Ronan didn’t move a muscle, but suddenly he was standing in front of Nakano, towering over him. His shoulders square, the thick vein in his neck twitching every other second, Ronan looked down at him. “I asked you a question.” Ronan gave Nakano exactly three seconds to reply and when he didn’t, he reached out his hand and then Nakano was standing. Actually, he was floating a few inches off the ground and Ronan was holding him by his shirt collar. Nakano’s feet dangled, unable to find a flat surface. He looked as helpless as a pup being carried by the scruff of the neck by its mother, but Ronan wasn’t holding Nakano gently, he wasn’t carrying his newborn to a safe place; he was clutching Nakano’s clothing, even some flesh, and pressing him against the rough surface of the Dumpster because he was angry, betrayed. He raised Nakano an inch higher and with his left hand he pressed into his shoulder, pushing most of his weight into him until Nakano winced. “Tell me,” Ronan growled, “what did you do?”
It was hard for Nakano to form words in this position, but he managed to squeak one out. “Nothing.” Ronan pushed into him harder. Now his full weight was pressing against Nakano and in response the Dumpster creaked loudly as if awakening from a long, unbothered slumber, and rose a few inches from the ground. Nakano found more words, all of which sounded breathless and desperate when finally spoken. “I didn’t do anything.” Unfortunately, Ronan didn’t believe him.
He let go of Nakano and for a split second Nakano thought it was over—this was just one of those rough games Ronan liked to play—but he was wrong. Ronan was repositioning himself. Before Nakano could slide even an inch down the side of the Dumpster, and before the Dumpster could fall even the slightest bit back down to earth, Ronan grabbed Nakano by the throat with his right hand and with his left pulled Nakano’s wrist down toward his thigh and twisted. Again he pressed his weight on top of him and repeated his question, this time his words containing more force. “What did you do?”
The Dumpster groaned against the weight and the unfamiliar position, rising just a bit higher. Nakano was afraid they would tip over. He tried to struggle beneath Ronan, he tried to break free, but he knew from past experience that his attempts would be futile. Ronan was stronger. Usually that fact filled him with excitement and desire, but right here, pinned against the side of the Dumpster, diagonal, Nakano was filled with fear.
“Get … off … me!” Nakano cried, gasping for air.
Ronan hadn’t even broken into a sweat. “Not until you tell me what you said to Michael.”
A red robin perched on the end of the Dumpster. Curious and small, it looked at Nakano and chirped. Once. Once more, and then as quickly as it arrived, it flew away. Yes, fly away, Nakano thought, and I’ll follow. One last attempt. Nakano pushed all his strength against Ronan, which was formidable, and the Dumpster slammed down onto the ground, small clouds of brown dust rising like little mushrooms, then evaporating into the air. “I didn’t say anything to him,” Nakano spat before turning to run. But he didn’t get far at all. Before he reached the edge of the Dumpster, Ronan had grabbed him from behind, Ronan’s right arm wedged underneath his chin, his left arm holding on to Nakano’s wrist and bending it backward so his hand was in the middle of his shoulder blades. Involuntarily, Nakano squealed out in pain. “I’ll break it, Kano,” Ronan whispered in his ear. “I’ll break it right off. You know I can.”
Nakano writhed against Ronan’s chest, his legs flailing until Ronan twisted his arm just a bit more and the pain became too great. “I didn’t say anything. He saw us!”
Ronan released his grip but didn’t let go. “Where?”
His breathing rough, Nakano replied as succinctly as possible. “Outside St. Florian’s, under the tree.”
Michael must have seen us talking, Ronan realized. He must have seen me reach out and embrace Nakano. But he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand that I was consoling him because I feel sorry for him. I pity Nakano because he can’t have the kind of life that I do and because, as harsh as it sounds, I will never love him the way he loves me. “You saw him?”
