there. "YOU will take the picture, Hira, as a representative of the Photography Club. No choice. Kayama does not have the skill as a junior to win, while we believe you do. Six weeks."
Hira's hand slowly took the paper and he sighed, while nodding. The senior gave a nod too, turning and grabbing Kayama's wrist at the same time, dragging him behind him.
Alone again, Hira sank down into the first empty chair he found, and looked at the paper the Club President had given him. It was a contest, as stated, for first and second year students, for portraiture. He groaned.
He had no subject without Kiyoi! He couldn't take a photograph of anyone else other than his god, and he had royally fucked up whatever chance they had of ever being together. His hand slowly crumpled the flyer until it was in a tight ball. Hira stood up, shoving the flyer into his pocket. He needed time to think.
~~~~~~~~~~
Thinking was all Kiyoi had done since the fan meet at the mall. Had Hira come to see him? Was it a coincidence? If Hira made the first move, shouldn't he make the next? But if it was coincidence, then if he made the first move, and Hira wasn't going to talk to him...
"Oh fuck this, I don't know what to do!" Kiyoi muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "Love sucks."
Iruma dropped down beside him, crossing his legs. "Does it? Tell me, Kiyoi, are you in love with someone? Is that why there's a lot more emotion in your acting these days?"
Kiyoi looked over at the director, eyes almost black. His jaw was tense, "I don't know what I feel, if you want the honest truth."
Shrugging, Iruma laughed. "I'm not criticizing or digging for information, Kiyoi. I want to tell you how much your acting has improved in the past month. Whatever is going on in your personal life has made your professional life better. At this rate, your not going to stay in these little plays for very long." He reached over and patted his shoulder.
"I don't think you'll listen to this old man," Iruma stretched and closed his eyes, leaning back. "Kiyoi, you are going to go places, if you manage to hold on to the muse you have right now. Whatever, or whoever it is that brings out this depth of emotions in you, it's important." He sighed and opening his eyes, took careful note of Kiyoi's face.
With fatherly affection, he patted Kiyoi's shoulder. "I have put aside two tickets for you for opening night. Give them to your muse." He pushed himself to stand up, groaning. "It's a pity youth is wasted on the young."
"Iruma?" Kiyoi called, "What happens if my muse and I are self destructive together?"
"Are you sure that's what's going on? You're positive you have tried every method of communication?" Iruma shrugged. "Talking isn't the only form. You can dance, draw, take a picture... There is more than one form of saying I love you, and more than one way to say I hate you. It's up to you figure out the way that works for you, not the way society says it should be."
Chapter 17
Hira stared at his phone and pressed contacts, scrolling until he found Kiyoi's name. He wrote a a text message and deleted it. Wrote a new one, and deleted that one too. From the safety of his small single bed, he yelled, loudly, "I can't do this! I am not good enough!"
But you want to see him again. You're brave, do it!
"Shut up! Shut up! You still don't know what you did wrong!" Hira screamed, rolling around, wrapping the blanket around himself. He could feel the episode coming on, not knowing how to prevent it. He tried to calm himself, breathing deeply. "I can't do this!"
A tear slipped down his face as he rolled around, and the blanket bound his arms tighter, knocking the phone out of his hand. Hira was too far into the episode now to notice, the need to let go of the stress and pain of the past few weeks far more important.
He rolled over the cellphone, unnoticed, and since it was left on Kiyoi's contact information, pocket dialed him. The vocalization by then had stopped and he was now at the loud moaning and crying.
"Hello? Hira?" Kiyoi's voice was loud, but Hira hear nothing. "Hira? Hira, are you alright? Do you need me?"
Violently rolling now, through the phone, Kiyoi heard the loud thump as Hira rolled off the bed. "Fuck, Hira, what is going on over there? I'm coming over."
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi's heart almost stopped, hearing Hira making those sounds and then the thump. When he never answered him, his brain stopped functioning. He had to help. Somehow.
His toe tapped impatiently at the train station, irritating other people. He was too caught up in his imagination, worrying about Hira, to notice the glances of others. Not that he cared. He hadn't cared what others thought of him in years.
He drew in deep calming breaths, as he stepped on the train. Only one thing mattered now: Hira. He had to be alright... he had to be. Time dragged until the Kiyoi reached the right stop, and then he felt his heart begin to beat faster.
Once out of the station, he ran all the way to the house. He pushed open the gate, and tried the door. It was locked. He moved over to the keypad and said a small prayer, sliding up the cover, entered the passcode he'd learned in high school. His head bowed with relief when the door beeped, allowing him entry.
"For once, Hira, I'm not going to say a damn thing about your love of routine!" He slid off his shoes, pushed open the door and entered, heading straight for the bedroom.
He stopped short, at the entrance and stared. "Oh fuck me, Hira." Kiyoi's sudden intake of breath was loud in the quiet room. "Will you please explain what the fuck is going on?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira was coming out of another episode. Hot and sweaty, he unwrapped himself from the tangle of blankets, unsure of how he ended up on the floor but that didn't really matter. His head hurt, as did his throat.
On his knees, he pulled off his sweat soaked shirt, and threw it on top of his blanket. It was now dirty laundry. He glanced at the bed and sighed. Change the sheets now, or after his shower?
After! Shower was a priority. So lost in his thoughts, he heard nothing until Kiyoi spoke.
The sight of his god dried out his mouth. Hira suddenly wanted his bottom lip... tasting it. He licked his own lips, wetting them, as Kiyoi demanded an explanation.
"I can't." Hira shrugged. "I don't know what I did wrong. Then there is the stress. That's it, maybe." He raised a hand and scratched an itch on his chest, drawing attention to the fact he wasn't wearing a shirt.
Kiyoi couldn't take his eyes off of Hira's chest. He wanted to demand he put a shirt on. Instead, he bit the inside of his mouth. "What the fuck are you talking about now? What did you do wrong, Hira?" This was like talking to a child!
It was too much for Hira, after his temper tantrum. He needed Kiyoi and he was here. He didn't even know why he came, and he was here! "You, you fucker! I needed you a.aaaa..aand you left without ee.e.even touching me! I don't even know ww.www.what I did wrong! I know you liked it!" Hira bowed his head, refusing to look up.
There was a loud thud. Hira didn't move. He was filled with shock and embarrassment for yelling at his god, his love: swearing at him.
"Hira? You wanted me to do the same thing to you, that day?" Kiyoi's voice was small, soft and gentle. "All you had to do was tell me. I wanted you to tell me." Hira, look at me! Please, raise your head and look at me!
"I waited, but you left. You said you didn't want me anymore. I can't take pictures of anyone else and I need to. I don't want anyone else." Hira breathed out. "I like you but you don't like me."
Hira flew back on to the pile of dirty laundry as Kiyoi suddenly launched himself at him, pressing a hard firm kiss on his lips. "Does that feel like I don't want you?" He snarled, angry at himself. "Hira, I don't know why I keep misunderstanding everything you say, or do, but damn it, I want you so bad, it fucking hurts, inside."
Slow Hira wasn't very lethargic once he heard this. "It hurts inside me, too, Kiyoi. I don't like that pain. Can you make it stop?" As he asked this question, he flipped Kiyoi to snuggle in the pile, and straddled his thighs, taking the dominant position. Their eyes met and held. Kiyoi sighed, realizing that where he felt the safest was in Hira's arms, between his legs.
It dawned on him that Hira would always protect him, no matter what happened!
"Tonight, Hira," Almost shyly, Kiyoi whispered, "Let's take care of each other." His hand slipped down his bare chest, to the top of his jeans, and he carefully undid the single button. A tiny smile grew, listening to Hira groan as he inched it along the bare skin, following the trail of hair, leading toward the prize. Using his core muscles he leaned upwards and nibbled on Hira's collarbone.
Hira fell forward, landing on his elbows, leaving only a few inches between them. "Naked?"
"You, yes." Kiyoi agreed, "Me. No." He laughed at the expression that creeped across Hira's face. "You move too fast. I want to try what I missed the last time, Hira before you touch me. I can't think when you touch me." Why did he admit that? He ran his hands across his bare chest, barely touching the nipples and Hira's eyes widened as sensations flooded his body. He twitched, hips thrusting.
Kiyoi slid his hands around to Hira's full butt cheeks and cupped them. "Can I undress you?" He waited, praying that it was a yes. Hira's forehead touched his own.
"Did it feel like your insides were going to explode? Did I...I.. make you feel that way?" Hira's puffed out, as he tried to breath through the feelings. He squirmed, and Kiyoi threw back his head, exposing his beating pulse at his neck. Hira's eyes locked on it. "I do... did?"
"Fuck, Hira!" Kiyoi pushed at him, but it was a feeble attempt. "Stand up and take off your pants. I need to see. I want to see..." He closed his eyes, fighting for control. Hira still hadn't said yes, damn it. "Or do you want me to undress you?" He felt cold as the air currents moved.
"Open your eyes." It was said with authority. This was the rare Hira, the one he'd only seen glimpses of. Kiyoi slowly opened them and his jaw dropped. This was a proud man who stood in front of him, with nothing on. His hand slowly touched himself, accenting the fact that he was excited.
His heart beat fast, his mouth parted slightly. It was as if he was presented with the tastiest meal, one he'd been denied for years, and told, 'Eat.' Kiyoi didn't know where to begin. He opened his eyes and sighed. Why was he the one who felt shy and nervous? "Hira, can I touch you?" He repeated, softer now.
Giving a small laugh, Hira shrugged. "Do you want to?" He slowly ran his hand up and down his member, finally, he met Kiyoi's eyes, carefully studying the look on his face. "You like this?"
Kiyoi was jolted into action. Hira was not going to jerk off when he wanted to touch his cock! Never! It was for him. He moved to his knees and looked up the length of his body. "Hira?"
"Yes?" His hand never stopped moving, as he stared at Kiyoi's face. "Yes, Kiyoi?"
"Can I touch you?" Hira cocked his head, looking puzzled, then slowly nodded. Wasn't that why he got undressed? Kiyoi blew out his breath and licked his dry lips again. "Thank god." He pulled him by the hips and pressed a kiss on his belly, just below his navel.
Hira shivered at the touch. Small quivers started that point and radiated warmth throughout his body. His hands fell from his member and he stood still, looking down at Kiyoi's head. It now felt like Kiyoi had many hands, as they touched different parts of his body. He reached as high as he could go, to his nipples, and almost to his shoulders, around to his back, grasping his rounded buttocks, pulling him forward to taste the tip of his member.
His legs felt like jelly, and he put his hands on the only thing that was available to hold him up: Kiyoi. Hira's legs were spread wide, giving full access, his hands braced on his shoulders, and he closed his eyes, finally giving into the sensations drifting through his body.
Only for a little while... until Hira realized, This is the man I worship, my god, my love, on his knees, giving me head! I can't miss a single moment! I must remember it! He opened his eyes, and stared down the length of his body, noticing that Kiyoi's longer hair interrupted his view. One hand moved first, a simple caress along the length of his jaw, to sweep his hair off his face and buried it there, holding it firmly back.
It buried Kiyoi's mouth deeper on his member, and his startled eyes met his, and they locked. Hira's legs trembled as he felt his breath puff across the sensitive skin. "Fuck, you're beautiful, Kiyoi. You're my beautiful man. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, light and dark, covered in shadows."
Hira's other hand slipped along the other side of Kiyoi's face, gently smoothing the skin. Kiyoi shivered and pulled back slightly but not off his member. His tongue teased the tip, running across and under. He could feel the veins throbbing, the tremble in Hira's legs. His own body tingled.
Who knew that giving a blowjob was so damn erotic? Kiyoi looked up Hira's long, sturdy body and felt a sudden shyness flood his body. His long fingers tickled his scalp, and once their eyes met, Hira thrust deep inside his mouth, scraping against his teeth. He tried to open wider, but Hira didn't give him time, holding his head still, he thrust again, and again.
"Where, Kiyoi? Where?" Hira grunted. Kiyoi shook his head, not understanding. With a loud grunt, Hira did as he'd always fantasized, and shot deep inside the warmest place he knew: Kiyoi's mouth.
His first time... Kiyoi gagged and coughed, spitting out the seed. Hira dropped to his knees, ashamed of himself. He gathered up Kiyoi and held him, gently. He kissed him softly, whispering nonsense.
It wasn't nonsense. It was the same apology over and over, from when he was a child, learning to speak and he'd upset his parents, from before he'd mastered language.
Hira had now accepted Kiyoi into his heart, into his world.
Chapter 18
Coughing, gagging... then came a lot of soft kisses peppered all over his face, and a steady stream of garbage. "Hira?" Kiyoi coughed, his throat still sore.
Hira glanced at him, his eyes dark and clear. He licked his lips, staring very boldly, for Hira.
As before, the change in Hira surprised Kiyoi. Even if it was he who performed, it was clearly Hira in charge. How could he be so dominating, with his personality? Not that he minded... it just made him feel shy, awkward... loved.
The stare intensified, as Kiyoi wiped his chin, and he tried to pull away, but it was Hira's words that stopped him. "I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You're beautiful, Kiyoi." His heart almost stopped beating. He'd never seen that look in Hira's eyes before.
So bold, so clear, as if they saw past his outer beauty, right inside him, to his soul. No wonder he took the best pictures of him. Hira didn't SEE his face, he saw only his soul. The one he hid, to be safe. He saw all the hurt, the hard work.
Silenced, Kiyoi looked at the ground. It was a mistake. Gentle Hira placed his fingers beneath his chin and tipped it up, forcing him to meet his eyes again, and crushed his lips beneath his, mingling their taste. He moaned, his desire now on fire. "Hira, I..."
"Mm. Mine." Hira slid his hands under Kiyoi's shirt, not bothering with any fasteners, and pushed it over his head, trapping his arms behind his back. He caught Kiyoi's gaze once more. "Mine, Kiyoi. No run away, this time."
Locked by that intense gaze, the touch of his warm hands, Kiyoi nodded. There could be no more running. He had craved this for years. Hira had owned him, with those eyes, for years, even if he didn't understand it. He watched his lips slowly descend, capturing his, before closing his own.
Even with his arms bound and helpless, Kiyoi didn't feel that way. Hira was only gentle, careful, cherishing him with every movement. He moaned, wanting more, needing more. When the kiss broke, leaving them gasping for air, "Hira, not again. I don't want this again. I have to touch you too."
His lips so swollen from kissing him, Kiyoi watched as Hira actually bit his bottom lip before speaking. "I... am scared, Kiyoi. I don't know if I will be able to control myself. What happens if I hurt you?" Staring at the passion dark eyes, Kiyoi knew his answer had to be the right one or it was over, and Hira wouldn't even consider it running, even if HE did.
Carefully, he licked his suddenly dry mouth, more scared than any other time in his life. He'd never felt more vulnerable or exposed, and that included when the other classmates found out he was entered in an Idol Contest. Taking a deep breath, Kiyoi whispered, "Hira, how much more can you hurt me? Physical pain is nothing compared to mental anguish. I want you. I want this."
With a nod, Hira slipped off his shirt all the way, reached down and undid his jeans, lifting his hips. "No regret?" His eyes, so black and full of questions he was scared of, questioned Kiyoi.
Kiyoi replied with his body, lifting his hips and pushing his off jeans himself. Together, both of them reached for his underwear. Kiyoi wasn't sure who was had the cold hands, but he shivered, as his briefs slid down his legs. Finally naked, exposed to his view, his arms wrapped around Hira and drew him back, kissing him deeply.
~~~~~~~~~~
It didn't matter how much he'd fantasized about this actual moment. It didn't matter if he watched porn, reality was different. Each little sound Kiyoi made, spurred him on, made him hotter, made his blood sing. Hira wanted to run his tongue over every inch, tasting his beautiful skin, hearing all of his moans.
It hadn't occurred to him, not once, that Kiyoi would be the same. When he pressed his lips against his pulse, sucking, Kiyoi licked. He almost lost his mind, unable to concentrate. As he moved down his body, paying close attention to his sensitive nipples, again, Kiyoi returned the favour by playing with his own nipples, tweaking and twirling them.
