Piercing, dark-colored eyes; eyes that can see straight into the soul and beyond. That was what struck me about him the most when I first caught sight of him at my college. Then, he'd been surrounded by love-struck girls (no doubt mooning over him) and a couple of rich boys. I'd always liked the feel of soft, curvy women turning to putty in my expert hands, so the thought of being gay, or even bisexual never crossed my mind. My initial feelings for him were of curiosity, as Keisuke was easily the most popular guy in college.
At 5 feet 11", Keisuke was pretty tall for a Japanese-American, and he was also Mr. Nice Guy. I think his gaggle of fan girls called him Prince or something grotesque like that. You could say that he seemed just...well, too perfect, if that was at all possible. The straight-A student and President of the Arts Club. Raven black hair which looked silky to the touch. Combine that with a gentle personality, smart-looking glasses that framed his handsome face, and there you have it; Keisuke the Fake.
Now, why do I call him that? Because that's what he is.
You might think that that's just jealousy eating at me, but that really isn't the case. From observing him, Keisuke puts on this façade for the entire world to see. The reason eludes me, though. However, he can't fool me; not when I'm known by my tough street friends as a perceptive guy who easily captures others' weaknesses.
Me. I'm the bad boy with the bad reputation and the bad grades. The type that mothers always warn their kids about. Okay, I do get good grades sometimes, when I work my ass off and when I feel like it, but nobody cares anyway, so why bother?
I wouldn't call myself narcissistic, but I do think that I'm pretty good-looking. With 6 feet 2" worth of muscle and cobalt blue-colored eyes, plus a better-than-average dress sense, I attract quite a lot of attention, at bars and on the streets. It never fails to inflate my ego every time when men and women are drawn to me like moths to a flame. I'd never bothered with men who've tried to hit on me before (not saying that I'm homophobic) because all I'd been looking for was a mighty good time with the ladies.
At least that's how it was until I met
him
.
Honestly, he intrigued me because I could tell when he wanted to bail out of the crowd which, somehow, always hung around him and never dispersed. Or when he was struggling to keep an I-would-love-to-help expression when he was annoyed at Professor Martin who'd asked him to carry a mountain of books again to his office for the millionth time. Let's just say that he was an oxymoron and I knew it.
Keisuke had an internal battle warring within him all the time and I just didn't know how everyone else could be so blind to it. So I watched him. Whenever I was free, that is. Anyway, on with our first encounter.
So one day, he'd just finished playing basketball with some of his buddies and was changing in the locker room when his cell phone rang. He hadn't even noticed me smoking in a dark corner of the room, eyeing his half-naked torso. "
Otou-san
. Why did you call? Yes, I remember the party.
Hai. Wakarimashita.
I'll be there tonight by 8 sharp."
Since he'd obviously thought that no one was around, Keisuke had this very irritated look on his face that it was amusing how he'd managed to keep his voice all bland the entire time he was on the phone.
I had a little more entertainment than usual when I saw him send his cell phone flying against the wall and smashing it, leaving me to wonder who would be left to pick up its remains. I sent a mental message of condolences to the cleaner.
"
Kuso!!
Who the hell does he think is, to order me about all the time?!" His handsome face twisted into a rare scowl.
"Pfft. It's amusing, really. Your good-boy act. Don't you ever tire of it? If only your fans could see you like this." I smirked as Keisuke whipped his head around to glare at me. I crushed the rest of my cigarette against the cold, tiled floor.
"How long have you been there?" His voice held an ominous ring to it, but he was ten years too early to intimidate me. He was puny in size as compared to
moi
.
"Not too long. But long enough to hear you whining about thy papa." I scoffed at him. "Besides, you're the one who didn't notice me having a nice little puff of smokes over here. I doubt that I'm small enough to even be considered invisible." I leaned close to him and put a hand at the lockers beside his pretty little head, which earned me a full-blown glare from him.
"Stop pretending as though you know me, when you know nothing. It's irritating." His scowl lightened into a smirk. "And what's with this stance of yours? Do you think that you're hitting on a girl?"
I smiled coolly at him. "Sure. If you're the girl." I laughed at the seriously-annoyed expression on his face. "Just kidding. Fortunately for you, I don't go for the fake types. So, where'd your charming persona run off to? Oh. Wait. Did he even exist, or was it always just crabby old you?"
A punch landed on my right cheek. Or almost did, if I hadn't skillfully fended it off with my right arm. "Go fuck yourself." He shoved past me and grabbed his duffel bag on the bench, already heading towards the door.
"You should stay and defend yourself against the big bad wolf for pride's sake. Besides, I've already seen the you that you're trying to hide. Making your whole life an act can be pretty exhausting, you know." I smiled and leaned against the lockers.
