Part 1. Lonely Are The Nights When

Part 1. Lonely Are The Nights When The Storm Is Coming

Kou said today that he could feel the storm is coming. And I didn't believe him. I mean, Kou also told us since we were five that one-day, he would find the love of his life. And so far, there is no sign whatsoever that that prophecy will be fulfilled anytime in the future. Not with how picky he is with girls. So, considering how his first divination hasn't been proven yet, why should I trust his latest one?

But apparently he might really have the ability to predict the future. Or he just watched the weather forecast before he met us. Either way, I watch silently as the heavy sheets of water pour down from the sky. The drops make thousands of streams on my apartment window. The wind beats down the trees lining the street five floors below me. The road is almost empty. No more crowds rushing home to enjoy a warm night with family or people going excitedly to the hottest club in town. The storm is indeed coming.

My phone rings from the coffee table in front of the TV. I sigh quietly before moving slowly to answer the call. I can guess who calls even before I see the caller ID.

"Akihito, are you home?" I hear a familiar voice that I miss so much.

"I am, Arata. Where are you? You said you would come home by 9. I've been waiting for hours since then. Dinner is cold already, " I reply while staring blankly at all the delicious dishes that I cooked for hours earlier today; a special treat for our anniversary dinner. From the withdrawn tone Arata talks, I dare to bet my entire salary for the next 6 months that he is still at his office. He will never ever talk in an intimate way to me near his colleagues. That is just the way he is.

"I am very, very sorry, Aki. Something came up at work and my supervisor said that they need me to finish this first. I know that tonight is, " he lowers his voice into a strained whisper, "special for us both. You know how important tonight is to me. But-"

"-you work hard for our future. I get it." I cut him with the infamous sentence that is already ingrained into my flesh and blood by now.

He continues in a rush, "Thank you for being so understanding, Aki. With this storm, there is just no way I can get home by tonight. I am very sorry, but I know you will understand. I will come home tomorrow, okay?"

No, it is not okay. I miss him. I simply can't see anymore how him working more than 120 hours a week is related to our future. It is not like we are lack of money, especially since my work has gone smoothly recently. And tonight is our 2nd anniversary, for God's sake! Why can't he just come home earlier before the storm even came? Heck, isn't it possible for his boss to let him go just for tonight? Can't the company survive without my boyfriend for a few fucking hours? How could he even think that I will be okay?

"Okay," my mouth says automatically, "I love you."

He doesn't say anything for a while. Then, I hear his quick footsteps. Finding an even more quite place, I guess. A few seconds later, in a barely audible whisper that I almost miss it, he replies, "Me, too. I miss you. And I am really, truly sorry. I will make it up for you later, promise."

And this is why I always forgive him in our 2 years relationship. No matter what, I know that he tries hard for our life together. And though he is far from perfect, he always tries to become what I want him to be. Or at least, what he thinks I want him to be. If he can make the choice, I am sure that he will go straight to our home and celebrate our anniversary as promised. So, it is not fair for me to blame him every time he can't be what I want him to be, isn't it?

So, I answered, "I know. I miss you, too. Take care, okay?"

We end the phone call quickly after. I put the phone on the side table and sink into the sofa wondering whether I make the right decision. Maybe I should just shout at him. But I just don't have the will. I am really getting soft with my age.

Slowly, I turn on the TV without any intention to watch it. I just can't stand the silence in our apartment tonight. Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, my mind wanders back into the time when I met Arata for the first time.

It was after one of my assignment with Mitarai, less than 6 months since my last 'incident'. Mitarai and I just spent three nights in a row waiting inside a rubbish he called 'car' to get a photo of a dirty politician. I hadn't got any proper rest for the last two weeks by that time. But I didn't really care. I just wanted to do anything that could distract my mind from those golden eyes that haunted me days and nights.

When we finally got the proof of this politician's affair with a teenage girl in front of a five stars hotel, I could see that Mitarai were more than ready to kick me out of his car so he could go home and have a break, at least until our report to the chief editor the next day. But I just couldn't go back to the small empty dark place that now I called home. I knew I would just break down again and I didn't think I even had any more tears left.