How could he stop his groan into Kiyoi's chest? He couldn't. His head fell against it, breathing deeply. Quickly, his tongue drew a swift line down to a very erect member, and Kiyoi's hands buried themselves into Hira's hair, pulling his head up, stopping him. Hira's eyes met his, only then noticing that he was indicating 'no'.
"No?" Hira whined, feeling like a boy, deprived of a favourite toy or candy. "Why?"
"Not like this, again, Hira. Together." Kiyoi quickly repositioned his body, swinging himself into the classic 69 position. Hira now understood, when warmth touched him, and he fell to the bed, on his side.
Kiyoi simply adjusted his leg, exposing himself, waiting for Hira. Hira suddenly realized this was it. Kiyoi had meant it, as did he, when 'all the way' was verbalized. Slowly, he slid his mouth around the softly bobbing member in front of his face and slid down until his lips touched skin, hair tickled his nose.
He heard Kiyoi cough, and he thrust his hips as he drew up. He had no control over it. Something in his mouth, something around his member... he'd never fantasized anything could feel like this! Fighting to maintain control, he wondered if he could go further. He took a finger and rubbed the sensitive spot between the flower and ball sack.
Hira's member now felt lonely, as it dropped out of Kiyoi's mouth, forgotten, as his head fell back, moaning loudly, almost screaming. "Fuck, Hira, what the hell are you doing?"
Ignoring him, Hira decided if his finger got this response, what would his tongue do? A loud pop and Kiyoi's member was free. Hira pushed Kiyoi to lay flat on his back, slinging his legs, bent at the knees over his shoulders. "Kiyoi, if you don't like it, stop me." His eyes looked like shiny black diamonds.
"Hira..." Kiyoi's back arched as Hira's tongue swiped between his cheeks and up the length of his member, but never sucked. "Oh damn, Hira!"
Repeating the motion, Hira noticed that his flower was contracting every time his tongue swept over, so he swept his tongue faster and faster, noticing how the flower contracted each time it touched. His hands clenched tightly in Kiyoi's cheeks, pulling them apart, giving him more room.
"Fuck, Hira..." It was so low, repeated between rapid breathing, if he wasn't listening, Hira would have missed it.
His body said he wanted it. But Kiyoi said not like this, confused, Hira stopped. "Kiyoi? What should I do? I don't understand..."
~~~~~~~~~~
Pushing Hira away from him, Kiyoi sat up. "You can do whatever you want, Hira. Just talk to me, tell me what you are doing." Why did he feel so vulnerable? Embarrassed? Was this how it always was when you were in love? "I..."
Hira stopped him from speaking with a kiss, proficiently sliding in his tongue and thoroughly taking control of the kiss. Kiyoi didn't even bother to stop the low sounds that came from deep within, especially as his hands began to explore with his body once more. Once they were both breathless, he whispered softly, "Your ear is next."
"This isn't what I... fuck, Hira!" Was his earlobe always this sensitive? He moaned loudly, as his tongue swirled gently across the surface of his ear before he bit the lobe and tugged, then moved to the skin behind and sucked. His breath on the damp skin sent shivers throughout his whole body. "Hiiiirrraaaaaaa!"
"If you want me to stop, say no." Hira repeated, while trailing his tongue down to his neck. "All the way, this time."
Kiyoi used what little strength he had and inserted some space between them. "All the way, Hira? Tonight, we become one?" For some reason, he needed the comfort that his understanding would give. He watched as his flush deepened from arousal to shyness.
"Unless you say no, I won't stop." Eyes darker than a coal looked back at him. So dark he was drowning in their depths. Even now, his hands were not still, moving slowly in small circles on his upper thighs, as he waited.
"Hira," His own colour was high now, as he wondered how to put his feelings into words. "I need to make you feel how I feel. I don't know how to do that. You give and don't take enough." He waved his hands, to show that he meant the sex, "Should be about both of us."
"Do you want to be inside me?" Kiyoi's eyes dropped, once more shocked at Hira's bluntness. That wasn't what he meant. "I need to see you, when I am there, you know." Hira continued. "I have dreamed about it."
The blackness of his eyes changed, from coal black, to glittering diamond. "I fantasized, I masturbated to it, to how beautiful you would be." Hira's tongue flicked out, wetting his dry lips. "Imagining every scenario that I could, on how you would fall apart in the most spectacular moment drove me crazy, since I knew I could never capture it on film."
Hira then crept a little closer. Kiyoi licked his own lips, dry like the desert, held silent by his monologue. It was the longest speech he'd ever heard him say.
"I never want anyone else to see you naked. I don't want anyone else to hear these special little sounds. I am a selfish man, Kiyoi. I can share you, through your acting career. and CF's but I will not share any other part of you. It's mine. From our past to our future, it's all mine." Hira's hand suddenly was on Kiyoi's chest and he pushed him flat.
Kiyoi blinked and looked up at him. "Hira, I..."
"I'm not finished. I will love only you. I don't understand that piece of paper, it's too new. But I know me, and I don't let go of things I love, so don't start something if you will leave me, Kiyoi." Hira met his gaze now, and held it. "All you have to do is say no."
~~~~~~~~~~
He said it all. Everything. It wasn't the right time, or the right place and he even knew it was wrong not to give Kiyoi the chance to answer, but fuck all of that. They had waited too damn long for this.
While their gaze was interlocked, Hira slung one leg over his shoulder, moved his body in between his legs and leaned forward and kissed him. Briefly. "I'm going to jerk you." Literal Hira... Gently he took his member and slid it in his hand, rubbing his thumb across the tip. "Put your other leg on my shoulder, Kiyoi."
Fuck, he wanted his camera... the sight in front of him was so beautiful! Kiyoi's head turned to the side, both hands wrapped in his sheets, his body fully aroused and marked by him.
"I wish I could take your picture, Kiyoi. You're beautiful. You're my beautiful man."
Chapter 19
That statement, combined with the slow hand job, was... well, he didn't know how to react. It was Hira, though. Something only Hira would say and do. He felt lazy, contented but at the same time, less of a man for NOT doing something. His body was doing all of the reacting while his mind... his mind urged him to "let it go and feel."
"Fuck it..." Kiyoi moaned. "Hira?" He couldn't stop him, he loved him, he waited for this. It almost killed him the last time.
"Mm?" Why did his body arch into his hands, when they stilled? Why did he feel cold, empty... alone? "Kiyoi? What is it?"
As he still didn't speak up, Hira made to sit back, and swiftly, Kiyoi wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down to his chest, legs slipping from his shoulders. Now, clasped tightly together, he could feel the tremors of self control that emanated from Hira.
Hira had no more control over what was going on than he did! The idea made him feel much better, relaxed... and only increased his love for him. "Tell me, Hira. Say it aloud." Kiyoi needed to hear it. Gone were the feelings of was this masculine or not, he just needed to hear those three words.
A devilish look appeared on Hira's face. It sent shivers down Kiyoi's spine. His eyes were back to being pieces of coal. "You are beautiful?" Kiyoi shook his head. "No? Hm?" His hand ran down his bare skin to the very hard, very erect member leaking gently. "May I?"
Kiyoi shook his head, "No, not until you say it, Hira." He watched as Hira pouted, licking his lips. Who was this man, teasing him? With one jerk, Hira pulled his legs straight and straddled them, moving his own erect member to rub next to his own.
Kiyoi watched, fascinated, at the two barely touching members. His was slightly longer, thinner, while Hira's was twice as thick and barely shorter, and darker in color. He was also cut, so the tip shone, so smooth, soft like velvet, this he knew already. For his to do that, he had to slide the skin aside and it could hurt. It never occurred to him, to even compare them, but in the here and now, it was impossible not to.
He reached down and held them, his eyes firmly fixed on Hira's face. If Hira could tease him, why couldn't he do the same? Those coal black eyes locked with his, as Hira arched his back, his thighs firmly gripping his own tightly, so tight, they ached from his added weight. His adam's apple bobbed gently, as Kiyoi watched him swallow. "Say it, Hira." He groaned, as the damn man slid forward in his grasp.
"You are beautiful, Kiyoi and I love you." Hira fell forward, trapping his hands between them. He was thoroughly kissed, until he couldn't think, from the tongue sweeps and the hip movements that propelled their linked members between his hands. "I want to you to see yourself through my eyes..."
Fuck, Hira owned him, body and soul, Kiyoi knew that. Now. He felt his last defense crumble and his walls fade away, the minute Hira slid off his body. There was no resistance when his legs were lifted again, and he buried his face between his legs, only sounds.
This time, instead of his hands clutching in the sheets, or blankets, Kiyoi reached for Hira, and marked his body, laid claim to him.
This time, after he was sated, and covered in the proof, Hira asked once more, "All the way?" Since without him, Kiyoi felt empty, hollow. There was only one way to find out if this was the way to fill it.
"All the way, Hira. Fuck me." Why did finally saying it aloud feel so dirty? Kiyoi shivered, when his eyes flashed. It wasn't as if Hira hadn't seen or touched, every possible part of his nude body so far tonight, including where the final destination was, so why did he look at him that way?
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira's First Person POV
My butt cheeks clenched tight when he finally talked dirty! Oh to all the different gods out there, thank you! The beautiful man talking dirty to me was always part of my fantasy...
I want to hear him screaming at me to fuck him harder, to take it deeper. I love his moans, and little sounds, but I want to hear him TALKING, telling me what he wants, with the worst possible words. I don't know why, maybe because I have thought of Kiyoi as a god for so long, and to me, he looks like an angel.
When we actually fuck, I want a fallen angel. I want someone who's nasty, who can let go and have fun, who's fantasized as much as I have.
Even if the only kink I ever really focused on is talking dirty...
Even if I can't say it verbally, I can say it with my body. I can let Kiyoi know I love him, all of him.
I'm not sure why he's looking at me like that, but I will change it, I will make sure he's making all those small sounds, those little moans and groans, where he sinks his hands into me. I want him to watch me, as I take possession of him.
Carefully, I finish the preparations I started, between his legs. It's so messy, and wet, but it's not the right type. I understand, theoretically, how painful. I researched, and researched, knowing I had to be careful. I reach over for the lube and watch how his flower contracts, how his eyes close, and when they open again, his pupils are large and dark, none of his softer brown show.
Slowly, I slip one finger in, lifting his hips higher, hoping I have the angle right. I pull him high on my thighs. sliding my feet out to the sides. I love looking down his body, watching his abdomen contract as he fights for control. I want him to stop, go with the flow and just ride out every sensation. I stop, each time he contracts around my finger.
When it's easy, I increase to two, then three and I never take my fingers out, not completely, but always watching, waiting until it's easy. My other hand runs aimlessly over his skin, noting the different textures, how the hair on his thighs is rougher, worn away from his clothes, how his chest is hairless...
Tangling my fingers in the hair that surrounds his member and gently tugging, noticing he's getting hard again. "Play with yourself." When did my voice get so deep?
I watch as he grabs his member and distracted, I thrust my fingers deeper than I had gone before, until the look on Kiyoi's face changes, to one that I've seen before. I don't know what he's feeling, really, but I know it must be good. His eyes have drifted closed, and the small sounds that are emanating from his throat, change.
Now, I think, as I take a condom, tearing it open with my teeth. My fingers shake, and I drop it, trying to get it on. It's slippery, so unexpected. I should have practiced! Why am I thinking of that now? Finally, it's on, and I move to my knees, my hands are on his hips, our chests are practically touching.
"Kiyoi, look at me." My voice is husky, still deeper than normal. His eyes open and meet mine, and I thrust it in, while Kiyoi stares deeply. His mouth parts, I'm positive it's to scream in pain. I don't want to hear it. I can't hear that I have caused him any pain... so I kiss him, but it's not really a kiss, just covering his mouth with mine.
I'm almost overwhelmed with the way he feels. So tight, so warm, pulsing around me. Everything I read said don't move immediately, give the body time to adjust. I can't! It's too new, too thrilling. I'm trembling, holding my body above Kiyoi's, when his fingers dig into my shoulders, nails leaving deep scratches.
His teeth bite my bottom lip and I pull back. "Move, you fucker, just move!" He groans, loudly. "How long are you going to make me wait, asshole!" He's screaming by the last word.
Relief floods my body, and I pull out and thrust, as hard as I can, deep inside, pulling him closer, over and over, watching his eyes flutter and roll. I feel the sweat building between my shoulder blades, on my forehead, but I see it, the shine on his forehead, the dampness in Kiyoi's hair, how he's tossing his head side to side.
I'm loosing control, I can't concentrate on exactly what he's mumbling. I'm lost in what I am feeling, as I thrust. I know there are other positions but right now, I don't care. Right now, I am taking what I need. "Fuck, Kiyoi," I say, not realizing I'm shouting, "You're fucking beautiful and you're fucking mine! You understand? You are mine now!"
With one last thrust, I collapse on top of him, panting. I feel his tongue, licking my shoulder. I hear him whisper, "I'm sorry, Hira, so sorry. I didn't mean too."
I glance up, and he's red. Did he not enjoy it?
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi had no idea that Hira could be so dominant. Or that he would be submissive, but if it worked, it worked. What did surprise him was the trails of blood dripping from Hira's shoulders. He didn't know his nails, neatly trimmed would DO that!
How could he face him, after this? Especially with the way the room smelled, heavy with scent of pleasure? He was dying from embarrassment. Reaching for the duvet, or sheet, anything to cover his nudity, he tried to leave. "I'm going to shower." He needed to wash the sticky come off his body. Maybe without the scent that lingered, he would be able to think, but he couldn't right now, not with the various tastes that lingered in his mouth.
He should have known better. He should have known that once you tell Hira, 'no more running', it really was no more running, big or small situations, embarrassed or not.
The heat that rose from his body, as the nude Hira pulled him back, spent condom hanging freely, bluntly asking him, "Why?" Kiyoi hated those why's. Hira put too much intonation into those why's, making a multiple different meanings, leaving it up to you to figure out which was the question but in this case, he knew the right question.
Why are you running away? Why are you sorry? He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to talk himself into telling the truth. As Kiyoi gave himself a much needed pep talk, Hira stole this thunder.
"Kiyoi, I'm not like you. I like pain, but I will never let anyone hurt you."
Chapter 20
What the fuck did that mean? Kiyoi stiffened, the afterglow fading quickly. What the fuck did Hira mean by he liked pain? "Hira, I don't understand." He struggled to sit up, but Hira held him firmly. In fact, he was positive the hold Hira had now, was even tighter than before! "Hira!" Oh fucking hell, why did that sound like a god damn moan?
He heard, from Hira's chest, more than his voice, the deep rumble. "Kiyoi, what do you think loving some is?"
His heart stumbled, his breathing stilled. There was that damn side of Hira again, the one which scared him, it was deeper than the ocean. "Hira?" He felt the rise and fall of even breathing, as his arms relaxed but not tight enough for any space between their nude bodies. He shifted and stilled, as he felt Hira begin to harden.
Already??? Fuck! Distracted, he almost missed what Hira said.
"I loved you the moment I looked into your eyes, Kiyoi. You blessed me, you see, save me from that god awful introduction at the start of our final year." His hand kept caressing his bare back. He shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from arousal. Who knew?
"I always knew it was going to be one sided, so I never saw anything else. It never even occurred to me that someone could love me, want to be with me. I'd been abandoned too often, hurt too much." Hira was only stating facts, nothing more. "I had no friends."
Kiyoi closed his eyes against the tears that formed. He knew how that felt, too well. Surrounded by acquaintances, always used, then dropped the moment he moved. The loneliest pretty boy in Tokyo. His nails dug into Hira's flanks, not liking to remember those times.
"I never minded being teased by those boys, or being the runner for the others, because I spent more time with YOU!" Hira paused, knowing it was time to talk. Kiyoi was his heart. "Then, you told me to keep the change, and wouldn't let anyone else outside your friend group use me. I put you on a pedestal, Kiyoi. Now, I understand."
