by Amano, Mia
I must have lost more blood than I thought, because I’m feeling strange in the chest, like that woman’s stare is throwing little hooks in me, where my heart is, and fuck that feeling, because I’ve never felt it before in my life.
I must be going insane.
It’s light enough now to make out the title of the painting.
Forgiveness.
I’m completely undone.
Adele
It’s a humid, overcast morning. Watery, grey morning light filters through the cloud cover. I hold my coffee in one hand while I fumble for the keys to the gallery. I’ve been amazingly lucky. The place is owned by Dio’s brother Manny, and somehow, he’s managed to generate enough interest in my work to hold an exhibition.
I’m nervous.
The works hanging in that place reveal a lot about me. I’ve drawn hostesses and gangsters, policemen and pimps. There’s a picture of a drunk salaryman, his tie loose, face flushed. There’s a half finished drawing of a hard working waitress, messy strands of hair falling around her face. It’s half finished on purpose. There’s a bottle of golden tinted sake, with gold flakes swirling through it, drawn in hyperrealism. I called that one Ethereal.
I’ve mixed too many different styles and techniques for my art to fit any one category.
I don’t care. I’ve never been a big fan of labels.
The centerpiece has been hung in the middle of the gallery. It’s a picture of Kaito, but no-one’s going to know that, unless they’ve seen him naked. I’ve painted his tattoos, but hidden his face. And then there’s the lady who’s put her arms around him. It’s not meant to represent me. No way. I only meant to paint a benevolent spirit, of sorts.
Someone who could fill the void I sense has been there his entire life.
That’s a bit presumptuous of me.
But I did it on purpose. Because I’m longing for Kaito, but at the same time, I’m angry with him. Some perverse part finds satisfaction in the thought of hanging him out for everyone to see.
It’s the ultimate message, and the greatest revenge. He doesn’t want to see me? Fine. I’ll communicate with him by doing what I do best.
I wonder if he got the invite.
I don’t really expect him to show.
I enter the gallery, passing through a small shop area. I’ve come in early to make sure everything’s right. That the paintings are in the correct order, that they’re labelled right.
I’m more than nervous; I’m freaking out.
I flip on the lights as I step into the giant space. I stop dead in my tracks.
It’s him.
The man who’s driven me to all this.
He’s sitting on a chair, his head back, eyes closed. He’s wearing his usual sharply tailored suit. His crisp white shirt is slightly open at the neck, and his black jacket is draped over one knee.
Is this even real? My heart hammers in my chest as I approach, studying his features. In the morning light, he looks peaceful, all traces of hardness gone from his face.
Beautiful.
He looks almost innocent, a version of the man I might find if the harsh reality of life hadn’t shaped him.
But he’s pale, and as I get closer, I notice something staining the lower part of his crisp, white shirt. Is that blood?
Something’s wrong. I rush over, dropping my bag, placing my coffee on the floor. “Kaito,” I murmur, gently shaking his shoulder.
His eyes snap open and he grabs my wrist in a viselike grip. Suddenly, there’s something hard pressing into my stomach. Oh God, is that a gun?
I freeze, trying to slow my racing heart.
“Or are you just happy to see me?” I say slowly, fighting to keep my voice low and even. Fear races through me and I push it down. Now is not the time to freak out.
“Adele.” His voice is deceptively smooth, undermining the dangerousness of the situation. I stare back into black, depthless eyes that hold a strange, swirling storm of fury and awe. “Don’t ever sneak up on me like that.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” I snap, relief coursing through me. Kaito lowers the gun, releasing me. His fingers are red, covered in blood. “You’re bleeding.”
“Not much,” he replies, as if it’s an everyday thing.
“What the hell are you doing here? What happened to you?”
“I got your invitation,” he says dryly, raising an eyebrow. His eyes are ringed with dark circles. He looks exhausted. He stares past me, at the painting of himself. “I don’t know what you were trying to say with that portrait.”
“It’s open to interpretation.” I glance down at his hand and the black jacket draped over his leg. “You’re hurt. You need a hospital. What happened, Kaito?”
He closes his eyes again, taking a deep breath. When he opens them again, his expression softens. “A few hours ago, I killed three men, Adele.” He gestures with the gun, spreading his fingers. “This is the real me. This is what I do.”
Then, that momentary softness is gone, replaced with coldness. The barriers are up, as if he’s anticipating my reaction.
I fight to stay calm. I’d suspected he was more than just an accountant from the start, but to hear him admit it shakes me to the core. Somehow, my voice is even and my hands don’t shake as I pull the jacket away from where it’s hiding his leg.
His pants are wet with blood. There’s a wound in his thigh.
“You’re hurt,” I gasp. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
Kaito holds up a hand, silencing me. “No hospitals. I know a guy who can fix this. You should go. I was just enjoying the peace and quiet here. I’ll be gone, soon.”
“Idiot. I’m not going anywhere.”
“What did you say?”
With careful hands, I take the gun away from Kaito, laying it on the wooden floor. He allows me to take it without protest, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards in amusement. “You know what I am now. Why do you persist?”
“Because it’s you, stupid.” I kneel down in front of Kaito, putting one hand to his cheek. It’s cool to the touch. “We can talk about this later. After you’ve seen a doctor. I know what you’ve done, and I know that makes you kind of a bad guy, but I still want to be with you. Maybe that says something about me, but I don’t care. Isn’t that enough for you?”
He blinks, staring at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language. “Are you sure?”
“You think I would have bothered to memorize every inch of your damn tattoos if I wasn’t sure? It took me hours to get the details right on those koi you have on your arms.”
Kaito glances up at the painting again. “That’s the one I paid for, then?”
“Yes it is. But I’m keeping it for now.”
“I don’t enjoy what I do, Adele. I need to think of a way out of this mess. And I have many enemies. You know it’s not going to be easy, being with me.”
I shrug. “Nothing in life is meant to be easy.” I move closer, daring to lean in and kiss him on the lips. “Sorry. I know it’s not the best time. Couldn’t help it. By the way, your people on the other side of the Pacific seem to like what I do. I have galleries in Tokyo enquiring about an exhibition. I’ll need a guide, you know, someone who knows the local area.”
“I’m a wanted man in Japan, Adele.”
“Then you’ll have to figure out a disguise.”
Kaito stares at me as if I’m mad, then reaches out to pull me in for a kiss, deeper, longer, his mouth hot and wanting. I lose myself in his embrace, savoring his taste and the feel of his strong hands entwined in my hair. “Sorry,” he murmurs, as he pulls away gently, tenderly. “Couldn’t help it.”
And in that instant, as I face Kaito, seeing the wonder reveal itself in his expression, before it’s quickly hidden, I know that everything is going to work out fine.
I don’t know how I know that, but I do.
He’s a walking contradiction, a dangerous man, a lonely human being.
I’m impulsive, and sometimes, I can be fooli
sh and naive. Now I understand why he tried to push me away.
We’re like oil and water.
But when I’m with Kaito, everything feels right. I feel as if the rest of the fucked up world and all its problems just melts away, and he and I are the last two human beings on Earth.
So let me take a leap of faith now and trust my instincts.
Because even the worst devils were angels, once upon a time.