Hisao and Kenji: Masterful One Shots! Winter Update!

[Mirage_GSM]

Well, I hope their ready, is all.

...

[Hoitash]

Well, I hope their ready, is all.

...

I'd say I'm allowed one.

...No? Eh, worth a shot.

Fixed, and thanks

[griffon8]

Kenji and I’s forays into Thailand and Russia notwithstanding, of course.

Who's forays?

[Hoitash]

Kenji and I’s forays into Thailand and Russia notwithstanding, of course.

Who's forays?

I know this one...

Mine and Kenji's! Foray's!.

[griffon8]

Kenji and I’s forays into Thailand and Russia notwithstanding, of course.

Who's forays?

I know this one...

Mine and Kenji's! Foray's!.

And just what does the foray possess?

Psst! You shouldn't have changed 'forays'!

[Hoitash]

And just what does the foray possess?

Psst! You shouldn't have changed 'forays'!

I was overthinking it. So I get partial credit, I guess.

Thanks, and fixed.

[Hoitash]

Hi everybody! Did you miss me?

You know, I’m not really a fan of this holiday. Not because of the commercialization, but because when you get to a certain place in life, you start to expect things.

Well, screw that. The time has come to seize what you want! The time has come to claim what is rightfully yours! The time has come to watch Tangled while eating chocolate! Onward, for the glory of the Republic! Fredericksburg! Fredericksburg! FREDERICKSBURG!!

Ah, it’s good to be back. Anywho, time for another special. Timeline wise, we’re between Mystery Six of H&K: MD! and the first Halloween Special (I will at some point make a timeline, if for no other reason than so I can keep track if things.) Enjoy.

“Take my hand tonight, let's not think about tomorrow!
Take my hand tonight, we can find some place to go!
'Cause our hearts are locked forever, and our love will never die!
Take my hand tonight, one last time!” –Simple Plan’s Take My Hand


To Have and To Hold –A Valentine’s Day Special


It happened one night at the office. Kenji and I were wrapping up some paperwork before leaving for summer vacation. I was going to Hokkaido with my family, along with Akira’s and Lilly’s, to enjoy a peaceful, relaxing respite that turned out to involve way too many silver bullets and grave digging. Though I had invited him, Kenji had declined to come along, saying he had plans with his girlfriend, Miya Takano.

I said we were wrapping up the paperwork, but I was actually doing all the work. Kenji was standing in front of the large white board he used to keep track of his crusade against the Secret Societies we had so recently vanquished. I was sitting at the desk typing out and filling out forms, then filing them away in their proper cabinet.

After a while I noticed he wasn’t really looking at the white board, just staring at it. Sensing something was on his mind, I gently lowered the screen of the laptop and asked, “Sen for your thoughts?”

Kenji sighed and wandered over to the desk, taking a seat on the other side and looking up at the ceiling, the light above reflecting off his thick round glasses as he did so.

He didn’t say anything though, so I decided to prompt him by asking, “What’s on your mind?”

“Stuff,” Kenji grunted.

Chuckling, I saved the work on the laptop before shutting it and reached for one of the drawers of the antique, dark wooden desk. Opening one of the drawers, I pulled out an almost full bottle of scotch and two glasses. Setting the glasses down, I poured two shots and placed one in front of Kenji, who was now looking back at me, his scruffy face clearly in need of a shave. Looking him over closely, he looked more disheveled than usual; his black hair was a greasy mess and longer than he normally kept it, and his gold and red scarf clearly needed a light washing.

“What kinda stuff?” I asked, “You’re clearly worried about something.”

Kenji sighed and reached for the drink, slowly sipping half of it. Setting it down, he reached inside the brown jacket of his suit and pulled something out of one of the many pockets it held. Covering the object with his hands so I couldn’t see it, he looked at it for a moment from over the top of his glasses. Sighing again, he set the object down so I could finally see it. On the table between us was a simple black velvet box. It wasn’t hard for me to guess its contents.

I glanced up from the box to look at Kenji, “Is that… an engagement ring?”

Kenji swallowed and nodded, opening the box. Inside was a small gold band with a tastefully sized diamond –not too large, not too small. Direct and to the point, which summed up Kenji and Miya rather nicely.

“So, you’re gonna propose to Miya?” I asked, “Because I’m afraid I’m already married.”

Kenji snorted and managed to smirk for a moment before looking back down at the ring, “…I’m not sure.”

