Part 2

Ohtori woke slowly, savouring the memory of the night before as it returned in bits and pieces. The alcohol made everything hazy, but he remembered enough to know it had been the best night of his entire life.

He hadn't been sure that he would have the courage to go through with it. He'd resigned himself to marrying the girl his parents had picked out for him, really he had. Kirisawa Meiko was a nice girl, soft-spoken and polite. Certainly no worse than any other girl he could have chosen. And since he could never, ever have the one he really wanted, there was no reason not to fulfill his parents' expectations and settle down.

Only, he'd wanted something, one memory at least. The whole night he'd been drinking everything they put in front of him, both in an attempt to work up his courage and in the hopes that Shishido would afterwards write it all off to drunken rambling. He'd wanted so badly to know what his best friend's lips would taste like, but not at the expense of their partnership. Not if it meant Shishido wouldn't be able to face him afterwards.

So he'd figured he'd get drunk, ask for a kiss, and hope Shishido would feel lenient enough to grant his last request as a 'free man'. It was a stupid plan and he knew it, but he just hadn't been able to think of anything else.

He'd never expected that Shishido would not only not object to kissing him, but be so... wow. And just... yeah, wow. Even if his brain had been functioning at one hundred percent capacity, Ohtori didn't think he'd have been able to come up with words to do last night justice. 'Wow' just didn't seem like enough, but there wasn't anything better.

It was everything he'd dreamed of, and more. "Ryou," he murmured hazily, shifting to try to ease the way his body was tingling as he thought about it. And oh gods, how good it felt to finally be able to say that name aloud, and not only in his dreams. For all that Shishido had always encouraged him to be less formal, Ohtori had known there was no way he could call his partner by given name aloud without blushing like crazy. Not when he'd called the older man that through pretty much all of his teenaged fantasies.

Unfortunately, he realized a moment too late that moving might not have been such a wise idea. Nor had drinking all that alcohol. In combination, the two were a complete disaster.

Ohtori's stomach rebelled as the hangover hit him all at once, and he was very nearly sick all over the bed. He didn't even dare mumble an 'excuse me' to his presumably still sleeping partner - opening his mouth would have been an even worse idea. Eyes still mostly glued closed by drunken sleep, he tumbled out of bed and bolted for the bathroom, grateful he knew the apartment well enough to be able to get there without really paying any attention.

It was a good thing neither he nor Shishido were the type to remember to put the toilet seat down when they were done with it - if it had been down Ohtori would have thrown up all over it. Grateful he'd insisted on an apartment with a Western style toilet, Ohtori knelt before it and clung to the bowl, groaning as his stomach emptied itself.

There wasn't much in there; dinner had been a long time ago. And his body kept heaving long after he was only bringing up bile. The pounding of his headache only made it worse, since it was painful enough to be nauseating all by itself.

He half expected to feel cool hands soothing him at some point, or a wet cloth draped over the back of his neck. Ohtori had never before gotten drunk enough to be this ill afterwards, but Shishido had nursed him through more than one case of the flu. Having his partner nearby always made Ohtori feel better, no matter how sick he got.

No footsteps sounded on the tile behind him, though, and the anticipated gentle touch never came. Between bouts of heaving Ohtori vaguely wondered if Shishido was still asleep, or if he were perhaps heaving his own guts out over the kitchen sink. Or the bedroom floor. The older man hadn't drunk as much as he had, but still enough to merit a pretty bad hangover.

Long after he finally managed to stop heaving, he remained curled up on the floor, leaning against the shower door. His legs felt too shaky to hold him up, and he was afraid if he moved too much he'd start throwing up again. He strained his ears, trying to hear some sign of his partner in the apartment, but everything was silent. Surely if Shishido were being sick somewhere, he'd be able to hear it? It was a large apartment by Tokyo standards, but hardly a mansion.

"Ryou?" he croaked, his voice worn away from throwing up. It was hardly loud enough to reach his own ears, let alone outside the room. Grimacing, he tried again, forcing the volume up even though it made his voice crack painfully. "Ryou, are you there? Can you help me please?"

