You Are My Little Secret

Chapter One: Bathtub

You sat on the porch, looking into the iridescent lights of the simulation flashing on your computer screen. The cool night air wrapped you in a delicate blanket of the filthy Tokyo street smell of cars, lights, and people. You heard the distant click of the front door. Miyavi must have finally come home. You looked at the clock on the corner of the computer screen. It was two hours past midnight. You saw the lights of the apartment flicker on and off, from different sources as random shadows splattered across the porch floor. Finally you heard the slash of curtains being pushed aside and shoved onto the glass doors. A loud click followed by the soft sound of footsteps on the wooden porch came after. You turned your head slowly, expecting to see him.

“You’re still up.” He smiled, sitting down on the seat across from you with his new guitar in his lap.

“The hydrochemistry simulation is taking longer than I thought.” You shrugged, listening to your own voice resonate above the quiet hum of the Tokyo streets in the distance.

He didn’t say anything. He merely looked at you, his smile half-faded and his eyes dark in the dim lights. He ran his hand over a string slowly and produced no sound. The silence was okay. It was the special way the two of you had developed to communicate to one another. You didn’t need words. Just a glance or a small curl of the lips, that was communication enough.

“It’s late.” He finally noted, ten minutes later, when you were back to your simulation and he had worked up a steady rhythm on his guitar. The music, complimented by the periodic sounds of your finger tapping against the keyboard, produced a serenade.

You nodded in agreement, not quite sure what he was hinting at. He stood up after a second, his hands still fumbling with acumen over his guitar strings. He let himself inside, leaving you to your solitude.

Your fingers rested on the keyboard for a minute. You heard the soft swoosh of the glass against the metal frame and felt the sudden coolness of fabric against your shoulders and neck. You turned around. Miyavi had tossed a blanket to you.

“Don’t catch a cold!” He grinned, before shutting the curtains. You smiled to yourself and wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, nestling in its warmth. It was Miyavi’s—it smelled of his cologne and fabric softener.

It seemed as if the blanket produced a soporific effect, as in minutes, your eyes suddenly felt like rocks dragging to…

You opened your eyes to the ticking of the clock. You were covered by a blanket, in your clothes from last night. It was ten minutes until nine o’clock. You let out a helpless yelp as you quickly rolled off the couch. You looked around for your backpack. Miyavi was sitting at the breakfast table, looking at you with a smile. You smiled back quickly and grabbed your backpack, “I’ve got to go to class.”

“But you didn’t get to eat.” Miyavi sulked, pointing at your plate of toast, which was untouched, as you pulled on your shoes and reached for your umbrella.

“I’ll pick up something along the way and save that for lunch. If I don’t hurry I’m going to miss the sub.” You shrugged and checked for the keys in your backpack. You reached for the doorknob, but froze when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You felt another hand around your arm. You turned to face Miyavi, who was now standing within breathing distance from you.

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll drive you to school.” Miyavi grinned. You stared at him, “But you have to go to work today, right? I thought you had to work on that new single…”

“Every now and then I think taking a break from my single is a good idea.” Miyavi tugged on your hat and pulled it off. He ushered you back to your seat at the dinner table,

You blinked, confused as you sat down in your spot and picked up a fork.

Thoughts streamed through your mind as you wondered what could have possibly made Miyavi so much more affectionate and less energetic than usual. You missed his bouncing smiles, though the occidental gentility wasn’t a bad addition.

Suddenly you remembered that Miyavi came home late last night from a date with his girlfriend, not from work. But he never stayed out late with his girlfriend…

You looked up at him, trying to see if he showed any hints of a progress in the relationship. He just met your scrutinizing gaze with a playful grin, “Am I that beautiful?”

You snorted and went back to focusing on your toast.

…

Miyavi:

I tried hard to untangle the overwhelming jumble of thoughts rolling back and forth in my mind. I knew I had to tell Miki sooner or later. Somehow, I am never able to keep any secrets from her. There’s just something about her, from the first moment I met her, that disallowed me to pull a curtain on my thoughts from her.