At least that explained his appearance and mood. Downing my own shot and sighing, I glared at Kenji and asked, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I figured he would snap at me, but instead Kenji just turned to face the white board, “It’s complicated.”

I followed his gaze to the board, “Worried about dragging her into this?”

Kenji snorted, “Little late for that, but kinda,” turning back to me, he downed the rest of his shot before looking at me in the left ear, “Fuck, man, if I had cared this much about someone when we started this shit…I am so sorry for dragging you into this. I had no right-”

I raised a hand to cut him off even if he might not see it, “What’s done is done –no sense harping on what you can’t change. Moving on, you said the Societies were part of it, so what else could make you hesitate? You never hesitate. This is a huge deal, man! So you have any idea how much money Emi bet me you’d never get married?”

Kenji smirked briefly before frowning and muttering, “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

I rolled my eyes and poured new shots, “I’m a science teacher. Break it down for me.”

Kenji slammed the second shot down and sighed, “…I’m not sure where I should begin.”

“I’ve found the beginning to be a good place to start,” I quipped.

Kenji glanced up at me, “You sure ‘bout that? This is me we’re talking about.”

I nodded, “Do your thing, man. Get it out in the open. Sometimes that’s enough.”

Kenji slowly nodded, looked down at the ring, sighed, and started, “…My parent’s marriage was arranged. Two old families with more money than sense clawing at the last gasps of the Old Ways in a perverted reverence of tradition over common sense. My parents never really loved each other, I think, but there was a mutual respect and… companionship, I guess. Dad was a bit of a hothead, but he never raised his voice or hand to either of us. Mom…”

Kenji trailed off and downed the third shot I poured for him. Taking off his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, “I’ve never talked to anyone outside the family about this, okay? It might take me a bit to get it all out.”

“I ain’t going anywhere,” I declared, “and the bottles still half-full. Take your time, man.”

Kenji looked up at me and gave a weary grin, and I noticed his eyes were weary and shot; he hadn’t been sleeping well. Sighing and leaning back in his chair, he continued, “You know how my name is spelled to mean ‘second son’?”

I nodded.

“Well, there’s a reason for that,” he stated, “My mom had a miscarriage before me. It was along enough to tell gender. It woulda been a boy.”

[Hoitash]

Part II:

I nodded again and slammed my second shot, pouring a third as Kenji continued.

“My uncle said she was never the same after the miscarriage. She was always… off, really, but something in her died –sorry, poor word choice- actually I take that back; that’s exactly what happened…. Anyway, we never really connected, for some reason -you know that thing where the mother can’t bond with her child? I think she had that with me all her life. She had a few cats, though, which she seemed to love more than me…. I guess I reminded her of the son she never had, and she couldn’t get past that to see the son she did have.”

Kenji paused for a moment, tapping the shot glass with one finger. After a few idle taps, he continued once again, “I did warn you this might take a bit, and I appreciate your patience, man. Anyway, shortly after college, my Dad died. He had high blood pressure and stroked out. I said he and Mom didn’t love each other, but they depended on each other, and when Dad died Mom died too, in a way. Her mind didn’t just snap, it broke. She started neglecting her cats, and fired the house staff because she thought they were stealing from her. She started becoming violent –nothing serious, just chucking shit at the walls and yelling- so my uncle got power of attorney and had her sent to a psychiatric ward so she wouldn’t hurt anyone, or herself.”

Kenji always needed his time to get to a point, so I refrained from saying anything as Kenji told his tale of fucked up childhood and family. Besides, it sounded like he needed to unload some pent up baggage, and a bottle of scotch was cheaper than a therapist (though not my cut from the agency, but Kenji wasn’t the type to see a therapist anyway. I imagine his mother wasn’t either, though if she was from an old fashioned family I could understand why.)

“…She had her lucid moments, of course,” Kenji continued, “but it didn’t take long for those to become few and far between. She hated the meds, but since she was violent they could force her to take them… Eventually it all caught up with her, and… the last sane thing she did was overdose on morphine. Probably the best way she could go, really….”

Kenji sighed and looked at his full glass of scotch. Raising it up, he mumbled something too quiet for me to hear, then slowly sipped the glass empty. I raised my glass and downed my shot, then refilled both drinks again.

“My Mom died with Dad,” Kenji declared, “Her body just didn’t get the message. I won’t let Miya go through something like that.”

I sighed and looked at Kenji, knowing what I wanted to say, but not sure how to phrase it. Eventually I managed to piece what I wanted to say together, and while Kenji blinked morosely at the engagement ring, I said my piece.