He felt Hira drop his head on his shoulder, his hands caressing his chest, roaming freely, such a light touch, distracting from the constant rumble of his voice. "It's that damn piece of paper, you know. That A..a...s.s.s.sperger's thing. I know you know. Did you look it up?"
Kiyoi gave a slight nod. Hira sighed. "Good, then I don't have to say anything. I haven't practiced the words. I wouldn't say them right. H...h..hyper focus." English was easier than Japanese for some words, but Hira still stumbled. "I'm not a genius, that way, even if my IQ is high, I just focus, and the two things I needed were my camera and you."
"My camera stopped people from seeing me." Why was his hand doing that? Kiyoi shivered as his hand stopped at his belly button, his index finger drawing circles, taking part of his attention away from his words. He'd heard this before, said in different words. "You were a god, but not. You were touchable and not. Still, for someone like me, completely unreachable. So I put you on a pedestal and just worshipped." His finger, drawing those small circles, dipping in and out, caused his belly to contract, and his abs to appear.
"HIra, what are you trying to say?" Kiyoi shifted, and now he knew for sure. Hira was hard as stone. His member, with it's wet tip, rubbed against his thigh. He suppressed his moan and curiosity at the same time.
A slight shrug, which was clearly conveyed. "It's simple. I will eat all the pain, Kiyoi, so you don't have to. I will bear all the marks on my body, proudly, because you gave them to me." Now, Hira swung Kiyoi to face him. "Together, we will learn from each other, no matter how long it takes, because I love you, beautiful."
"Stop calling me beautiful!" Kiyoi punched him lightly, his face blushing. He couldn't look him in his eyes, so black they were. Now, in this position, he couldn't avoid the fact that Hira was hard again and he was staring directly at it.
"I can't." Simple Hira, blunt and bold. "I also can't help that." Hira reached over and gently took Kiyoi's hand and holding it, placed it on his member. "I want you. Can we?"
Like a smaller, burrowing animal, Kiyoi hid his head in Hira's armpit, the scent of sweat almost overwhelming. "Now? But..."
"No?" The disappointment was clear in his voice, as was the way his chest heaved. His hand dropped away but Kiyoi's didn't.
"Well, I mean..." Kiyoi wasn't sure why his bottom clenched at the thought of being with Hira again. The whole idea of being with him was still new, and look at his back and shoulders. Hira should be mad about the scratches! He drew blood! He shivered and squeezed, and the member slid in his hand. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet those coal black eyes. Yup, desire. "What do you need?"
"Everything, anything, all of what you can give. I want it all, Kiyoi." Serious Hira. Dependable Hira, the man who would be there for him. Slowly, Kiyoi kept a tight hold on his member, and carefully, slid himself over it. He draped his arms over his shoulders as he sunk down, unable to stop the moan that escaped.
It felt different than before. Deeper, fuller... He moved his hands over and pulled Hira's forward, raising his lips for a kiss. As Hira met his demand, Kiyoi began a slow rocking movement with his hips, very slowly. It didn't feel right.
Without breaking the wee soft kisses, Hira put his hands on Kiyoi's hips and began to guide him. First in small circles, then helping him to move up and down. Kiyoi smacked his shoulders, breaking the kiss. "My turn, Hira. Stop that."
Hira nodded, moving his hands to Kiyoi's waist. "Go." Kiyoi pushed him flat, so he would not interfere, thought they both knew that it wouldn't stop him if he really wanted. Kiyoi now knew what he liked, but not what felt good for him.
Using his core muscles, combined with his legs, he looked at Hira and boldly stated, "I'm going to ride you now." A weird look crossed his face but Kiyoi didn't comment, only moved. He groaned as he found the spot that made HIM feel good. "Fuck, Hira, why didn't you find this spot?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira glanced up at the man on him, hair again full of sweat, glazed look on his face. Did he realize he just issued a challenge... With one smooth move, Kiyoi was on his back, still connected. Now, Hira slipped his hand around his partially hard member and jerked, while spreading his legs wide.
He slowly moved, pulling far out and thrusting in deep, and repeating, paying attention to each sound, and look on Kiyoi's face. Frustrated, he finally demanded, "Talk. Tell me where, Kiyoi!"
"What? Fuck, Hira, fuck me!" This wasn't what Hira wanted, so he drove it deep, and hard and Kiyoi, not expecting it, screamed as they connected. Hira grunted, as the look on Kiyoi's face changed.
"Did it hurt?" He demanded, repeating it. "Kiyoi, did it hurt?" As he drove it hard and deep again.
"NO! You asshole, it didn't fucking hurt!" Kiyoi screamed, shocked at himself. "Damn it, Hira, what do you want from me?"
Satisfied, Hira drove it slow and deep again. "Everything, I want it all." As the words were spoken, he lifted his hips, and drove in as hard as possible.
Kiyoi screamed, and reached for him, his nails digging in deep. "You fucker, that's it." He ground himself against Hira, not letting him pull out, as the sensation built. "I don't know what the fuck that is, but damn it, I like it."
"I like when you swear at me." Hira admitted, pushing in harder. "I like the way you look, sweaty and falling apart, your cheeks all flushed." Together, they found a rhythm that worked, and Kiyoi's eyes glazed over. Now, Hira fought for control as there was more and more contractions placed on him. He didn't say it aloud, but couldn't stop thinking, This is when you shine, you beautiful man!
~~~~~~~~~~
"Hira... shut it and move. Now isn't the time for talking, you shit!" Kiyoi felt different this time. Not felt, it was different. He would have never admitted it, but it HAD hurt. Now, there was NO pain, only a floating sensation, deep inside. Heat that spread out from where they were connected.
When did Hira have so many hands? When did he move both fast and slow? Kiyoi no longer had any idea of time, only on how he felt, when Hira's hands slid up his back, and he was pulled back on to his lap, his mouth captured.
After a deep kiss, Hira whispered softly, "Please... one more?"
Confused, Kiyoi stared into those glittering black eyes and nodded. He wasn't sated, not yet. "How?"
"Like this." It didn't take him long to understand how Hira wanted him, on his knees, even if he felt so foolish. "Oh fuck, Hira!" He screamed, as he re-entered, "Why the fuck didn't we do this earlier?" He dropped to his elbows, from how hard the thrusts were, unable to withstand the pounding. Kiyoi didn't care, for the pleasure that was building was more important.
He couldn't see Hira. He didn't even notice when one of Hira's hands left his rump to take his member, and began to jerk it again. His eyes drifted closed and no matter how hard he tried, nothing silenced his sounds. He didn't care how loud he was.
The screams of pleasure, the soft sounds were gone to be replaced with "Oh... Oh... OH!" or "Fuck me!"
~~~~~~~~~~
All the sounds drove Hira onwards to his goal. He had read it was possible to climax together. Was it possible for such new lovers to do it? He wanted to... he wanted to be inside, hard, when Kiyoi came. Would he feel those small shivers, the trembling if he was inside?
Would Kiyoi tell him how it felt, to feel him shoot inside him? He felt guilty for not protecting Kiyoi but it was Kiyoi's decision to not use the condoms that Hira had scattered around the room in his haste.
Ah... shit. He felt it. There. The twitching, and the jerk and... it was over. His brain stopped functioning and he collapsed on the gently rounded, slightly boney butt of his lover.
Lover... Stutz had a lover. Hira rolled off of Kiyoi, with a smile, breathing deeply.
"Happy?" He asked, staring at the ceiling, knowing that Kiyoi had a tendency to be skittish.
"Hira?"
"Hm?" He would wait forever for his man.
"Once we get our breath, will you bathe with me?" Hira wanted to laugh aloud. He had never heard Kiyoi so... timid before.
Chapter 21
Hira heard the soft exhale as he gently picked up Kiyoi in his arms and carried him down the hall to the bathing area. He adored the way his arms swept up around his neck, holding on. It made him want to cradle him this way for a long time. He glanced down at the stringy hair that framed his face, and smiled.
He watched Kiyoi's eyelashes flutter and his heart gave a small hitch. He leaned forward, going to kiss him, when Kiyoi spoke. "Creepy. It's creepy. Why do you look at me like that, Hira?"
Carefully, Hira placed him on the small stool in the bathroom, and took the bottle of soap, before turning on the water for the tub. He took the small towel and wet it, and started to wash Kiyoi's back, watching his face in the mirror. "Why?" He mused, never taking his eyes off his face.
Long strokes for such a narrow back. It was all muscles for a thin frame, leading down to a narrow waist. Different from his body, thicker and more muscular. Where Kiyoi was pale, he was tanned. Hira studied the different tones between them, liking the contrast. "Why? Because I can."
"Fuck, Hira, that's even more creepier!" Kiyoi squirmed on the small plastic stool, embarrassed by the answer. "You know, it makes you seem like a real stalker."
Hira shrugged, as his hands swept around to his front, the bubbles softly covering Kiyoi's nipples, running down to his abdomen to rest on his upper thighs. "I like when you call me that. It means you notice me."
Kiyoi turned on the stool and faced Hira. "That's fucked up, Hira! Seriously fucked up." Hira only smiled at him and pulled him up, his soapy hands now stroking down his legs, and then, gently between, thoroughly inside and out. Kiyoi gasped, burying his head on his chest, face flaming.
Hira reached for the shower wand and rinsed the soap off of Kiyoi and patted his now clean rump. "Go, into the bath." Kiyoi nodded and sat in the bathtub, letting the very hot water sooth his sore bottom.
It didn't take long for Hira to finish his shower to join him, slowly climbing in. "Ah, that feels good." He slid his long legs on either side of Kiyoi, turning him so that he nestled his back against his front. "Nice?"
"Very nice." Kiyoi snuggled in next to him, resting his arms on the tub. Now, Hira wrapped his arms gently around his chest, and held him. "I want to stay like this forever, Stalker."
~~~~~~~~~~
He could feel Hira's chest heave, deeply, with that sentence. Kiyoi wondered why Hira found it hard to express his emotions the way he needed to hear them.
He did not want to hear how beautiful he was, or that he had been on a pedestal, only that he was loved, and that Hira was willing to be with him. Why was that so hard? Were they not the same, both neglected and forgotten, growing up?
Not once, in all the years had Hira ever asked why he called him creepy or stalker, normal every day questions. Now, he had a better idea of why. It never crossed his mind, because to Hira, he was those things. It was fine for the person he idealized to think that way of him, because it wasn't an insult.
He dipped his head so his chin was buried in the water. "Wash hair?"
"Hm?" He noticed the water had substantially cooled. "Oh, okay." It would be nice to smell like Hira. I love the way he smells, like an old fashioned home!
Water splashed as Hira stretched one long arm over the edge of the bath and reached for the bottle. Soon, his long, strong fingers worked up suds in his hair, giving him a head massage at the same time. Kiyoi groaned, loudly, at how damn good it felt.
Why did it feel so damn good to be touched by him? Every time he touches me, I can't stop thinking...
"Your ears are red. Was the water too hot?" Hira touched his lobe, and Kiyoi shivered. shutting his eyes tightly. Fuck! Fuck, double fuck! He's doing it again to me...
"No, the water was fine, but I think I have soap in my eye." White lie, but maybe he could get out of the bath without Hira knowing. Why couldn't Hira be the one to be embarrassed for a change?
He felt Hira's shrug, and suddenly, a whole pitcher of water was poured over his head. Gasping, he wiped a bit of shampoo that stuck to his face. Glaring, he turned to look at Hira. Hira only winked. "Asshole."
Hira laughed at him. Laughed! Loudly. "Liar." He scooped up another pitcher and still laughing, "Close your eyes." This time, he gently poured the water, ensuring all the remaining soap was rinsed cleanly. "Okay, go."
Kiyoi stood up and stepped out, but as he grabbed a small drying towel, he became distracted, watching the muscles in Hira's shoulders as he washed his own hair. The way they moved, bunching up across the deltoids, the broad sweep of his shoulder blades, his large hands and long fingers buried in suds.
The swift move as he slid down in the bath, submerging his whole body, long legs with thick thighs sticking up. The water splashing out as he sat up, streaming down, hands slicking back his wet hair.
His mouth was completely dry. Frantically, Kiyoi ran his tongue over his teeth to produce saliva but nothing. Spotting Hira's toothbrush, he grabbed it, and the toothpaste. He paid no attention to his state of dress, needing an immediate distraction. Anything at this moment would work.
"Is that my toothbrush?" Hira's image popped up in the mirror, meeting his eyes. His arm brushed his bare shoulder as he slid back the cabinet. "You could have taken a new one. I buy them in bulk." It was one of his quirks.
Kiyoi knew that but had forgot, in the heat of the moment. How the hell can he be so... so damn composed? They had sex together! Not once, but twice! They bathed together and HIRA cleaned out his bottom!!! It finally hit him, all at once, while HIRA washed his hair, exactly what they had done together.
Not to mention, they were still naked! Being naked was nothing new in Japan culture but HE had never been naked around someone he loved before, and definitely not after... well, after THAT!
It was pissing him off that Hira was so normal. "Fuck, Hira, you're so damn, creepy." Kiyoi muttered as spit out a mouthful of toothpaste. He ran a cup of water and took a sip, rinsing his mouth, spitting again. "Will you stop looking at me? It's seriously giving me the creeps!"
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira didn't take the outburst personally. Kiyoi often did this, back in school. "Again, Kiyoi? Okay." He shrugged, with a smile on his face and moved to take his toothbrush from him. Kiyoi held it tightly.
"Take a new one, Hira. This one is mine now." Kiyoi wouldn't look at him, but tried to move out of the suddenly too small space.
Hira's eyes narrowed. This was an interesting development... His eyes narrowed and darkened, as he slowly opened a new toothbrush, carefully dispensing the small amount of paste. He turned, and faced Kiyoi as he brushed his teeth.
As he scrubbed his teeth, he noticed that Kiyoi was looking everywhere but directly at him. When he tried to catch Kiyoi's eye, he immediately looked or moved elsewhere, even to the point where almost slipped on the wet floor.
Hira knew that Kiyoi hated to clean, from back in their school days. So when he said, "Ah, Hira? I think I'll borrow some clothes and come back and clean your bathroom. I feel energized." Hira knew without a doubt Kiyoi was lying again.
Teeth finished, Hira had enough. The excess energy was giving him a headache. He was tired. He was looking forward to holding Kiyoi all night long snuggled in his arms. And now, Kiyoi was acting like a total idiot.
He didn't know how to handle this. He wasn't used to this type of Kiyoi.
Shifty.
LIAR!
So he did what he knew worked: worshipping him. Softly, eyes down, feeling once again like the Stutz from high school, but with his overflowing heart from a magical night he'd never forget, Hira reached for Kiyoi's hand, holding it tightly. "Kiyoi, let's go sleep. I want to hold you all night long."
He wasn't surprised that without a single word spoken in return, Kiyoi led him from the bathroom.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ah, fuck! He needed time to process all these emotions! That flat expression on Hira's face, the laughter, the little smug grin - all of it did not help at all! Those dark eyes noticed everything about him, so much he couldn't help but call out his old names of stalker and how it creeped out it made him feel.
Yet, Hira took them as compliments! Compliments! Didn't he understand how they weren't? Yet, no one else ever had that look in their eyes, looking at him. Only Hira saw beneath his outer appearance and loved all of him.
He suppressed a small groan, as his lower back and buttocks hurt, trying to walk normally. It was useless. Those damn sharp eyes of Hira's following behind, noticed the muscle spasms, and suddenly, he was up in a princess lift!
"Hira! Fuck, put me down! I can walk." He hit his chest, but not hard. His face was hot, again. In the past few hours, he had blushed more than he ever had. Was that a new gift of Hira's? To embarrass him?
"No. I told you, I will take your pain, Kiyoi." He felt Hira shiver, as he blew out a breath of frustration at his words. Looking down, he saw his nipple pebble. AGAIN? He possibly couldn't be ready again?
As the thought crossed his mind, Hira gently placed him on the bed, and he got a view of his almost perfectly rounded rump. How could any man have such a plump, almost womanly ass? He wondered, as a pair of sweats and a tee shirt came flying at him. His was so boney, almost flat. I'm so wiry! Why am I comparing our bodies?