I could tell that she knew something went wrong with my last date with Saikiko from the way she was staring at me. I cleared my throat and avoided her gaze. The pressure built up slowly.

Finally I burst.

“I broke up with Saikiko last night.” I announced uncomfortably. I heard her fork clink on the edge of her porcelain plate and saw the metal object drop with a chatter onto the table. I looked up, finally, to meet a pair of consoling eyes.

“I’m not going to press you to tell me about it until you’re ready.” She smiled, putting her hand over mine gently. She gave my hand a squeeze, and I could feel the coolness of the ring she wore on the back of my hand. I nodded, closing my eyes. I felt her lips, soft and warm, on my forehead. I dropped my head and took in her deliriously frail scent as I laid my head on her shoulder. She held me tightly, stroking my hair with her gentle fingers.

“Maybe I should really move out some time.” Her phrase broke the silence.

“What?” I pulled away, not quite believing what I just heard.

“It’s why you broke up with her right? You broke up with Kimiko, Aya, and Aiichi because none of them could stand my living with you. If you continue on like this, you’ll never find a stable love interest, and you’ll never have any family to look to afterwards. I think it would be better if I moved out and stopped seeing you so often.” She reasoned quietly, her voice lingering over each word. I blinked, still in shock at what she had suggested. Move out? What?

“But you’re my family, remember?” I prodded, backing away a bit, wondering if it was all a dream.

“I meant for you to have a wife, and maybe children, after you finish with your performing career, to be really happy.” She straightened up, no longer stretching over the table. Suddenly I became aware of the sadness in her voice. I felt as if I was punched in the guts. Did I say something wrong? Why did she want to move out all the sudden? Wasn’t this our apartment? Our home?

It turned out fate didn’t allow me to ask, since before I had the chance to open my mouth, the front door slammed open. Saikiko appeared at the doorway, dressed like a child as always. Miki turned to her slowly, showing her a kind smile, which Saikiko ignored as she suddenly started wailing.

It looked as if she was beaten up. Her face was covered with green and purple splotches, and her pants had a dramatic tear at the knee, revealing bloody skin.

“Are you okay?” Miki asked, already making her way towards the girl. I slowly trudged over. Did the fan girls beat her up?

Miki offered to help Saikiko inside, butSaikiko swapped her arms away quickly and started tocry accusingly to me. I stood in front of her, stuffing my hands in my pockets. I noticed the fallacious nature of all the “bruises”. At least she could have tried harder to make them appear realistic. I sighed and took a step back as she opened her arms to receive a hug from me. I didn’t give her one. Instead I ran my handthrough my hair. Miki watched Saikiko curiously.

“What do you want?” I finally demanded. Perhaps my tone was a little harsh?

“Your fans…they…” She sobbed, globs of tears smearing her mascara. I felt sympathetic for her makeup. I turned to Miki, “Can you grab a bottle of make-up remover? And a towel, please?”

“But don’t you need a first-aid kit?” She looked profoundly confused. I laughed, “Please? Trust me, it’ll be good. I’m sure Saikiko-chan will feel much better afterwards.”

“But…make up remover has alcohol in it and fresh wounds can’t have…” Saikiko quickly retorted, looking panicked. I knew it. The bruises were all eye-shadow.

“It’s okay. Those are bruises, right? We’ll just fix those.” I shrugged. Miki had already gone. I looked steadily at the mess in front of me until Miki touched the bottle to my hands and handed me a towel.

I dumped some of the liquid onto the towel and reached to help Saikiko out. The girl stumbled backwards, as if the liquid was poison.

“What? It won’t hurt, I promise.” I chuckled, plots for machinations stirring up inside of me.

“No, no I—that’s—it’s not—it’s—alcohol, I can’t have that on…” She stuttered, backing away some more.

“But I was only going to try the bruises.” I laughed, “Unless those bruises aren’t real?”

“What do you mean?” She continued backing away and ran into the doorway.