“…Before our wedding, Hanako and I discussed what we would do –what she would do- if I died young,” I began, “along the way I fucked up and asked if she ever regretted agreeing to marry me; even with the exercise and medical advances, a lot can happen that could set me off. She understandably lost her shit at the question, yelled at me for a good half-hour, stormed out of the dorm, and wouldn’t speak to me for three days.”

“…I remember that,” Kenji said, putting his glasses back on and blinking to help his eyes adjust, “You felt like shit all weekend.”

“Yep. But, when we spoke again, Hanako apologized for overreacting, I apologized for being an inconsiderate jackass, and we moved on, because, funnily enough, she never did or has regretted marrying me. And you know what? I don’t regret marrying Hanako. Never have. Even if the God-Emperor of Mankind himself burst through that door and told me I’d drop dead tomorrow, I’d have no regrets. You know why?”

Kenji raised an eyebrow and quipped, “Because meeting the God-Emperor of the Imperium of Man is fucking awesome?”

I smirked and retorted, “Because while it might be selfless to not inflict our disabilities on our loved ones, it is pretty damn selfish to deny those loved ones the joys and memories of our time together. Do you regret the time you’ve spent with Miya?”

“No,” Kenji declared.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Does she love you?”

“Yes.”

I grinned and thumped the table, “Then for the love of Princess Mako’s cosplay collection, marry the woman!”

Kenji groaned and cupped his face in his hands, “What if I lose my shit and have to be committed? What if our kids are legally blind, or insane? I’m a man of action; do you know how much it sucked watching my mother lose herself in her own mind, unable to do anything? What if that happens to me? How can I put Miya through that?”

“What if I drop dead of a heart attack?” I countered, “What if one of my kids has arrhythmia? It doesn’t matter, because they’ll have the memories of the times when we were together. You’re gonna tell me in all the time you were with your mother, you don’t have any good memories? The ones you clung to when you visited her and she ranted and raved about whatever senseless things streamed through what was left of her mind?”

Kenji glared at me and opened his mouth, then closed it. Scratching his stubble in thought for a few moments, after a few moments he slowly nodded, “Puzzles. She loved puzzles. They were hard for me to work on cuz of my eyes, but didn’t care. She’d just sit with me, drink tea and eat cookies, and we’d spend hours working on them… even when she was stuck in the hospital, she had a little 50 piece puzzle to work on, whenever she could stay lucid enough to remember who she was.”

“Well, there you go,” I said, “I know it’s not the same, but if something does happen to you, Miya will still have the memories of you two traveling and taking photos, or painting together, or even just the dinners you spent with each other. She’ll still have the memory of you when you were you.”

“I imagine she’d rather have a sane husband,” Kenji remarked, his head still in his hands, “But, like you said, no sense harping on what you can’t change; I either lose my shit, or I don’t.”

I nodded and smirked, “Beside’s, if worse comes to worse, I’ll have Shizune shoot you.”

“She’d rather behead me,” Kenji remarked. Groaning and lowering his hands to look at me, he managed a weary smirk and stated, “You’re right, man; not marrying her just because of what might happen is pretty selfish. Breaking her heart would suck, and I ain’t the kinda man to leave a woman hanging. So, the next time you see me, Golden Throne willing, I will be engaged!”

“That’s the spirit!” I cheered.

I raised my glass and Kenji did the same, and we toasted what would hopefully be the most important operation of Kenji’s life: Operation Hitch-Getting.

First, though, was Operation: Have Hanako Pick Us Up In Her Newly Sidecar Equipped Zündapp. Hanako wasn’t too thrilled about that particular operation, but it gave her an excuse to ride, so she couldn’t get too upset.

“Hey,” Kenji said when I hung up from the phone call, “Thanks man, for hearing me out, and talking some sense into me.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, “It’s not exactly unknown territory for me, either. I spent a lot of nights wondering if I would be doing Hanako a favor by not asking her to marry me. Then my father talked some sense into me and told me more or less the same stuff I just told you.”

Kenji chuckled, “Smart man.”

I nodded and poured another round. Raising the glass up, I stated, “Now, here’s to the future Kenji and Miya Setou!”

“Here, Here!” Kenji declared, raising his own glass, “For better or worse, sickness and health, and legal blindness and possible insanity!”

Nodding and smirking, I couldn’t help adding, “For marriage.”

Kenji grinned, nodded, and downed his shot.

