dinohouse | For Gotou-chan!

I wish I could soothe him, but stroking his fluffy hair back from his brow only does so much, and then it just bounces back into place like I'd never touched it. I sit him up, patting his shoulder with a firm grip.

"Don't-- don't call her, Gotou," I ask him, smiling - and letting it be my real smile, the sad but happy one. The one that's not so easy, and not so black-and-white. "We can sit on the couch, you're right, this isn't any comfortable here. This windowsill is good at what it does, but not at being a chair." Leading him by the hand, I start to cross the office with him, heading for a duplicate of the couch where Satonaka-chan has spent so much of her time while employed by Kougami.

"I only said hours because it is possible. But I've known for months, and I'm still here. Please...don't look at me like I'm already dead, Gotou-chan. I've been trying so hard not to tell you because..."

It's hard, but I meet his gaze, sitting down on the couch and, still holding his hand, tugging gently to encourage him to sit beside me. I'm looking up at him, the only way that that's possible given our standing heights, and he looks sad enough to cry. It's breaking my heart.

"Because I didn't want exactly this. I didn't want to make you so sad."

So I let him drag me over to the sofa, and I'm practically in his lap, "That's not important, sempai. I am fine. What's important is you." I think it's sweet that he tried to do this for my sake but really, he didn't need to. I'm not the one who has got fragments of a bullet lodged into vital parts of my brain.

On the bright side, at least we're no longer in danger of plummeting out of the window.

It actually makes me uncomfortable that he's been keeping this from me forever long. I almost feel embarrassed about it. It's not like he's my father or something, "so what are you going to do? Have you told Kougami-san about this? Will you quit work?" I said, I find it easier to deal with the practicalities. I think it's because of my time in the police. When something has happened or someone's been killed, no room for sentimentality, you just have to go in there and do your job.

...He's not taking this well. He may not realize that his body language has changed, but it's hard for me not to. He's trying to shut off his own reaction to this news, show only the parts that are useful, are helpful right now in this moment.

I shouldn't have said anything.

Or, I haven't yet said enough.

I wish Hino were here to tell me which was which.

"Why would I quit?" He has a sense of immediate finality about all of this, a fatalism that's far closer to 'giving up' than my own perspective. It's starting to upset me.

"I don't know when or even if anything will happen, Gotou-chan," I repeat, trying to make him understand this part. It's the most important part, in my mind. Not that I've got an injury, but that it changes nothing.

"Okay, think about it this way, huh? When will you die, Gotou-chan? Nobody knows except Fate when she'll clip your thread. I don't want it to be anytime soon, I'm sure you don't either, and your family or parents or siblings wouldn't want it to be, either.

"But we can't change when it'll happen, and living fearfully might make Lady Fate get sick of you and clip you off early, has always been my thoughts on the topic."

I have to laugh a little, realizing in one more way how different our perspectives are. But, it's why we make a good team.

"I have to live the same way, Gotou-chan. It's a different reason, but I don't have any more reason to think I'll die tomorrow, than you do."

He's wrong. I should tell him so in no uncertain terms. But I'm not so crass as to point out that he risks fatal brain damage at any moment and I don't. I do understand. He doesn't want to feel mollycoddled or like anyone feels sorry for him. Especially not me, his subordinate, his partner.

"It's not quite like that, sempai." Let's leave it at that for now. I'll respect his choice to carry on as normal, for as long as he can. I'm still not sure that he's telling me the whole story but I have no way of finding out. We're not related, and so his doctors can't tell me anything. I suppose in a sense he's right, though. He could have several months or years to go whereas I could be killed tomorrow. I am Birth.

I sit in silence beside him for a few moments longer, trying to clear my head of all the thoughts running through it, "What's going to happen now? Do we just go back and carry on as if none of this had ever happened?" Whatever he says, I can't do nothing. I have to make arrangements. Some kind of plan in case he starts to slip away from me, and ... and something for us. I want to help him make the most of whatever time he's got left.

"Gotou..." I can't help how helpless I sound. I know saying his name one more time won't change his mind, or let him see what I'm trying to tell him, why I had to tell him, not Satonaka-chan or Kougami-san. Why I had to tell Gotou.

My aibou.

Abruptly, like a slow cold shiver up my back, I realize that today I've been forgetting to use his honorific. Just saying, 'Gotou,' not 'Gotou-chan.'

Well then. That puts things a bit more in focus.

Hino, you better be right about this.

