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Dear angel,
I’m sorry to get in touch with you like this, but I hope you’ll still take the time to read these few words.
I don’t know anything about you, and you don’t know anything about me. At least, you didn’t tell me anything about you, and I didn’t tell you anything about me. But the truth is, I still know things about you.
You love art. It’s undeniable. You have blond hair with gold reflections that seem to shine a thousand and one stars intertwined with your locks, you have eyes of an ocean blue in which I would like to drown and never return, You have a tendency to put on heels that lengthen your slender silhouette way too elegantly...
And you like sweaters. Big sweaters, big hoodies that hide your body from my envious eyes.
I’m surely frightening you and I’m sorry. You get a letter from a complete stranger describing you physically, it must scare you.
You know who I am because I am going to give you my letter in person. And also because our eyes have already crossed many times.
But the thing is, I want to know more about you. Just the name that belongs to you would make me the happiest man in the world. I want you to count what’s going on in your mind when you stare at that painting in the museum, always the same, what you feel, what you think... And I wish I could hear your voice again. Just once.
If I asked you to meet me outside this museum, like at a coffee shop, would you agree?
If you don’t want to, I totally understand. I would walk away from you and try to forget those tempestuous feelings that gnaw at my being, even if it will be one of the most difficult things in the world. But I’ll do it for you.
See you soon, my angel.
Hajime Kokonoi
***
He was always in the same place. Sitting on the same bench covered with a burgundy carpet, his posture straight and his gaze fixed in front of him.
The first time I saw him, I think it was six months ago now. Bored as ever, I asked one of our drivers to take me to the Art Museum of our big city. If I was bored, I might as well do it in a nice setting.
I had always been bored. I always had everything from the moment I was born, my parents being what you might call “wealthy people”. They had given me everything, everything I wanted, I got it. So I got used to not asking when I wanted to serve myself.
I had been immersed in the same universe of superficial people who had always been well-dressed, seeing people look at me with envy or jealousy, thus making me a character imbued with himself and vain. But I was sure that deep down, I wasn’t like that hateful man I pretended to be. I just had to find someone I could show the other side of myself with.
When I went to graduate school, business to please my parents and take over the family company, I was even more bored. In school anyway, I was bored to death, but my curiosity had been piqued when once, suffocating of this golden environment and abundance in which I had been locked up forever, I had run away to find myself alone in the city center.
My parents never took me there, wanting to cultivate a so-called decent environment around me. So I thought, naively, that everyone was like me, not missing anything and occurring to his needs easily. Of course I knew there were poor and rich, I had studied it in class, and I wasn’t stupid enough to think that there were none in our city, as some of my «school friends» of mine would think.
But the first time I saw one, a poor man I mean, dressed in rags and begging on the side of the road, I felt something strange in me. Like an inner shock to see for the first time something that I already knew existed but had never witnessed.
I got close to this dirty old man, leaving the inner disgust I unfortunately felt aside, and asked him what he was doing.
He said, “I survive”.
I was shocked by that answer. I had never lived either. I had always existed, embodying a character who wasn’t me in front of others and seeking what really characterized me when I was alone.
So my parents were lying when they told me that “these people” and we had nothing in common.
We were humans, first of all.
And we didn’t live, second. We survived.
After this reply, I gave him everything I had in my pockets in terms of money and he looked at me with the most expressive look I had ever seen. Filled with gratitude and amazement. It was the first time anyone looked at me that way after I gave him money. I was usually stared at with a mischievous look and a hypocritical smile.
Strangely enough, he wanted to refuse. “It’s too much,” he said. So I told him he could share with other survivors like him.
He got up with difficulty, took my hands and thanked me several times. And, strangely, my disgust for him had completely disappeared.
After this journey, my world had been turned upside down. And my boredom had worsened. The world in which I lived was very bland behind all these colors and this brilliant that we wanted to give it. So the only loophole I found was books and paint. They allowed me to imagine a world in which my alter ego lived all kinds of adventures more extraordinary than each other. And, in those moments, I finally felt alive.