+++

…Well, that was… something. Kinda dark, but hey, these things happen. Go buy some chocolate and watch a movie, like the rest of us.

(And yes I am aware that miscarriages past the first trimester are extremely rare.)

Yes, Kenji and Miya were engaged for a year or so, for those paying attention. Miya wanted her work situation more stable and her student loans more squared away, while Kenji (though he obviously didn’t tell her) wanted to make sure the Secret Societies were truly dealt with.

Oh, the Zündapp was the motorcycle from Sora No Woto, and though Rio didn’t drive it with a sidecar, you’re really supposed to, as it can be a pain to handle otherwise.

Hanako got it for grocery shopping.

Happy Valentine’s Day, folks! See you in March!

[AntonSlavik020]

As short as it was, I actually enjoyed more than most of your other specials. It was straight and to the point, and gave Kenji a backstory(as tragic as it was, it paves the way for his, shall we say, "unique" personality during the game). Overall, I really liked it.

[Hoitash]

As short as it was, I actually enjoyed more than most of your other specials. It was straight and to the point, and gave Kenji a backstory(as tragic as it was, it paves the way for his, shall we say, "unique" personality during the game). Overall, I really liked it.

I extrapolated a lot from his one remark about his mother during Shizune's route, and basically built everything up from there. although the Christmas Special gets into it a bit, too.

No idea what I'll do about Miya, but such is life.

Thanks for reading, and glad you liked it! I tend to struggle with anything emotional, so I was glad this turned out well.

[Helbereth]

Good to see something new from the incomparable Hoitash. It's rather brief - probably your shortest story ever - but it settles a few important questions, and does so as you'd expect: over scotch, in the office, and in as direct a way as possible. It's a kind of grown-up version of The Manly Picnic, if you will, except they aren't lamenting the oppression of feminism, but rather embracing the winding path their lives have taken.

I'd have written this last night, but I finished reading quite late, and passed out soon after.

Ave Imperator!

[Hoitash]

Good to see something new from the incomparable Hoitash. It's rather brief - probably your shortest story ever - but it settles a few important questions, and does so as you'd expect: over scotch, in the office, and in as direct a way as possible. It's a kind of grown-up version of The Manly Picnic, if you will, except they aren't lamenting the oppression of feminism, but rather embracing the winding path their lives have taken.

It is very fitting, I think. I spent some time tweaking and working with this one, but the basic concept was the same almost from the start, because it pretty much encapsulates everything about Kenji, Hisao, and their lives.

Glad you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading

I'd have written this last night, but I finished reading quite late, and passed out soon after.

Sleep is good.

Ave Imperator!

Ave, verum ad Caesar.

[SpcPotshot]

Awesome addition! Short and sweet...sorta. Nice to know you're still working on H&K. Twas a good take on Kenji's...eccentrics.

How's your main project coming along? I don't know how much you want to reveal about it yet.

[Hoitash]

Awesome addition! Short and sweet...sorta. Nice to know you're still working on H&K. Twas a good take on Kenji's...eccentrics.

Thanks, I got a few more one-shots planned for the next little while, and I might have something for the summer, if I can manage to not bungle it.

How's your main project coming along? I don't know how much you want to reveal about it yet.

Currently preparing to go on a camping trip with the Satou's and Hakamichi's.

(I have a feeling we're talking about different things, so I'll pm you to keep things mysterious.)

[Hoitash]

Proving that when it comes to writing, my sanity has truly gone to hell in a handcart.

Actually, it’s in the Lost and Found of Pray-Harrold at Eastern Michigan University. Never bothered to get it back. Anywho, enjoy what quite possibly may be the weirdest thing I have ever written.

Oh, timeline wise, we’re before the Road Trip, sometime in early March (probably a few days/weeks before the second Drink Hard Special.)

“Oh, East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth!”
-Rudyard Kipling’s The Ballad of East and West


Withdrawal by Faith –A Lent Special


My headache was getting worse, and even though I knew the aspirin would do me no good, I still wanted some. Not that I could muster the energy to get out of my bed. Every year I inflicted this on myself, and it never gets easier. This year, somehow, seemed worse than the previous ones. Perhaps because the one person I wanted most to be at my side was unavailable.

“George….” I mumbled, as if calling his name could summon him to my bedside.

“He’ll be here soon,” Hanako declared, the direction of her voice making it clear she was kneeling beside me, “H-he has a class right now, b-but I texted him and he said he’ll be here s-soon.”