"Gotou...chan," I begin, trying to keep my focus narrow, trying to focus on what I want to say, which is hard when I'm not sure that I even need to say it, not certain that I couldn't have just taken this to my grave with me, except, now Gotou-chan knows why I'm thinking about my grave already at this point in my life, and I'm not entirely as okay with it as I've said to him but that's because I thought I'd lived my life without regrets of any kind, and I have, for the most part, but...

"There's...something else, that I was thinking about telling you,"

...but there's one thing, now, one little thing that shouldn't matter like it does, that shouldn't make everything else that has been said and done feel so much less important by comparison...

"Something I'm fairly certain you don't have a strong desire to hear,"

...but it does, and if I'm going to tell Gotou-chan I'm dying, I'd better tell him why I haven't been myself since I came back.

"At least from me."

"I was selfish to tell you about the...about my situation," I continue, clasping his hand tightly. "It's going to cause you so much worry you didn't need to feel. And I'm sorry about that.

"I've got...one more selfishness to lay upon you, Gotou-chan, and then I'll be done, and you can call Satonaka-chan to get us out and I'll go buy you the biggest oden ever, or, no, something else, you don't even like oden that much, but..."

I glance up, meeting his eyes. "Can you bear one more bit of simple-headed selfishness from me, aibou?"

... Wait, there's more?

This time, I don't know what it could be. Has he committed some kind of crime, maybe, something to pay for his medical treatment? Or is he about to tell me he's going abroad again to have adventures for the rest of his life? And he's talking about how selfish it is, and I won't want to hear it, all that. I'm not really listening to it, instead thinking about what he might be about to tell me. Whatever it is it's obviously important to him.

I've already pretty much decided that I'm going to pick up the pieces of what happens next, so let's hear it. I said I'd find some way to make it work out. I will.

"Let's hear it, sempai. What did you want to tell me?"

Gods.

I have to consciously swallow, cause I think everything that should be running on automatic in me is stuck in place. I tripped into his eyes by accident and I'm having problems resisting the urge to just out and saying it, blunt as anything. But he deserves at least some explanation.

I swallow again, grasping for words. I hadn't really planned this out, since I never thought I'd be in this position, so it's especially hard.

"Well, ahm, Gotou-chan, when one has a, um, a question of mortality to face in their life, they, well, you start thinking about what's important to you. Them. Me. What I mean is, I've always been proud of living with no regrets, and being honest to myself. The idea that it's, ahm, never too late to change the path of your life...that's one that's important to me.

"And, well, as dire chance and, well, fateful screwups would have it... it was, um, made apparent to me that I might have less time than I'd hoped to resolve the one last regret of my life. And, you know, I have every intention to live til I'm old and wrinkly, but just because that's the plan, I shouldn't let it go til the very end, you know? Just in case. Because...it's so very important that I get it said.

"That I tell you."

He's watching me babble, tensed, trying to see where I'm going, trying to anticipate what fresh doom I'm about to bring down on his head. I kind of hate myself right now.

"I...without knowing it, I've spent the most important days of my life with...with you at my side, Gotou-chan. And, well, I've come to realize that, well..."

I stop, unable to go further, my heart strangling my breath, my throat clenching my heart hard enough to stop its beating. His face, he's just--

I'm tipping forward before I've even really thought about it, eyes closing, and my dry lips land on his soft mouth, pressing gently, briefly. I hover there, rolling his lower lip once between my own, and release him with a soft exhalation of breath as my heart and lungs wake up again, and I regain the ability to breathe.

Suddenly it's not so hard to say the words. I lean back, giving him space, but watching his face, suddenly feeling a calmness in all my thoughts and heart. I don't regret this, no matter what his response is about to be.

"I love you."

This is when he starts talking about regret, and not knowing how much time he's got left, and so on. He's taking a long time to get to the point. I brace myself for whatever calamity might be about to unfold. I even wonder for a moment if it's going to be something about his past with Hino. But he's so intense, won't break my gaze the whole time, and then

then

I don't hear what he says next. My heart's racing, I'm trying to get my breath back; it's not easy for me to concentrate. Then I think how silly it all seems, me going dokidoki like some high school crush. People don't do elaborate confessions of love after the age of, oh, I don't know, about seventeen? Who but Date-san would even think it was a good idea to lock me in an office, maybe he's got some sort of princess in a tower fantasy.

I'm not a princess. And didn't he just say-

"What?"

Oh.

