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By now most of the stain was gone, Arthur inspected the pocket of his white button up relieved, for his pen had leaked earlier in the day. He is midway hanging up his shirt and tie across the metal railing of their rental, taking his time to breathe in the warm salty air he was rarely afforded at home.
“I’m thinking it’d be a nice time.” calls Kiku inside the room where he sits upon the bed cross referencing recipes, listing down ingredients to get later on in town.
“You’ve convinced me.”
Arthur was lucky in that moment to be facing away from Kiku and his hundred needle stare, he’d crumble instantly. Finding interest in a new notification on his phone about the updated times of their meetings.
“It’s good for us to socialise.”
“I’ve done my time in a fair share of socialising, I’d rather not honestly.”
“Hence why you’re going out on a boat ride with a select few friends instead?”
Sauntering into the room Arthur approaches Kiku holding up his phone to show the message. Kiku takes a sideways glance and nods, suddenly scrawling a thought on the list before scoring it out again. Arthur could half make out some of the characters he had written, sea urchin and salmon roe. He remembers at the back of the island docks, an open fishing market, perhaps he could make a quick stop.
“The invitation extends to you.” Arthur quirks a smile.
He takes the shot despite knowing how set Kiku already was of his plans now raising an unamused brow at him. It takes no time for him to appease however, tossing the list aside and sitting more comfortably into the bed. Arthur joins him.
Summer had treated Kiku well, his skin a golden complexion, a radiant air surrounding him, the natural relaxing of his shoulders, inquisitive eyes half lidded in a quiet type of flourish. Arthur can’t help but be pulled, Kiku much like the sunset clouds, how he could sit for hours watching them unfurl into different shapes and patterns, magnetising and endless.
“Not now, I’ve spent so much time by the sea recently,” Kiku shrugs away the memory of tedious business on his own shores, docks and fish farming and paperwork. “Besides, people have already confirmed to come.”
He was just about to make a quipping remark for Arthur to come join him when a hand slyly rests itself upon his thigh, coming to find Arthur making eyes at him. Kiku was always compelled at the range of expressions he could provide, from the fluster of a leaky pen in the middle of a morning meeting, to the softest form of yearning in a seaside bedroom. Such a kaleidoscope of colours he was, vast like the brightest blue sky, how his pale freckled skin compliments Kiku’s own warm complexion as he slides a teasing hand up his arm.
“I could be convinced in other ways.” Arthur’s voice is syrupy, skin flushing unintentionally as if in disbelief of the words that left his mouth.
Salty air, the rumbling of a motorcycle, distant ocean waves, from the corner of Kiku’s eye, he sees the shirt swaying in the breeze, it’s necktie whipping, a seagull cries.
He is swept away.
Almost.
“Let’s say in exchange for this moment, you spare a few minutes of your time this evening?”
A kiss to his neck, just enough so as to have the other fawn and bend to his desire.
“Perhaps I could slot in some time for you.” Arthur closed his eyes in anticipation.
Rosy cheeks, sweet hibiscus, crab shell. Even sweeter now that Kiku had gotten what he wanted. A sudden thought through his mind, he palmed at his side for his pen to write down the note to get crab for later. The tie on the railing now loosening, pulling back he pats Arthur’s chest.
“Your tie, Arthur-san.”
It all comes in an instant, Arthur dangling over the railing in a rush, reaching the tie just in time before losing it to the wind. His cries of joy over the pleased hum from Kiku up from the bed, getting changed to go out and follow his finalised list of shopping.
Pressing his handkerchief to his forehead Arthur slithers through crowds of people. Air thick with congestion and evening island heat, he briefly looks at his watch, clutching the stack of candles closer to his side. Having taken a detour to a small artisan shop where he had caught his eyes on a set of candles carved with intricate floral details, he’d found himself running a few minutes late, adding to the stack of personal disasters he’d experienced within the day. Rushing from one place to another, dropping off what he grabbed from the market in the kitchen then out again, hoping that his back and forth would be discreet enough to remain unnoticed by anyone. He knew Kiku would appreciate it however, finding his efforts worth in the little joy the gesture brings.
Eventually he reaches his street and building. He considers one last smoke when a familiar face comes his way waving for his attention. Spain approaches him breezy, light on his heels, natural in confidence as the day Arthur had first met him.
“What a surprise, I didn’t expect you to spend your evening here. I thought you’d already be drunk on a boat by now.” There is a bottle of sherry on his side, from the south of his country, it glimmers in contrast to the candles in Arthur’s hand.
“Interesting choice of a gift.” Antonio gives a beguiling smile. Always teasing he was, Arthur shrugs at the comment nonchalantly.