I turned my head toward her voice and groaned lightly, “Class is more important than his girlfriend?”

“T-that’s the withdrawal talking,” Hanako stated, “You t-told him to not let your condition affect him.”

“Of course I did,” I muttered. Turning back toward the ceiling, I grumbled, “He should know better than to take someone in such state at their word.”

I felt a hand on mine and sighed. Turning back to Hanako, I managed a weak attempt at a smile and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me… actually, I do.”

“It’ll be a-alright,” Hanako said, “It always is.”

Rationally she was right, but unfortunately my mind wasn’t in a position to be rational then. I was being hard on Hanako, though, and as usual she was taking the worst of me in stride. Needing the physical comfort, I ran my thumb along her hand, though I paused when I felt the rough scarring on it; I hadn’t known which hand she used, and it was a bit of a surprise to realize it had been her right one. Feeling the remains of her ordeal made me feel even worse for being so bothersome over something that no doubt seemed inane and pointless to all my friends.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” I stated, “It’s just caffeine withdrawal; I’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

Although if it just wouldn’t end up making things worse later on, Sunday was only a few days away.

Hanako sighed and squeezed my hand, “Y-you’re always there for me when I need you. This time of year is my time to be there for you.”

I managed another weak smile, “Thank you, and I am sorry for being such a bother.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hanako declared, “Do you need anything else?”

I needed my boyfriend at my side, but that clearly wasn’t happening any time soon. There was something Hanako could do for me, though, “Could you please bring me a damp cloth?”

“Of course,” Hanako stated. Squeezing my hand again, she let go of it and started shuffling away.

“Thank you,” I breathed.

With nothing to do but lie in bed, sink myself in what little comfort I could gather from the warmth of the sheets, and wait, my mind started drifting and mulling. Ostensibly I wanted George to visit me so he could help me write an English paper I had due at the end of the month, but really I just wanted him by my side. Not that Hanako wasn’t perfectly suited to the task, but I’d rather burden my boyfriend with such inane things than my best friend. Although being a burden at all infuriated me, but as I said previously, I didn’t have much choice that time of year.

Which for me was nearly as infuriating as being reduced to such a sorry state, and although George and I had only been dating each other since late January, he had quickly become very important to me. I’d like to think I was careful with whom I gave my heart, but I couldn’t help questioning that and other things while I was in bed, feeling the various withdrawal symptoms battle for dominance. The headache had dulled a bit, fortunately, and fatigue was starting to take precedence, which if nothing else would let me rest.

I heard Hanako return to my side, and a few moments later felt the coolness of the cloth over my forehead.

Sighing contentedly at the soothingly cool sensation on my weary skin, I smiled weakly and said, “Thank you, Hanako. That feels much better.”

“Good,” she said, “T-try and rest a bit, please? George should be here in a little while.”

I sighed and muttered, “I hope so.”

“He will be,” Hanako declared, “You just have to have faith.”

I snorted at her word choice and gave a sluggish nod. Closing my eyes, I started concentrating on my breathing to help me relax. Hanako started humming something, slow and soft that I couldn’t recognize, but found soothing nonetheless. After what seemed like some of the slowest minutes of my life at the time, I finally managed to drift off to sleep.

Where I ended up, however, was rather strange, and made me wonder if I was in fact asleep, or experiencing some sort of fever-like hallucination. For me, dreaming is a very intense experience, because it relies on so many senses to make up for the lack of the one normally utilized. So I was a little disconcerted when I found myself having a very vivid dream, and not sensing anything. No sounds, no smells, no touch, no withdrawal symptoms; nothing except the odd feeling I wasn’t alone.

“Hello?” I called, “Is anyone out there? If this is that dream about wandering into the Plane of Torment, I was nowhere near a kitchen this time.”

“Plane of Torment?” someone responded in a slightly high, reedy voice with a lisp. Continuing in English, the voice stated, “I assure you, Young Lady, you are a very clever girl indeed.”

Turning my head toward the voice, I remarked in English, “I don’t feel very clever as of late.”

“Side-effect of the withdrawal, I imagine,” the voice replied, “But we should have this conversation face-to-face. Come have a seat –there’s a chair about thirty feet in front of you. Oh, and keep a finger out for the table.”

Lacking any idea of what else to do, I followed the voice’s instructions. Finding the chair was easy enough, and after feeling for and finding the rounded edge of the table, I sat down, scooted the chair forward slightly, and placed my hands in my lap, expectantly sitting across from where I expected my mysterious companion to be sitting.

