Something I just needed to write to get something out during a boring few minutes, raw and unedited.


Situations change. He didn't.

I mean, he wasn't ever one for adapting. Sure, he knew how to hide certain sides of himself to make him seem less vulnerable, but Takeru never faltered in his self.

I had been home for about a week before I got to see him. He, of course, was overseas on a basketball scholarship at Duke University, studying Literature. I hadn't seen him in eight months. Of course we used Skype and the like for communication, but being separated by an ocean did things to a relationship, even one such as ours. Staying here for a concurrent education program kept me balanced, but without my other half nearby, I never felt complete. I missed his rare blond hair, and his bright blue eyes. I missed how he could recite poetry as if he wrote those words as T.S. Eliot had.

In the end, we had something. Nothing was said, and nothing actually happened, but before we had said our goodbyes in August, the night before he boarded his plane to America, he just looked at me with those eyes, and I saw something. It was one of those things he was hiding for years. He held me and said, I promise to come back for you. That was all.

And so I waited eight months. Air mailed letters, Skype, e-mails, Facebook messages, hundreds of data sent between us. We lived a digital life.

May third, he landed back in Odaiba. I wasn't able to meet him at the airport, and Yamato wanted to see him first, so it wasn't until the fourth that I saw him again. Late afternoon, I was making dinner in my apartment. I texted him to see when he was free, and before I could hit send, there was his signature knock on my door. I opened it, his lips to my ear, whispering I promised, and closed it with my foot.

An hour later, I emerged from the bedroom, breathing profanities. I figured I had certainly overcooked the chicken I left in the oven.