There was no answer, though he tried calling twice more. Panting softly in pain as his headache protested his exertions, Ohtori tried to think. Had Shishido still been in bed with him when he'd bolted? He hadn't felt the older man against him, but it was a reasonably big bed and he knew from past experience Shishido was a restless sleeper. He couldn't remember seeing him in the bed as he fled the room, but he realized after a moment that was mostly due to the fact that his eyes had been still almost closed.

Well, Shishido was a sound sleeper at the best of times, and not a morning person. Maybe he was still asleep - or perhaps 'passed out' would be a better term, considering how much they'd had to drink.

Shaking, he pushed himself carefully to his feet, wincing as abused muscles protested. He'd been kneeling on the cold tiles for far too long, and what parts of his body weren't shaky were locking up. He staggered over to the sink and ran the water cold, splashing it over his face to clean up and hopefully clear his head. After a moment's debate he brushed his teeth as well; morning breath was bad enough, but he was definitely not kissing Shishido good morning after throwing up without brushing his teeth first. For good measure he swallowed a couple of extra-strength painkillers while he was at it.

Still a little unsteady on his feet but feeling about a hundred times better than when he'd entered the bathroom, Ohtori made his way back to the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway in shock, staring at the empty bed. The covers were rumpled where he'd thrown them back in his haste to get out of bed, but there was no sign of his partner. Bewildered, his eyes trailed over the familiar room, searching for some sign of him. Ohtori's clothes from last night were scattered over the floor, but none of Shishido's were among them. There was definitely no sound of the older man out in the main room of the apartment.

Maybe... he went to get breakfast? Ohtori thought uncertainly, moving forward and sitting on the side of the bed. Glancing at the clock, he winced as he realized how late it was. He was going to have to move fast if he wanted to get to the rehearsal on time.

"That must be it," he decided with a sigh of relief, mingled with regret. "He woke up, I was still passed out, and he had to get home to change for the rehearsal. There's probably a note out in the main room."

Feeling much better, though very disappointed he hadn't gotten to wake up next to his partner, Ohtori smiled. His head was still killing him and he didn't think it would be wise to try to eat anything for the next few hours, but somehow he felt better than he ever had before in his life.

He needed to stop sitting there grinning like an idiot and start getting ready for the rehearsal dinner, though.... gods! Ohtori's eyes widened and suddenly he felt like he might be sick again. He groaned softly and put his head in his hands. The rehearsal - the wedding!

There was no way he could go through with it. Somehow, impossibly, Shishido seemed willing to do a great deal more than just kiss him. It hadn't felt like 'You asked for it and I'm just bi enough to indulge you' sex, it had felt very much like 'Dear gods this is so fucking good and why haven't we ever done this before?' sex.

Ohtori didn't intend to give up this newfound miracle any time soon, and that meant he couldn't possibly marry Meiko. He was going to have to call his parents, her, her parents, tell them everything was off. He wasn't relishing the arguments that were going to ensue, that was for sure.

Nor was he looking forward to the explosion that would happen when he told them all why he was backing out at the last minute. He knew his parents had always been a little worried about his inclinations, what with his love of music and playing doubles tennis and the fact that he'd never had a girlfriend. They'd been extremely relieved that he'd agreed to the omiai without a fuss.

But he wasn't going to lie to them or try to make excuses. He'd always been honest by nature, and the thought of trying to hide or outright deny the best thing that had ever happened to him was just inconceivable. His family loved him, they'd eventually come around. He felt bad that it was probably going to strain his father's working relationship with Meiko's father, but that was the price that had to be paid.

If he was fast, he might be able to get the word out before people started leaving for the rehearsal. That meant he needed to get up and look for his phone, which was a bit of a daunting prospect, but he'd much rather do this over the phone than in person in front of everyone.

