Unkept Secrets – Chapter One
by Dreams in Pink
Rain poured from the rumbling skies, and the tiny droplets mercilessly chased the sandy haired man as he sprinted down the sidewalk. Reaching his destination, he flung open the glass doors of the apartment complex, traces of the stormy weather following him inside. He stood impatiently at the elevator doors, index finger extended, repeatedly hitting the ‘UP’ button convinced that his persistence would bring the lift down faster. His anxiety continued to swell as he stared at his watch, tapping a black, polished shoe against the marble floor. Abandoning all hope of catching a ride, he opted for the stairs.
He began his ascent at a sprightly pace, but as his journey progressed he found the stairs to be a relentless opponent. His fingers twisted around the iron railing as he tiredly pulled himself up the last step. A long, dimly lit corridor stretched out before him, and he wearily shuffled down the carpeted hall, finally stopping at the second last door on the right. He stood in front of the apartment, searching his pocket for the right key.
“Hey Mamoru!” The man called, pushing through the door after trying four wrong keys.
“Motoki what the – ” his friend replied from his position on the couch, scurrying to cover himself with a blanket.
“I need a tie,” he explained breathlessly, hair plastered to his forehead, taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the scarcely lit apartment.
“How did you – ” Mamoru started to ask, his face flushed with bewilderment.
“Spare key,” the blonde answered, prying the soaking shoes from his feet.
“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking? ” Mamoru bit, brow raised in irritation.
“No time. Reika’s parents. Dinner. Good impression,” Motoki summarized, heading down the hallway towards the bedroom. He had brought a change of clothes to work, but had forgotten his tie at home. Not wanting to be late and well aware that Mamoru’s apartment was much closer to the arcade than his, he headed over.
“Top drawer,” Mamoru called, completely aware that he had no time to object.
“Of course you do,” he muttered, running a hand through his jostled, raven hair.
“Did you just wake up?” Motoki wondered, calling down the hall as he stood before the chest of drawers.
“Just wondering,” he shrugged, noting Mamoru’s bare-chested and aggravated state. Motoki left the bedroom with a selection of four different ties in hand and standing in front of the washroom mirror, held them up to his neck, one by one. Not convinced by any of his choices, he padded back to the bedroom. “Are you sure you didn’t just wake up?” He asked again, puzzled by the chaotic state of Mamoru’s habitually immaculate room; there were clothes scattered carelessly on the ground, and bed sheets tangled to oblivion.
“There’s a black one near the back, take that one,” Mamoru ordered hastily in an attempt to hurry his friend out the door. Appreciating the advice, Motoki rifled through the collection, his hand coming to rest on something that felt very out of place. He stopped, pulling the object from the drawer and inspecting it thoroughly. He couldn’t say he was exactly surprised, but that didn’t stop the emotion that leapt to his throat. Coming back to his senses, he chastised himself for wasting time. His girlfriend and her parents were waiting for him, and here he was staring slack-jawed at something he never should have even seen. He slid the object back into the drawer, pushed it to the very back and covered it with fabric.
“Did you find it?” Mamoru shouted, his baritone voice echoing against the walls. Moments later Motoki emerged, the suggested black tie hanging around his neck and a knowing smile spread across his face. “Why are you smiling like that?” Mamoru asked suspiciously.
“You know,” Motoki replied cryptically, and as soon as those words were said, Mamoru was struck with realization.
“Aren’t you already late?” He had to get the blonde to leave. As soon as possible.
“Shit!” Motoki exclaimed, glancing at his watch. “Does it look okay?” He adjusted the knot one last time.
“It’s fine,” Mamoru assured him. “Take one of the umbrellas over there,” he said, motioning towards a small collection propped against the wall.
“Thanks.” Slipping his feet back into the sopping shoes, Motoki left as quickly as he had come. Mamoru let out a relieved sigh as the door closed behind his friend – nothing had been ruined.
Although victorious in his first battle with the stairs, Motoki decided he was not prepared for another round. Stepping into the elevator, he let his back fall against the wall, giving him a chance to catch his breath. His brow furrowed in confusion when it suddenly dawned on him that sitting neatly by Mamoru’s front door was a pair of carmine pink high-heeled shoes.
Back in the apartment, Mamoru peeled back the blanket, to reveal a slender woman huddled at his side.
“What was he talking about?” She asked, confusion knit in her face.
“Nothing,” the man replied, nonchalantly.
“Do you think he saw me?” She sat up straight, stretching her arms above her head.
“I don’t think he had any idea,” Mamoru shook his head, his gaze travelling up her fully exposed, milky torso. “Now, where were we…” The woman giggled as he pounced, enrapturing her strawberry lips in a searing kiss. Craving the sensation of his warm, taut skin against hers, she wound her arms around his neck and back, pulling his body closer.