"Get dressed, Kiyoi." He looked up at Hira, who was also getting dressed, but still facing away. Why won't he look at me? Did I do something wrong? Slowly, he stood up and pulled the sweats up, surprised that they were so big on him, and he had to use the drawstring to cinch the waist. Finally, feeling safe, he placed his hand on Hira's back, and his head turned to look at him.
"Hira? Did I do something wrong?" How the fuck was he supposed to sleep in an atmosphere like this?
Chapter 22
Since they left the bath, Hira was also having problems. Several. Ever since he was a child, he had learned that being overstimulated wasn't a good thing.
He had therefore learned to channel his energy into 'brain games', as he got older, he called them. It was one of the reasons he excelled at school. It was a fixation, you could say, like repeating the times table to calm yourself, except that for him, it was homework and his camera, until he met Kiyoi.
Then, after Kiyoi, he studied everything about him.
Everything. So he didn't understand why Kiyoi had lied to him. Hira had been lied to his whole life. He had the ability to identify between small ones, and big ones. Although these were small, he did not know why Kiyoi had lied. Until he understood, his mind would work on overtime.
It confused him. He needed time to figure things out. It also confused him, how his body still wanted Kiyoi after everything they had done. It confused him even more, to find himself growing hard, while he held him safely in his arms. He couldn't even look at him on the bed.
So hearing the question, "Did I do something wrong?" right now, Hira had no answer, only more questions, so he could clear up his own confusions. "Kiyoi..." Hira, slowly asked, still not facing him, "I should be asking that: Did I do something wrong?"
He couldn't believe how fast his heart was beating, or how scared he was to hear the response. He knew Kiyoi was in pain. How badly had he hurt him, because that was the only thing that made sense. Yet... he used his toothbrush. Still, it was only he had said that he loved him!
Kiyoi never said it back! His head dipped in shame as the thought finally crossed through his slow moving brain. I took advantage! I...
Whack! Whack! "You creep! You fucking stalker! What the fuck are you talking about? Turn around and look at me, Hira." Hira almost doubled over as Kiyoi hit him hard between his shoulder blades, twice.
"What the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean by that?" Kiyoi's face was scrunched up, looking very upset as Hira turned slowly to face him.
"I hurt you, when we... you know." Hira backed away, putting distance between them. "That's why you lied, isn't it? I did something wrong, so you didn't say it back."
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi fell back, each of Hira's small, soft words a blow to his heart. All of his fault. Once more, Hira didn't understand him or his actions!
Aoshima had told him once, long ago, that he had a communication problem. Now he could see it clearly. Hira was too literal. It was up to HIM to speak in a manner that Hira would understand, that he couldn't USE his body as language, for Hira would never see that as words.
"Hira, oh Hira, I'm so damn sorry." Kiyoi dropped to his knees. "I lied because I'm embarrassed, not because of anything YOU did. I love you and I showed you, with my body, by giving myself to you." His face was flaming red, from his ears down to his nipples. He felt like he was glowing.
Still, he pushed onward, knowing Hira was listening. "I love you, Stalker. I lied because I needed time to organized how this was going to change us, the new us, being lovers."
Slowly, he reached out and took Hira's hand, tugging him closer, needing to see those black eyes. It was the way Hira looked at him, he realized that gave his heart ease. If that look was back, he knew they were okay. "Hira, I'm..."
"I'm sorry, Kiyoi. I hurt you, when we..." Hira looked at him. "I said I wouldn't and I did. I wanted you and I took what I needed. That's the real truth."
"Fuck, no! You listen to me, Hira! I wanted you too, you fucking idiot!" Kiyoi held the sides of his cheeks, pulling his face close to his, needing him to do that 'Hira' thing, and see inside him. "Would you fucking hear what I'm saying and get out of your head for once?"
Hira blinked at him, his lips squished to a pucker. This almost felt more intimate that what they had done together, earlier. He couldn't remember, not really, the last time they had been this close, looking this deeply into each other's eyes. Slowly, his eyelids drifted close, to better control his physical reaction. It was HIS problem and his alone, that he had no control over it, not Kiyoi's.
"Hira, I don't fucking give a damn." His head bounced like a weeble*, as Kiyoi shook it around. "Around and around, I need to know what you're thinking. I'll go home, right now, if you don't tell me." He went to pull down the sweat pants he just put on, but Hira's large hand, half on his bare abdomen and half on the material gave him pause. He glanced up and gasped.
It only took a second or less, for Hira's mask to slip. His eyes were coal black. His chin dipped, almost to his chest and he looked at Kiyoi from out of hooded eyes. Wetting his lips, he spoke, softly. "Why did you push me? Do you think I like the fact that I don't understand why I want to touch you all the time now?"
He stepped forward, closing the gap between them, Kiyoi stepped back but Hira pulled the waistband of the pants, until they touched chests. "I don't ever want to stop touching you."
Raw... real and raw. Kiyoi heard the real Hira in those words. "Earn it." He whispered. "Earn it by never leaving my side, Hira. I don't think I'll live without you."
Hira pulled him into a hug, a tight one. Promise given. "Can we sleep now? I'm tired and have school tomorrow."
~~~~~~~~~~
The alarm rang ridiculously early. Kiyoi rolled over, patting the bed for Hira but he was alone. Groaning softly, he felt every muscle in his body, particularly his lower back and buttocks. He tried to sit up and then flopped back in the bed.
"I don't want to move." He whispered to the air, covering his eyes against the bright room.
"Hm?" Moving his arm slightly, Kiyoi peered towards the sound and felt a blush creep across his cheeks. There was Hira, getting dressed, a perfect view of his backside. "Did you say something, Kiyoi?"
"I... uh, was wondering what time it was?" Kiyoi replied, pushing himself up in bed, supressing his soft moan of pain.
"I see." Hira bent down and pulled on his underwear, then the bed bounced, as he sat down to put on his socks. "There's tablets for pain on the table, and water. I made breakfast. Get up and eat with me." He glanced over his shoulder and finally looked at Kiyoi as he took the freshly ironed white shirt from a hanger, slipping on. "I like how you snuggle."
Now, truly embarrassed, Kiyoi grabbed the extra pillow from the bed and threw it at Hira. "Get out, you creep!" How could he love someone like Hira, who could say these things, with such a deadpan expression?
~~~~~~~~~~
The low table in the common room was set for breakfast by the time Kiyoi had put on Hira's shirt from last night. Was it kinky that he liked being able to wear his shirt? He liked how small it made him feel, how it reminded him that Hira had the ability to make him feel protected, safe and insecure, all at once.
As he dropped to the floor, clapped his hands together, saying "let's eat!", and picked up his chopsticks from a very cute little bowtie stand, he found he couldn't meet Hira's eyes, but he felt those dark eyes watching him as he picked up the bowl of miso soup. He'd never really had a traditional breakfast, usually grabbing a curry bun, or something along the that line, with money his mom gave him on the way to school.
"Mm." A look of delight crossed his face, as he closed his eyes, to savour the flavour. "Did you make this?"
Kiyoi opened his eyes, to see that Hira was occupied with eating and their eyes met. Hira gave a short nod, and Kiyoi nodded back, placing the bowl down, reaching for the grilled mackerel, as he picked up the bowl of rice. The fish was perfectly grilled, smokey and fell off the bone. He sighed in delight.
Hira casually placed some mixed vegetables in his rice bowl. "Eat some vegetables." He continued to eat at a steady pace. Food to him was a necessity, not a pleasure. He learned to cook because it was a hassle to waste money going out, when he didn't enjoy the scrutiny.
"Hira?" Kiyoi placed down his chopsticks, sighing at the sight of the little cat stand that Hira had used since high school. "Where do we go from here?"
"What do you mean?" Slowly, Hira placed his chopsticks on the cat stand, brought his hands together, and bowed, a quick whisper, and then met his eyes. "It's your choice, Kiyoi. It always was." With a practiced move of someone who has eaten sitting on the floor from a very young age, Hira stood up, and bent down, gathering the dirty dishes.
Kiyoi stared at him, mouth open. "My choice, Hira? If it was only my choice, I wouldn't need to ask! What do you want from me now that we slept together?" He watched Hira walk away, and heard dishes rattle, then he came back.
Still expressionless, Hira walked to the open door that faced to the courtyard and sat down, not looking at Kiyoi. "I know what I want. It's what I wanted from the minute I saw you. I almost had it, back in high school, when you spent every day here with me." He stared at his feet, playing with his fingers.
"Kiyoi, I need you. I need a favour, but you can say no." Hira sounded sad, and lonely. Different than when he woke up. Was he beginning to figure out how to read him? Kiyoi wasn't confident yet.
"What is it, Hira? What could I do for you?" He prepared himself, not knowing what it could be and almost laughed, the relief he felt, both with his tentative words and how happy it made him feel.
"C...c.c.ccan I take your por.r.rtrait? For school?"
"Yes." Kiyoi leaned over and gave him a back hug, tightly. Hira, he had found, stuttered more when his emotions were involved. "Yes, I will help."
~~~~~~~~~~
* Small toys, from childhood - The tag in the commercials was "Weebles wobble but they don't fall down!" Sigh... showing my age, but when I gifted my carefully collected, treasures to my nieces and nephews, plus the whole village, they had so much fun. Came with houses, playgrounds and even cars and buses... so yes, I can see Hira's parents not letting him play with "normal" toys. Weebles were round and weighted, and the cars and trucks were oversize and clunky.
Plus, they made great projectiles, but Hira didn't have friends, so it's not like he was throwing them!
Chapter 23
Kiyoi's day started much later than Hira's. It felt odd, when Hira turned to him, pressing an old fashioned key in his hand (the gate key) with a piece of paper (the code to the house) and wrapping both his hands around it.
His eyes bored deep into his, as he gravely stated, "Stay as long as you want." Before Kiyoi could react, Hira had kissed his forehead (damn his height) and was walking down the path to the gate. He heard the lock "snick", and then saw the dark head bob above the gate.
Suddenly, his legs gave way and he dropped to the highly polished wood of the porch. What had he done in the past twenty-four hours? Tea splashed and the cup tipped dangerously.
No, he knew what he'd done! All the physical aches and pains in his body couldn't let him forget and a pale blush crossed his cheeks. A slow grin appeared, as he remembered each touch, each kiss...
Every word of love Hira said.
"I'm going to..." Kiyoi started, then stumbled to a dead stop. Aoshima KNEW him, knew him too fucking well, as did the cast and crew. "Oh fuck, what am I going to do?" He was good, but HE was NO Hira, and he knew that. He projected how he felt, at least that's what they said, which made him a good actor.
Tea sploshed out of the cup, as he set it down gently.
"I'm so screwed!" The words were whispered softly, as he stared at the large green bush that was just beginning to flower. The air was gently scented, reminding him of summer break, surrounded by clingy classmates and fireworks.
The summer he fell in love with Hira. He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, letting the scent of the flowers, take him back. "Hira... WE are both screwed!"
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira floated to the university, time passed quickly in each class, unlike the past few weeks. He heard his lectures, taking notes efficiently, the but his classmates were unimportant. It wasn't until his lunchbreak and his phone kept dinging, calling repeatedly for his attention, that his good mood began to deteriorate.
With his deadpan face, he pulled it from his inner pocket and looked at who was messaging him. He knew Kiyoi preferred to hear his voice, so it wasn't anyone he wanted to talk with. A small frown, but only if you knew him really, really well, would you have seen it, crossed his face.
Reminders from his seniors in the Photography club, all five of them, to be at the meeting today. Why, he wondered. He was still a member, even if it was in name only, to support Kayama. Why were they harassing him?
Shoving the phone back in his pocket, he stood up, putting his bento box into his back and tossing his trash into the appropriate recycle container. He took a deep breath and walked deliberately to his next class.
Across the quad, Kayama sighed. Once upon a time, he would have felt comfortable, even happy to run up and greet his friend. Now, with his broken heart, still not healed, he didn't know how to act around Hira. His eyes narrowed as he watched Hira walking away.
There was a difference in his walk. More confidence, even if there wasn't much else showing in his expression. His phone beeped. He pulled it out and a low growl escaped without him hearing.
Be at the meeting. Drag Hira if needed.
"Who the fuck does he think I am? A fucking dog?" Kayama tossed the phone on the table and rubbed his temples. He was so damn confused. The senior kept calling and texting him, all week, even to the point of taking him out drinking and he'd passed out, waking up in the senior's bed.
He took a deep breath but it just kept getting harder to breath easy. The guilt he was feeling since he'd told him about Hira was getting heavier and heavier, weighing on his chest... and he STILL hadn't come to terms with the fact that he had sold Hira out.
"What am I going to do?" Kayama glanced at the small dot in the distance. "I'm so fucking sorry, Hira, I didn't mean to do any of this!" He'd never wanted to cry as badly as he did, since he was a small boy, and his older brother found him after he'd gotten in a physical fight with another boy and lost. "I'm sorry."
~~~~~~~~~~
All the seniors had a free period before the club met, so they tended to be there early before the juniors. Juniors had access to the club room if they asked any of the seniors for a key, since they had different free periods.
The president looked at his comrades in arms, and with a determined glint in his eye, "Did you read the material I sent you?" The other four heads nodded, almost in unison. "Effective today, we, with the assistance of Kayama are on Operation Hira."
One senior rolled his eyes, "Seriously, does it need to be named Operation Hira? We're not fucking spies!"
Another mate was laughing. "You're making it sound like Kamen Rider here. We can't fix what's not broken!"
The president gave a huge grin. "Ha! Someone did read all that shit. Good, because Hira's not broken and we're not fixing him. We're going to give him some techniques to get a damn job in the real world, otherwise, the man isn't going to be able to function. You've seen how well he reacts in social situations. He's awkward as fuck."
One senior shrugged. "I don't think the guy wants to fit in. He's never made any attempt or indication of wanting a friend."
"You think he didn't? Then ask yourself why, after owning a camera for so long, did he join a photography club? They have them in high school. I was in my high school club." The president shot down that argument quick as lightening. "I think he was very proud of being able to even be in the same room as us."
They didn't say much, after that, as they waited for Hira and Kayama to join them. It feel long, as they were all absorbed with differing thoughts on the complex situation. A couple felt that they shouldn't interfere, and a couple were in agreement with the president, especially after reading up on Asperger's Syndrome.
The Japanese society was still based in culture and history, and did not approve of anything different, that did not fit in. Hira was someone who would never really fit in, would always stand out, from his appearance to his manners, not that there was anything really bad, just something off, with his dead face, and his refusals to conform.
Lost in thought, the room was deathly quiet when Hira arrived, giving it a somber mood. It suited him, so he snuck in and went to his spot, pulling out his Nikon, and just as quietly, began to clean it. He needed it in pristine condition to take Kiyoi's picture. His eyes began to darken, as he thought of where and how, he was going to take his portrait.
It was this setting that Kayama walked in. "If someone died, I'm going home." It was said loudly, and his voice cracked on the last note. It rang through the quiet room. Hira glared, as he jumped almost dropping his very expensive camera.
Several seniors laughed loudly. "Fuck off, Kayama! Are you trying to give us a heart attack?"
The Club President stood, "Finally! Okay, tidy up, let's start this meeting." He waited until everyone put their stuff away. But Hira slung his camera over his shoulder and gave a nod, heading for the door. "Kayama?"
Kayama ground his teeth. He was the damn senior's fucking dog! Woof! Woof! "Hira? Sit down, please." Why did he sound so damn sad? He couldn't even look at Hira, meet his eyes.
"Why?" There was a collective groan from the room, loud. Ever damn one of them had been victim, at one point in time, of Hira's why's? Heads turned to look at the president, since this had been his idea.
Taking a deep breath, the president started, "Well, we need an update on the contest first. You are on a time limit." Hira's head bobbed. " Okay, and we have something else to discuss." The president looked up at him, and felt his belly flop. This was harder than he expected, and he HAD experience with Autism. But his experience was so different... Hira was high functioning.