Nakano let his hands rest on Ronan’s arms, which still held him under his chin. So strong and warm, how many afternoons did they spend in the secrecy of The Forest of No Return like this, lying on the cool earth, Ronan’s arm around Nakano? Those days could not be over forever; they just couldn’t be. “Yes,” he answered defiantly. “And he ran off because he knew what he saw.”
Ronan spun Nakano around so they faced each other and then, unable to control his fury, he slammed him back into the Dumpster. Over the echo of steel, Ronan asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Too incensed to lie, Nakano spoke the truth, at least as he saw it. “Because it’s better this way,” Nakano said. “It’s better that it’s over before it even begins. Michael isn’t worthy of you. He wouldn’t even stay and fight for you once he thought you were with someone else, someone who is perfect for you!”
The rage Ronan was feeling quite unexpectedly turned to laughter. “You? You’re perfect for me?” If anyone happened to witness Ronan just at this moment, they would never have imagined that mere seconds before, he had been capable of breaking Nakano into pieces. He was laughing hysterically, which was only making Nakano even more furious.
“Do not laugh at me!”
“Then don’t say stupid things! You know as well as I do that you’re not perfect for me. You’ve told me so yourself.”
“I never said that,” Nakano protested.
A little bit of the rage was returning and Ronan glowered. “How many times have you told me that I’m different? How many times have you reminded me that even though your race despises me, you personally understand that I cannot be judged for what I am?” Ronan hissed. “And now you tell me that you’re perfect for me? What am I supposed to do but laugh?”
Nakano slammed his fist into the Dumpster, denting it slightly, but not even bruising his knuckle. He was angry because once again he was not only battling Ronan, he was battling himself. His heart was speaking a language his mind didn’t fully comprehend. “I know what I said, I know what our races believe, but I also know you and me and I know that we are perfect together.”
Now Ronan saw Nakano for what he was. A sad little boy who was trying to think for himself, but not yet capable. “You don’t mean that, not really. You only think we’re perfect for each other because you think I might be able to find happiness with someone else,” Ronan explained. “Until Michael arrived, you were ignoring me.”
“That’s not true!”
“I told you yesterday, Kano, what we had was wonderful; it really was very sweet, but it’s over,” Ronan said as kindly as he could. “It’s part of our past and it’s not going to be repeated, so you need to accept that and stop interfering in my life.”
The hell with you, Ronan! “Because you think some kid, some dumbass American, can replace me?!”
Don’t take the bait, Ronan, don’t let him goad you on like this. “I looked into your eyes yesterday. I looked into the very essence of who you are and I didn’t turn away. Doesn’t that prove that I still care about you?”
“Oh, and you think I should thank you for that?”
Suddenly, Ronan was tired. Tired of this conversation, tired of the endless battle, and tired of Nakano. “No, but it would be nice if you could just be happy for me.” Now Ronan looked at Nakano with pity and disgust. “But I guess that’s too much to ask from your kind.”
Just as Ronan was about to turn the corner of St. Martha’s and be out of his view, Nakano couldn’t suppress the desire to have the final say. “When you tell Michael what you really are, let me know if he hopes you’re happy!”
Those words were echoing in Ronan’s ears when he knocked on Michael’s door. Even though he knew he wasn’t going to reveal his true self to Michael—he wasn’t going to expose every secret—he was still nervous. He was going to try to explain that Nakano meant nothing to him and that, well, he thought, and maybe he completely made it all up in his head, but he thought that Michael had wanted to get to know him better too. He thought that the two of them could just spend some time together to learn more about each other. When the door opened and it was Ciaran, Ronan was more than a little relieved.
“Is Michael home?”
“Well, hello to you too. Yes, Ronan, thank you, I’m fine,” Ciaran said sarcastically.
Ronan lowered his head, duly chastised. Sometimes I just can’t win with this one, he thought. “Sorry, how are you?”
“Does it even matter?” Ciaran opened the door wider as a means to invite Ronan into his room without actually having to ask him to come in. It also enabled him to see that Michael was sitting on his bed going over some Latin homework.