At the insistence of his former senpai he'd left his cell behind yesterday, so the party wouldn't be interrupted. If someone had really needed to reach him they'd have been able to just call Shishido, who did have his phone on him. Everyone in his family and Meiko's knew Shishido's number as an alternative way to reach Ohtori. That meant he had to try to remember exactly where he'd left it, though. Ohtori grimaced and forced himself to his feet. He was notorious for setting things down in odd places and then not being able to find them later. Shishido somehow always knew exactly where to look to help him, but Shishido wasn't here. And in order to call him to come help, he'd first have to find his phone, which would eliminate the need for help.

Now I really wish he'd stayed, Ohtori thought as he staggered out into the main room, squinting against the sunlight coming in through the window. Oh, that was bad. Obviously the phone wasn't the only thing he needed to find; he didn't think he'd be able to go outside without his sunglasses.

He searched fruitlessly for a good fifteen minutes. Really, his apartment wasn't that big, how did things manage to find so many places to hide? And it wasn't like he'd deliberately hidden it either, just set it down somewhere. Sometimes Ohtori could swear his belongings really did just pick up and move on their own, to confuse him.

The one thing his search did turn up was the fact that Shishido hadn't left him a note after all. That confused him a little; Shishido could be rough and rude at the best of times, but it wasn't like him to just leave while Ohtori was asleep with no explanation. On the occasions when he'd been crashing here for one reason or another and needed to leave before Ohtori got up, he'd always left a note. Even if Ohtori had known ahead of time that the older man would be gone when he woke.

He was probably too hung-over to think about it, Ohtori acknowledged ruefully, holding one hand to his own pounding head as he continued to search. If he feels half as bad as I do, I can hardly blame him for forgetting.

He finally found the phone when it started ringing, the loud noise shattering the still quiet of the apartment and making him wince. He tracked the sound to one of his bookshelves where he'd apparently put the damn thing down on a shelf, half hidden by the books. It was the ring that identified a call from Shishido's phone, and he smiled in relief as he picked it up and answered it. Two birds with one stone.

"Ryou!" he greeted his partner happily, moving back to the bedroom in search of some clothes. After spending all that time searching he was going to have to go to the rehearsal to tell everyone after all, but there was no reason he couldn't do it in jeans.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, like he'd surprised the older man somehow. Then Shishido laughed softly, the sound sending pleasant shivers up Ohtori's spine. "Yo, Choutarou. Finally decided to start calling me that? It's about bloody time. I haven't been your senpai in years."

Blinking, Ohtori paused in the middle of opening his underwear drawer. He'd been calling Shishido that all last night, why would he be surprised to hear it now? Or, well maybe his partner had assumed it was going to be a bedroom name, something he'd only use during intimacy.

Shishido had continued speaking, though. "Listen, you're obviously awake since you answered the phone, but are you up? You're seriously going to be late if you don't leave like right now. I didn't think to set your alarm after I got you to bed, so I figured I'd better check. You were pretty much dead to the world the moment your head touched the pillow."

"Huh?" Ohtori felt like he was really missing something here. "Ryou, when did you leave? Why didn't you leave a note?"

"Why would I have left a note?" Shishido sounded surprised again. "And I wasn't so drunk I couldn't make it back to my own place. Though I was tempted to borrow your couch, I'll admit. But then we'd both have been late today."

Eyes wide and feeling a horrible, panicky fluttering starting in his chest, Ohtori turned and looked at the bed. The bed where Shishido had screwed him silly not so many hours ago. Hadn't he?

The covers were rumpled... but now that he was looking more closely, the other pillow wasn't dented as it should have been if Shishido had slept on it, nor were the sheets on that side of the bed mussed. Disbelieving, Ohtori walked forward and ran his hand over the seemingly unused pillow. There were no stray strands of long, chocolate covered hair clinging to the cotton pillowcase. No sign that Shishido had slept there at all.

"Choutarou? Oi, Choutarou, you still with me?" Shishido's concerned voice was ringing in his ear, but the words didn't quite make sense to him. "Did you pass out again or something?"