Expressionless, eyes down, hand loosely on his camera bag, Hira waited. Inside, he knew nothing ever came of the words, 'we have something to discuss.' What more do they want from me? He wondered, not really listening to what was said, trying to prevent himself from rocking, as the stress began to build. Then, the words sank in. "What? How?" His head shot up in surprise, and he met the president's eyes, daring him to repeat it.
"We know you have Asperger's Syndrome, Hira, and we want to help." The President wondered if the members noticed he was biting the inside of his cheek. "We can practice with you for job interviews, smooth out those rough spots. You need to blend in more, have better manners, if you want to ever have a job." He wiped a sweaty palm down the side of his pants, surreptitiously.
Suddenly, Kayama stood and bowed, deeply. "I'm sorry, Hira. He knew, and I only confirmed it. I don't know how he knew, but he did. I am so, so very sorry." He couldn't even look him in the eye, the guilt was bad.
"Oh shit." Hira slowly sank back down to the nearest chair. "So oo..o..o.o.nce again, even here, I'll only be k.k..k.k.known for s...s.s..something other than who I am."
A senior, one which Hira had always seemed to rub the wrong way, actually realized why. Hira didn't SHOW how he felt, ever. This was the first time he seemed like a normal guy, one that had feelings, emotions. Suddenly, everything the president had been saying clicked in his brain. "Fuck off, Hira! Don't you get it? We're trying to fucking help you, not out you!" He didn't know why he was angry, and upset, or even why he was yelling at him. "If I was going to gossip, I'd have fucking done it already! What?" Leaning back, he crossed his arms, daring anyone to say something.
Surprising everyone, Hira laughed. And laughed again. Kayama had been right. He had made friends.
Chapter 24
Time, Kiyoi realized had a way of passing fast, without even realizing you realizing it, when your personal life was... interesting. Iruma's first announcement at rehearsal was about opening night. He slumped in his seat. It felt like only yesterday, since he was struggling with that damn line!
"Sou! Sou!" Aoshima nudged him in the side, his eyes twinkling, "Are you going to dream about it, or are you going to do it?"
"What?" Kiyoi jumped, wanting to swear at him, knowing now wasn't the time. He could feel there was something off about the room. His eyes swept the room, and everyone, including the director was staring at him. "What is..."
"Kiyoi!" Iruma barked, "Get up, and from the top." It was then he noticed his on stage love interest was tapping her toe, impatiently. Rehearsal! So he was whipped for Hira, after all. Quickly, he stood and moved into position, waiting for his cue, having daydreamed through the directions.
It was a repeat of the love scene. The girl said her lines and turned her back on Kiyoi, and it was almost perfect, almost, when Kiyoi replied, "I love you. I can't live without you." He dropped to his knees, his arms outstretched dramatically, before dropping to the worn boards. "Don't you see what you've done to me, what this love has done?"
The girl turned her head and sniffed. "I only see a selfish man, not one who sees me."
Kiyoi bowed his head and thought of Hira saying that to him, or if he had to say it to Hira. It made his eyes tear. With his eyes glistening, and his throat thick with emotion, he projected through it. "How can you say that? I did everything for you. Everything you asked of me." He crawled on his knees to her, and reached up, as if to beg her, please take my hand. "I love you." Even though his voice was still low, it projected clearly through the practice venue.
Dead silence reigned supreme. Then suddenly, Aoshima broke out clapping, and the rest of the cast followed. Several of the girls had tears in their eyes, and were whispering how he mastered the scene. Where did he take his lessons...
Iruma walked over and patted the girl's shoulder. She was good, but he knew it was Kiyoi would be the star, not the girl who was their draw. He felt sorry for her, her star had just taken it's first tumble. Reaching down, he extended his hand, to help Hira stand. "Good, Sou, good job." He gave a short nod and let go once he stood up.
The director turned to the rest of the cast and gave a sharp clap, drawing their attention. "Okay! Full dress rehearsal! Go get changed into costumes. Our opening night," He gave a glance at Sou Kiyoi, "Is in two days, and I want to see where the issues are."
~~~~~~~~~~
Aoshima grinned, after the rehearsal, as he walked over to Kiyoi, who sat on the floorboards, sweat dripping from the back of his neck. He knew something had changed since the last time they had talked, in his apartment. Gone was the worn countenance, the sadness in his eyes. It was driving him almost crazy to find out the details, especially since Yohei wouldn't tell him anything the night he got drunk.
As he dropped down next to Kiyoi, he grabbed a water bottle and took a sip. "So? Where you been? I dropped by your place yesterday and you weren't home." He glanced sideways and smirked as Kiyoi continued to pack his bag, not responding. He gave another verbal poke. "You were with Kazunari, weren't you?"
Watching Kiyoi's head shoot up and the glare in his eyes was worth it, decided Aoshima. It was one of the best reactions he'd seen, better than the tears and self pity, the one time he'd ever been drunk. A full blown smile now crossed his face and he didn't even hide it. "So? Are you two talking? Or doing more?" He reached over and tried to pull down his collar, knowing that clothing could hide evidence.
"Fuck off, Aoshima." Kiyoi stood up, knocking his hand away. "If you want to be considered a friend, don't push me." He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, looking down at the grinning man. "I mean it, it's not your business."
Aoshima scooted back against the wall and straightened one of his legs. "Sou Kiyoi?" He waited for Kiyoi to look back before completing his thought. "If that Kazunari Hira doesn't treat you right, I'm going to fuck him up seven ways to next week, so make sure you know what you're doing."
He saw the look in Kiyoi's eyes soften, just slightly, before he nodded. The door to the rehearsal hall was pulled open and Kiyoi was gone. Aoshima took a deep breath. "Well, at least that's one thing I'll never have to confess." He took another drink on his water bottle as the director dropped beside him unexpectedly.
"Giving up?" Iruma asked, staring off into space.
"Mm. I never had a chance of being noticed by Kiyoi." Aoshima sighed, pushing his hand through his long, dark hair. It fell back like a curtain, covering his expression. "I will support him, just like the friend he needs."
"Why didn't you confess your feelings to him?" Iruma queried, toying with a dog-eared script. He genuinely cared for his cast, having grown close with all of them, except for Kiyoi, who guarded everything about himself, refusing to open himself. "He might have been receptive."
Aoshima bent his head, bringing both knees up, to hide the sudden rush of emotions. "I'm almost 25, Iruma, and only now fell in love. Who would believe that they are my "first love", with any honesty? I couldn't... say it." He gulped and then looked at the director. "I tried, in my way, and failed. Kiyoi has his happiness and I will move on."
"So it's a win-win, is what you're saying?" Iruma tapped his head with the now rolled up script. "You're a lovesick fool, Aoshima. You won't move on until Kiyoi knows."
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi stood outside the door, having forgot his airpods, but stopped at when he heard the director say, "Giving up?" He almost collapsed at the rest of the overheard conversation. Aoshima only wanted to sleep with him! That's what he'd said...
He could have gone the rest of his life, without knowing Aoshima loved him, more than a friend.
How was he to act, now? His airpods forgotten, he turned and ran. He needed someone calm, collected and honestly, didn't give a damn.
No, he needed to talk to someone who had just gone through something similar.
He needed Hira.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira whistled, as he prepared a late supper. Before, every attempt to give an explanation was dismissed as excuses. He'd simply given up an accepted that he was different.
Not meant to be part of society. He could live with that, at least until he met Kiyoi. For a brief time in high school, with Kiyoi's help, he had been on the low rung of fitting in. The fitting in part didn't matter to him, but being close to Kiyoi did.
His smile grew. Without saying anything, or changing who he was, somehow they figured HIM out. Even when he tried to explain to Kiyoi, it had been misunderstood, and took ages to fix.
A deep part of him was terrified, even if he wasn't showing it. Hira was worried that he didn't have a right to be happy. Well, he shrugged, as he finished chopping the vegetables for a simple hotpot, There is only so much I am in control of.
He set the portable burner on the low table, arranged the vegetables and carefully carried the soup out, setting on the burner. He smiled. Perfect. Glancing at his watch, he pulled out his phone and with glee, pressed Kiyoi's number. His heart pounded fast as he waited for him to answer.
"Hey!" Kiyoi huffed.
"Hi. Where are..." Hira didn't even finish as he heard the door code being entered. "I'm hanging up." He ran to the door and had his arms out as the door fully opened. Kiyoi fell into them, holding on to Hira, as if he was a lifeline. "Oh! Oh! OH!"
Kiyoi's bag dropped to the floor before the door slid shut, as Hira wrapped his arms tightly around him. They stood there, Kiyoi trembling in the shelter Hira provided, with no words said. With one final deep breath, his chest fully expanded, Kiyoi gave a good, hard pat on Hira's upper arm. "I'm good now."
Dark eyes stared down at the top of Kiyoi's head. "Mm. I have food ready. Wash up." Kiyoi took his hand tightly and followed Hira's lead. This was the same as back in high school, no questions, but he wanted those questions. He wanted, no needed an opening, so he could talk about his day. He sighed in disappointment. Had they made any changes at all?
Suddenly, Hira said, "I made friends, Kiyoi. Me, I have friends." His voice was grave. Kiyoi wanted to hit him. How slow was he? Did he not understand HOW he looked? How dependable, or reliable he appeared? It was he, himself, that held people at bay, preventing anyone from getting close.
"I know. I'm your friend, Hira." Kiyoi stopped at the sink and scrubbed his hands, then splashed water on his face, taking the towel that Hira handed to him. "I think I lost a friend today." He didn't realize his eyebrows were scrunched until Hira's finger reached out to smooth his brow. "I overheard Aoshima confess that all his teasing was actually a confession of love, not a pick up line."
Shrugging, Hira turned, and headed to the food, hearing Kiyoi's belly rumble. "You never asked, you always assume. It's what makes you, you, Kiyoi." Hira shrugged. "Not your fault, his. He had to come to you, the way I did."
"But Hira," Kiyoi whined loudly, "I have to work with him! I don't know how to behave now. I can't avoid him!"
Again Hira shrugged. "I go to school with Kayama. It's worse for me. I always knew he liked me, he never hid it. I choose to ignore it. Still do. Don't change who you are, it hurts everyone when you do." He pulled Kiyoi close and kissed him, gently, before setting him free. "I am hungry."
Kiyoi stared into his eyes, realizing that most of what Hira said, was full of double meanings. He shivered, feeling the first stirrings of desire begin. "I'm hungry too."
~~~~~~~~~~
They ate in almost complete silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Hira finally sighed, his belly full, content. As he placed his chopsticks down on the bowtie rest, he spoke softly, "Thank you for the food."
Kiyoi echoed the words, and placed his own on chopsticks down on the tiny cat rest, which he realized had now become his. "Thank you for the food, Hira." He leaned back and sighed. "When are you going to make me my favorite food?"
With ease, Hira stood and started to collect the dirty dishes. He didn't answer until he returned with a tray to take the rest. Then, he bent down and patted the top of Kiyoi's head. "When you bring me the ingredients."
Kiyoi's heart almost stuttered to a stop, before beating again. Hira had been serious.
Was he now moving in?
Chapter 25
They fell into an easy routine. In fact, Kiyoi loved the routine, with Hira making breakfast before he went to school, and he would have the house to himself to get ready. He would send a good morning text to Hira, when he woke, since he was usually in class, and Hira would call, on his lunch break.
They would talk for Hira's lunch, then Kiyoi would come home before the play would begin, for dinner with Hira.
Kiyoi still smiled when he thought of opening night of the play and Hira's excitement on being asked to attend as his 'plus one' free ticket, family member. Hira dressed in an immaculate, if slightly, old fashioned dark blue but not quite navy, suit, with a dark blue shirt, and a green silk tie. His eyes were so black, Kiyoi knew his thoughts were not... clean.
After the play, he wondered where Hira had stashed the huge bouquet of flowers. Only his man would have the confidence to give him flowers in public! He didn't even notice how the others had whispered about the man who gave him the bouquet. He handed him the flowers, a single rose surrounded by pink carnations and a small red flower that he didn't know until he asked Hira, who simply answered "Red Asters."
They had gone home silent, not saying much, holding hands on the walk to the train, even though Kiyoi had wanted to take a taxi, frugal Hira insisted on doing things his way. "I'll protect you," He said, lowly, squeezing his hand softly. Kiyoi had felt his insides disappear, melting into nothing at those words.
The short walk afterwards, from the train to the house, Hira pulled him off the beaten path and kissed him in 'their spot' near the river. They had spent all the good times, and bad, it seemed in that spot. "We need to leave a better memory here." Hira explained, letting him go, his eyes glittering.
They both remembered Kiyoi's tears, pushing Hira away. Hira caught his hand, as Kiyoi tried to hit him in embarrassment, a few petals fluttering to the ground. He swung him up in his arms, feet, twirling. "Our honeymoon?" Hira pushed, with his deadpan voice.
The flowers lay on his chest, the scent of the rose almost overwhelming, before Kiyoi spoke. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with me, Hira?" For him, he couldn't be with anyone else. He already knew that Hira was his heart.
"If Japan allowed it, I would marry you." Kiyoi heard the simple honesty in his words and he couldn't stop the tears that shone in his eyes. Carefully, Hira put him on the ground and a gentle thumb came and swept one away. "Only cry around me, Kiyoi. Never do this with anyone else."
Blinking tears away, Kiyoi nodded and took his hand, dragging him out of the darkness, back under the streetlights. "Home, Hira. Take me home. My flowers are drooping."
The whole bouquet had been in the shape of a heart. It was the most beautiful thing Kiyoi had seen, and when he got back to the house with Hira, he put it in water as is. Hira shook his head and took it out. "No. It won't keep."
He wanted to cry, watching Hira destroy his beautiful flowers, but now, long after the rose was gone, the carnations still looked so pretty! He sighed. "Red Asters," He shifted on the edge of the step that overlooked the garden. Was there a meaning behind the bouquet? Hira had knowledge that far surpassed his own. He shifted again, holding his morning coffee.
Kiyoi shifted again, this time paying attention to the changes in his body. He now had muscles in places he never expected, patting his belly and the well defined abdomen. Where once was a nice toned layer that cover the slim body, all of his fat was gone, leaving a well muscled body, even thinner than before.
He raised his hand, staring at it, extending it and blocking out the light. "Hm... I don't know if my hands now look old, with the weight loss or if it's just me?" He glanced at the time and twisted, reaching for his phone, just as it rang. "Good morning, Hira."
"Do I look old now?" The sound of Hira's laughter was a balm to his soul.
There was no more doubt at all. He Sou Kiyoi, was truly, completely in love with Kazunari Hira!
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of Kiyoi's question. It wasn't that he lost weight, just that it had been redistributed. He'd tried to explain that fat changes to muscle, and if he stood on a scale, he was actually heavier than before, but Kiyoi just waved a hand, saying it was 'complicated.'
A little gasp, and he managed to recover. "Kiyoi, remember, I asked if I could shoot your portrait? It's due in two weeks. When is your next day off?" He knew, but he was trying, very hard, to fit in with normal people. Normal people... damn photography club, but this was one of the tasks.
"Oh... actually, its today. When are you home? Shall I cook today and then we can do the shoot?"
"Yes." Hira paused, and where normally he would have hung up, he said after a moment, "Thank you, Kiyoi, I love you. I have to go."
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi stared at the phone, feeling his face heat. Hira said he loved him! Without prompting! Excitement flooded his body as he thought about what to make for dinner... when it all came crashing down.
The only thing he knew how to cook with any certainty was instant noodles! With a small chuckle, he shrugged. Instant noodles it was. He stood up, balancing the empty cup and walked into the kitchen, where he washed the cup and began to snoop through the cupboards. Just as he expected, no ramen packets to be found.
So he got dressed and walked to the store, buying what he needed to make Hira the meal that he survived on, when he was too lazy for even bento boxes. Wandering through the store, he selected his favorite brand and toppings. What a simple thing to make him happy!
Even happy enough to clean! He looked around the bedroom and sighed. Usually, he left the housework for Hira since he detested it, not to mention, usually exhausted and Hira was sleeping when he had energy.