But it was only for a vague moment. Vague minutes that allowed me to avoid this boring reality in which I was getting more and more lost... I continued to exist without ever living fully.
Until I met him.
Going to the library and the museum had become one of my habits, and I often found myself with a book under my arm. My parents allowed me to, thinking that I was learning there even more than I already was, which was true in a sense. But I wasn’t learning about subjects I already knew to amplify my knowledge, I was desperately trying to find something that could get me out of this world.
This something was found one autumn evening. It was quite late, an hour before the closing of the Art Museum before I returned to this world of gold and silver. I had decided to walk in this environnement that I now knew by heart, passing like a shadow in the white or red corridors, carefully scrutinizing each painting. I preferred realistic art because I didn’t understand much about abstract art, but I was still interested in it. It intrigued me, but I knew very little about this wing of the museum. Yet that night, strangely enough, I went there for the first time.
It was in here that I saw him. In the surrealism ray.
And it fit him perfectly, because he was surreal.
His posture was almost perfect, even though his back was slightly bent so as not to hurt himself. I could see him staring at a painting from afar, not moving an inch, his long blond hair slightly hiding his face as I saw him in profile.
I didn’t really know why his person immediately caught my eye when I walked into the room. Maybe because he was all dressed in white in a room with red walls, maybe because he was the only one sitting on one of the seemingly comfortable benches, maybe because he seemed so absorbed in this painting that it immediately made me want to be interested as he was...
The fact remains that I had slowly moved closer to him, until I also stood in front of this painting, at his side. But I didn’t sit down, too afraid to disturb him during his contemplation.
Then I turned to him for a better view.
And I was frozen.
My breath was cut in my chest, my eyes slightly widened, my heart began to beat rapidly in my chest (for the first time in my life) and my senses became completely confused.
I didn’t really know what attracted me first to this boy. Everything in him seemed perfectly calculated to give a face as beautiful as unreal. Special. Original.
It was probably his scar that surprised me the most. A scar that took the entire right side of his face, surrounding his deep blue eye like a protective veil.
Then it was those same eyes that transcended me.
Even though he didn’t look me in the eye, his cerulean pupils had frozen me on the spot. They were completely inexpressive. As if he felt absolutely nothing.
And it strangely reminded me of my look when I was alone.
Then it was his long hair flowing in his neck, a shiny blond, almost childish as its color seemed so soft. Like the hair of these beautiful and perfect young princesses in fairy tales. Except they belonged to a boy in a museum.
I didn’t have time to admire his body because I didn’t feel capable. I quickly looked away, putting one hand on my heart to try to slow it down, without effect, of course. I had been so turned upside down that I forgot to look at the painting he was admiring so carefully.
I had been in this position for a few seconds before running away, never feeling the gaze of this young boy on me. I had quickly returned home, ignoring the driver who was to pick me up, walking through the city. In any case, Ran had always been on my side and made sure to lie so that my parents didn’t know that I sometimes come home alone.
I had run into my room as soon as I returned, ignoring the butler who greeted me before throwing myself on my bed, the cheeks redder than the walls of the museum from which I had just fled.
I had never felt that way. Never in my life had I ever felt my heart race that way, especially because of another human being.
He had piqued my interest to the point where I only think of him for the next few days.
Three days passed, and I couldn’t help but return at the same hour, hoping, for some unknown reason, that this young man was also there.
And fate was obviously on my side because he was.
He was in the same place, in the same room, with the same look. Only his outfit had changed, but I noticed he was wearing a big sweater again, light blue this time, drowning his anatomy.
Placed a little further away, pretending to admire another work, I nourished myself with every look I could give it. My joy was such that I could see him again, to be able to put my envious eyes on him again, that an almost imperceptible smile had frozen on my lips during all my contemplation.