He's flushed, his breathing a little hard, and my heart's beating a cheerfully quick pace too, but I sure as anything do a double take, a bit, when he does respond.

He didn't...hear me?

I have to say it again? Once was scary enough!

Distressed, I pull him close, framing his face with both my hands; I kiss him again, a little more firmly, but keeping it as brief as I can force myself to bear, my lips lingering on his with delicate friction and fluttering heat.

When I pull back again, I leave my hands where they are, framing his jaw, fingertips tracing his hairline. He's so small, in every way except for his heart. He's got the heart of a lion, and I so love to watch him leap up tall and roar.

"I, um. I said I love you," I repeat myself, lamely I think, but I have to trail off at the end because I want to use his name in a way I haven't yet been given permission to do. And I may play about with nicknames and dropping honorifics to tease, but this...is different, and I don't want to call this man by his surname ever again.

But that will be his decision to make.

"Oh," I say articulately. I heard the first time, sort of, but I wasn't really listening.

He didn't say he ... well, loved me, for my superior comprehension skills. And it's hardly my fault he keeps distracting me. He's got my chin in his hands, still watching me, and as I swallow I'm sure he can feel the motion in my throat.

"You still haven't told me why you locked me in a thirteenth-floor office." It's a really weak joke, and not at all my style to make one in a situation like this. More like his style. When he told me he's dying I was sure I'd know what to do, all the arrangements, the practical things. And now?

I don't know. I don't like not knowing.

Gotou's throat bobs against the heel of my hand as he swallows, and some part of my mind's telling me I should let go of his face, which I do, very reluctantly, fingers dragging on his skin.

I put my hands on my knees, where they're safe and I can keep them under control. He's alarmed, and really has every right to be so. I kissed him twice without permission.

But I keep his gaze, and show him the vulnerability in my own eyes, trying to comfort the fear in his own.

"It's not because of you. I locked me in a thirteenth-floor office. Because...I wouldn't have been able to tell you, otherwise."

I'm not going to lecture him again about tossing the key out of the window. He'll regret that when the city sends him the bill for the hole in the pavement, "some team-building exercise."

I've got more questions, probably too many. It's not time for them. So I go back to what I do best, which is focusing on the facts, the practical side, "this doesn't change anything. I'm going to take care of you. If you need medical treatment, or - or something else," It's probably best not to mention at this stage that I have been thinking about whether he'll eventually need to go into a full-time care home, "I'll take care of it. I haven't got anyone else. I don't know that you do either."

It's not answering his point. At the moment I don't know how to do that. But at the very least, I care, and I know he's aware that what I am saying is the best way I can express it just at this moment.

I give him my best beaming grin, reaching out briefly to squeeze his hand, then stand and stretch, rolling one shoulder then the other, all my motions brisk.

"I won't be afraid with you taking care of me," I tell him, patting my chest over my heart. "Thank you. You're the dearest friend I have."

I cross to the cabinet standing beside the office's main desk, and open a small drawer, pulling out a small box with a combination lock holding it shut. I carry it back to him, offering it at extended arm's reach.

"Here, the spare key. I don't know the combination, but Satonaka-chan said that you would, since she copied it off of your personnel code."

I have to swallow, still grinning confidently at him. My eyes are mostly squinted shut, knowing he hasn't seen this punchline coming.

One of many he's faced today.

"I told you, I only locked myself in here, not you... Gotou-chan."

I promised myself no regrets. I won't regret this.

Friend. I thought I was more than a friend? And just me, not him.

I hope he's not going to do anything stupid. In fact, I know he's not, because I won't let him.

"I'm not going anywhere without you. Either you come with me or we stay here." With no food, water or toilet facilities, as I mentioned. I'm hoping he'll soon get tired of that and want to leave. If he doesn't want to go to Couscoussier, I'll just take him home, or somewhere else.

He's still grinning away at me. I can see more than that in his eyes, and it's unnerving. It's affecting me to the point where after a moment or two I feel compelled to say it aloud, "... And I thought I was more than a friend?"

I didn't think it could hurt worse, and then--

Well, then it does.

He's off on a tangent, misunderstanding what I meant about the key -- my point was that he could leave at any time as soon as I showed him the key, but without his consent I couldn't have left, since I couldn't open its box. Still can't.

But the key's far from the important part when he challenges my wording, and the lump in my throat is hard to talk around. My voice is strained as I try.

