The Omega is a Novelist

Chapter Thirteen

Having had debated his feelings for close to two weeks, he decided not to fear Keko's words and just enjoy himself while it lasted. Yori felt all sorts of things in Ryota's company; joy, excitement, nervousness, anticipation and yes some fear, but mostly alive. He wanted to feel this way a bit longer, especially seeing as Ryota had confirmed their second date rather than cancelling it, sweeping any worries about dating beneath the rug.

Work on the book remained unpleasant. He had shuddered in distaste as he had read over what he had written. This did not feel like his work. He reluctantly had handed it over to Tatsuya, who actually seemed satisfied with it. He did try to voice his issues with it, but the man had simply suggested that Sensei consider it 'a new direction' for his work and that it proved that he was 'versatile.' In a desperate drive to wash away his displeasure, Yori spent several days and nights drafting a new novel, using the emotions roused by Ryota to aid the work. He soon was swept away by his imagination only to collapse on the keyboard when his body had had enough.

An alarm set for one hour before his date woke him. His back had stiffened from his awkward sleeping posture upon the chair and his face was marred by the imprints of keys. His writing ended with a long string of k's, which he quickly deleted before saving his work and stretching. He wondered why his alarm had gone off....

Realisation hit him like a runaway bullet train hitting buffers and he sped for the bathroom, wincing as his back protested. He tried not to spend too long in the shower, but as the hot water massaged away the aches, he could not stop himself from pausing and letting loose a happy moan. After washing his long black hair, he finally emerged from the steamy bathroom and headed lazily to the wardrobe. As he debated over wearing a black sweater or an autumn red one, the doorbell rang.

He buttoned up his jeans and threw on a white t-shirt before heading to the door. Who could it be? Sierra wasn't due to visit...

Ryota peered into those startled large eyes, his smile fading somewhat.  "I'm not late am I?" Like Yori, Ryota was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, though this was topped by a thick cardigan with the first button mid chest. Yori hadn't seen him in casual clothing before, he felt that he liked it.

"N-not late," Yori swallowed his nerves ignoring the singing, happy cells of his body as he let the man invade his home.  He shivered as he felt the warmth of the larger man pass him in the hall in contrast to the chill air outside.  The cologne he wore was tickling Yori's senses, his mouth became dry.  "I wasn't expecting you, I thought we would meet up... where were we supposed to meet again?"

"Oh, I don't think I mentioned it," Ryota shrugged as he was guided into the living room.  He glanced around the simple furnishings.  They all appeared to be of high quality, but there was a lack of homeliness, which surprised him for some reason.  Yori didn't notice his scrutiny.

"Oh," he replied, tugging at his long fingers as he considered this.  "Did I... did I give you my address?"  He didn't recall doing that, but he had been distracted a fair bit these past couple of weeks.

Ryota looked slightly sheepish as he answered, truthfully.  "I took your address from the hotel files.  It was part of the requirements when booking a room to give your home address, remember."

"I remember," Yori smiled, but tilted his head and added teasingly; "I thought that was supposed to be confidential information."

"It is, it is, I swear," Ryota bowed his head.  "I just really wanted to pick you up from your home."  Yori's heart beat increased its pace within his chest and he felt his lips curve more fully.  "Did I do wrong?"  With the lost look of a puppy in his eyes, Ryota glanced into Yori's.  The smaller man found himself shaking his head and Ryota reached to grasp his hands in his.  A splash of something dripped upon his skin.  "You're dripping?"