"No," Ohtori whispered, but it was more in negation of what the evidence was telling him than an answer to Shishido's question. It had happened. He was sure of it. His body was still aching slightly - granted, all of his body was aching with the after effects of the alcohol, and it was hard to pick out any one small, individual pain among the pounding medley. Shouldn't he be more sore?

Now uncertain of the conviction of his memories, Ohtori looked around wildly for anything that would show that Shishido had been here, that it had really happened. There was nothing: not in the bed, not in the room, not in the rest of the apartment. "What happened after you got me home last night?" he asked, voice rasping in his throat with panic.

"What happened?" Shishido laughed at him. "Don't worry, you're not missing anything. You passed out pretty much the moment I got you into bed, like I said. You didn't say anything embarrassing, if that's what you're worried about."

"I passed out?" Ohtori felt like his body was going numb, his mind shutting down in shock. But it seemed so real... "And you went home? That's all?"

"That's it," Shishido confirmed, and Ohtori could have sworn he heard the sound of his heart shattering. "Now get your ass in gear, you're already going to be late!"

With that the older man hung up, and Ohtori was left listening to the irritating beep of the dial tone. He made no move to close his own phone, in fact he made no move at all. He was frozen, afraid that if he made the slightest move the rest of him would join his heart in millions of tiny pieces.

It was just a dream? Gods, surely not. He couldn't remember many of the details, but it had felt so real. He'd been so sure when he woke up that Shishido would be there next to him. But he wasn't. He wasn't here, there's no sign he was here, and he says he wasn't here.

Something warm slid over his cheek and fell onto the hand clenched in his lap. He realized it was a tear when another one joined it, and another from the other side. And then he was crying for real, sobbing so hard he doubled over with the force of it, dropping his still active phone on the floor as he curled up on the bed.

Just a dream, just another fantasy. Made more real by the alcohol, maybe. Just one of a million he'd had over the years, every one about his amazing, beautiful, self-sure partner.

Nothing has changed, he realized in despair. From the sounds of it, I didn't even get a chance to ask him for the kiss I wanted so badly. Gods, I should have known it was too good to be true. As if he'd ever have just... seemed like he'd wanted it as badly as I have, for as long as I have, if it had been real. He's still out of my reach, beyond me.

It took a long time for the sobs to stop. He'd never allowed himself to cry over the impossibility of his love for Shishido before, and it seemed like every tear he'd repressed over the years was taking its chance to come out now. He couldn't keep crying forever, though. By the time he trailed off into sniffles and hiccups, he felt worse than he had when he'd first woken up. His headache was so bad his vision was fuzzy at the edges, his throat raw and sore, and his eyes were puffy and probably so bloodshot he'd look like that kid he remembered from Rikkaidai Fuzoku.

I need to get up, he prodded himself listlessly. If nothing has changed, then I really do need to go to the rehearsal. My reasons for marrying Meiko still stand; I can't have him, so I might as well make my parents happy since I can't be happy myself.

He was going to be really, really late. His mom was going to be furious with him. He stifled a half-hysterical laugh, wondering if it would make it better or worse if he told her she was lucky he'd shown up at all. Probably worse. A lot worse. Oh gods, he didn't think he could face this.

He didn't have a choice, though. And he was only making it worse with every moment he stayed there. Reluctantly he dragged himself up and set to work making himself presentable.

A hot shower made him feel a little more human, though he didn't dare try to eat anything. Hopefully his stomach wouldn't growl and embarrass him in the middle of the rehearsal. Also hopefully, he'd have settled down enough to be able to keep food down by the time they got to the dinner after the rehearsal.

As he left the building it occurred to him that he probably should have called a cab. It would have been a lot faster than taking the bus. He couldn't quite work himself up to feeling guilty about it, though. Every moment before he got there was a moment for him to collect himself, and to prepare to face Shishido again.

