Over Coffee

The fire escape outside the Koneko was one of Yohji’s favourite places for a late-night cigarette. He always had to remember to keep the door propped open, though, because it locked automatically when shut and couldn’t be opened from the outside. Omi had suggested that he take his keys with him when going for a cigarette, just in case, but to Yohji’s mind it was a bit ridiculous to take his keys with him when he was going outside for a ciggy. Of course, this had its drawbacks. Like when a cat startled him just as he was searching for something to prop the door open with, leading to him letting go and being unable to catch it before it swung shut with a very final ‘clang!’ “Well . . . fuck,” Yohji announced to the night air. Then he shrugged and lit a cigarette. He was still sitting on the stairs and smoking half an hour later, when Aya’s Porsche slid into its parking space near the foot of the stairs. “Oi, Aya, wait!” Yohji called down to him, quickly running down the stairs. Aya paused next to the Porsche, watching as Yohji ran down the stairs, his boots clanging on the metal. “Can you let me in?” Yohji asked when he neared the other man, grinning sheepishly. “I’ve locked myself out.” Aya shrugged. “All right.” “Thanks,” Yohji said, following his teammate to the back door. “You want a cup of coffee? I’m going to make myself one.” “Okay,” Aya said quietly, unlocking the door and walking inside. Yohji frowned at his back, wondering about the slightly defeated tone to his voice. He knew better than to mention it, however, and began busying himself with a couple of mugs and the kettle. Aya accepted his mug without comment on the fact that Yohji knew exactly how he took it, and sat at the kitchen table staring into space. Yohji shrugged to himself and flopped into the chair opposite, taking a gulp from his mug of coffee and grimacing as it burnt his tongue. He’d finished the mug and was washing it in the sink when Aya finally spoke. “What do you do when . . . when someone you care about is in a – is ill, and the doctors keep saying they don’t think there’s any hope?” Yohji paused, then reached for a towel and leaned against the counter, drying his hands and looking at Aya’s bowed head. It shocked him more than a little that Aya had voluntarily given up some information about himself, but just from looking at the man Yohji knew better than to comment on it. “I think all you can do is remind yourself that doctors don’t know everything,” he said after a long moment. It wasn’t enough, so Yohji took a deep breath and decided to take a chance. “And you know them pretty well, right? So you have to ask yourself whether they would give up. Because we’re all living proof that stubbornness can see you through anything.” For a moment, Aya said nothing, sitting motionless with his head bowed. Then he murmured, “Thank you,” and lifted the mug to his lips. Yohji grinned and left the kitchen, wandering upstairs. It was nice to be right.

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