“Thought I’d make a quick stop by.” Arthur fiddles with his carton of cigarettes, fishing out two and handing one over to the delight of Antonio, all too knowing of the fact that if Arthur didn’t, he’d ask for one. They make quick work of them, tossing used butts to the side. “I’m surprised you haven’t gone either, didn’t Francis invite you?”
“Yes, well…” Antonio double checks the number of the room, Arthur plays along walking this way and that, up the stairs and down again, “I heard from the Italies of a wonderful evening hosted by a certain faraway friend. Like you, I thought why not take a short visit?”
At a certain point Arthur takes over and leads them to the right track, finding the number of the door and knocking. In between their time waiting, Antonio fixes himself passing over the sherry for Arthur to hold.
“How did you hear about the party?”
“Ah, well Belgium had mentioned she was coming.” Arthur says as cool as he could, scrambling for the first person he could think of.
“Really? I heard her mentioning dinner with Hungary tonight.”
Immediately Arthur finds himself breaking a cold sweat at his mistake, Antonio coming over to reach for the bottle of sherry. He could only give a deflated “Oh” as he tries to think of another excuse. He was eternally grateful for Feliciano in that moment, opening the door and greeting them warmly into the hallway, squashing all questioning away.
Through the ‘ooh’s’ and the ‘ah’s’ of Antonio, Arthur follows suit to how a stranger would enter a home, clumsily taking off his shoes and placing them discretely somewhere, peering around with wandering eyes to the rooms, the lights, the view of the balcony, the trill of music playing in the background, taking in all that was representative of the person.
Perhaps whoever had entered would have noticed how big the apartment was for Kiku– too big for the likes of someone like him. Maybe they’d step in the hallway and enter the salon now lit up with warm greetings and chatter and wonder how much more clutter there was for one person. Stand by the balcony and find a numerable amount of cigarette butts in a pot, walk past certain areas of the room and smell the faint scent of a different perfume and come to a conclusion. Traces of himself unable to fully disappear despite him trying.
He pats a few backs and shares a few kisses to the cheek. Netherlands is there nursing a drink alongside Luxembourg, instantly Spain hovers towards the Italies and a new set of teasing is unleashed. Sitting close to the windows there are Seychelles and Monaco. Getting to work at picking up any empty bottles of alcohol to quickly rinse through with water in the kitchen he passes by Kiku, alongside Macau and Indonesia, Kiku briefly lighting up to the sight of Arthur a pleased smile flashing across his face.
After wiping the bottles down and inserting the candles through the opening, he makes his way to dot and light them around the apartment atop some makeshift coasters, finishing with placing two on their far too small to host table. An agreeable collective sound is made by the group with Arthur tucking his lighter away on a side table, he doesn’t notice Kiku beside him, softly gazing at the gentle flickering of the flames, shrouding the room with its comforting haziness.
“It’s perfect,” Kiku says.
Arthur has his turn of the balcony taking in the evening scenes of the busy harbour, the strip of coastline covered in a band of gold, lights from bars and parties, after parties and hang out’s. He’d try to make himself useful, by trying to slyly mention the things he had grabbed to Kiku at the fish market. His attempts were halted abruptly by Seychelles talking of the crabs and other sea food she had brung. Stumped at the redundancy of his efforts, realising how she probably had better knowledge with haggling for deals than he did.
He’d make his way to the kitchen instead to filter through cutlery and help with the plating and set up of the dining room. An arm wraps around his shoulders halting him from going further.
“Arturo! Somethings aren’t meant to be you see,” Antonio takes his other arm to pat at Arthurs’ chest who raises a peeved brow, “My girls and the European title– eh!”
Antonio waves a hand pushing away false uncertainty with a smug smile.
“The World Cup however,” he is gleaming, sharpening to a point that slices at Arthurs’ nerves, “That World Cup is like the kitchen to you, not the most compatible. We wouldn’t want to over extend ourselves now, no?”
“I agree, let’s celebrate the talents of my teams’ ex-manager.” Abel chimes pressing glasses of champagne for the two, culminating in bickering and wild laughter.[1]
Pressing the glass to his lips, he hunches over the railing letting the breeze tousle his hair. Monaco comes to prod at him, offering a cigarette bringing him to her group of Macau, Indonesia and Seychelles, and it leads to pleasant conversations and the running of time. The course of the night burning away, as mysterious as the way the sunsets, how there were many more days to come, how nations huddled together having filled their plates like any other group of individuals. In all the time he had spent alive, Arthur still finds mystery in simple pleasures, how he quite enjoys being a part of the group, that he is still proved wrong time and again of his appeal against it.
Having all moved to the dining area and taking their seats gathered around the table for dinner, Arthur sat opposite open to the view of Feliciano waving away at something Romano said, his red wine replaced with champagne and a glass of water by Kiku. What he says catches Arthur's attention.
