Paired With Fate

Chapter Thirteen

There was no ring tone, just an automatic connection to an answering machine indicating that the phone was off, either switched off or out of battery. It was probably the former as 'Lani was seldom far from her phone unless she was in front of the cameras, acting or doing photoshoots for that high street brand she'd excitedly told him about the day before he tried to end things. Either way, he couldn't get through to his ex.

Zee went over the online interview once more. In one way, he was happy that it hadn't gone out in some popular magazine, it was just that the internet was much more widely accessible, even if this interviewer was a blogger with a bit of popularity, rather than one with tens of millions of followers. In it, 'Lani had spoken about herself representing the brand with a couple of small, but rapidly rising models and hinting at a few plot lines in the T.V. Soap she acted within without going into much detail. And when the blogger asked about her relationship, that was rumoured to be 'on a break', 'Lani spoke about the pair of them planning to 'go away after the rugby season' to 'reconnect.'

Admittedly, he and 'Lani had spoken about going away after the season ended or rather she had suggested it and he'd gone along with it. But that was before meeting his fate, meeting Ichiro. His lips curved unknowingly as the image of his skittish Omega appeared in his mind.

Once Ichiro had calmed down, had met his gaze from time to time, had relaxed enough to lead and be lead in conversation as they ate, he was no less expressive. He'd learned that Ichiro didn't like to mix the food on his plate too much. He would try a bit of everything and then he would eat all his vegetables or in this case the salad, before savouring what remained of what he really enjoyed. His expressions while devouring the steak echoed in his mind, the fluttering of his golden eyelashes as they closed, the curve of his lips as he happily chewed each mouthful, the sheer look of satisfaction as he swallowed.

He'd already guessed that Ichiro was close to his brothers, really close, but there was a sadness when he spoke fondly of his mom and not one word was mentioned about his father. And some instinct had warned Zee to keep off of this topic for the time being. He hadn't got a clear stance on what Ichiro felt about rugby, only that he was definitely new to the sport. But he did enjoy physical activities; martial arts, running, swimming. Zee had suggested that they could go out for a run together some time. Ichiro hadn't disagreed... nor had he denied that there would be another date between them.

Zandre was hopeful, not that he intended on letting go of his Omega even if Ichiro had tried to ditch him again. His whole being was screaming to not let Ichiro escape from his possession. It was a heady slap to realise that you could be brought to the brink of obsession over another person, when you once denied that you'd ever be like that, that you'd ever want a relationship with someone that made you feel like that... fuck, he really wanted to see Ichiro right now, to speak with him right now and hear his voice. On that thought, he reached for his phone.

As it turned out, Zandre really hadn't needed to worry so much. Ichiro wasn't interested in gossip and never forked out money on magazines nor newspapers as didn't have change to spare. They didn't have a television in the apartment seeing as they could not afford non-terrestrial entertainment and the five other channels didn't hold much interest either.  Whenever they heard the news reports, it was on the computer or the radio and celebrity gossip was usually reserved for the big stars, unless it was a slow news day or reporters believed that the public would be interested in hearing it. 

The computer was second hand and old, something that Uncle Keith had given to the younger boys when he'd upgraded to a better model. Ichiro at that time had his own laptop given as a Christmas present, a holiday he'd grown to hate for a while.  It was hard to enjoy being spoiled when your younger brothers were lucky to get socks and sweets from their mom and sweet F.A from their father. Instead, he'd come to enjoy saving his pocket money, buying gifts and watching them and his mom open them with anticipation.  They'd done this in secret, in the boys box room rather than piss off the old man, who'd pretended that the younger children didn't exist.  He'd really had mixed feelings about his father at that time, both loving and loathing him at the same time.  The former had pretty much dissolved now and that laptop, in the end he'd sold it after the old man had been convicted, needing the cash and not needing anything that bastard had given to him.

So in conclusion, Ichiro didn't really keep informed at all about the latest celebrity gossip.

Still, at this minute, he was acting a little out of his normal, thumbing through a gossip magazine that was a bit more than seven months old, while he was waiting for his exercise class to show up for their martial arts themed workout. That had been a spurt of inspiration that he was especially proud of. He'd been inspired when walking past the Entertainment and movie disc's section in the supermarket, hoping to pick one out for Saburo's birthday last year and noticed the large array of celebrity workout videos, of which many had themes.

A few new members had signed up for the class a couple of months ago; late Winter always brought out the enthusiasm of women looking to lose a few pounds after the holidays. How many of them he could retain after their resolves wore off was the real challenge.

Just that, distracted as he was, he really didn't care about that right now. The image of a half naked man wearing nothing but beach shorts was burning into his retina. The lines of his pectorals, the thick shoulders attached to the strong column of his neck then leading to the taut curves of heavily defined arms, ones that could readily crush a lesser man within their grip. Thick thighs that belied the looseness of the shorts, even the knee joints somehow resembled tight springs abundant with tension. Flat stomach, mermaid line, all wrapped in a velvet stretch of rich teak with the two dark discs completing his hard chest. So obviously a man, yet Ichiro struggled to tear his gaze away. Maybe... maybe it was just envy, yeah, it was not like with Ichiro's frame and metabolism that he ever had a hope of looking like that. And besides, this image, which had the air of being a distance shot enlarged, was really nothing to meeting the man in person. Ichiro's thoughts began to wander to wondering if his clothed presence was so formidable compared to this statuesque image in only shorts, then how overwhelming would he be...

Ichiro fled to the toilet, hoping splashes of cold water would clear that image from his brain less he become burned by it. Branded by it. 

It's women that cause me to have reactions, women!  Not men!  Not that man!

After he had emerged from the toilet, the first group of ladies had appeared and converged around his magazine, which he'd happened to have left open on that page, with the image of Zandre dominating it.  The women looked at him with slightly lewd smiles. "Joining our team at last, Ichiro?" They all knew he was an Omega, but any prejudices had long since been swept away by the irrepressible man, so they chose to be open minded enough to consider that he might have 'needs' requiring a male touch.

"Of course not!" Ichiro denied, indignantly. "This magazine belongs to my little brother. I was just preparing myself for what he might bring home one day. Looking for weaknesses."

The hall was filled with feminine chuckles, they could quite imagine Ichiro using his karate on a beefcake like Zandre Kotze in order to protect his younger brothers, being well aware of how much he doted on them.  Thus the magazine was soon forgotten as Ichiro used kicks and punches in time with selected pop music in order to help them sweat and hone their muscles.  They chuckled over someone's joke as they did a few squats and stretches, before jogging around the hall and starting another routine.

It was exercise without the seriousness of martial arts or the focus on self-defence, yet Ichiro managed to warm all of their muscles without straining them and make them feel as if they had worked hard, yet without struggling with the exercises. The hall didn't have showers or changing rooms, so they could only wipe themselves a little with a towel and hurry home to clean, which was admittedly inconvenient, but their purses would have been a lot lighter had they headed to a gym, so they were okay with it.

Ichiro pocketed their money, recording the income as he'd been nagged to do by Jiro, before moping the floors quickly and shutting out the lights.  His phone vibrated in his pocket as he locked the doors to the Hall, ready to jog the distance home.

It's Zandre.  Call me when you are free.