Tell Me That You Love Me

It’s been four months. Four whole damned months. And he still hasn’t told me what I’m dying to know. It’s only three words. Three small, one-syllable words that wouldn’t take longer than five seconds to whisper. And still, he won’t say them. No matter how many times I tell him, he won’t answer me.

God only knows why I waste my time on a man such as Kudou Yohji.

He’s arrogant. He thinks he’s perfect. He’s a player; Heaven knows he’s a player! He dresses in a style that can only be expressed as ‘unique’. He never knows when to stop. And still…I love him.

I love him because he’s sensitive to the needs of others, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. I love him because of the way his eyes light up when he’s happy, because of the way they darken when he’s upset. Because of the way he can make anyone feel special. Because of the way he makes me feel. I love Yohji simply because he’s Yohji.

And I tell him that. Every day when I wake up to feel his sleepy kiss; I murmur that I love him. At night, before I drift off to sleep, I whisper into the milky darkness I love him. And at any given time in the day, I’ll slip up to him and tell him that I love him.

But he won’t answer me. He might smile, he might kiss me, but he won’t ever return the words. The most frustrating thing is that I *KNOW* he loves me! I can see it in those beautiful green eyes of his every time he looks at me. Yohji isn’t afraid to love, I know that much. But then…but then, why can’t he tell me how he feels?

Or am I really living in a dream world and it’s all a misunderstanding.

Does…does Yohji *really* love me?

Or am I another one of his ‘conquests’?

Oh God, I think I’m dying.

Yohji…he doesn’t care.

Otherwise he’d tell me.

Wouldn’t he?

It’s late that night when he finally slips into the bed besides me. “Ken?” I don’t respond; instead curl myself into a tighter ball. “Are you all right?”

“Never been better.”

He sighed as he sat down next to me on the bed, the bed creaking under his added weight. “What is it?” I don’t move a muscle, even as he absently begins to one-handedly rub my shoulder. “C’mon, Ken, tell me!”

“Yohji…” I whisper his name, unable to keep the tears from pricking up. “I love you.”

He sucked in his breath sharply, and stopped moving entirely before saying finally: “Thank you.”

“No…” I sat up then and pushed him farther away from me. “Don’t give me that thank you crap! I want to know how you feel! Yohji, do you love me? Or are you just biding your time until the next, better offer comes up? What is it Yohji? What are you waiting for?”

He shifted his eyes to the ground, unable to meet mine. What does it mean one someone won’t meet your eyes? In books it always means they’re hiding something. What could Yohji be hiding from me? Is he trying to hide the fact he doesn’t love me? “Yohji!” my voice is high and slightly strangled as I bit down *hard* on my lower lip, nearly drawing blood with the force.

Finally, he meets my eyes. In a low voice, he asked simply, “Why do you care so much, Ken? Wouldn’t it be easier just to be a casual lay?”

The simplicity of his words stung me. A casual lay? Is he trying to tell me that *this* is the way he feels? “You’re right, Yohji. It *would* be easier just to be bed partners. But…it we wouldn’t be happy. Because it’d never be true. Yohji, whether you like it or not, I love you. And I won’t stop, just because it’s not ‘easy’ for you. That is why I care Yohji. Because you’ve made me care.” The words have come so suddenly, in such a way that I *know* it is right, I’m surprised Yohji hasn’t anything to say. Yet.

His eyes regard me with deep surprise as he slowly leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “Ken.”

That’s all he says. That’s all he needs to say. Because suddenly, I understand.

Yohji does love me. In his own way he does. But…I want to hear him say it *so* bad. “Please…tell me what you want.”

I shook my head and smiled half-heartedly at him. “I only want…” I sighed. “Tell me that you love me. Please Yohji.”

“But…you know…” he looks at me helplessly, ruffling his hair with his hands in a characteristic manner.

“No, I don’t. Yohji, I can’t read your mind. I know from your looks and actions that you care for me. But love? I know nothing of it.” I leaned forward then, close enough that my nose was brushing his. “Tell me that you love me,” I coaxed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Ken…I-I…I can’t.” He looks away miserably, his jaw clenching at this inexplicable point of weakness.

I smiled and gently brushed away a strand of dark blonde hair that never wants to stay out his face. That’s all it took. He was willing to try for me. And I love him all the more for it. “You’re too much Yohji.”

“In a good or bad sense?” He smiled weakly at me.

“Good. Most definitely good,” I assure him as his lips come down firmly upon my own.

And much later, when I’m mostly asleep, I hear the tentative words.

“I think I truly do love you Ken. Not that it matters now, because you’re asleep…but…just so you know. I love you.”

I smile.

He’s really a sweetheart underneath the sarcastic, badass exterior.

That’s only one of the reasons why I love him.

::End::