“Always so attentive you are, it’s like you read my mind. How you never leave it.” Feliciano coos, and Kiku goes along with his flirtations bowing slightly then continuing to refill everyone else's glasses. Like the tap of Arthur’s glass to the dark bottle Kiku pours, a brief connection is made, sliding eyes and quiet parting. Arthur rushed through his champagne, feeling the liquid bubble down his throat to stand and make way in silently leaving the party.
He goes around through the balcony to enter the salon, where the city lights illuminate the dark room into blue shadows. Carrying with him the thought of the other, Feliciano's words ringing resonant. True it was the way Kiku never leaves, occupying his thoughts throughout the day and deep into the night. He is a part of him now, in the same way Arthur knows of the sea, feels its press on his shores, the dearest connection he carries, one he constantly yearns for.
On one of the sofas lay Arthur's jacket, he picks it up wondering if he had left it there by accident when he hears a shuffling further down the room.
“I took it out when no one was looking. It might rain.” Kiku is looking through drawers, Arthur hadn’t noticed him enter. He faintly makes out a few tupperwares of food Kiku had placed on his side. His efforts were rewarded when he found a bag to place them all in, coming to pass it over into Arthurs’ hands. A faraway look to him as if double checking he’d packed enough for the amount of people Arthur was to meet. Francis, João, Gilbert.
“I guess what you said earlier was true. It’s nice to be nice sometimes.” Arthur says.
And for the first time in the night Kiku looks at him with a small smile, Arthur feels his throat drying up, swallowing his words and flustered noise he was to make. Though it is brief as Kiku eyes the bag.
“Don’t worry, I used your batch from the market first. You got so much, I’m not sure what to do with everything.”
“I wanted to, just in case,” Arthur shrugs, he feels a cool breeze at the back of his neck, a siren calls, Kiku fiddles with a corkscrew in his hand for more wine, more drinks to stain his fingers pink like the inside of a seashell. “And I got crab. You hadn’t put down crab when last time I checked your list.”
“I wrote it down and bought it in the end.”
“It's like I read your mind.”
Ambient sounds fill their collective space. Kiku heads towards the balcony doors, parting them slightly as to aerate the room taking a deep breath, his outline wrapped in a thin line of amber.
Then suddenly all the words Arthur had been suppressing came over him, like champagne bubbles on the tip of his tongue.
“Do I ever cross your mind when we’re apart? Because you do, for me. I think about you all the time.”
For once Arthur doesn’t feel the initial embarrassment of confessing, it comes at him in the relief of a passing wave, the way it clears the surface, scattering treasures. Though the surprised curiosity Kiku expresses has him colouring, leaving the doors to come up close to Arthur, to gather what was left of him in his daze.
Kiku reveals something, unearthing the lighter Arthur had forgotten about a while ago, its metal case flashing. Slotting it into Arthur’s chest pocket with lingering hands before rearranging his wind tossed hair, hovering down to the line of his face, to cup his cheek, gently caressing the skin with his thumb.
“You should get going soon, it’s getting late.”
Instinctively Arthur cradles Kiku’s hand with his, turning his face towards his palm to plant a kiss inside it, Kiku gives a peaceful hum. Tangling fingers, skin against familiar skin, Arthur not wanting to sober up from his high. With one final caress Kiku moves away, heading back towards the door of the dining room to continue his role as host of the party.
“Will I not get an answer?”
Arthur is hopeful, shameless. He yearned to hear the words from the other’s lips. What he receives instead is a gentle laugh, full of heart, Kiku’s eyes turning into crescents.
“Goodnight Arthur.”
Outside there is the same bustle, the same heat and rush as expansive and glimmering as the night sky. He is rushing, making way to the same familiar dance that he uses to pass by the crowds. The streets have transformed themselves, opening up to the life of partying, side bars now flashing fluorescent lights to attract drunk customers right until dawn comes over to replace them.
To the docks he goes, sending a message in hopes he could be picked up in his attempt at making it to afters. His sweat makes his shirt cling closer to his body, lighter laying heavily pressed close to his heart, though it hardly weighs him down. He guards it closely, his mind still reeling back to the apartment and his eventual return.
How he will find the kettle to be full, a portion of food for himself ready to be heated, a mug and to its side tea that had probably been taken from some other hotel. Emptying their pockets of instant coffee and tea bag sachets. His pyjamas would be folded and laying close to the entrance, so he could easily fall into the bed that they shared.
There Arthur would reach for him, as he does in his thoughts, weaving through the inbetweens. In each gaze shared and in each graze of a hand, in the certainty of what was to come, he thinks he’s untangled Kiku’s answer having found the word, as clear and as sweet as the champagne he had drank now coursing through him.
Always.