Birds of Paradise

Prologue

"Bird of Paradise?"

Sleepy emerald eyes opened halfway. "Hmm?"

Annoyed jade met them. "You just thought it. I've heard you think it before. What the hell are you babbling about?"

"I'm not babbling, Schu," Youji mumbled, smiling muzzily. "It's not my fault you're listening in."

"That one was loud. What is it? Why do you always think it around me?"

The lanky brunet stretched luxuriously, yawning like a cat, and rolling onto his other side. "Mm, forget it. Gossleep, Schu."

Hard-muscled arms ensnared him from behind, that wiry body pressing up against his, pointed chin digging into his shoulder. "What is it, Kudou?"

Youji snuggled back into his warmth, closing his eyes. "Can't you just pick it out?"

"You're blocking me," Schuldich growled, nipping his earlobe warningly.

"Really?" the sleepy tenor held a hint of triumph. "I didn't realize I could; practice must really be paying off. Good night, then."

The arm around his waist tightened uncomfortably. "Kudou."

A mild huff of irritation escaped the brunet. "You're not going to like it. You're going to make fun."

Even teeth set into his shoulder. "If you think you can stop after that and keep your hide intact--"

"Your hair."

"Eh?"

Youji sighed gustily. "It's the colour of your hair: Bird of Paradise."

"That's a colour?"

"It's a flower, you uncultured gaijin--ow!"

"A flower? You're thinking flowers at me?"

A shrug. "Told you you wouldn't like it."

"Poets annoy me."

"I'm not a poet, I'm a flower-man. Colours make me think of flowers. Go screw an accountant or something, if you want monochrome."

Schuldich snorted in disgust. "Flowers. Bloody romantic."

"I'm not, either."

"You're telling me you think of everyone this way?"

"Name someone."

"... Your brat, Tsukiyono."

"Hm..." Youji mulled for a moment. "Cornflower and daffodil."

"Farfarello."

"Ohh~!" Balinese squirmed in revulsion. "You've gotta be kidding me!"

"I'm testing whether you're honest."

Youji sighed again. "Crabapple... and... jonquil."

Orange brows lifted. "You're good, I'll credit you. How about Hidaka?"

"Ken...?" A light laugh. He thought it over. "Sakura bark."

"Even you can't think of a brown flower, hm?"

"Not a natural one..."

"What about yourself?"

"Don't be stupid."

"Hn." Schuldich toyed thoughtfully with a lock of glossy, chestnut hair. "Fujimiya." He felt the lean body beside him stiffen, but the answer was immediate.

"Hibiscus, orchid, Casablanca lily."

"Ho~" A nasal chuckle. "He gets three and I get one? I'm jealous."

"Ah."

"I thought you would say rose, for the hair. It's his favourite arrangement, too, isn't it?"

Youji's voice was low, all earlier humour gone from it. "You don't know me very well."

"Is that right?"

"Aya is... not a rose."

"But I'm a Bird of Paradise." Schuldich snorted. "You Japanese make no sense to me. Saa, Kudou, why isn't he a rose? Hm? Kudou?"

Youji failed to answer. Not a single word more escaped his lips that night, not even when Schuldich took him, twice, and hard, to make him talk. Not afterwards when the redhead finally slumped over him in exhaustion, nor at dawn when the German finally departed, growling a farewell at his lover's back.

"The Bird of Paradise," a low voice whispered into the slowly lightening room. "Is bright, exotic and doesn't grow in Japan. It's beautiful, but all its colours mean danger."

Light spilled down over the windowsill through a slim gap between the curtains, creeping across the floor and up over the bed in a yellow bar across the dusk-mired room.

Youji pulled the sheets up over his face, curling into the warm spot left empty in the bed.

"Hibiscus is..."

--Utopian Trunks, January 30th, 2001

On to Chapter 1: The Door
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