"That's not my decision to make, Gotou-chan," I say, and I make sure I put the honorific on there, I make sure that I'm careful with his name, because I won't be careless with his name in my mouth, even if it's not the name I want to call him by. Because that desire isn't important, not in comparison to the importance of the man himself.

"I don't want to die with any regrets, and I would have regretted not being honest with you. You're not obligated to anything on my account."

So I enter the combination and open the box. Why did she choose mine? I'll have words with her about security later, but for now - "We're getting out." I unlock the door and we're free from high-rise hell.

But we're not off the hook, not really. All the events of the evening feel so unreal, so unlikely that they're not registering with me. I've come to expect anything when dealing with Hino or the Greeed, just - just not this. People don't lock me in towers and kiss me.

Date-san doesn't lock me in towers and kiss me; only he just did.

"I wonder why you think I'd take responsibility for you if I were just a friend." At the very least, I think he's more than a regular friend to me. If he wants any further answers, I don't have them yet, "we're going home. Or to Couscoussier, whatever you want."

I hold back any response I might have until we're in the hallway, Gotou-chan leading me to the elevator and out of the building. He's obviously intent on getting the hell out of here; I feel a stab of guilt for making him feel trapped, when all I was trying to do was nail my own feet to the floor long enough to be honest with him. And I was honest, and I have to hold on to that.

I told myself I wouldn't regret this. I won't.

It's not until we're in the lobby of the building, headed out the front door - it takes a swipe of one of our passes, since it's after hours, but then the doors open and a blast of cool evening air hits me across the face, right as Gotou says,

If I were just a friend.

I think my heart's soaring right back up toward the thirteenth floor all over again, and I reach with only very vaguely bashful determination for his hand, grasping it loosely in mine.

"Because you're a good man, Gotou-chan." He asks me where we should go and there's at least one or two things to trip over in that supposedly simple question - we? Home? Whose home? Together?

I rein in my quite overactive optimism and squeeze his hand very lightly. "I picked the office," I say with a chuckle. "Next stop is your choice."

I'm not usually the sort of person who holds hands in public. But I could be, just this once. Maybe again; we'll see, "Um ... I don't know. Where are you staying? Should we go there?"

I almost feel like I want a drink, though it seems a bit callous to say so. He may not want to be anywhere in public, and the whole "your place or mine?" issue is always awkward even out of the usual context. It's still early evening and we potentially have a lot of hours left in the day. I think I'll see if there's anything he needs, and how long he wants me to remain with him. And then of course there's transport, "how far is it? Can we walk?"

I don't earn enough to run a car in Tokyo. The streets are empty anyway, since we're not exactly in a buzzing area - all the restaurants and bars are a block or two away. Therefore any anxiety I might have had about walking in public holding hands with someone is assuaged for now.

"It's too far to walk," I tell him, hedging my bets on that estimate just in case. My idea of what's a "walkable" distance is rather skewed, being a wanderer as I am. I imagine Gotou-chan might be less pleased about a two kilometer walk at this hour. Not that I don't think he could do it; I just know long distances like that tend to be tiresome to folks less accustomed to them.

It's an awkwardly arranged area of town, and I find myself wishing quite strongly for a Ridevendor right about now. Those things were always just around the corner when you needed them most. I've wondered more than once if they didn't actually follow us about like faithful pets.

Aah, but that's in the past, and right now, Gotou-chan and I need a place to rest and eat.

"There's a place I like to go to every once in a while, just around the corner from here." I don't know what sort of mood he's in; honestly, I'm having a hard time reading him right now. But if I'd had two big old information bombs dropped on my head, I know what I'd be wanting right about now.

"I don't know if you're hungry, but they do serve really excellent wheat beer," I offer gently, with a small sheepish smile. If he's got the headache I think he does, he's got only one person to blame for it.

Of course, I could just put him on the back of my bike, but I'm not going to. I've got only one helmet and while he needs it more than I do, I'm not prepared to risk riding without one.

I feel silly worrying about road safety at a time like this. We're Team Birth. We've faced worse, haven't we, so why are we now reduced to this?

"OK, sure, we'll go there." I didn't think he'd want to be out and about. It's less awkward than going to his home, though, and I could use a drink. Not too much. I don't know how far he's going to take it, and the last thing we need is for us both to be incapable of getting back at the end of the night.

He hasn't let go of my hand. I guess we're stuck like this, then. I'm not going to be first.

It doesn't take long, the walk from the Kougami office to the small Western-theme pub I mentioned.

