NANA
I really need to tell him.
It's been weeks now that I've said everything to him except how I feel. And there's been plenty of opportunities. In fact, I think Maki sometimes pauses at these moments to give me the chance to say it. But I never do.
The first opportunity, other than the train wreck of an attempt after we watched The Ring, was a few days later.
I decided to visit him early in the day. When I got to his house, he was wheeling himself around the lower floor in a wheelchair, having what seemed like the best time of his life.
"Maki, what are you doing?" I asked, mid-laugh as he sped past me.
"Pops got it for me, so I could get around a little easier."
"That... that's not what I asked." I grabbed the handles. "Can I take you for a walk?"
"I'm not a dog," he said, turning his face half-way so I could see his beautiful soft profile.
"You've been cooped up in here for days, don't you want to go outside?"
"Nana, look at me," Maki sighed, pointing at his legs. "I'm wearing stupid shorts that show off way too much of my legs. So I'd rather not subject the whole of London to that sight."
I studied his legs, realising I'd never looked so intently at another man's limbs before. I hadn't actually seen them in the hospital, not even when the nurse had decided she'd change his catheter in front of me (I had politely looked away as soon as I'd glimpsed his secret moon tattoo). Likewise, when I'd been over a few days previous, he'd kept them covered with a blanket. And I'd definitely not been looking at them when I'd seen him nearly naked in the poolhouse. I didn't know what would make a man's legs handsome per se, but I could definitely say that Maki's legs were that, other than the stitches left from the operation and the metal frame. They were like those of a ballet dancer, which for some reason I found very attractive. I don't know why the muscular legs affected me so much, given they matched his subtly toned arms, and everything else I saw when he was in his swimming trunks only a few weeks prior.
"Seriously, stop staring at my legs," Maki said, suddenly breaking me out of my stupor.
"They look perfectly passable for society and the general public." I ruffled his hair. "Let's go outside!"
Maki tilted his head back. "Fine!"
I took off my cardigan and wrapped it around his bare shoulders. "It's warm outside, but you might catch a draft."
His dad had had a temporary ramp installed at the front, so I rolled Maki down and took him to Kensington Gardens. He complained a little, saying he'd been there a hundred times.
"Yeah, but I haven't. I want to see that statue of Peter Pan."
He laughed as I pushed him around all the pathways, looking at each of the statues and fountains before Maki suggested we take the bridge over to Hyde Park.
I stopped abruptly right in the centre of the bridge and faced him towards the water. I light a cigarette for each of us.
"I love water," he said, almost dreamily, taking a long drag.
"Really?"
"Mm." Maki sighed. "I went to Brighton when I was younger, and it was the best time ever."
"What happened?"
"Nothing in particular," he went on, in the same whimsical tone. "Dad, Pops, Tamaki and I all had ice cream, walked along the beach... got balloons... It was just really nice from what I can remember. I wish I could go back."
"Why can't you?"
"Just too busy, I guess. And it's not as if Tamaki would come again. He didn't like the sea."
I lean over the parapet. "I'll take you one day. When your leg is better."
"You don't have to do that," Maki said, his voice quiet.
"It's not as if it's far. The bus only takes an hour or so." I stood behind his chair, my cigarette finished, and tousled his hair again, noting the softness of it. It shone like ink between my fingers, as the sun reflected against the strands. I got lost feeling his hair; what started as a playful ruffle turned into running my fingers through it absently, and I realised he'd gone silent.
I nearly said it then. I wanted to; it felt right.
But instead, I pulled my hand away. "Sorry. Your hair is..."
"Clean?" Maki suggested.
I laughed. "Yes, clean."
After that, we spent another hour strolling around the parks until it was time for Maki to take his painkillers.
So that was the first time. A perfect moment ruined by me, as always.
After a couple of weeks, Maki moved on to crutches, and then to one. Every other day, I would go walk with him through the same park, to help his leg heal. He would tell me how he much preferred doing that rather than the physiotherapy exercises he'd have to do once the fixture was removed.
"Seriously, it'll be so embarrassing," Maki lamented one day as he hobbled past the Peter Pan statue.
"What the hell will you have to do?" I imagined all sorts of weird and wonderful positions, but Maki just shook his head.
"Honestly, it's not even that bad. It's just a lot of bending and stretching, and I'm just... not looking forward to it."
"I could help you." The words fell from my mouth before I'd really thought about it. How keen must I sound?
"No, honestly, you do enough."
We moved to sit down on a bench so Maki could rest. He looked at his metal-covered leg.
"I don't think there's such a thing as enough," I said.
"What do you mean?"
This was it, I thought to myself. This is a perfect time. I love you, and I'll never be able to do enough to show you, but I'll sure as hell try my hardest.
"It's my fault you broke your leg."
Not entirely what I wanted to say but, it's okay, I can work with this, I thought.
"It's also your fault I'm still alive. Don't say things like that." Maki looked pained as he glared down.
"If I hadn't --" I let out a frustrated sigh. "Maki --" I love you.
He turned his face to me and smiled. "Come on. Let's get back."
The words flew away from me, and I mentally tried to grasp them as Maki stood to leave, leaning a little more on his crutch than he had done before. He's tired, just leave it.