It was odd, how joy, the lightness, in his heart, gave him extra energy. He pulled off the dirty sheets from the bed, and changed them, tossing them into the laundry. Carefully, he made the bed, smoothing the new ones on. Tossing the duvet back on, he smiled, proud of his accomplishment.
Kiyoi stood there, hands on his hips, looking around the room. What else to do to kill the time until Hira came home? His eyes fell on the two new plays his manager sent over. He should be reading them, studying for the auditions.
He didn't like auditioning while still in a play. He picked one up and dropped it, as if it burned his fingers. It wasn't for a stage play, but a TV drama. There was a bright pink sticky note on it in Hira's writing:
I want to watch you in this.
When the fuck did Hira read his scripts? Kiyoi wondered. He carried them with him everywhere. Slowly, he walked back to the kitchen, poured himself a ginger ale, and sat down with the script. He didn't move until Hira walked into the house.
"I hate you." He whispered, tears in his eyes. "I really, really hate you."
Hira dropped his school bag and slowly took in the scene, and gave a slow head bob, understanding at once what happened. He walked over and knelt down next to Kiyoi, pulling him tight into his arms. "You are going."
Kiyoi knew it was just a statement of fact. Hira had known the minute he read the script, he wouldn't be able to turn it down. It had everything Kiyoi had been looking for his whole life. "But, Hira, if I do this, our lives will..."
Shaking his head, Hira simply said, "I won't hold you back, Kiyoi. You're a star, my shining star. I'll prove it to you, today, tonight, with my pictures. I'll show you, how I see you." He stood up, and stretched, his tee shirt pulling from his jeans, showing his belly.
Kiyoi closed his eyes against the sight. If he were to touch him, even lightly, Hira would go further, taking it as an invitation. They were still too new with intimacy. "I haven't started dinner yet." He mumbled, standing. "Why don't you go bath and I'll cook."
Hira simply nodded and walked to the bedroom, a knowing look on his face. Kiyoi breathed deeply as he left the room and jumped up to make the ramen. He stood beside the sink, and washed the few vegetables he needed. He pulled two eggs out of the fridge, then decided on three, and put the pot on to boil.
"No daydreaming..." He whispered, as he heard the water start to run. "You're cooking for Hira so it has to be perfect tonight." He tapped his foot while the waiting for the pot to boil, then put the eggs in for six minutes. Meanwhile, he prepared the bok choy and sliced the green onions. Hira had made katsudon the other night he was going to use the leftovers for the protein.
The timer went off, and he fished the eggs out, placing them in cold water. He put fresh water in, and set it to boil again. It was time to peel the eggs and hope they were nice, set but still soft. Now, he pulled down two bowls, and waited. Once the water was at a boil again, he blanched the bok choy, and set it aside. Then, he dropped the instant noodles in, stirring occasionally.
He heard Hira leave the bathroom and yelled, "Dinner will be ready shortly." A soft smile crossed his face with his "Mm." yelled back in response.
With the noodles done, he swiftly mixed the flavor packets in, and divided the ramen between the two bowls, and arranged the bok choy, egg, and katsudon, with a sprinkle of green onions. He took a deep breath and smiled. It looked nice even if the base of it was instant noodles.
He slid the tray from the spot Hira stored it, and placed the two bowls, along with everything else on it. "Do you want water or juice, Hira?" He yelled. He almost jumped because his voice was right in his ear.
"Water." Hira sounded serious. "I'll pour my own glass, Kiyoi, thank you." He looked at the tray with the steaming bowls of soup. "It looks good. I'll carry the tray."
Why did it feel like his heart would burst and his face was hot? "Whoa... It's hot in here. I think I need to open the window." He turned and opened the small window in the kitchen, feeling the cool breeze blow gently.
Suddenly, Hira's arms slipped around his middle, taking him in a sudden hug. "Now, Kiyoi? But the noodles will swell before we can eat them." His voice was serious, Kiyoi knew, but his eyes would be glittering black diamonds. "I think it's better to eat the ramen, yes?" A quick kiss on the back of his neck and he was free.
He shivered, but not from the cool air. "Yes, Hira." Fuck, he thought, I sound so damn meek!
Chapter 26
Hira flipped through the limited clothes that Kiyoi had at the house and pursed his lips, before shaking his head. Nothing would work for his portrait. He sighed and then went to his father's left behind clothes in the back storage room. He knew, somewhere, was his father's older Yukata's that didn't fit him.
Slowly, Hira pulled out the carefully folded pile of dove grey silk. He had always thought his father looked impressive, almost intimidating, wearing this as they walked along the road to the festivals, with his mother and he, dressed in kimonos. He sighed as he saw the colors of his last kimono. Slowly, he fingered the aging silks, and then, carefully, covered it back up with the cotton paper.
Shaking off the memories, he stood up, when he saw the Montsuki. It had been his Grandfather's, on his father's side. Instead of being folded, it hung, draped on a mannequin, covered by a sheet. "Kiyoi!" He yelled, "Come help me."
Kiyoi stared when he entered the jammed packed storage room. It had an air of ancient remnants of history, unlike the rest of the house. "Hira..." He paused, and slowly spun around, taking it all in, "What is all this?"
Hira shrugged. "History. Here, come take this." He thrust the pile of dove grey silk in his hands and walked over to the mannequin. Without ceremony, he picked it up and carried it out of the room, leaving Hira standing in the storage room with his hands full of the silk.
"Kiyoi? Are you coming?"
With one last, longing look, Kiyoi glanced back. History... Hira had all of this and he had nothing. He sighed with longing, wondering if he knew how precious all of that history was. "I'm coming. What's this for, Hira?" He repeated as he followed him out of the intriguing room.
Hira had that dangerous look. Kiyoi shivered as he put the armful of rough woven silk down. "Hira? What's this for?"
In that famous deadpan voice, with glittery eyes, Hira stared at him. "The photo shoot." He reached for the bundle of silk and gently took it from Kiyoi. "Strip." He didn't stay to watch, instead he began to unfold the silk, and Kiyoi's eyes widened as the yukata appeared.
"Oh, I understand." He took off the casual tee shirt he had worn all day, and hesitated with his jeans. "Hira? I think I want a bath before I put that on. It deserves a clean body." He rubbed his smooth belly, waiting for his answer.
The silk was now spread out, and Hira was examining it to see if it needed any pressing or cleaning. Instead of answering, he waved his hand, then looked up. "Do you want to wear traditional undergarments, modern or nothing?"
"Excuse me?" Kiyoi's belly flipped. "Will I wear what underneath?"
Hira walked closer, running his fingertip down to his button on his jeans. "Think of how fabric feels against you, with or without covering." He closed his eyes, as Hira tugged on the button. "Do you need help?" The double entendre made him meet the solid, black glittery orbs, closer than he needed, right now.
Kiyoi's blood sang, hotter than it should be. His member was tight, restrained within the briefs and jeans. I'm doomed... commando or traditional and the whole damn world will know I can't stop thinking about the fact I can't stop thinking about fucking my lover!
A soft pat on Kiyoi's extra warm, tight abdomen and Hira swiftly inhaled. "Go bathe. I want to dress you, then take your pictures." It was only then, Kiyoi realized, despite Hira's deadpan face and voice, he too, was just as aroused. His hand stretched out and he grabbed his crotch, cupping it.
"Mm." Glancing through his lashes, Kiyoi nodded. "I will. Now." He felt relief, knowing he wasn't alone. Swiftly, he left the room, or they wouldn't be taking no pictures tonight.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was a quick bath, more like a shower, even though Hira's house didn't have a shower. Kiyoi managed to keep his hair dry. He toweled dry and walked out, with a towel around his hips, still thinking about the question of underwear. Hira had laid out the traditional underwear (fundoshi) on top of the yukata, along with his modern pair.
Slowly, he picked up the fundoshi and sighed. He had seen pictures of it, but had never worn it before. "Hira, have you worn this before?"
"Yes." Well, that didn't explain anything at all! He wanted to ask for details. No, he wanted to know everything, but was now the time? Hira's family had a whole room devoted to their history and he had nothing! Sighing, he glanced at the funny mannequin Hira had carried out. "Do you know how to wear a yukata?"
Kiyoi shrugged. "I wore one once in middle school and then again in a play." He picked up the yukata and started to shrug into it. Hira slapped his hands.
"I will dress you." Simply said, Hira handed him the fundoshi and pulled the towel off. "Here, put this on. You will need it for the next outfit anyway."
It almost burned Kiyoi's hands, it was embarrassing. "Don't worry, Kiyoi. It's mine, so just put it on." As if that was supposed to make it easier, wearing your boyfriend's ancient underwear!
Slowly, he untied the knot, and only then he noticed the makko, the fabric at the front, was the same colour as the yakuta. Drawing the cord between his legs, he settled the makko over his privates, and slipped the loop through the cord, then struggled to tie it neatly. Hira's fingers were warm as they slid against his lower back, snugly tying the cord.
"Not too tight? Squat. It shouldn't cut off your circulation." Hira stood back, clinically watching. Kiyoi nodded, it was fine. Next, he handed the pants, grey cotton, more durable than the silk that the yukata was made from. "Do you need help?" They were the old style, again with a drawstring to tie them.
Kiyoi shook his head, and pulled them up, adjusting the waist, so his buttocks were covered, as well as the front, and tied the waist. Only then did Hira hold up the yukata and he slid his arms in. Hira crossed the front, carefully adjusting it, before tying the obi. Next he held out the tabi. "These too, Kiyoi."
Taking a deep sigh, Kiyoi placed a hand against a wall and held one foot out, allowing Hira to pull on the tabi, and then the next foot. His eyes widened when from under the bed, a pair of zori appeared. "Where are we going, Hira?"
"To the garden. Put them on."
Biting back his words, since he had agreed to model for Hira, Kiyoi slipped the zori on. Hira now looked like a perfect Japanese man at a festival, except for his hair colour. But that is what made him stand out... different, unique, beautiful.
Hira picked up his camera bag and then extended his hand, "Come." Silently, Kiyoi took his hand and followed him to the garden. The light had started to dim, but it had not completely gone yet. "Hm. I need more light. Hang on, but don't sit."
Running back inside, Hira poached two lamps from the living room, tossing the lampshades. Then he grabbed a cardboard box, and cut it open, covering it with a white sheet. Next, he found his extension cords. Once he had everything, he brought them all outside and set it up. "Now I'm ready. I want you to think about something, anything that you feel strong about and move."
Kiyoi's eyebrow's wrinkled. "I don't understand."
"Emotions. You project. I capture. Happy. Sad. Anything." Hira paused, then continued. "Together, we make magic, let's prove it."
That made Kiyoi smile. The corners of his lips lifted, his eyes creased, and the camera clicked. Hira whispered more... and they got lost in Hira whispering words of encouragement and Kiyoi teasing Hira.
Until Hira sighed and said, "Stop. Time to change." Kiyoi had forgotten that Hira wanted another outfit. Still, he followed with trust, dropping the sori to the floor with glee and untying the obi with relief. The yukata fluttered around his bare chest as Hira walked over to the covered mannequin and with a flourish, pulled off the dust cover.
Kiyoi shook his head. "Oh no." He backed away. "Oh no, Hira, you can't ask me to wear that! It's personal, and its a family heirloom!"
Hira took a deep breath and smiled, walking over to Kiyoi, gently taking his hands. "I want you too. I think you will look stunning in my grandfather's montsuki. I may never be able to wed, or have a family, but I have you. I need this."
There was something that Kiyoi was missing. Hira was saying something important but what was it? "Hira? I don't have the right to wear..."
"Yes, you do! Because you are mine!" Hira was becoming agitated. "The montsuki is just a piece of clothing but you will be with me forever." His words urged Kiyoi to understand.
"I will be with you forever." Kiyoi agreed, giving in, heart thumping. He had only seen montsuki in parades or television, never known anyone who had the money to actually afford one. Hira's family montsuki was beautiful, a black one, with two detailed embroidered heraldic crests, or mons, one on each shoulder. The under clothes were a dark grey, with a fine black pin stripe. The kimono is a solid light blue, but not quite a grey. The overall look was striking.
Suddenly, Hira disappeared, returning with a huge smile, which was strange for him. He thrust a long wooden box into Kiyoi's hands. "A...a..aaccessories!" He puffed out. Carefully, Kiyoi opened the box and inside was an antique sword, the box carefully lined in the same black silk as the montsuki, as well as the obi in the light blue and a pendant, again embroidered with the mons.
It was the way that Hira watched him, Kiyoi realized, as his hands cradled the precious box. I am just as precious! Slowly, he slipped the yukata off his shoulders and dropped it, his hands catching the silk before it fell to the floor. Naked to the waist, he handed it to Hira. "Here, I don't want to get dirty."
Then, he reached for the drawstring on the pants, hesitating. He was not fully erect, but not soft either. The fundoshi hid nothing, as he had been conscious of the cord between his buttocks the whole shoot, being thicker than modern underwear. Hira gave him no choice, for as the debate raged internally, his quicker hands had snuck in and untied them.
The cotton dropped to the floor, pooling around his bare feet, and Hira gently lifted one, pulling his leg free, then placed it on the ground. Kiyoi almost lost his balance, and steadied himself on Hira's shoulder. Hira moved to the next foot, repeating the motion until he stood almost naked. Kiyoi resisted the urge to cover his crotch.
Why was it more erotic to be almost naked than fully naked in front of the one you love?
Chapter 27
Hira noticed but he was a man on a mission. He picked up the pin striped pants and handed them to Kiyoi. "Let's get you dressed." He drew in a calming breath. This was his husband, perhaps the only time he would see the montsuki being worn by someone who he loved, other than his father, who had only worn it once, on his own wedding day.
He sighed, as his hands carefully ran lovingly down the fabric before actually letting Kiyoi take them, and step into the wide leg pants. He adjusted the folds to hang right and tied the waist in the back. Next was the short pale inner blue kimono, made of finely woven silk. A tiny smile appeared and was gone, as he saw Kiyoi's fingers caress it gently, before sliding his arms into the sleeves.
He stood back as Kiyoi tied the kimono himself, before once again helping to tie the obi. Sighing deeply, Hira brought the heavier black silk kimono, with the family mons on the shoulders and held it out to Kiyoi. Almost ceremonial, Kiyoi extended his arms, allowing Hira to dress him. The sleeves were a bit long on Kiyoi's slender frame, not having the sturdiness of his family, but still, the sight of Kiyoi dressed in the formal wear was enough to take his breath away.
The words popped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Will you marry me, Sou Kiyoi?" There was a million other things he wanted to say, but he didn't trust himself to say them, instead, he used his eyes, pleading, as he reached for his hand.
The silence grew, drawing out longer as Kiyoi's mouth opened and closed, and opened, but he made no sound. Finally, after what seemed like ages, "Hira, yes! Gladly, but..."
Shaking his head, Hira hugged him tightly, not caring if all his careful work wrinkled. "There are no buts. I don't care about laws or formalities. It's about what we want. We can be married, traditionally. It's not legal, but it is under temple law and I'm fine with that. Or we can travel to a country that does recognize our marriage."
He saw the tears in Kiyoi's eyes. "No tears, Kiyoi." He whispered. "Tears stain silk." Gently, he wiped them dry and dropped a kiss on his lips, more of a peck. Since he hadn't taken off the tabi, Hira once more took his hand and walked him to the garden, where there was a stack of traditional geta. They were worn often, usually in the spring and fall so the family was used to them.
Hira wanted to laugh, watching Kiyoi's eyes widen in horror as he pulled out a pair. "Oh, hell no! I can't even walk in a pair of those!"
"It's not hard, Kiyoi. Besides, you don't have to. Put them on." There was no arguing with him. Determination was written all over his face.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi was out of his depth. His head was spinning from the traditional dress up, his feet hurt from the shoes, and Hira hadn't given him ANY instructions on how to pose! The lamps were blinding his eyes, and so he shadowed his face.
Suddenly, he jumped, freezing in place.