It felt like he was walking in a dream as he got off the bus and approached the small Christian church where the wedding was being held. Christian-style weddings were all the rage in Japan right now, and Meiko had insisted on following fashion in this regard. Ohtori hadn't really cared; whether it was Christian or traditional Japanese didn't matter to him. It wasn't like he was trying to make some kind of lasting, meaningful memory, after all.

To his dismay, but not really to his surprise, Shishido was waiting for him just outside the door. "You are in so much hot water," his partner informed him as he approached. The older man gave him a quick once-over, taking in the sunglasses and pinched expression, as well as the sloppy, hasty air to Ohtori's formal wear. "And you look like shit. I guess we shouldn't have made you drink quite that much last night."

"And you sound so very repentant about it," Ohtori replied dryly, amazed that the words didn't stick in his throat. It was so... normal, this teasing between them. Banter born of nearly a decade of friendship and partnership. He felt like there should have been something different, that Shishido somehow should have felt it too - but why would he? The older man had no idea of the fantasy Ohtori's warped brain had convinced him was real. How could he react to it?

Taking the opportunity his dark glasses afforded him, Ohtori studied the older man closely. "You don't look so good yourself," he noted softly. Shishido had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn't slept in days. There was a pained look in his eyes, and the skin around his lips was tight, pulling the normally sensuous mouth into a thin white line of tension. "Are you okay?"

"You think you're the only one with a hangover today?" Shishido snorted, then winced as the sound probably made the headache he undoubtedly had even worse. "And Atobe, damn his eyes, looks like he just stepped off the cover of a fucking magazine."

"He's Atobe," Ohtori replied, heart aching as the last possibility that the fantasy had been real was shattered before him. He forced his voice to sound light as he followed Shishido into the nave of the church. "What do you expect? Showing signs of a hangover would be less than perfect of him. Besides, unlike us, he was probably smart enough to drink lots of water before passing out."

"Yeah, probably," Shishido acknowledged with a roll of his eyes. "What took you so long, anyway? I tried to call you again, but your phone was busy."

He'd left it still open on the floor of his bedroom, Ohtori realized. Just another sign of how badly scattered he was today. He was saved from having to explain when his mother hurried towards them, however.

"Choutarou!" she scolded, and he winced at her strident tone. "You're late! We've been waiting almost an hour for you. Hurry up and get in there, you're embarrassing all of us."

"I'm sorry mother," he apologized, and he was. There was no reason for his personal problems to have created trouble for everyone else. And what kind of impression must he be making on Meiko's family? They seemed to like him well enough, since they'd agreed to the marriage, but he must seem terribly irresponsible right now.

"C'mon," Shishido said, grabbing his arm and tugging. "And take the glasses off... it's bright as hell in there with all the sun coming through the damned stained glass windows, but I guess it's kinda rude to wear 'em in a church."

In other words, Ohtori thought with a bare trace of humour as he took them off, Shishido had been wearing his and someone, probably Atobe, had lectured him about it.

The church was mostly empty; only the wedding party and immediate relatives had to be there for the rehearsal. They walked up the aisle towards where the minister and Atobe were awaiting them, and Ohtori braced himself. This was it: the beginning of the rest of his life. Today they were only going through the motions, but tomorrow it would be the real thing.

Once he and Shishido took their places and his mother was settled back into the first pew, they started. The music was provided by a little tape recorder the minister held, mostly so the two bridesmaids could get their timing right, and so Meiko could practice that odd little gliding step the bride was supposed to do. They were all dressed in 'formal' clothes, but not what they would be wearing tomorrow; apparently, or so Ohtori had been informed, it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the actual wedding.

Even so, the whole thing felt horribly final to Ohtori. Like a door was closing on him, cutting him off from something important, something precious. He watched the bridesmaids, Meiko's two best friends from high school, walk down the aisle, and suddenly he felt like something was tightening around his neck. It was hard to breathe, harder to think. They were both pretty girls, but they could have been oni for all Ohtori could focus on them in that moment.