And so I left it. Every time the chance arose, I left it. I let it glide by, like sushi on a conveyor belt, hoping the dish you want will still be there when it circles again. And then I started making excuses for why I hadn't said it yet. He's too tired, or he needs to take his painkillers, or he has enough on his plate right now. It's not the right moment.
The truth was, it would never be a perfect time. Because I'd already missed it; the night he got run over. I was so wrong. Things did need to be said, and I should have told Maki right then and there. But would he have believed me? Probably not. Why should he? It had taken me weeks to understand it myself.
Every time I went home after visiting him, I felt like I was leaving a piece of me with him. I felt the constant need to kiss him goodbye, and kiss him for no reason, and kiss him because he was breathing. I was wasting time, I knew it.
And I still don't know what's going through his head. Maybe that is why I haven't said it yet? Is he giving me bad vibes?
Not even a little bit. Whenever I feel Maki's eyes on me, I turn, and our gaze meets, and for like ten seconds, it's as if the world has just... stopped. There is no car accident, no music, no misunderstandings, no false loves. It reminds me of when I first saw his face, which had been like I'd missed a step on the stairs. And in all honesty, it'd been happening since that moment, long before the accident, and I was just too damn stupid to notice what was there, what I hope still is there.
Maki's invited me over to play in the studio. I arrive late because Dora started his shift late and in a foul mood, with a very suspicious mark on his neck that was most definitely a hickey. I took a mental note to give him the inquisition later.
Maki is already sitting on the couch with his acoustic resting on his thigh when I burst in. He jumps at my sudden arrival.
"I'm sorry I'm late," I exclaim, nearly collapsing after running for the train, then running off the train, to his house and up the stairs, all with my guitar on my back. "When are you coming back to Camden? I'm getting way too fit doing all this running."
"Probably once the fixture's off." Maki trails off, looking me up and down before turning away with a sly smirk on his lips.
I look down, studying myself. "What? What are you giving me that look for?"
He shakes his head, the slightest blush on his cheeks. "You're certainly looking very... fit."
My heart thumps as my eyes grow wide. That was forward. "Wow," is all I can say. I watch Maki blush more, and I narrow my eyes at him before taking my guitar from its case, along with a small stack of CDs.
"What are those?" Maki asks, immediately changing the subjects, apparently intrigued by the disks. "Erotic Vampire Orchestra? What the fuck is that?"
"These, my friend -" I say dramatically, holding the CDs up. "- are the old demos from my high school punk band."
His mouth drops as his eyes grow excited. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" He grabs one of his crutches and immediately drags me out of the room. Well, not so much dragging as me following him as he holds onto my t-shirt, hobbling out of the booth.
We sit at the computer and put one of the CDs in.
"I'm actually very nervous about this," I say, suddenly realising what a grave mistake I've made as he opens up the files and presses play.
The room is filled with aggressive (and pretty terrible) "punk" music while Maki laughs and claps his hands.
"This is amazing."
"It's embarrassing," I snort. "I don't even know how I thought we sounded good... It was fun, though."
Maki stops the "song", for lack of a better word, and looks at me.
"You should record something, like... do a remake. An acoustic remake."
I roll my eyes. "Like I can remember any of it," I say as if I don't totally remember every note, chord, lyric, and rude hand gesture.
"Come on! It'll be fun. I'll help you."
For the next thirty minutes, we listen to all the tracks, and Maki picks out his favourite - a complete corker called "Head's Down Bliss", a song about receiving oral sex - and I start writing down the lyrics, pretending I don't remember them very well. I change the odd word here and there, and Maki listens to the song over and over, writing down the melody, altering the key to fit the new tempo.
"Do I really... have to sing this? In front of you?"
"You've sung in front of me before," Maki says soothingly. "It's just for fun."
I don't want to tell him I'm more concerned about the content rather than the thought of the singing.
He forces me into the booth and tells me to put the headphones on, and not to move from the chair.
"The mic should pick up all the sound."
I grimace at him, as he gestures to me that's he's counting me down. And then he makes an O with his thumb and index finger, and I realise I'm supposed to start.
It comes to me a lot easier than I thought it would, the somewhat nasty words rolling off my tongue, sounding bizarre yet fitting with the new tone.
I stupidly let my mind wander, and I start to imagine Maki doing all the things I'm singing about, and I feel myself growing more hot and red by the second. Somehow it doesn't put me off, but I can't look up at him through the glass. I can't look at the same face that I'm imagining doing unspeakable acts to my pants area.
The way you lick, the way you suck, it really makes me want to fuck.
Luckily, the song is under two minutes long, and Maki limps through once he's stopped recording.
"I can feel how red my face is," I say bluntly, putting the guitar down, watching him smile like an idiot.
"That's going on our album."
Maki seems way too excited about this, and not in the way I am. For a second, I pretend he is, but then I feel my face burn again.
"I'd rather it didn't," I say, grimacing. "I highly doubt Tamaki would allow it."
"Why?"
Because he knows. He knows. Or at least he'll know as soon as he hears it that I was thinking about his brother the entire time I was singing.
"I just don't believe that it's... his taste."
Maki raises an eyebrow. "I'll run it by him regardless."
I leave soon after to catch the last train, even though he offers to give me money for a taxi. I think if I spend one more minute with him tonight, I'll explode.
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