"Stay!" Barked Hira, "Perfect!" He mumbled something something else as he wandered around, and Kiyoi could hear the clicking of the shutter, as he moved. Suddenly, the camera was put down, and Hira undid his kimono, and took off his sword, ruffling his hair. "Don't move." He admonished, moving swiftly.
He disappeared, reappearing with a small stool and positioned Kiyoi sitting, legs spread, with the outer and inner kimono's undone, as if he was undressing after a long day. Then he readjusted the lights and picked up the camera.
Kiyoi looked up at Hira from under his long lashes and thrust a hand through his hair, mussing it further. "Ahh... yes! More!" He could hear the excitement in Hira's voice, but he didn't KNOW what Hira wanted from him. His tongue flicked out and the camera clicked rapidly.
Just as suddenly, there was silence. No preamble at all and Hira announced, "We're done." Then, Hira began to clean up the courtyard silently. Kiyoi stayed on the small stool watching him work. What just happened? Kimono's flapping, the next time Hira walked past him, Kiyoi reached out and held his arm, stopping him.
Their eyes met, with Hira's dropping first. Now, Kiyoi knew that something was wrong. Hira hadn't avoided him in this manner since they had become a couple. Hell, he'd asked him to marry him, and he'd said yes! "Hira? What the fuck?"
"I can't..." Hira briefly met his eyes and dropped them again. It was only then he felt the tremble, fine small trembles in his arms. He pulled his lover tight to his body and held him as he shook.
"Hira, oh fuck, Hira, what is wrong?" Kiyoi whispered softly, patting his back. Hira only shook his head, refusing to speak. His emotions bubbled, knowing that Hira was leaving him out, and he didn't know why, or if he did something to upset him.
"Damn it, Hira," His voice rising from frustration, "I hate when you cut me out. Just fucking talk to me."
"You'll leave me, Kiyoi!" Hira burst out, tearing himself from his arms. His face was still but his voice quivered with emotion. "You don't like it when I tell you." He turned to go, and Kiyoi grabbed his arm, and pulled him back, but let him face away.
"Say it." He demanded, but now, he had a good idea. There was only one thing he'd ever really been upset about. Only one time he'd walked away... "Say it!" Kiyoi's voice rose, almost dangerously.
As Kiyoi's voice rose, Hira's sank lower, until it was barely heard. "You're too beautiful. So perfect, like a god." Suddenly, without warning, Hira tossed his camera over his head, knowing that Kiyoi would catch it. When he did, letting go of his arm in the process, he ran.
The costume made it impossible for Kiyoi to follow. Sighing deeply, he chose to look at the pictures Hira had taken instead. The first few in the yukata were ordinary snaps, nothing special. Then, the magic happened. The light had dulled enough, and the jury rigged light stands were brought out.
I'm glowing... His mouth dropped. Fuck me, Hira's pictures make me look as if I'm glowing! His fingers slowed, as he carefully moved from one image to another. The ones in the yukata, they were more worshiping his beauty. He sighed, almost in annoyance. He was not that beautiful. He was not...
Then he accidentally moved to the first picture in the monstuki, almost dropping the camera in the process. That image was all about love... it showed on his face, it was taken by a man in love. His fingers moved quickly through all of the monstuki images until he came to the half dressed, sitting on the stool pictures.
His body responded instantly. He looked like a man who had just had sex, and very good sex at that. It wasn't even hot in the courtyard, yet he appeared to have drops of sweat and lust on him. He ground his teeth, and carefully, as if the camera was a precious item, placed it on the ground.
Then, with determination, in the white tabi, stalked into the house to find his runaway man.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira hid, the emotions overwhelming him. He was close to having a freakout. He knew it. He was shaking, his hands trembling so badly. He was too big now, to crawl into the space that used to be his safe space, so he went into the room with the family junk.
There, he put his back next to the trunk with all his old toys, and pulled his knees up tight, rocking back and forth. This room had always been comforting. It was dark, and quiet, cool in summer and warm in winter. Silently, he began to say the times table, trying desperately to bring order into his messed up mind.
It wasn't helping. He could only see the desire, the need... and his body kept responding to it. It wasn't safe to be around his god any longer. He would hurt him eventually. He would leave, Kiyoi would. People he loved, the ones he cared for the most, they always leave him.
"Why did I do that?" Hira muttered, holding his head, rocking back and forth. "I'm so stupid. Stupid Stutz!" Sometimes he wished he was still five and could beat his head on the wall, beat some sense into it. It never worked but the pain felt nice.
He froze... thinking he heard a noise but the house always had strange sounds, from being so old. So he started rocking again. "Stupid Stutz." He whispered. "You're not fit to be in love!"
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi stripped off the montsuki, and the kimono, leaving the pants on. There was no Hira in the main areas and a few doors he could check, that he'd never been in. Opening those, he found one must be his parent's room, having a dusty look about it.
The next room was a very old art studio, again, with a very dusty look about it. Neither room had a hidden Hira in them. He took a deep breath and swore. "If you are not in that fucking treasure room, I'm gonna hurt you."
He stalked out the studio, and down the hall, past the small bedroom they shared, to the staircase hidden in the back of the house. It was as if the room was a forgotten addition, with it's four small treads. He wondered why he'd never noticed it before. Slowly, he pushed open the door and almost immediately saw Hira on the floor, rocking, and muttering something to himself.
He didn't even look up on his entry. Kiyoi took a deep breath. He'd seen him like this before and he wasn't going anywhere, no matter how hard Hira was hiding. He ran his fingers through his hair, scratched his bare chest, and sighed. "Fuck, Hira..."
Standing over him, legs akimbo, Kiyoi honestly didn't know what to do. He looked so... so pitiful, sitting on the floor. "Oh, Hira, why do you do this?" He knelt down, and his hand stretched out, gently smoothing out his tousled hair. His heart ached, but he learned.
The last time, when he tried any type of aggressive moves, it freaked Hira out. In total shock, suddenly, he landed on his butt as Hira exploded from his folded up position, launching himself like a cannon ball into his arms.
"Kiyoi!" Hira cried, the tears pouring down. "Kiyoi! I don't know how to explain how I'm feeling."
Chapter 28
Their bodies were together. Hira was on top of him, chest to chest, legs to legs. Kiyoi groaned, from both the sudden weight and the contact with the floor. "Hira? You don't need to tell me how you feel, or even process it right away." He tried to calm his lover while thinking other thoughts, distracting himself, yet...
Why did his tee shirt feel so good against his bare chest? He drew in several deep calming breaths, trying not to go down that path. This wasn't what Hira needed, even if all he could think of was sex, since he saw those pictures.
"Kiyoi?" Hira murmured softly, "I'm not worthy of you. I have nothing to offer you. How could I..." It was too embarrassing to even vocalize the second time his wish to marry Kiyoi, to see him dressed in a kimono of white, while he wore the montsuki. Hira craved the ceremony that went with being wed, the ceremony. Not only did his brain fully understand it, but it slotted in neatly with his well ordered life.
But HOW to explain this complex ideal with simple words to Kiyoi when he was only coming to terms with it?
Pissed off, especially when he knew of the talent Hira possessed, Kiyoi pushed him off. Hira rolled off easily, fully accepting of the punishment. He had left him, ran, when they promised they would both stop. Again, his head bowed, in the family tradition of discipline.
That was it. His trigger. Kiyoi grabbed his shoulders and pushed. Startled, Hira raised his eyes and they locked together. Furious ones stared into shocked... "You... YOU... Idiot! Creep! Stalker! Why am I wasting my time with you?" Kiyoi stood up and placed his hands on his hips. "Don't you understand anything?"
Bending down, somewhere Kiyoi found the strength to drag Hira. Or maybe he was too startled by this new version of Kiyoi to protest as he followed along meekly behind. Marching determined out to the courtyard, Kiyoi picked up the discarded camera and almost threw it into Hira's hands. "See for yourself, you idiot. Would someone useless be able to take those pictures?"
"If you don't think you are good enough to be with me, then prove yourself, Stalker! Win that fucking competition! Enter and fucking win!"
With that final parting shot, Kiyoi turned and left Hira staring at him, holding the camera. He heard noises inside, then the door being slammed. Still holding the camera, he dropped to sit down, his legs feeling weak. His head bowed, and a thick pounding developed in one temple. "But Kiyoi, it doesn't matter how good these pictures are! I will never be able to take pictures of anyone else! Don't you understand? You're my god!"
Despite the pain in his heart, he finally picked up the camera and slowly looked at the digital images. He popped out the SD card and still, as if in a trance, walked over to his laptop, inserted the card, and began editing his favorite images. In the end, he had two of the kimono, and three of the montsuki.
It was now almost morning and Kiyoi hadn't returned. He felt beaten, worse than anything his father had ever done by ignoring him. There was no point in sleeping now.
He went and took a bath, then prepared his breakfast. It felt lonely, after having Kiyoi here, even if he usually was asleep at this time. He washed his few dishes, cleaned and tidied the house, and carefully put the clothes away, picked up the printed photos, and left out two of the more seductive ones for his "shrine."
Glancing at his watch, he sighed. He had still had some time so he opened the closet that had once held the futon but now was his clothes, moving them aside and popped out the panel. It had been built to protect precious objects during difficult times. Hira, since he was young, used it to hide his treasures.
Kiyoi was his most important one. His beautiful man, his god.
Turning on the light, he surveyed the altar he built around the tiny objects given by Kiyoi in high school, to which he had carefully added later. There was a glass beaker, shiny with no fingerprints, full of change, a small bell, a candle, copies of various print ads, the small yellow rubber duck... and now the two new pictures from last night.
He took a deep breath, bowed low, and slowly replaced the panel, mussing up the clothes before sliding back the door. It was going to be a difficult day at university, this he already knew.
He looked like shit. He felt like shit. His head was pounding, beating to the time of one foot, then the next as he walked to the station, with his head down.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi stood in the shadows, watching Hira leave for school, worried. He had waited for him to run after him, after he left. In typical Hira fashion, he didn't. It had been chilly, so he went back to his apartment by taxi.
He had come early, well, early for him, in the hopes that they could talk but Hira didn't answer the door. Kiyoi was worried, and since it was HE who walked out, didn't think it was right to waltz in, as if nothing happened.
Why did he expect Hira to understand how he felt when he didn't understand much about Asperger's Syndrome, no matter how much he read? It just didn't make sense in his head. He only knew at this point, he wasn't letting him go.
Slowly, he walked up to the house, and opened the gate. He entered the code and slipped off his shoes, walking slowly to the bedroom. There, he stared thoughtfully at the neat bedroom. It was always neat. The bed was made every morning without fail.
There was no sign of the clothes he had worn for the photoshoot last night, nor any of the pictures. He sighed, his eyes flicking around the room, when he saw a glimmer of light coming from the closet. He cocked his head curiously. Why was the light on?
Walking over, he slid the door open, and was even more puzzled. The closet had no light! He pushed the clothes aside and saw just a panel. But around the panel was a bright light. Now, the curiosity burned strong. He pushed on the panel and it popped open, almost falling into his hands.
He jumped back, swearing in shock as he stared directly at a huge picture of him advertising face cream! "Fuck, Hira, what the hell is this?"
He bent closer, and began to examine the objects on the altar. He knew it was one, from the layout. There were only two things he really was immediately interested in, beside an explanation: the two photographs from last night.
He picked one up and and the look on his face, the soft look of lust made it slip from his fingers. He didn't have the nerve to look closer at the second. He could feel the heat in his ears. "Damn it, Hira!" He swore again. "Stop running. We need to talk about all of this!"
~~~~~~~~~~
The day dragged. It dragged heavy on his mind, it dragged on his body, the lack of sleep evident in his movement, showing through heavy, dark eyes. Hira lived in a silent world at the university, except when it came to the photography club.
It didn't take long, just before lunch, before the first message arrived, reminding him of club duties right after his last class. He snorted softly, not bothering to respond. He simply replaced his phone back into his pocket. It wasn't the person he wanted to hear from.
Across the courtyard, Kayama sat with the Club Senior and sighed. He was haunted by too many issues. Now he was being physically stalked by this man. Still, his body knew where Hira was at every moment they occupied the same space. "Owe fuck!" He rubbed his side, where the Senior had pinched him. "What the hell was that for?"
"You're not paying attention to me." The senior studied him, eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking about?"
"Hira." It was said without much thought. Kayama jumped again as the senior pinched his side once more. "Fuck, stop that! I told you, so why did you do it again?" He saw a slight smirk on the senior's face and wondered why.
"Kayama, If you are with me, be with me. Hira has someone." The senior leaned back and stretched, his shirt riding up under his jacket. Kayama shivered slightly at the sight of the bare abdomen. Why was this senior so bold? He still hadn't fully processed all of his feelings about...
Pinch! "Fuck! Stop it!" Kayama rubbed his side. "I bruise easily!" The senior now looked evil. It sent shivers down his spine.
"Why were you thinking about Hira?" The senior leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "I might stop if you give me a proper explanation." His lips twitched, and Kayama shivered again.
Slowly, Kayama pulled out his phone and unlocked it. Silently, he slid it across to the senior and sighed. "This." He waited while the senior read it and then pushed it back.
"And?" Kayama glanced at the senior, who seemed relaxed, with his eyes closed. "He hasn't responded to any of your texts for the last week. Does it bother you?"
"No. Not really, Hira never answered back." Kayama drew in a deep breath before continuing. Would this be cathartic? "Senior? Hira is different. You need to adapt to him. He doesn't... care, in the same way others do. It's been hard letting go of the need to be his insulation, I guess, is the word."
"Kayama?" The senior leaned even more forward, his hand reaching forward so he met his eyes. "This isn't your problem, is it? You need to be more honest with yourself." The gentle touch of his hand was disturbing. Distracting. For the first time in a very long time, Kayama didn't sense Hira anymore.
"Honest?" He repeated slowly, eyes wide.
"Mm. Honest. I don't think it has anything to do with how you feel about Hira, but that you're too scared to move forward. Guilt is a powerful emotion." The senior's fingers gently caressed Kayama's cheek, almost mesmerizing. "Do you think Hira even spares you a thought? Guilt is useless."
His breathing quickened, his mouth parted only slightly. What was this senior doing to him? What did HE know about his guilt?
Chapter 29
Hira's feet dragged, his head pounded so badly by the time photography club started. He walked in late, unusual for him. As he opened the door, six people turned to stare at him and he didn't even notice, simply walking over to his spot, dropping his bag to the floor and flopping like a rag doll into the chair.
With automatic motions, he grunted as he bent forward to lift the bag. It seemed to weigh a lot, and pulled out a folder, tossing on the table. With a short, staccato words, "Contest entry. Three. You choose." He leaned back and closed his eyes.
The Club President ignored the folder. "Hira? Are you alright?"
Without opening his eyes, Hira grunted. "Up all night. Finishing." His hand came up, rubbing his temples, where the blood pounded furiously. "Look. Choose." He repeated, his voice sounding dead, flatter than usual.
One of the seniors had already opened the folder and spread the three 8 x 11's across the table. He stood back and swore. "Holy Hell! You have to see this!" The other members came to see the portraits.
One member also swore. "Isn't that the guy from the ads? The one my girl goes crazy for? How did you get him to be your model?"
Kayama glanced at Hira, knowing he wouldn't answer. "They went to high school together."
"Fuck, they are good." The Club President examined the images carefully. The kimono's were good, but there was something special about the montsuki photo. The shadows played carefully over the model's face, highlighting it in a very neat way. There was emotion... something unique in it.
"The kimono's are good, but the montsuki photo is..." The President didn't have a chance to finish because one of the seniors, more eagle eyed than he, noticed the mons.
"Hira? You dressed the model in your own FAMILY montsuki? That takes courage! If you win, this picture will be famous." Now they crowded around, all looking more closely at the clothes.
Comments flashed too fast for Hira to follow, with his pounding head. "Are you rich?" "Is it a heirloom?" "Is that your own Kimono?"
Suddenly, Hira took a deep breath and whispered, "Water." In the melee, no one heard him. Silently, he slipped off the chair and passed out. It was the sudden thump of him hitting the floor that caught the attention of the room.