I blushed slightly when I saw that he was wearing bright red heels, the only source of bright color in his outfit. I had always been taught that heels were for women and that men didn’t wear heels, so I was surprised, and then delighted, to see him wearing some. We also always said that a boy couldn’t fall in love with another boy, but for me this didn’t matter. His hypnotic beauty placed him beyond a banal gender representation.
At first sight he was an ordinary human, but many details made him surreal. His scar, his blue turquoise eyes, his heels... These little details made me ecstatic. I wanted to learn more about him. I wanted to know everything about him.
And again, when I realized it was closing time, I remembered that I hadn’t looked at the painting he was admiring.
I was aware that I looked strange, almost voyeuristic, constantly thinking about this boy and watching him without his knowledge, but I couldn’t help myself. He wasn’t coming out of my head. Not for a second.
I reassured myself that I had no bad intentions for him. He was just, in spite of himself, become the obsession that kept my mind from this bland reality. The only source of light in my life with sharp edges, it was this hope that kept me from this life that I had long lost the taste for.
Maybe I never even had that want to live.
Before I met him, of course.
My existence finally seemed to be coloured by a few luminous points. I came out of this boredom that had been gnawing at me since my birth. I seemed to finally live.
It was thus several days, weeks, and even months, when I came to the museum only to observe him.
Always dressed in light clothes, his long hair sometimes tied in a high ponytail or a bun, he looked like an angel. So I had given him that name in my mind. my angel.
What also surprised me was that he always wore huge sweaters hiding his morphology. I didn’t necessarily complain about it because I wasn’t really interested in it, but I wondered about his habit. Whether it was sunny, raining or hot, he always had a light-colored sweater that surrounded every part of his skin.
Maybe he was hiding his angel wings?
That would not even surprise me. A man like him was necessarily created by the gods to embody such a perfection of beauty.
One day when I arrived late and I had only thirty minutes left to be with him, and while we were alone in the surrealist department, I had gathered all my courage and sat by his side, leaving still a good meter between us. If I had been closer, I couldn’t help but touch him.
My heart was beating so fast, I felt like I was dying. Yet I was always told that you would die when your heart stopped, not when it beat too hard...
My presence didn’t seem to bother him. He didn’t even seem to notice. And it relaxed me.
After so much time spent admiring it from afar, I had finally had time to discover the painting he was staring at.
It was a painting called The White Lady of a Toyen, a Czech surrealist painter. In my opinion, this painting was nothing like a white lady, it was only a vertical canvas painted in grey where one saw a fine and delicate hand coming out of nowhere. But something in this painting seemed important for my angel to take an interest in it to the point of coming to observe it every day for an entire hour.
We stayed like this for several long minutes. Staring at his painting and me trying to do the same while giving him many discreet glances.
"I never understood why it was called that."
My body froze up.
I was wide-eyed when I heard his voice utter these few words. His body hadn’t moved, I even thought I imagined these few words whispered by him because I didn’t even see his lips move.
His voice was like an electroshock. After months of distant observation, I heard his timbre for the first time. I had always imagined it fluffy or suave, it was serious and sweet. Another surreal detail that made me even crazier.
We were alone in that big hallway, so I assumed he was talking to me. Or to himself, but I was determined not to let this chance pass.
So I turned to him, smoldering him with the most tender look I could offer him.
"Neither do I."
Then he turned his face towards me to anchor his eyes in mine.
And if I thought I hadn’t yet completely sunk for this unreal being, it was the case at that very moment.
The joy that filled me when he finally noticed my existence was beyond any verbal description. Euphoria was too weak a word to describe the state I was in.
These inexpressive eyes struck me, and I was delighted to see curiosity. He slowly leaned his head to the side, staring at me from his cerulean orbs that made me melt with love.
"How long have you been here?"
A smile broke my lips automatically. So I wasn’t mistaken in thinking that he hadn’t noticed my presence.
"For several minutes now."
He looked slightly surprised, but always in extremely small expressions. Someone who didn’t know him could have said that he didn’t changed his expression, but I had spent so much time studying the delicate features of his face that I was able to recognize the slightest emotion.
