The Book of Firsts

Sixty-One

"So, is it going to be your shirt, or your shirt?"

Rin, particularly expressionless, poured out two cups of tea, put down the pot, then nudged one cup a few millimetres toward me.

Fully entertained, I picked it up, adding: "With or without delicate white panties?"

His lips thinned, and I laughed, but decided to stop teasing him.

"Phase one of entering the Conservatorium passed unnoticed?"

"It was a blind audition, so there were very few people who actually saw me."

"Convenient."

He shrugged. "The benefits of a corruption scandal a decade or so ago. Though any Conservatorium worth attending does blind auditions to eliminate unconscious bias. The statistics on who made it through before and after the fully blind process are so embarrassing that they don’t even use it to promote the current system."

"Is there a chance you won’t make the cut?"

"Possibly. It’s a similar situation to you—I’m very good, but there are many applicants and not many places, which inevitably puts a too-large percentage around my level."

"Do you self-sabotage like I do?"

"Not usually. But perhaps I’ve never wanted anything enough."

"I thought music was the darling beloved of your existence."

His long lashes lowered a moment, then his graceful pose became something imperious, immortal. "The Conservatorium is one way to romance my beloved, but she’s mine even without a candlelit dinner. I have…" He stopped, snorting briefly into laughter, transforming from twisted god into something far more human. "Damn, now I’ve got the most atrocious violin piece in my head. Wait while I write it down."

He pulled a tablet out of his backpack and began poking at the screen. Smiling faintly, I watched him as I sipped my tea, thinking it ironic that sometimes Rin was very similar to the person he pretended to be. Not gentle, but with a warmth reserved for people he liked and trusted.

"Do you think Bran could get into the Conservatorium with his cello?" I asked, when the intense drafting session turned into occasional pecks.

"He hasn’t spent enough time on it yet to be truly competitive, but after another year I’d say yes."

"What about Kyou?"

"He’s technically competent at piano, and might get through first round auditions, but not further. His heart belongs to illustration."

"Other than the two pictures he sent me on the island, I haven’t seen anything Kyou’s done. He didn’t exhibit anything at the school festival."

"He’s been working on a thing in oils for much of the year, but most of his energy is spent digitally for our games, which is not something he can show others." Rin picked up his neglected cup, tested the temperature, then put it down with a grimace. "He just recently started a mixed media piece that you’ll probably enjoy. Involves a shredded dress."

"I wondered what he wanted it for. Does he have any ambitions for things like personal exhibitions? Work displayed in galleries?"

"I’ve never asked him that. Most of his non-digital work is deeply personal—sometimes things he doesn’t want to forget, but mostly things he’s angry about. He’d probably like the portrait he’s been working on this year to be exhibited because it’s…not very complimentary to the subject."

"Someone he’s related to?"

"He reserves his sharpest knives for a select few family members."

"He must be enjoying living away from home, then. Or are he and Bran already arguing over the housekeeping?"

"They’re in a fully serviced apartment, so there’s not much housekeeping involved. So far their biggest problem is mixing up their clothes. Speaking of which, why are you still dressed?"

"Now, I didn’t predict nothing to be your fantasy costume, but I suppose it saves some time."

Not bothering to get up, I stripped, folding my clothes neatly as I went. It bothered me less now, to be naked while Rin was still fully dressed. We knew each other better, and I doubted he’d be able to keep his clothes on for long.

Sure enough, as soon as I was finished he pulled off his tie, shrugged off his blazer, and unbuttoned his shirt. Which he threw at me, along with a purely sour expression.

"Put it on."

Not hiding my grin, I slipped into the shirt, pulled my hair out of its ponytail, and then stood up and turned around for him. "Shall I take a little tour of the garden so you can properly enjoy it?"

"Come here," he said, a touch grimly.

I went over, but before sitting down I reached for the phone he’d left on the table. He had it set so you could trigger the camera function without unlocking it, so I arranged the shirt to display a generous amount of what little curve I had, and took a chin-down shot that was suitably anonymous. I considered the image afterwards, then handed the phone to Rin, commenting: "Could be anybody."

"Not at all."

He put the phone down, then pulled me into his lap, and only several months of getting to know him let me spot the tiny smile that betrayed his happiness.

We took it slow. I kept the shirt on the whole time, and rather liked the way Rin wrapped his arms around my waist beneath it. Being on top is always far more energetic for me, so I suspect the shirt was a touch fragrant by the time Rin put it back on, but perhaps that was the point. He didn’t seem bothered, anyway, and the blazer and tie helped hide its limp condition.

"I like being right," I said, shrugging on my backpack.

"Another of your little vices."

"They’re what make me fun," I said, pausing to kiss him before climbing the wall.

Reaching the top of the wall, I started to hook my leg over the top, then stopped, and lowered myself swiftly back down into the garden. Rin, in the act of reaching for the neglected tea set, froze for a moment, then put the cups on the tray, and led the way into the summer house.

"Problem?" he asked softly.

"There was someone at the corner of the dead-end area," I told him. "I just had a glimpse of blazer. Thankfully the leaf canopy has grown back, so I wouldn’t necessarily be visible to them."

"Were they heading in, or leaving?"

"Hard to say—they seemed to be just standing there."

He frowned, then began washing the teacups.

"From the corner, they’re unlikely to have heard anything," he said. "But there’s no guarantee they didn’t come closer. We’ll take some preventative measures, starting with letting you out the gate, and me sitting here watching videos on my phone with the volume up high, to produce the maximum amount of ambiguous sound."

"Postpone next week," I said, firmly.

"Probably wise," he said, after a pause. "Good thing we left a couple of weeks spare leading up to exams. I’ll also have Bran set up a camera in that garden area, to see if anyone’s actively monitoring it."

Bran’s early warning system at least made us fairly confident that we could approach the gate safely. Rin went out first, removed the bars with three dextrous twists, and replaced them almost as quickly once I’d stepped through. Then he gestured to me to wait, lowering his head toward me. I leaned closer to the bars obediently.

"Lucky you’re not a yowler, Cheshire."

"Asking for your nose to be tweaked," I said, waved at him, and left smiling.