Pure white (Yaoi)

Chapter 5

Pity parties on Memory Lane

"What are we doing here?

Why have we come?

Did we come for a confession?

-Under the tongue, Damien Rice

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The ride home takes forever. Snow falls quietly, lazily from the dark clouds. It's already late. Today was a long day at work, neither busy nor boring. I, Kurosaki Ichigo, work at Mellodica, musical instruments shop down in the city. I can't play either of them, but it is quite fascinating meeting people who can.

Of course, the meetings are short and the conversations are mainly professional, but even so, it's rather exciting to imagine what their lives must be like. I'm that kind of person, yes.

My boss is a weird character and he doesn't show his face too often around the shop. The other employees are two guys and a girl. Or more like a guy and a boy. My guess is that the boy is related to the owner. The other guy is simply...peculiar. The girl too is younger than me and very shy. She mostly does the cleaning.

The other guy, the third one, is not too talkative either. I have a feeling he doesn't like me very much. Why, I don't know and, to be honest, I don't care.

Usually I'd walk instead of taking a cab- I am quite a fan of taking long walks. For starters, it's cheaper. Secondly, it allows me to keep fit in a way. Also, it provides me with a lot of time to think and relax as well. Sometimes, when I'm pressed by a busy schedule, it's a challenge and I like it.

But tonight I had to stay together with my boss and the other employee to check items and cash and whatnot. Were it not for the snow storm announced for tonight's weather, I would've gone by foot. But even I am not that adventurous and suicidal.

Gazing outside, I suddenly remember. I haven't told Shirosaki about my job, have I? What if he's worried? What if he panicked thinking I'd abandoned him or something like this? This can't be good.

"Something the matter, lad?" The cabbie, a man in his late thirties with a British accent and kind smile, enquires.

I shake my head. "Not really. I, uh, recently just got a roomate. We, we're not very close, so I forgot to tell him I've got a part-time in town. I just hope he is ok," I confess staring at the snow-ridden road before us.

The driver hums appreciative then clicks his tongue. "Don't fret. The road is still usable, so we should be there in no time," he tries to reassure me and I nod, albeit not too confident. "I once lived in the mountains near a peaceful, modest village. Those were beautiful times!" By now, his smile is soft and his gaze somewhat nostalgic.

"What happened?" Ridden by curiosity, I can't help but ask. "If you don't mind my asking..." I add as soon as the question leaves my mouth.

The man chuckles and shakes his head. "It's alright. My mother fell ill. At that time, I lived in Romania, but she was in England, in the city. I couldn't help it, had to go. She died four months after that. Cancer, stage four. No one knew until it was too late."

I sigh. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Now she rests in peace. My father died when I was four. Now they can finally be together. I was never too much of a family lover anyway."