"In this room?"
My smile became accentuated and I put my cheek in my hand, giving him absolutely all my attention.
"On this bench."
His surprise expression dried up somewhat and he looked away towards The White Lady.
"I thought you weren’t coming today."
My heart stopped.
My expression of surprise was much more visible than his because my face split into an unprecedented astonishment.
"You were late."
He turned to me again, and I was amazed to see a very light smile cleave through his thin, shiny lips, which I had dreamed of taking hostage more than once.
He... was waiting for me?
His smile became slightly accentuated when he saw my shock and, for the first time, he was the first to get up and leave the room.
I remained a few minutes disoriented in front of this painting, lost in my insipid thoughts, before being taken back by a guard announcing the closure of the museum.
So I had returned home empty-minded, reflecting in the void as my heart continued to beat as fast as a few minutes earlier.
When I arrived in my room, I finally managed to put my thoughts in order.
He had noticed me.
He knew who I was.
I heard his voice.
And, too lost to try to analyze these new factors, I had decided to put my most recluse thoughts on a beige paper and give them to him the next day.
***
It was Friday when I handed him my letter. I had arrived before him and sat on his bench. When he entered the surrealist department, he didn’t seem surprised to see me.
He was bundled up again in one of his big sweaters, this time light grey, his black heels clasping the shiny parquet with confidence.
He sat by my side, not once anchoring his eyes in mine. I knew that he wasn’t avoiding me, but rather that I wasn’t important enough for him to aknowledge me. At least, he noticed my presence without me realizing it.
Sighing to give me courage, I had taken the letter wrapped in a white envelope out of my pocket and placed it on the red carpet of the bench. I smiled when I noticed that this hue of white on red reminded me of my angel in his favorite room.
Then I got up, leaving the letter at his side before leaving.
My anguish was so great that I was convinced that my heart had never been faster than at this moment...
Lie.
Lie because he beat even more when, the next day, Saturday afternoon, I saw my angel waiting outside the entrance of the museum.
And when he saw me, he went straight to me before he stopped in front of me, again his light but no less sincere smile on his lips.
"Coffee?"
I was sure that my vital organ had already died because of all the emotions that this angel made me live...
I blushed, then gently nodded my head. His smile became accentuated and he took my hand in his to pull me towards any street.
I confess that at that very moment, he could have taken me to the most dangerous place that I totally didn’t care. Feeling his palm on mine had taken away all sense from me and I had let myself be dragged by his soft but firm grip in the streets of Tokyo without any distrust towards him.
I was far too busy watching his body drown in his fetish white sweater that he usually wore.
My white angel stopped a few minutes later. I finally looked away from his attractive back (everything was attractive in him) to observe the establishment before us. It was a traditional coffee shop with a clean and simple front. But an irresistible smile married my lips when they entered and I saw that all the walls were filled with books.
It was the only time my attention was turned away from my angel, who, to my astonishment, had not let go of my hand. He let it go, however, when I walked to a bookshelf to look at some of the works there.
Then I turned to him again and was surprised to see him with a tender smile.
"Do you like it?"
I blushed. I liked the fact that he was confortable with me, as a continuation of my letter.
"Yes, a lot... I love books."
"I suspected that."
I bent my head to the side.
"How?"
"You often had one with you when you came to the museum."
I blushed even more and he turned away from my piercing gaze to sit on a sofa on the windowsill. Other armchairs and a small wooden table were near the recess of the window, giving me the opportunity to sit on one of them to be near him.
But I didn’t do it.
As I walked towards him, I almost sat at one of the chairs before resigning myself and sitting in front of him on the recess of the window. So, for the first time, I had a perfect vision on his face, and my heart was racing when I saw his smile getting bigger, his temple sticking against the window.
Our legs were intertwined on the comfortable surface while his eyes were lost behind the glass to observe the city. Mine, on the other hand, analyzed once again every outline of his beautiful face, connecting the moles forming the galaxy of its epidermis.
