[UshiTen: Just another rainy day in Paris]

Part 4

Wakatoshi spent the next couple of hours, lying in bed, gloomily pondering over what that good life might actually mean to himself now. His hopes were done for. He did his best to demote his feelings to it's just a crush again, and he liked to believe he was succeeding.

Yet, a single thought was pestering his mind, even after he booked his ticket for a morning flight, on the very next day.

It was a deeply frustrating thought, a last slither of hope, a last resort.

Satori never said "no". He never really rejected him.

He had been a fool, and a coward, never really even asking about it.

Who knew? Things might be... there might still be... some... hope.

With clenched teeth, and clenched fists, and a low growl, Ushijima was putting his clothes back on, even thought it was 11 at night, too annoyed that he would have to take yet another shower after he came back.

Downstairs, at reception, he also growled at the new young man, a new shift had started at 10 p.m. sharp, asking about the curfew in this godforsaken place.

The receptionist had gaped at him, without understanding his melodious English, or so he thought, but then – after scanning the monstrously tall Japanese man, he tried to smile and explain – slowly! – that "Sir, there is no curfew in this country. We are open 24/7, I assure you."

Ushijima had glared at him, judgingly, but still made sure that if he was – hypothetically speaking! – to return at 3 a.m. at night, he would still be able to get to his room.

The young man grinned and nodded frantically, only realizing that this gesture might have been offensive for an Asian person after Ushijima had exited the place with wide strides.

The new taxi was a necessity too, so Wakatoshi didn't think about the price. He just gave the address, ignoring the driver's rude staring at him as best as he could.

It didn't take too long to arrive; it turned out that Satori was living relatively close to his work place; Wakatoshi liked to think that he walked to work, on a fine day. He now pressed the bell that bore the Japanese hieroglyphics, the only one, without even needing to read them. He knew the name too well.

- Yes? Who is it? It's kinda late!

Wakatoshi blushed. It was indeed too late. Maybe. It was indecent, though, to arrive like this, unannounced. He now vaguely thought that he had no idea where his phone was – he hadn't even checked that from 3:30 p.m. onward today.

His mind had been too preoccupied.

He blurted out, in his most polite Japanese:

- Forgive me, Satori-kun. I apologize for the late hour. I...

- Oh my god! - Tendō squeaked now. – Is something the matter?! Wait! Wait, I am coming down!!! I am... ugh...

Wakatoshi thought that the last grunt meant that Tendō had tripped on his shoes, but he might have been wrong.

He bit his lips. This is too much inconvenience! He was quite reckless to just appear here, like that!

Already regretting it all, regretting deeply the whole enterprise even, he now waited nervously, while a hectic patter of feet was approaching the front door.

Tendō was breathing heavily, now catching his breath, but actually worried; there was no way that his Captain would be here without an exceptionally good reason, a serious reason. He was renting a small studio just underneath the roof of the not-too-tall building, but he hadn't had the chance to run down any stairs any time recently.