http://clampfix.fanworks.net/others/moretime1.txt </head><body><pre>Ah, at long last Chapter 1 is fit to be posted. Please enjoy. Lan To Make More Time by Lan Series: Campus Cops Duklyon/X Pairing: Takeshi + Kentarou; Erii + Sukiyabashii Genre: Angst Rating: PG-ish Spoilers: Heck, if you've read any of the Duklyon manga then none of this is spoiler-ly. Warnings: Shounen ai Chapter One: Noon, I could feel the butterflies in my stomach acting up. Almost time to break for lunch. Normally I eat the bento I prepared here in my office with Takeshi. However today was different. I finally got him to agree to go out to lunch with me, ya' know, in public. He's usually averse to going anywhere with me because Takeshi's always so worried about me `making a scene'. So, when he consented I didn't give into my immediate reaction of throwing my arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. Though it was tempting. "Oi, Takepon! Ready to go?" impatiently I tugged on his sleeve. "Hold on a minute, I have to finish this last spreadsheet," Takeshi half-heartedly swatted my hand away. "Maa maa, can't it wait?" Here I was, all set to go on a semi-date with Takepon and he could only think of spreadsheets. Honestly, what's guy to do? "Fine then, we'll go." "Yokatta! You won't be sorry, Takepon!" I babbled on while dragging him to the elevator. "They've got the best lo mein in town, honto ni!" "Kentarou . . ." Takeshi touched my shoulder hesitantly. "Eh? Nani kore?" "Will you come to dinner at my parents' house this Sunday?" Something clicked in my brain. Things were either very, very wrong or very, very right. I haven't eaten over at the Shuukaido's since the two of us had been little kids. "Of course, why do you ask?" Please, please Kami-sama, let nothing be wrong. My mind thought of a million scenarios that might lead to this invitation. Was one of his parents ill? Did he want to introduce me to the family as "more than a friend"? Okay, *that* idea was extremely far-fetched, at least at this point in time. Or possible a death in the family? "I wanted you to be there when we meet my fiancée." Fiancée? No. Kami-sama, no. He did NOT say what I thought he said. My hearing is going or I'm hallucinating. This cannot be happening to me. When did Takeshi get engaged?!! I know him, I see him everyday. We've been close friends our whole lives. How in the name of the CLAMP Campus did he get engaged without me noticing? "You see, my family has been talking about an arranged marriage for quite a while," he sighed hanging his head. "And they finally found this girl, the daughter of a close family friend we haven`t seen in years. They just figured that it'd be a good idea to get re- acquainted with the girl and her family over dinner this Sunday." "Oh." "You will be there, na?" Sure, Takepon, I *like* seeing my heart torn from my chest BLEEDING at dinnertime. "Yeah, why not?" "Good, I was worried that I'd mess something up, from being nervous and all. It won't be so bad if I bring my best friend." Calling me his best friend was the only thing keeping me from thinking up creative ways to poison her. "No problem, what are friends for?" I smiled brightly. "Arigatou, Kentarou," Takeshi met my gaze squarely, letting me see into those clear blue eyes for the last time. Swallowing hard I banished all jealous thoughts from my head, temporarily. Today is 22 March 2001. The day I died. *** The first couple of hours I wouldn't cry. Nausea, yeah. Shaking, yeah. Tears, no. In front of him, I couldn't cry. Even if I wanted to more than anything. I don't remember what we had for lunch, or even what we talked about at the office later. Auto-pilot took over while Kenpii committed emotional suicide. Eventually the emotion burned in me until the pain seared with an incomparable intensity. "Ashita mata, Kentarou." "Eh?" I hadn't realized the day had passed so quickly. "Sumimasen, ja ne. Takeshi." Fuck. This was beyond `not fair'. Injustice doesn't begin to describe the situation. I needed to talk to someone who understands. Someone who's shoulder I can cry on. Someone who'll let me bash my head against the wall and then offer me an icepack. The only `someones' I know are . . . Fingers flew across the pad of the cell phone. "Moshi moshi, Kentarou desu." "Kentarou-kun!" the surprise was evident Sukiyabashii's voice. "Ano, is Erii there?" "Nope, she went to the store. Did you want to leave a message?" "Iie, it's all right---" "Daijobu desu ka?" "It`s just that ..." "Come over for dinner tonight, please." "If it's not--" "It's not too much trouble. You can even come over now if you like." "Arigatou." "Dou itamashite." "I'll be there soon, ja." Erii and Sukiyabashi have known Takepon and I since high school. Heck, they're sort of the honorary members of Duklyon, they'd understand better than anyone. Right? Mochiron! *** "He did what?!!!" The twin expressions of shock on their faces were priceless. If I had known it was scientifically possible for a person's eyebrows to go that high I would have brought a camera. "He got engaged. Some girl his family picked out." The entire situation would have been comical, if it weren't happening to me. "This is unexpected," Sukiyabashi frowned. "Unexpected nothing!" Erii slammed a fist onto the table. "He just up and let his