A waiter came to us to take our orders and left with a dark coffee and hot chocolate to prepare.
My angel’s order was just as adorable as he was.
A restful silence had settled between us. I was no longer ashamed to observe him with all the love I had while he didn’t seem disturbed by my insistent eyes.
Then I finally broke the silence, too envious to hear his voice again.
"You had noticed me."
His vanished smile came back on his beautiful pink lips. He pulled on the sleeves of his sweater to hide his fine fingers, showing me that he wasn’t as confident as he wanted to appear, and anchored his sapphire look in mine.
Once again, I lost myself in the ocean of his gaze, his voice becoming my only hook to reality.
"How could anyone not notice you?"
His voice was calm. Serene. As if he felt safe. And his tender smile never left his lips.
"Many people don’t notice me."
"That’s not true."
I frowned without annoying, but full of curiosity.
"What do you mean?"
"You’re one of those we notice, Hajime Kokonoi."
The feeling that passed through me when I heard him speak my name for the first time was indescribable. I had never felt so ecstatic as I did at that moment. I could have listened to him say my name over and over again, that I would never be satisfied...
He placed himself on the cushions, gluing his legs to his chest and surrounding them with his arms, then placed his chin on the top of his knees. I was sad not to feel his legs mingling with mine anymore but I made no comment, wanting to put him at ease.
"The ones we notice?"
"Well, the one you pretend to be is."
I suddenly wide-opened my eyes, my heart stopping in my chest. Then he left at a brisk pace and an uncontrollable smile split my lips.
Did he ever realize that this mask of greed that I was constantly wearing was just a decoy? If that were the case, my love for him would only increase further...
"You’ve already exposed me."
His smile deepened and he leaned his head slightly to the side.
"What about you? Did you discover me?"
My smile became accentuated and I placed my temple against the cold window without ever letting go of his gaze.
"I think you’re an angel."
He laughs.
My heart missed a beat.
And I lost count of the number of times my person melted in happiness because of him being in front of me.
His laughter was far too adorable for this despicable world.
"An angel? It is true that you called me that way in your letter..."
A touch of anguish became embedded in the flood of joy that I felt, making me put back on the cushion on which I sat.
"I hope that didn’t bother you too much, did it?"
"No... I was waiting for you to finally come to me."
He again stretched his legs in front of him, as if to reassure me, placing his right forearm on his bent knee, his other arm resting lazily at the level of his stomach.
"You could have come to me."
"I did. Many times. But you never noticed."
His smile became accentuated and he placed his temple on the window.
"You were too busy admiring me."
My face reddened sharply and I quickly turned away, feeling the embarrassment rise drastically. I heard his adorable laughter again, without any mockery, and my heart calmed slightly.
"You..." I started, looking up at him while my discomfort was still there. "Why do you always stand before the same painting?"
I had started this question to change the subject, but I quickly hated myself seeing his smile disappear. He looked away, staring back at the noisy street while I mentally insulted myself for making him lose his happiness.
It was at this very moment that the waiter arrived with our drinks, gently placing them on the small table near us before leaving with a smile, his bleached blond hair flying around his smiling face.
But my attention was far too directed to my angel whose name I still didn’t know to notice the tender smile he threw at us.
"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable..."
He seemed to realize that I was still there, even though his body didn’t change position at all.
He breathed a light sigh before closing his eyes gently, the rays of the sun in this early evening reflected on his locks of a suddenly golden blond.
"It was my older sister’s favourite."
My heart tightened when I saw him open his cerulean pupils to anchor a look filled with sadness in mine.
"She died in a fire last year."
I was of course surprised, letting my eyes open slightly before opening my mouth, under the shock. He seemed to foresee this reaction because a tender smile split his lips.
"That’s also where I get my scar from," he added with a distressed laugh.
But I was totally unable to see him sad. Then I sat in a suit and leaned slightly to catch his pale hands still hidden in the sleeves too long of his sweater, squeezing them gently into mine.
