A quite long taxi ride later and way too much money poorer I finally stood in front of a huge apartment building in an outer district of Tokyo. The complex was about 15 floors high and looked expensive - again a sign that Akira played in another financial league than me.
Looking a little helpless at the loads of names next to the glass door at the front, I decided to write him a message.
>where do I have to ring?
>Suzuki. 7th floor.
I sighed and prayed to God that there'd be an elevator at least.
Looking over the number of templates again I didn't have the time to even find his name as the door lock buzzed open and allowed me entrance to the warm building.
Finally arriving at floor number seven - obviously, the God of smoker's lungs had heard me: there had been even three elevators - I stood in the middle of a spacious corridor with four closed doors. The template showing 'Suzuki' was soon to be found and since a bell was missing, I just knocked at the thick wood.
"Password or vodka!", was the reply and I chuckled.
"I could offer some vodka then, sir."
The door swung open and the first thing I saw was... not Akira.
Either that or he'd had some plastic surgery within the last day.
"Errh.. hi."
"Hi! The name's Kouyou. Come in, Aki's in the bathroom to make himself pretty for you. And oh God, I can tell, he went all fuzzy and lovey-dovey about you. I heard you're an art teacher? That's nice but I'm not that interested in this old stuff like Moet.. no wait, the name was Monet, ne.. anyway. Monet and such stuff but modern art really gets me sometimes. Did you find the house easily? Yes? Oh my, this is going to be so much fun. And oh well, I'll show you the flat then..."
Oh. God.
Someone, please kill me.
"As you can see, we're in the foyer, so take off your shoes and jacket, honey. I know it's cold outside but I'd kick Aki's ass if he'd had such an overly expensive flat without a working heating. Whatever. Over there is the master bedroom, on the other side is the kitchen and the bathroom - a little too small for my taste but whatever. Over there..."
He made a small pause. Finally.
"..ah, that room is uninteresting anyway."
Uninteresting..?
He pushed me further down the hall.
"And here we are, the livingroom. We had so many wild parties in here, I could tell you some stories, wohoo, you know. But anyway, take a seat, grab a glass and..-"
"Kouyou."
"Yes, Aki?"
"You're scaring him."
I looked at the door and saw Akira standing there. Half-naked Akira.
Half. Naked. Akira.
Grinning, I bowed my head a little to the side and flipped a strand of hair out of my face. "You forgot to dress.", I told him and pointed towards the white, fluffy towel around his slim waist. Kouyou chuckled.
"Well, yes, thank you, mister.", he snorted and turned around to head for the bedroom and get some clothing.
Kouyou.
I knew this guy. He was the guitarist of Akira's band. I had seen him on several group pictures along my internet journey. 'Uruha'.
He was pretty, even though with makeup he looked a little too feminine for his own good.
He formed a ducky pout.
"Aki's always jealous that I'm making friends so easily.", he huffed and sat down in the armchair next to me, crossing his legs and grabbing for a glass which he filled with sake. "Anyway.", he resumed and nodded to himself, closing his eyes with the long, black lashes, hiding amber pools from sight, as he took a long sip.
"Is he?", I asked and poured myself a glass with the clear liquid.
"He's actually pretty shy, you know. It looks like a wonder he came to talk to you, like he told me."
Suddenly, he seemed very amused. "He must have been pretty drunk to have the balls."
"The balls to do what?"
There he was again, (sadly) fully dressed and good looking, his cheeks a healthy rose tone after the hot shower he had been taking.
"To flirt with this pretty young thing.", Kouyou grinned and nodded into my direction.
We ended up totally wasted.
Why not?
Kouyou was fun to talk and listen to; he told stories that made us laugh and roll all over the floor, drunk as we were. And I don't remember how but he managed to call a taxi and get home safe because he called when Akira and me were already busy making out on his leather couch.
"'sup?"
"I'm home, assholes."
"Yeah. Good night."
"Think of using protection, kids. You know where this can en-"
Akira hung up.
Chuckling, I climbed onto his lap and straddled his hips as I started another, feverish kiss.