parents arrange a marriage?! Without a word of protest?" That's what bothered me the most. The fact that Takeshi seemed completely okay with the idea of marrying a total stranger. Did he really prefer some faceless girl over his best friend? "We don't know the circumstances leading up to this event," pointed out her husband. "There may very well be a good explanation." "That doesn't change things," she scoffed. "I'll find out Sunday," I took a second serving of pasta. Ludicrous, considering I hadn't the appetite to finish the first serving. "Kentarou, I don't, I don't know what to say except that I'm sorry," Erii's hand brushed against my own. "Maa, it's nothing. Really." "I know you don't believe that." The facade shattered. Tears stung my eyes, after all those hours. "It's just . . ." I didn't bother to finish my sentence because there was nothing left for me to say. Down my face, silent trails of tears fell. Hot tears, branding my shame and selfishness. How long I sat there crying I don't know. When some time had passed I became aware of my friends putting their arms around me. "Shhhhhh, it'll be all right. Cry if you need to. We're here," Sukiyabashi held me tight. I never figured him for the nurturing type, though suddenly I see one of the reasons why Erii married him. He's gentle. "Ne, Kentarou if you frown like that all the time," Erii took hold of my right hand. "We might forget what your smile looks like. Cheer up." Which goes to show that you never know who your real friends are until you break down bawling in front of them. Though there's fewer situations more embarrassing than that. Not that I cared. They understood and cared for me. I don't deserve them. "You know," Erii began. "I can always find the Mallets of Justice, and squash him." A giggle escaped through the walls of depression. "Or we can lock him in the cellar and tell his fiancée that he was abducted by aliens," Sukiyabashii's eyebrows wiggled merrily. Yes, wiggled. I kid you not. "But that would be the truth." "Exactly, then we won't feel guilty about lying to her." "What is this guilt you speak of?" Regardless of anything else, it feels good to know that you have people to love you. *** After popping a video in the VCR I flop onto my bed. I settled back into the pillows as the movie began. What did I rent? "Casablanca" of course. You just gotta love the classics. Nothing like a good old-fashioned drama for those depressingly lonely Saturday nights. Of which I have too many. Don't get me wrong, if I wanted to I could go out on dates. The fact of the matter is that I don't want to go on dates with 'people'. I want Takepon and no one else. Possibly the only thing worse to thinking you'll never find true love is when you believe you already have found it yet are denied it. Fate is a fool's excuse for failure, I won't blame fate. I won't blame myself. I will not blame Takepon. He is responsible for his actions just as I am accountable for my own. That doesn't keep me from loving him. Love, with its countless definitions and infinitely debatable meaning. The way I feel about him is not shallow lust, nor confused desire. A shirt sleeve peaking out from a nearby drawer catches my attention. Luckily the dresser is close enough where all I have to do is lean near the edge of the bed to reach it. I yanked lightly on the sleeve pulling the rest of the shirt out. I was right, the blue shirt. To the outside observer it's an ordinary style T-shirt that is an ordinary shade of blue. Smooth, the cotton's become silky soft from years of wear. Perfect, because it belongs to Takepon. Actually, the shirt _belonged_ to him up until a few weeks ago when he left it here by accident. I bought Takeshi a new shirt, for no reason in particular, and when he tried it on the other was forgotten. Not that I made an effort to return the wayward garment ... Probably because the silly thing smelled of him. Of sweat and soap and of everything Takepon. I clutch it because if I never have him, I'll have this. Maybe I shouldn't cling to a mere T-shirt if it brands me as sentimental. Bringing it to my face, I inhaled deeply. Seconds later I'm reeling from the heady sensations my memory triggers. Everything I love about Takepon whirls around me. Virtues and fears, strengths and weaknesses, I accept them for they are who he is. Beloved, if you could see yourself as I see you then you would not think me odd. Horrid how most of the time you fret over how strangers view you. That's enough to make anybody lose confidence. When I look at you, I see all of you. I love you, and all that's a part of you. So, only one question remains. What do you see when you take the time to look at me? <<Play it once, Sam. For old times' sake.>> <<I don't know what you mean, Miss Ilsa.>> <<Play it Sam. Play `As Time Goes By',>> Ingrid Bergman's character pleaded onscreen. Gradually shameful tears burned until they spilled over into searing rivers. The worn cotton is pressed against my face if only to stifle the sobs that threaten to choke me. There are worse things to be than a sentimental fool. ***</pre><p><a href="./">Back</a></p><p><a href=http://www.dreamhost.com/donate.cgi?id=216><img border=0 alt="Donate towards our web hosting bill!" src=https://secure.newdream.net/donate1.gif></a></p></body></html>