“You’re probably very confused right now,” the voice said, across from me as I had presumed. The more I listened to it, the more familiar it sounded, “So, I believe an introduction is in order. You’d be familiar with my work because of your mother: Truman Capote, at your service.”

Now that he said it, I was surprised I hadn’t recognized his voice sooner. My mother was a fan of his work, and I would sit with her while she watched the videos of his plays and movies to keep her company. Though obviously his appearance had changed with age, I pictured him as the slightly portly, balding man described to me in Murder by Death. He was probably wearing the silver suit and brimmed fedora as well, along with a pair of slightly rounded sunglasses.

“…It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I managed to say, keeping the conversation in English out of politeness, “Even if it is just a dream. This is a dream, I take it?”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Capote –Dream Capote?- replied, “At the very least I can say you are not dead. Personally I like to think of this as more along the lines of a spirit journey. Although that would imply you’re hallucinating, not dreaming,” he paused to chuckle lightly before continuing, “Which, considering how long you’ve gone without tea, is entirely possible.”

“…This is without a doubt the most confusing dream I’ve ever had.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dream Capote stated, “I seem to recall some rather interesting dreams you’ve had during a certain time of the month.”

I felt my face flush and coughed into one of my hands to collect myself, “What I think and dream about is no concern of yours, sir.”

“Ah, but it is!” Dream Capote insisted, “I see your past, that of your friends, and maybe even your futures,” chuckling again, he added, “Or I’m just your subconscious having some fun. I’ll leave the choice to you.”

“…I’ve never been one to believe in ghosts,” I stated, “So I’m afraid I’ll have to go with subconscious.”

“It really doesn’t matter, in the end,” Dream Capote stated, “People are too obsessed with labels and categories. Speaking of labels, would you like a drink?”

Feeling the days of fatigue, nausea, and irritability weigh on me despite my dream-state –or perhaps because of how incredibly vivid the dream was- I vigorously nodded and declared, “Anything alcoholic.”

Dream Capote chuckled lightly, “Understandable. You’ll find a full glass of wine near your right arm, now.”

Tentatively reaching out, my fingers grazed the edge of a tall wine glass, cool and smooth like fine crystal glassware. Smirking, I couldn’t help but quip, “Impressive service.”

“One of the perks of being dead,” he replied, “Or, again, your subconscious. Honestly even I’m not too sure,” that mischievous chuckle again, “Or I am, and I’m just enjoying toying with you.”

“You do seem to be,” I observed. Carefully reaching out, I took the glass and spent some time swirling its contents, listening to the dull swishing noises and feeling the slight temperature changes on the glass from the liquid moving and my grip. After a few moments I brought the glass up to my nose and lightly smelled it. The smell was a familiar one, one that brought a smile to my face as I said, “Another point in the favor of subconscious; this is the wine I had on my first date with George.”

“You have an excellent nose,” Dream Capote declared, “and memory. Now that you bring it up, Mr. Williams seems to be on your mind quite a bit these days.”

I sipped the wine rather than respond, letting the taste and memories fill me for several long, wonderful moments. Lowering the glass, I gave a mild shrug and said, “I was thinking about him before I fell asleep –or started hallucinating, whichever is the case.”

“True,” he conceded, “But with the spring break coming closer, he seems to be on your mind more so then before, especially with you spending so much time in bed dealing with the withdrawal.”

“…Perhaps,” I admitted, “I won’t deny that I will miss him while I’m in Scotland.”

“You could invite him to come along,” Dream Capote remarked, “I’m sure he’d agree.”

I sighed and sipped my wine again before replying, “Our relationship is too new for me to do that, I’m afraid.”

Dream Capote made a thoughtful noise, “That’s not all you’re afraid of, is it?”

Furrowing my brow slightly, I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow you.”

“You’ve been thinking a lot about your relationship with Mr. Williams lately,” he stated, “And much of that thinking revolves around the nature of said relationship.”

I nodded, conceding the point, “I’m merely concerned how deep our affection for each other is. We’ve only known each other for a few months, but we already know each other very well-”

“Though not in the Biblical sense,” Dream Capote remarked.

Smirking lightly even as my face once again warmed with embarrassment, I declared, “You are having entirely too much fun, Mr. Capote.”

He chuckled again, but said nothing. Continuing my earlier comment, I stated, “And while I certainly like him very much, I can’t say for certain if I love him.”