When the music changed and Meiko appeared in the doorway on her father's arm, his stomach clenched. She looked radiant, like a bride should, he supposed. He'd half expected her to be annoyed at him for being so late, but of course she was too polite for something like that. She was a proper Japanese girl, and would never think to scold her husband. Certainly not in public.

Every step she took towards them drew the invisible noose tighter around Ohtori's neck. When she got close he turned away and focused on the minister, afraid she would see the panic in his eyes. He caught sight of Shishido from the corner of his eyes, and for some reason his best friend looked nearly as pained as Ohtori felt. Well, it was probably the bright beams of sunlight falling through the windows straight onto them, just as Shishido had said earlier.

The words the minister spoke for the ceremony seemed to go right over Ohtori's head. They'd been translated into Japanese, but they might as well still be in Latin or whatever for all the sense he could make of them. He concentrated on just breathing, in and out in a steady rhythm. It's not real, he reminded the butterflies in his stomach. It's not real, this is just practice.

A sharp elbow met his ribs, and he gave Shishido a startled look. Rolling his eyes, his partner held out the box that would hold the wedding rings tomorrow. Right now it just held a large place-holder ring, but Ohtori's stomach lurched again at the sight of it. "Pay attention, Choutarou," Shishido whispered.

Shaking his head slightly to try to clear it, he took the ring from the box in trembling hands and turned to his bride. Meiko had handed her rolled up paper cone, signifying the bouquet of fresh flowers she'd have tomorrow, off to the maid of honour. Now she was looking up at him with utter trust in her eyes, waiting for him to play his part.

"Repeat after me," the minister instructed. "I, Ohtori Choutarou, take you, Kirisawa Meiko..."

"I..." Ohtori's voice cracked on the word, and he swallowed hard. "I, Ohtori Choutarou, take you, Kirisawa Meiko..."

"To be my lawfully wedded wife," the minister continued, and paused again.

"To be..." the words stuck in his throat, and Ohtori felt like he couldn't draw breath to save his life. Meiko blinked up at him, obviously confused, and he tried to continue. His heart was in his throat, and his hands were shaking so hard on hers it was no wonder she looked confused. "To b-be my..."

He couldn't do it. Panic overwhelmed him, and he just could not force himself to say the words. "I... excuse me," he blurted out, and bolted.

He was vaguely aware of the panicked and concerned looks on the faces of his friends and family as he passed, heading for a small side door that had an 'exit' sign over it. He hit the bar on the door and burst outside, and was promptly sick over the side railing of the fire stairs he found himself on.

Not that there was anything more in his stomach than there had been when he'd finished throwing up earlier, but his body made a good attempt at it. Bile burned in his chest and throat, and he coughed helplessly as he wretched.

This time however, the half-expected cool hands pushing his hair out of his face and wiping the sweat off his brow with a soft cloth actually made an appearance. He shuddered. There was no way he could face Shishido right now, not in this state. "Ry-Shishido, please leave me alone," he moaned, panting for air in between bouts.

"He's inside," a dry but somewhat sympathetic voice informed him. "Your poor bride fainted, and he's the one who caught her. And was promptly surrounded by every other female in the church, so it fell to me to come after you."

"Atobe," he croaked, glancing back to see the older man standing over him, refolding a monogrammed handkerchief so he could wipe a dry side over Ohtori's forehead again. Somehow Atobe managed to make even this embarrassing situation seem elegant, at least on his part.

"Perhaps we did feed you a bit too much alcohol last night," Atobe admitted, his storm-dark eyes narrowed. There was a wry quirk to his lips, but his voice was soft - perhaps in deference to Ohtori's once again pounding headache. "I told Mukahi that a stag party the night before the rehearsal was not wise, but he was quite insistent."

Grasping gratefully at the offered out, Ohtori gulped back more bile and agreed. "Yeah. Well, it's my fault too for letting you all call so many toasts. I should have known better."

"Do you feel up to continuing?" Atobe asked, raising an eyebrow. Ohtori gagged and was nearly sick again at the very idea, groaning as he leaned over the railing. "I'll take that as a 'no'," Atobe concluded, snorting. "Well, it's not as if it's rocket science, I think you'll be able to manage without having practiced it beforehand."

