Yesterday they left the cinema in
high spirits. Now Ryu leaned against the steel frames carrying swings
and studied the grim faces of his friends. On one swing Tomasu sat
and studied his shoes. The other held Urufu who kept a subdued
conversation with Tomasu going. They spoke in Swedish, so Ryu didn’t
understand what they said. He didn’t need to understand though, and
he wished it had been the other way around.
Yukio left a few
minutes earlier. He just growled something about idiots and a
depressing lack of imagination. Apparently he’d spent the last of
Valentine’s day a year ago here, and something about a repeat
didn’t sit well with him.
But it’s
still different with Noriko. It was, but not for the reasons he
kept alive in his mind. To begin with there was no giving up between
his sister and Urufu. At least you accepted her chocolate.
Ryu looked at
Tomasu. He might be a dry geek, but the way something had gone out
from his eyes had nothing to do with geekdom. I’ve seen those
eyes before. A year earlier. They were Urufu’s eyes from back
then, and Kuri’s. At least you didn’t break up.
“Dammit Ryu,
I’m not getting through here. Some help please?”
The words only
gave birth to silence. Help you? How? I gave up on Ai myself. Ryu shook his head. “Yukio maybe,” he said. He didn’t want to
remind Urufu that the way the two of them steam rolled all over
himself worked as a great example of how not to give up. “They have
to decide for themselves,” Ryu said and made certain not to meet
Tomasu’s eyes.
Darkness had long
since fallen or else their appropriation of the swings would have met
with disapproving stares from parents to children better suited for
them. This was not the territory of high schoolers. Yukio could say
whatever he wanted about romance manga and proper settings.
Urufu placed a
hand on Tomasu’s shoulder and grimaced. “Kareyoshi, the bastard,
robbed them of that option.” A long sigh followed. “Bloody hell,
he’s still around pissing on our lives!”
Ryu said nothing.
His mother once told him how actions created an existence lasting far
longer than the deed itself. That was the reason his interfering with
Urufu and Noriko was nothing he ever wanted his mother to know about.
But I have a right to my disapproval as long as I don’t try to
break them up.
“Kiddo, you’re
the one with experience here.”
You’re
wrong. Ryu shook his head. “Ai was my first. Having a fan club
isn’t the same as playing around.” He gave his statement another
thought. “Look, I like the attention and all that. I just wasn’t
all that interested in getting involved for real.”
There was no way
he could avoid looking at Tomasu any more. Urufu was being a douche
even if Ryu suspected he didn’t know it. You spoke with
people, not about them.
“What?” The
question carried a sour tone to it, but at least Tomasu’s voice
came alive again.
“I don’t
understand,” Ryu said.
“She’s afraid
of me. I’m part of that. She needs to move on and I’m a weight
around her shoulders.”
There was no need
for explaining ‘that’. “I still don’t understand.”
“What’s not
to understand? Whenever I get too close she flinches away!”
It wasn’t
whenever. Sometimes Jeniferu gathered up the bravery to snuggle up to
her boyfriend, but Ryu admitted that Tomasu essentially was right.
“That’s why I can ‘t understand. Noriko…” he began. Flashes
of Noriko clinging to Urufu in all kinds of inappropriate situations
raced through Ryu’s mind. “Noriko had a similar experience,
but...”
“But she’s
not afraid of Ulf?”
“Yeah,
something like that.”
Tomasu lowered
his face again. “I don’t know all about it, but he saved her. Am
I right?”
Ryu nodded
mutely. From the corner of his eyes he saw how Urufu’s faced
twisted with anger.
“I failed. She
saw me failing.”
That was unfair.
Tomasu raced to her rescue faster than anyone else. It wasn’t his
fault he was too late. Then understanding finally dawned on Ryu.
“Unfair,” he said.
“Unfair, you
bet.” Tomasu looked up and hid his face in his hands. “I can’t
undo what happened. Unfair has nothing to do with that.”
Urufu had stayed
silent throughout the entire conversation, but now Ryu heard him draw
for breath.
“The two of you
decide then,” Urufu said. “I hate it, but in the end you decide.”
“You’re good
friends, both of you.” Tomasu grinned weakly. “You know, as long
as I know she can smile with all of her face without a worry in her
mind I’m happy.”
“What about
you?” Ryu asked. Weren’t you supposed to be a little selfish in a
relationship?”
“What about me?
Do I want her to leave me? Of course not.”
“So why don’t
you…”
“She can’t
smile with me. Without that smile, how could I be happy by her side?”
The grin turned more honest. “Look, I’m being selfish. If I can’t
have both her and her smile I’ll step down.”
That didn’t
make any sense to Ryu, but Urufu nodded from his swing.
“Fine,” Urufu
said. “When?”
Tomasu smirked,
but his eyes had regained a little of their life. “White day.
That’s when a good boyfriend returns his Valentine’s chocolate,
isn’t it?”
“Your sense of
irony sucks, you know that?”
White day?
With a nod Tomasu
rose from his swing. “Maybe. We done here?”
“Sure.”
Both men grabbed
their bags. Halfway to the entrance of the playground Urufu turned.
“Ryu?”
“I’ll stay a
little.”
Ryu watched them
until they vanished into the darkness. With a little regret he opened
his own bag and grabbed Kuri’s chocolate. He’d planned to eat it
where she could see how much he appreciated her symbolic gift. It was
sweet in his mouth, but somehow the flavour of bitter chocolate
managed to reach through all that sugar.
Strange,
he thought. But it wasn’t, not really. The bitter taste had nothing
to do with Kuri’s gift. It was all in his mind.
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