This is the last part I have written. It'll be a while until I write any more, if I ever do...

16. leave me

Gakuto sat staring out the window. It was a good view, all those tall Tokyo buildings. He lifted one leg over the arm of the chair and then slowly, elegantly, crossed the other one over it. He almost started when the door opened, but managed to keep his 'sultry' face on.

"Hello, dahling."

Yuushi paused, dumbstruck. Why was Gakuto in his office? Why was Gakuto in his chair?

For that matter, why was Gakuto in a dress?

It shouldn't have been a surprise that 'um' was the best he could manage. His secretary paused behind him in the door and raised a delicate, drawn-in eyebrow. Gakuto waved a hand at her dismissively.

"Leave me, woman. We have grave matters of importance to discuss." He uncrossed his legs and peeked up at Yuushi from under his hair.

"Uh, yes. Mira-san, if you would, uh, kindly, leave us."

The door shut firmly as she turned and walked away.


17. accept it
Notes: I know someone whom this has happened to.

"Gakuto, where's my car?" Yuushi stood in the driveway, looking into the car port and checking his watch and not seeing his Impala.

"Er, I donated it to charity?" Gakuto stood in the doorway, eating his cereal and brushing his hair and not looking at Yuushi.

"You donated it to charity."


Yuushi sighed.

"Gakuto, where's your car?"


18. cold

Outside the rain came down in sheets and washed away the day. The gray sky seemed made of steel, and clouds chased each other across the expanse of metal like mice fleeing a knife.

He lay inside on the floor, looking up at the white ceiling. Shadows played across his face because he'd forgotten to turn on the light. It was sterile and cold.

A card lay discarded on the carpet, bleached in the fading light. We are sorry for your loss. Silver text in the silver light. It played over and over in his mind.

We are sorry for you loss.

Sorry for your loss.

For your loss.


One small hand clutched a photo of them, their smiling faces looking out into the soft wool of his sweater. The other held a lock of blue hair, curling softly around the ribbon that bound it.

Gakuto peered up into the gloom and thought what do I do now?


19. when I was young

His parents would not buy him a rubber ball. Not the good kind of red rubber ball that you used for kickball and four square. But he wanted one.

They told him to practice his gymnastics and took him to the place with the mats every day so he could tumble and leap and roll. And jump. He loved to jump.

He wanted to jump as high as a red rubber ball.


20. I feel old
Notes: If Hyotei doesn't include high school, let's pretend that it does. :O Gakkun R high school dropout.

It seemed that anything that had to do with Atobe was destined to be huge and dramatic. The white-draped tables, the blue-draped columns, the silver confettiā€¦ Why the confetti?

People milled around talking and laughing and shaking hands, marveling at advances, commiserating over failures. Atobe, Mr. Most-Likely-To-Succeed, was shooing away a new crowd of admirers every few minutes and blathering into a different cell phone every time. His work kept him busy, but at least he was physically here.

Kabaji stood beside him, the same but for a concealed handgun. They figured it would happen.

Jiro had greeted them all cheerfully enough, but was now slumbering peacefully under the drinks table, drunk or narcoleptic. A group of women chattered on without him of his new line of summer clothes, due in April.

Shishido, Most-Likely-To-Be-Arrested, and Choutaro, Most-Musical, had slipped off somewhere. Didn't they spend enough time together at home? A music stand stood in the corner with Choutaro's books strewn below. Had he volunteered or been roped into playing the night's entertainment?

Hiyoshi stood by the window, carrying on quietly with an old friend.

"Ne, Yuushi~ Am I allowed to be here?" Gakuto tugged nervously at his neck, half-strangled, or so he believed, by a neat red tie. He'd left his jacket in the car, well nothing for it. "This is your high school reunion."

"You went to Hyotei, too," he gently admonished, smoothing down his dark hair. "Besides, wives are allowed to attend."


They stepped into the room together, a little older, a little wiser perhaps. They were greeted with cheers. No one had been forgotten.

Review, please? :D