Kayama turned and was going to help him, when the Club President stopped him, with a shake of his head. The President walked over and touched his forehead. It was burning hot. He sighed. "Call for an ambulance. He has a high fever. Does anyone know who to call?"
"I'll check his phone." His hands trembled. He didn't need too, but he went through the motions anyway. It had to be Sou Kiyoi. After seeing this pictorial, all the doubts left in his mind were gone. Kayama had to pack away any lingering feelings for Hira. Whatever damage he had caused, they obviously had worked out.
Saying a small prayer, he swiped the screen and it immediately opened. So, Hira still didn't lock it. How trusting. He scrolled through the contacts, looking for his name, finding only Sou. He pressed the number and had to hold the phone away from his ear.
"You damn asshole! We were not finished! Come home now!" The volume of Sou Kiyoi's voice was so strident, several of the Senior's turned to stare. Kayama felt the color rise in his cheeks.
"Excuse me? You know Kazunari Hira? He fainted at the University and we have called an ambulance to take him to the hospital. He's running a very high fever." Kayama waited, first to see if his voice was recognized (embarrassing) and second, what would be his response.
The silence stretched, before Kiyoi answered much more softly. "What did you say? Repeat that."
Taking a deep breath, Kayama replied, just as soft, feeling sympathy, "Hira fainted from a fever. The EMT'S just arrived. I can find out which hospital and text you, from his phone, if you want?"
"Do that." Sou hung up. Kayama rolled his eyes. They were perfect for each other.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hira was rarely, if ever sick. When he was, he was a terrible patient. In fact, he was so bad, the last time he was sick, his parents actually had him admitted to the hospital for care.
During his stay, they didn't visit, not once. Thus, Hira had a terrible, deeply ingrained fear of hospitals, despite his favorite and only aunt being a nurse. For him, to regain consciousness in the back of an ambulance, it was the ultimate betrayal.
The EMT's, not having a full patient history, were not expecting Hira's behaviour. Hira arrived at the hospital strapped to the gurney, not like a patient with a simple fever, requiring fluids, but a mental health patient. One of the EMT's had an eye, starting to bruise.
He did not look particularly happy, standing by the desk as he gave his report to the on duty nurse. "So, in conclusion, don't remove the restraints until after you have assessed him." He motioned to his eye. "He's very strong and in the fever induced hallucinatory state, not able to reason."
He turned to leave and then paused. "I would suggest family members. He kept calling out for his aunt and someone named Kiyoi. You might not need chemical restraints."
"Let's leave the diagnosis for the doctor, hm?" The nurse laughed as she waved the EMT out of the station.
In the ER it's taken for granted that privacy is respected and all information is confidential, no matter how loudly they speak. They forget that family members may be closer than they appear.
Kiyoi gritted his teeth, hearing that Hira was tied to a bed, like an animal. His gentle giant wouldn't hurt anyone without cause. What the hell did these people DO to him that caused him to strike out? He was going to find out!
~~~~~~~~~~
Kayama didn't want to go to the hospital. Oh no, he didn't. "Senior, please..." He whined, trying to thrust Hira's bag into the Senior's hands. "I don't really need to be there. You can handle it by yourself."
The Club President narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Is there something you're not telling me, Kayama? Why wouldn't you want to be by Hira's bedside when just a few months ago, you declared your love for him? Are you that fickle?"
"Of course not!" Offended, Kayama felt his blood heating. "You don't understand anything. Hira never was interested in me! It was completely one sided! However, there is no reason for me to go!"
"Then prove to me you have NO lingering feelings! See him, give him his stuff in front of me." The senior thrust the bag into his hands and grabbed Kayama's wrist, almost dragging him from the University's steps into the parking lot, where his old Toyota was parked. "Get in."
Kayama surveyed the car curiously. "Is it safe?"
"Fuck you. Get in. It hasn't killed me yet." The senior's lips curled. "Or do I have to put you inside?"
"Okay, Okay... I'll do it myself." Gingerly, Kayama sat down, holding both his own bookbag, and Hira's as if they were medieval shields in front of him. The car didn't start moving. "Is there a problem with the car?"
"No. You." Now the senior was definitely laughing. "I don't drive anywhere without my passengers wearing seatbelts."
He could feel it. Everyone always said that dark skin didn't blush, but Kayama did! He was on fire as he did up the seat belt. He kept his gaze firmly out the side window, but the sound of the senior's laughter stayed in his memory for a long, long time.
~~~~~~~~~~
He couldn't do it. His brain wasn't functioning properly since he'd overheard that conversation... instead, it was going in circles. He sat on these hard orange plastic chairs that were ubiquitous in every waiting room, in every country, around the world. Not that he knew personally, just from what he had seen in the movies.
He had to think. There had to BE someone in Hira's family that would know something about why he was acting this way? But who? Knowing that he was estranged from his parents, other than a once a week, brief phone call with his mother (and having overheard Hira on that call) Kiyoi was positive his mother wasn't the best choice.
But whom to call?
"Sou Kiyoi? Have you seen Hira yet?" The methodical tap of his foot slowed down at the mention of his name and his eyes flashed at seeing Kazuki Kayama.
Kayama backed up when Kiyoi stood up. Fuck, it's not good! "Why are you here?" Listen to his tone! He took a deep breath and backed up even further, bumping into his senior, who placed his hands firmly on his waist, supporting him, but also preventing him from running.
"I, uh, I was the one who called you. Here." Kayama untangled the messenger bag from his bookbag and thrust it into Kiyoi's belly, forcing his hands to take it. "Hira's bag. Is he up for visitors?"
"Who's that, Kazuki? Your new lover?" Flushing, Kayama started to shake his head when the Club President burst out laughing.
"You have a good eye. Not yet, but we will be." He nodded. "I am the Photography Club President. Can we visit with Hira?"
Kiyoi shook his head. "If you won't gossip, I'll explain. He's had it hard enough as it is." He dropped back into the chair, looking defeated.
Worried now, Kayama pushed the senior away. "What did you do to him, Sou? I told you, if you hurt him..."
"Me? Hurt that stalker?" Kiyoi snorted. "As if!" His head dropped into his hands. "Hira did that to himself, Kazuki Kayama!"
"Will both of you please calm down?" The Club President loudly whispered. "Did you forget this is a hospital? You... I'm assuming you're Hira's boyfriend, yes? So tell me, what happened?" He sat down next to Kiyoi, glaring at Kayama, who had a stubborn look on his face.
Shocked by the sudden kindness of a perfect stranger, the tears welled in Kiyoi's eyes. "Hira punched one of the EMT's during transit so they have him in restraints. They are assessing him to find out if he is a danger to himself or others. I don't know what to do!"
The Club President stared in shock. After knowing Hira for almost two years, he just couldn't see Hira being violent. "Pardon me?"
"You heard me. No visitors unless they are family. I don't know what to do. Hira's estranged from his parents so..." His voice took on a different tone. "Why didn't you call me first? Why did you call emergency services?" Kiyoi didn't care if he was whining. They were keeping him from Hira!
"The phone." Kayama pointed to his bag. "Hira has an aunt. Call his aunt."
Chapter 30
Hira lay still in the restraints, the fever burning through his body. When he drifted off to sleep, nightmares came to haunt him. Alone, scared, hiding in his cupboard, he played with his toys hearing his parents argue about him.
Awake, he hallucinated, watching Kiyoi walk away from him, calling him a "Creep, idiot and stalker." Scared, he ran after him, pleading for him to not leave. What he should have done. What he never could have done.
They never stayed the same, the hallucinations. "Aunt? Why are you here?" He whispered, the floating figure looked so young. "You can't save me any longer." His voice rasped. "I did it again. I hurt someone. I did." He shifted sadly in the bed and the monitors went crazy as his fever spiked even higher. "Aunt? Aunt?" Hira's voice rose as he cried, "I hurt."
His eyes rolled back into his head, and he lay still, the sounds faded. The nightmare returned, this time Hira was much older, and it was just before he was abandoned. He pressed his ear against the bedroom door, listening intently.
"He stays." Father screeched. "This transfer is an opportunity for me to show I can be a company man! I've been with the company for almost 15 years and have not attended one family event! Why? Why? Because of that... that..."
Mother started to hit him, Hira heard. "Don't say it. Don't you ever say it! Your son is very smart! He's your son! Why can't you be proud of him?" She was crying. "We can't leave him here. He's only a baby."
"Fuck that. He's defective. I'll support the boy." Defeated, Father pushed Mother away. Hira heard the thump as she hit the floor. It might be a scenario that was built in his mind but to him, it was real. Father hated him. He didn't fit in, and all those doctor visits didn't fix the defective. "But I am not staying. If you don't come, I'll divorce you and won't support either of you."
The only sounds after that were as Hira ran to the cupboard, cramming himself into the too small area. He bit the inside of his cheek until it bled, rocking slowly to comfort himself. Inside his mind, he went to where things were always happy. Where he went when the other kids bullied him about being a stutz: The playground swings by the river. It was a small, hidden area that was rarely used, except by the daycare and only then in the morning.
"Don't go... don't leave me." He whispered aloud despite the fact he was sleeping, his hands still moving restlessly in the restraints. "Don't..."
~~~~~~~~~~
Kiyoi snarled at Kayama. "Fuck!" He hurriedly dug through the bag and held the phone as if it was a bomb. Was this a good idea, to contact the family? Well whatever. He needed access. Scrolling through the contacts, he just about dropped the phone. Fuck! Nine contacts? Who the hell had a handphone and less than 30 contacts?
Slowly he scrolled through and realized that three of them were right here, in the waiting room. Mother, he would not call. He sighed and the last one... was the one. Thank you! At least you put Aunt Nimura in the contacts. He pressed the speed dial and waited. "Hello?"
"Oji! We haven't heard from you in a long, long time!" A bright YOUNG voice chirped happily. "Can I come and see you?" Kiyoi heard a voice calling in the background, "Haru, who is it?" The young boy called back, "Oji."
"Excuse me..." Kiyoi felt weak. Hira had more family than he knew. Why didn't he tell me about them? "Excuse me, can I speak with your Mother?" It was louder this time, and he heard the phone drop.
"Hello? May I ask who is calling?" A woman's voice now and Kiyoi breathed in relief.
"Do you know Kazunari Hira?" He waited impatiently for her response.
A sharp intake of breath and then, "Yes. Who is this? Is there a problem?"
Kiyoi didn't realize that his head was shaking until Kayama poked him hard in the side. Her answer said this wasn't the first call she had like this. "Yes. Yes, there is. Hira is in the hospital and they won't let me see him." His voice had started to shake and with effort, he fought to control it.
He heard a deep intake of breath. "I'll be right there. Which hospital?" There was a lot of clattering, and he heard keys rattle. "Haru! Go put your jacket on. I'll be there soon." Suddenly, there was nothing but a dial tone. Kiyoi stared at the phone in his hand.
Gently, Kayama took it from him and replaced it in Hira's bag. "Sou, do you want us to stay?" Kiyoi shook his head, indicating no. The senior glanced at Kayama and sighed, so he took over.
"Would you like something to drink?" His voice was kinder, more gentler.
Slowly, Kiyoi nodded. "If you wouldn't mind, a ginger ale." He slumped a bit further into the plastic chair just outside the observation unit. So many secrets still between them. He sighed, tucking his chin to his chest. Why was it so damn hard to love someone?
"Are you okay?" Kiyoi jumped slightly, not expecting to hear kindness in Kazuki Kayama's voice. "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?" He glanced at him, noticing that he was looking at him almost too intently. Kiyoi followed his eyes, and clasped his hands together, to hide the tremble.
Slowly, he shook his head. "I'm okay, Kazuki, or I will be, once I see him."
Kayama nodded, then spoke slowly, "Are you supposed to work today?"
"Oh fuck!" Kiyoi began to look for his own phone and when he found it, laughed helplessly. The battery was dead. "Yeah, I am. I also missed the full dress rehearsal. I am so screwed." He waved his phone. "Damn it, Hira..." Images flashed through his mind, of Hira took care of him, of the routines they'd settled into to, one being where Hira made sure the phone was charged diligently every night.
Kayama turned his head, as he replied, hiding his smile. "I'll phone my brother for you. He will understand." He walked out of the hallway, bumping into the senior on the way.
"Where are you going?" The senior placed his hand firmly on his arm, halting him. "I drove."
"Just making a call. I'll be right back." Kayama drew in a deep breath, wondering at his possessiveness. "Go keep Sou company. He..." Words failed him, so he finally met the senior's gaze. "He really loves Hira." Shaking off the senior's hand, Kayama almost ran out of the hospital.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Head Nurse exited the ward, walking past two young men in the hallway. It had been several hours and the one, the handsome one, hadn't moved. She sighed. The patient was still severely agitated, had a high fever and treating him was incredibly difficult.
She was positive, that if that young man was the same one that the patient was calling for, there would be no need for the restraints, and they could offer standard treatment. She sighed, as the doctor exited the room, stopping her just past the waiting men. "Nurse? Is there any male nurses on the ward? The patient is too volitive for women. He rubbed his wrist, now beginning show a bruise. "Very fast. He got me while I administering the next dosage of medication."
She glanced down the hall and put a finger to her mouth. "Not here, Sir." Angling her head, she indicated the small group of men. "We are still waiting for a guardian or family member to provide a family history."
The doctor nodded. "I see. That's why he's not on a ward. Very well."
It was too late. Kiyoi, with his experience in busy theaters, had very delicate hearing. Overhearing every word, his blood began to boil. Volitive? Hira? What the fuck were they doing to his gentle giant?
Where are you, mysterious Aunt? His eyes narrowed dangerously. If they hurt him...
~~~~~~~~~~
Kayama stopped dead, shaking outside the hospital. His hands almost couldn't hold on to the phone properly. What was the Senior's damn problem? He took several deep breaths to calm himself and pressed the speed dial for his older brother. His foot tapped nervously as he waited. "Hey? Sou is at the hospital with Hira. He won't be in tonight." He paused and then nodded while speaking, "Mm. I'll call when I know. Bye."
He turned to go, when he felt a tug on his pantleg. Looking down, he saw a boy, around seven or eight. "Oji? You know where Oji is?' Kayama turned looking for the boy's mother and saw an attractive older woman, probably ten years older than he, running after him.
"Haru, you can't run away like that!" She scolded, "Not away from me, not in the hospital." Firmly, she took the boy's hand and began to walk into the hospital. She had the delicate, lady like manner of Japanese women, but a bluntness that was definitely more like Hira's.
"Excuse me?" Kayama interrupted, walking faster to catch up. "Are you Kazunari Hira's aunt?" The woman turned and gave a small bow.
"I am. Are you the young man who called me? I need to speak to the nursing staff immediately." She began to walk, pulling the small child along. "Don't drag your feet, Haru. Oji needs us."
"You're hurting me, Mother!" Haru whined, tugging his hand.
The aunt stopped and sighed, bending to get to the child's level. "I'm sorry, Haru. I'm very worried about Hira." She glanced at Kayama, giving him the once over. "Will you watch over Haru while I speak with the staff? I promise he's a good boy. It won't take long."
"Yes, we will. Haru is also very important to us." The senior interrupted, and Kayama wondered when he arrived. "Please, go." With a final glance between the two men, Hira's aunt nodded and almost ran down the hallway.
"Why is Oji in the hospital?" Haru looked between the two men. "Do I also call you Oji? Can we go play?" His eyes flittered between the two, finally settling on the older man to answer his questions.
"Hmm, no, don't call me uncle. Call me..." A slow smile crossed his face. "Call me Sawazaki." He glanced at Kayama when he said that, clearly indicating that he was tired of being called 'senior or president' all the time.
Kayama drew in a sharp breath. "I'm Kayama. There's a small park outside the hospital. We can go there." He needed time to understand his feelings and intuitively he knew that if he was alone with Sawazaki, it wouldn't be right. Having the child along, to diffuse the tension between them, could only help. It definitely wouldn't hurt.