“Oh.” Miki finally sighed. She looked enormously disappointed at the truth.

“If you were going to lie, can’t you at least come up with better cover?” I smirked. Saikiko suddenly turned angry as she snatched the bottle from my hands and flipped open the lid. She dumped some into her hand. I watched the liquid drip from her hand one drop at a time as she attempted to cup it.

“It’s her, isn’t it? It’s because of her that you won’t ever find anyone to love, isn’t it? You just broke up with me because I was right about her last night, isn’t that it?” She suddenly flailed all the make-up remover in Miki’s face. Miki uttered a short gasp before stumbling backwards, her hands over her eyes. Her shirt was drenched, and the clear substance spilled from her face, which was distorted in pain.

“You!” I yelled, dashing at Saikiko. I grabbed her by her collar, “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want me to kill you?”

“I love you! I only lied to see you! I just want to see you again!” She screamed, tears flowing from her eyes this time for real.

Normally I would have hugged her. But this time, with the image of Miki in pain, a sudden, unexplainable rage flared inside of me. I shoved her forcefully outside and slammed the door in her face. I locked it, chains and all.

When I turned back Miki wasn’t there anymore. The bathroom door was closed, and I could hear the dull sounds of water splashing against the marble bathtub we installed. My heart felt wrenched in pain as I saw the images of her stumbling backwards clearly in my mind. I proceeded towards the bathroom.

The door was unlocked. I waited until I heard the tap turned off. A moment later, I gave a push, and the door let open. I could see the shadow of Miki in the bathtub against the Chinese silk fold-wall. She was still in the tub; she probably had not heard me enter.

…

You closed your eyes, trying hard not to cry. Well, you were technically crying, since the make-up remover stung so hard at your eyes it was impossible to stop the tears from automatically spilling out. It hurt to even attempt to open your eyes. The nerves swarmed your mind with screams of pain.

You sat curled up at a corner of the enormous marble tub. The tub itself was enough to fit four or five.

When you suddenly felt the water level rise, you jerked forward in surprise. Someone else must have gotten into the tub, and it must—

“Miki, are you okay?” You felt a hand on your shoulder and trembled.

“I’m fine.” You mumbled, “Miyavi, what are you doing?”

You didn’t hear an answer. Instead, you felt his naked arms wrapping around your bare stomach. You shivered, although the feeling sent a shockwave through your body. Immediately you felt something extremely cold against the nape of your neck. It was Miyavi’s lip-ring. You felt his hot breath traveling down your back as he kissed your neck. His grip around your waist tightened, and slowly you loosened in his grasp.

“I’m so sorry this had to happen. It was all my fault.” He muttered. You felt the periodic flushes of his warm breathing again, along with his lips, which tickled your skin. You didn’t answer.

“Can you open your eyes?” He continued. You shook your head and heard him sigh.

“Lean back.” He commanded suddenly. You made a small noise, questioning why.

“Please?” He added. You obeyed sheepishly and felt your back come in contact with his chest. His cheek was now brushing against the top of your head as he guided you towards the other end of the tub. His legs spread around you, trapping you in between. His fingers intertwined yours.

“I’ve always felt something towards you that was different from what I feel towards my family and friends, even from all my girlfriends. I can’t really describe it.” He commented randomly as he guided your hand towards something. He rested your hand on something that felt like his arm. You explored slowly with the tips of your finger. It was his wrist. He placed your fingers a little below his palm, “Can you feel it?”

“What?” You muttered back and heard him chuckle, “Listen and feel.”

You let the fumes suffocate you as you shut your mind to everything but that pulse mumbling lightly under the tips of your fingers. The sound of your own heartbeat took over, and soon you heard two sounds, like drums, beating midair.

Ah?

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Miyavi interrupted with a hoarse whisper. You nodded.

“And that’s only one tiny percent of what I feel for you.” He concluded. You blinked, wondering what he meant. The two of you were only a pair of unlikely companions who somehow ended up as roommates, right?

Right.

At least for now.