The walk is quiet and lonely for most of its duration, but as we near a particular street corner I gently pull my hand from Gotou-chan's grip. And I offer a smile, indicating the path ahead of us, as we turn the corner while his face seems to ask for an explanation.

Just like that, we've stepped from a smaller side path onto the main thoroughfare of this market square, and there's other pedestrians all over -shopping, eating, and couples walking hand in hand.

It's not the context for a hesitant hand's clasp, especially one between two 'perhaps not just friends' like ourselves.

"It's just past that streetlamp," I tell him, pointing out the little shop's bright orange awning.

I don't suppose he could have chosen something a bit more conspicuous?

But I'm not complaining. It looks cosy, if nothing else. And it's a guy's sort of place, somewhere where we can go in together and no one will suspect a conversation like the one we had. I'm hoping that Date-san will relax. He's a regular here, he probably knows the patrons. I think he's been through more than enough anguish for one evening.

I'll order just one wheat beer for now. Not more than two or three tonight. We can get a taxi back, or take a late bus if we don't miss it.

Getting a table isn't difficult; I greet the hostess on duty, a pretty young woman with a strong British accent, with a warm smile and casual hug. She's studying in Japan for her master's degree, and I politely ask after the state of her studies before introducing Gotou-chan. She recognizes the name, beaming at him.

"Date-san's coworker! I have heard good things about you. Here, right this way."

We're here for the beer, but there's a fair selection of munchies, including something touted as "quintessentially American" -- jalepeno beer-battered cheese-stuffed pretzel poppers.

We order the plain fries.

Gotou-chan's drinking slowly tonight, and so I match him in pace; I've got a higher tolerance, so I can drink four or five and not have too much difficulty at all, but I make sure to keep in pace with him, only ordering my second once he's most of the way through his first, and so on.

I don't want him to feel pressured, and I don't want to end up overindulging and making him babysit me for the rest of the night. Normally I don't have to put conscious thought into my drinking, but tonight's...not normal. Not at all. And I want to make sure that I show him that as much as it pains me, I do mean it from the heart when I say that anything further between us, from here on out, is his decision to make.

The beer is as good as I remembered, and there's a few other varieties to select from as well; I advise Gotou-chan on the pros and cons of each, settling into comfortable conversation. It takes me a little while, but after my second beer and an hour or so, I'm feeling much more settled, much less upset.

Not that I was that upset to start with! Gotou-chan is more worried about my condition than I am, but I hate to worry him, and that just ends up turning into one kind of cycle or another. But I'm not as anxious right now, as we finish off the last of the fries, contemplating whether or not to get one more beer or close our tab. And to my great relief, it doesn't look like he is, either.

I'm not too fussed over what kind of beer I drink. I was only vaguely aware that there were this many different types, but nonetheless it's an interesting subject of conversation. Somehow the waitress gets involved as well. He was always good at making a room come to life; I'm not.

Date-san seems to be showing remarkable restraint on the drinking front. I'm not saying I thought he was an alcoholic or something, just that I was expecting him to be maybe a little more ... "merry." He's bigger than I, so he can drink a few more without too many negative effects. But we'll have to get some sort of public transport, because I can't ride a bike now, "are you going home? What should we do?" I'll summon the waitress in a moment and ask for the number for a taxi.

We've had a good evening, but on reflection, I think I'll ask to go somewhere else next time. I don't like this guitar on the wall above me, what if it landed on my head?

Gotou-chan seems a bit wobbly, and since I've never seen him intoxicated before, it's a bit more wobbly than I'm okay with.

Or maybe I just am enjoying the excuse to wrap one arm around his waist, holding him up against me as we make our way out the doors and onto the curb. The air's crisp and cool out here, and the light breeze moving along is far more refreshing than the warm but stagnant air of the pub. Hopefully it'll perk him up some.

"I think I'd better get my partner safely home before I worry about myself." I can't help but pat his shoulder companionably; he's so slim and yet he doesn't look weak or frail to me at all.

Even when he was getting knocked on his ass every time he fired the Birth blaster, I didn't see him as weak. A weak person doesn't get up and try again, knowing he's about to get knocked on his ass again, and do it anyway.

I'm getting distracted. With a grin I find him a parking meter to lean on, so we can address each other at slightly more comfortable conversational distance. Though I'm not going to let go of him entirely. Just in case.

"If you'd be willing, I could drive your bike," I suggest. "There's room for a passenger, right?"

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