"I’m sorry. Sincerely."
For the first time since my months of secret admiration, I saw his cheeks pink tenderly.
And knowing it was because of me filled me with a joy like no other.
My heart began to beat even faster when he took my hands in his and squeezed them. He approached me imperceptibly, as if to seek contact without being sure of being allowed.
"I never—"
He bit his lower lip, hesitating about the next words that would pass the barrier of his lips.
My tender smile became accentuated, encouraging him to express the depths of his thoughts. I wanted to know everything about his ideas, his fears, his sorrows, his joys, his loves... I wanted to know everything about him.
"I never... felt anything like that."
"Like what?"
"Like when I’m with you."
I slightly lost my smile and he strengthened his grip on my hands, a worried glow passing through his beautiful blue eyes. I immediately reassured him by placing a hand on one of his knees, and he calmed down gently.
"I know we didn’t share anything, but..."
"I think we have already shared a lot."
My smile seemed to restore his confidence as he smiled to me, tightening my hand still imprisoned in his.
"Seishu Inui."
My heart went wild.
"That’s my name. But..."
A slightly playful smile cracked his lips again and he sat down in a suit to lean towards me, making me weak at the moment.
"You can keep calling me my angel."
His deep voice whispered these few words and I felt myself even more falling for this idyllic beauty.
I bitten my lower lip sharply so as not to reveal the immense smile that was trying to split my lips, and my free hand went towards his arm, which I gently caressed. He blushed too.
"I want to know all about you, Seishu Inui."
He shivered.
I was aware that our sudden rapprochement was strange, but I didn’t care. It was as if everything was normal. Like he was created for me and only for me.
"Excuse me, I mean..." I leaned towards him, with the same playful smile on my lips. "I want to know everything about you, my angel."
He flinched slightly and his hands clung to my black turtleneck, making me euphoric. His cheeks rose again and his breathing accelerated, his eyes anchored in mine.
"I’m passionate about you, Koko."
My smile widened and my hands rested on his waist, his body being strangely much closer to me.
"Koko?"
"If you give me a nickname, I have to give you one too."
I laugh slowly.
"You’re adorable, Inupi."
His eyes widened slightly and it was only then that I realized how much he had become so expressive with me in the space of a few moments.
And I loved it.
"Inupi...?" he murmured with his tenderly amused voice.
"Inupi."
I smiled, reflecting his expression of happiness. Then his hands still clenching on my collar let it go, but they remained on my chest, making my breathing more difficult.
One of my hands left his waist that I felt thin behind this big sweater and landed on his warm cheek. He shivered under my touch, never leaving my eyes.
"I would like to ask you something else..."
He nodded slightly, his brilliant gaze still anchored in mine surely reflecting the same euphoric galaxy.
"Why do you always wear big sweaters like this?"
He didn’t answer immediately. No, first, he let his eyes get lost on my lips, then he looked up into mine and advanced until our panting breaths mixed together to create only one oxygen from which I asphyxiated with delight.
And, gently, his lips split into a smile that transcended me with joy.
"Let me show you why..."
***
When I walked through the doors of his apartment, I immediately felt at my place. As if it were here, my real home.
Inupi didn’t have a large apartment, but it was very bright. It was a single large room with a high ceiling with exposed beams and ancient walls, filled with old furniture and plants in every corner. The only room apart was the bathroom while the walls were decorated with large oriental scarves or vintage posters, the floor being covered with an old dark parquet floor.
I felt like I was going back in time. And I could only fall even more in love with this place when I saw a large library taking a whole wall of the small apartment.
Inupi let me admire his secret entry with a smile, staring tenderly at me as he sat in a big brown chair.
My observation, however, was quickly interrupted when I laid my eyes on him again. My little dazzling smile left my lips to be replaced by an expression filled with envy towards the white angel sat in this large brown armchair.
Envy of everything. Of his body, of his soul, of his mind, of his mouth... of him, whole.