So I simply walked down the street and finally settled down in a 24 hours coffee shop. You know, the kind of coffee shop that sells overpriced coffee. I didn't usually come to this kind of shop for the sake of my bank account. But, tonight, I just didn't care.

I knew. It was weird to go into a coffee shop when you wanted to forget the tragedy of your life. A bar and a few shots of hard liquor would do a much better job. But how could I rationalize my action after my last 'incident' in Russia? Hell, how could any sane people rationalize anything after various 'incidents' (yes, it is plural with 's') that involve kidnapping, torture, rape, and abuse that they have to endure simply because they fell in love with a richer-and-more-powerful-than-prime-minister-crime-lord? So, after Hong Kong, China, Thailand, and then Russia (oh, and also the heartbreaking incident of saying good bye to said crime lord after Russia, don't forget that!), you couldn't really blame me if I did irrational things.

Heaven knew why a coffee shop could be crowded that late at night. But the only empty seat was right in front of a man working on his laptop. Having no other choice, I asked whether the seat was occupied. He absentmindedly shook his head and waved his hand in the random direction of the chair.

I took that as a "yes, go ahead". So, I sat and, without anything else to do, quietly observed the man in front of me as I slowly sip at my overpriced coffee. He had dark brown hair and long eye lashes. He was taller than me with a lean body, not overweight but also not muscular. His plain white shirt and black suit was a bit dull, the type that was wore by hundreds other employees in Tokyo. When I realized he had dimple on his left cheek, unconsciously I started to think the best camera angle to take his picture. I admit he looked quite good. Not good in a hot way, but more in a sweet way.

Ten minutes later, he took his cup and brought it to his lips just to found it empty. I knew it was rude, but somehow I couldn't help chuckling seeing his behavior. Instead of getting mad, though, he joined my laughter and we just started talking and joking to each other after that. He introduced himself as Arata Takagi. That night was the first time I laughed so freely after I left Asami's penthouse.

Two weeks after our first meeting, he said that he wanted to explore our feelings together. We started going out then. Four months later, I met his family, his parents and older sister, who accepted me with a very warm welcome. A month after that he met my parents who love him instantly. It was right after that meeting that we decided to move in together. Everything just went so smoothly for us. I felt like it was a, I don't know, a sign, maybe; a sign that we were meant for each other even fate decided to clear our way from any obstacles and kidnapper and torturer and rapist and, umm, basically any bad things. But you get what I mean, right? Everything went so smoothly that I just knew it must be the right thing to do. The rest is history.

Arata is not really a passionate or romantic person. He is more, well, a tender person. He always treats me with respect and so much gentleness that I have never known before. Never before I feel so...treasured. And this new experience makes me feel giddy.

When he said he wanted a family with children, I can imagine me and him and our children spending family time together in our cozy apartment. Not as big as someone's penthouse, of course, but it will be a warm place where our little family can always go back to after a day fighting the big bad world.

Lately I can't help but think, while Arata is more like a firefly, soft, calm and soothing, Asami is like fireworks, full of explosion, colors, and surprises. If Arata is a steady mountain that will always be there, Asami is a thunderstorm that comes and goes without permission. If Arata is the sweet taste of vanilla, Asami's taste is more like...

Wait. Did I just compare the two of them? And what on earth does Asami's taste like? Why do I even think about how he taste in the first place? And why now after all this time?

I shook my head hastily and cover my face with both my palms. It must be because of this gloomy storm. It just makes me feel more and more lonely. I decided I had enough of this self-pity. I switch the TV channel and try to distract my mind with the news of a high-class party in some high-class socialite's mansion. It seems that the cameraman shots the scene from the balcony above to the dancing floor below. The anchorwoman keeps commenting about all the important people that appear in the party and their partners and their scandals and so on and so on. But my eyes were already glued to a damn sexy man on the first floor who stood in full confident while he glanced up towards the camera; as if he knows I am watching him through my TV screen at that very mome