The thought of having to face this again, for real, was nearly enough to make him burst into tears once more. He ducked his head to hide his distress. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble," he murmured.

"Would you like me to make your regrets to everyone, then?" Atobe patted his shoulder, then handed him the handkerchief. Ohtori took it and wiped his mouth, his hands still shaking badly enough that he almost lost it over the railing. He wondered what had happened to the practice ring he'd been holding; presumably he'd dropped it when he bolted. "Since it would be rather tacky of you to be sick over the carpet you're going to have to stand on tomorrow..."

"Please," he said gratefully. He really, really did not want to have to face everyone in there. Particularly not Shishido. Or Meiko. Or his mother, or any of Meiko's family, or... well, not anyone.

Atobe pulled out his phone, spoke a few words into it, then put it away again. "I've called my personal driver, he'll take you home," the older man said. "Get some rest, Ohtori-kun," he added not unkindly. "I'm given to understand pre-wedding jitters are rather common, and yours are undoubtedly exacerbated by the hangover. Take your time tonight and just think of all the reasons you're doing this; I'm sure it will help you come to a resolution."

Well, that was an odd way to put it. Ohtori glanced up at him again, and something in his former captain's dark eyes made him wonder just how much Atobe knew about his situation. It wasn't as if he'd confided anything, and before this week he hadn't seen the older man in almost a year. But Atobe always had been uncanny about seeing into people that way.

"Thank you, Atobe," he said, ducking his head in a small bow. He'd have done more, but he was afraid the movement would make him sick again.

"What are friends for?" Atobe asked loftily. "You hardly need to thank me. Now go home, before you end up throwing up on me." The last was said with a small grin so Ohtori would know he was kidding, and then Atobe turned and went back inside.

Somehow Ohtori made it down the stairs and out to the front, where Atobe's limo was indeed waiting. He had to smile a bit as he saw it; Atobe had apparently decided to be 'discreet' today, the limo only had four extra doors. He always felt a little strange on the rare occasions he rode with Atobe, and it was even stranger to let the driver hand him into the car now all by himself. But he was mostly just grateful he wouldn't have to try to ride on a bus with his stomach in this state.

Though, as he got further from the church and everything it represented, he found he was feeling less ill, and certainly less like he was about to strangle. It was easier to breath, ever though the car was a bit stuffy.

I can't do this, he thought, anguished. His dream the night before had done more than just break his heart, it had totally destroyed him. If he didn't get his act together, he was going to alienate everyone who cared about him, embarrass his family, and hurt Meiko. The poor girl had done nothing to deserve this from him.

Somehow between now and tomorrow he needed to get his head back on straight. He had to forget about this stupid fantasy before it utterly ruined him. At this rate he'd never be able to face Shishido again, and the absolute last thing he wanted was to lose his friendship with the older man.

When he made it back to his apartment, he locked the door behind him, throwing the second deadbolt so nobody with a key would be able to get in. He made his way to the bedroom, found his phone where it was now beeping angrily at him from the floor, and shut it off entirely. Right now the last thing he needed was well-meaning - or not so well-meaning - friends and family calling to demand to know what was wrong with him.

Stripping down, he crawled into the bed and huddled into his pillow. He did remember to set his alarm clock; he didn't need a repeat of today's late appearance to make everyone just that much angrier at him.

If only he could pull his covers over his head, hide in the room for the next twenty-four hours, and make it all go away. For that matter, if only he could go back twenty-four hours, and change things somehow so that stupid dream wouldn't happen. He'd been... not happy, but certainly not this miserable at the prospect of marriage to Meiko before this.

And the worst part was, he had only himself to blame. The damn fantasy had been entirely a creation of his own mind, however real it had seemed.

End of Part 2

On to Part 3

Back to Ohtori/Shishido Fanfiction Index (Authors L - Z)