So I got close to him, gently, as if not to frighten the fragile being he was. He had stretched himself before letting me approach, watching me squat in front of him before shivering as I put my hands on his lap. I spread them gently to slide my body between his folded legs, and he blushed slightly, allowing me to do so.
"Do you think it’s too fast?" I whispered to him.
He advanced slightly, our two faces being now only a few centimeters apart. His sapphire eyes anchored in mine made me weak, to the point that an audible sigh left the barrier of my lips.
"I don’t want to wait. Maybe for the others it will seem fast, but I don’t care what they think, like I always didn’t care how they looked at me."
His eyes shone and he laid his hands on my cheeks as mine rose to his chest, clutching his sweater in my hands.
"...I want you now."
I didn’t need any more to melt on his lips.
And the feeling I experienced at that precise moment was simply indescribable.
A moan of pure ecstasy passed our lips in unison, and Inui threw himself into my arms to find himself kneeling on the ground, passing his arms behind my neck to hug me. At my turn, I passed my arms behind his back and squeezed him against my chest, the desire to merge our two bodies taking me from all sides.
It was magical... just surreal.
In a silent agreement, our two mouths began to move tenderly, then languorously, and finally fiercely, with the desire of even more. I finally felt complete, finally free, this emptiness having left my heart since I had crossed those ocean eyes.
But with his mouth against mine, with his body against mine, I felt like I was breathing for the first time...
I finally felt completely .
"Koko..."
Seishu parted from my lips, taking his breath, but quickly returned. I welcomed heim with pleasure, already addicted to the asphyxiating sensation of his mouth on mine. Then, impatient, he let his tongue slide against my lower lip, and I couldn’t help smiling in our kiss.
I obviously opened my mouth and my grip tightened in his back when our pink muscles began to dance a languorous waltz.
It was like we’d always kissed. As if we already knew what the other was thinking, what the other wanted, leaving us free not to use the word to communicate...
His hands passed through my hair, clinging desperately to me as I squeezed his body more and more against mine. A slight moan passed the barrier of his addictive lips, and I couldn’t help but nibble them slightly, illustrating to him all the passion that crossed my being.
I was separating from his shiny mouth, taking my breath, before I plunged back into him. It lasted several long minutes when we parted and returned to the charge in the second, and Inui’s hands continued to explore my body with eagerness.
Then there was a moment when my palms dared to pass the barrier of this huge sweater that prevented me from reaching this tempting anatomy, and my angel froze.
I began to look at him eagerly, he now sat on my lap, his hands again on my cheeks as our breaths were jerky, our breath mingling joyfully.
We stayed a few seconds, observing each other with desire, interest, envy, astonishment...
... love? Already?
And a tender smile split his pink lips before he slowly placed them on mine, receding slightly to place his forehead against mine.
"You can take it off... and allow yourself to love what it has always hidden."
And I did it.
That night, I loved him as I never loved him, and as I always will.
I saw his pale body lying between his red sheets, his blue eyes tinged with this crazy glow of desire and ecstasy when my hands passed over his naked body or when we were united for the first time.
I had cherished it with all the love that I possessed, all the love that had overflowed me ever since my black eyes had crossed these intoxicating sapphire beads, and I was then sure that I could never again or would ever want to distance myself from it.
His deep voice ascending in the trebles while greedily pronouncing my name had driven me mad to the point of marking his skin to show them all that he was mine, whispering to him of “I love you”, “you are mine”, “oh my love”, kissing every patch of his hieral skin. He had answered me by kissing me sensless before displaying me a huge smile, the translucent tears of his joy flowing down his rosy cheeks.
Finally I felt complete. Finally, boredom left me. Finally I felt alive.
I had loved him passionately during this night, then all the others following it, he and I having no desire to leave this feeling of pure ecstasy that united us from the first day when our very different eyes had crossed.
So yes, Inui Seishu always wore oversized sweaters.
But from now on, he was wearing mine.