Remedy of the Heart

Created: 12-11-07

REMEDY OF THE HEART

“You are sick, Ryuuzaki.”

L tried in vain to stifle a cough and a sniff as he reached over to drink his usual intake of uber sugar-coated red tea. One thing he did not like was being sick. The great teen-genius detective L does not get sick. He would not let Raito have the satisfactory of proving him otherwise.

“I am not sick, Yagami-kun. I am perfectly sane,” L replied indignantly as he sipped his tea, his eyes transfixed onto the computer screen, his mind not exactly into the task. Raito saw through the façade and grabbed the porcelain cup of tea away from his thumb and index finger that held it.

“You are sick, Ryuuzaki,” Raito said as he placed the cup far from L’s reach. “And I meant it in a physical sense, though I do not doubt that your mind could be any further from that matter.”

“Yagami-kun, that’s insult on my part,” L gave Raito a pouty look, his eyebrow-less eyes staring grudgingly at him. Raito could see perfectly clear the dark circles under his eyes getting larger and darker, threatening to blind him. His nose was red and his usual pale skin was actually sporting pink due to a slight fever, and also the fact that L was trying so hard to mask his cough by constantly making small clearing noises of the throat was evidence that L was far from tip-top shape.

“You are sick, and you will take a break from all this Kira business,” Raito said as he tugged at the chain that linked both teens together. “I will not be a victim of your infectious flu!”

“How very Kira-like of you,” L grinned in his own sly way. “For all we know, you could’ve infected me with the flu first so that I will be forced to take a break from investigating Kira. I think I’ll pass.”

“If I had infected you with flu, I have to have flu in the first place now, don’t I? And I assure you, I haven’t had the sniffles since junior high.”

“Who knows? Kira had always known to be a master in hiding. You could be hiding your flu symptoms right this very minute.”

“Unfortunately I’ll have to disappoint you on that,” Raito said as he wounded a bit of the chain in his palm and, with a harsh jerk, pulled L off his chair, causing him to fall on his ass.

“Ouch, that hurts, Yagami-kun,” L said in his usual neutral tone as he rubbed his throbbing butt. He was lucky that the investigation team had retired for the day and have went back to their respective homes, so they would not have to see L in his vulnerable state. But then again, he never really cared much about his own image anyway, unlike his narcissist of a partner, who practically spent hours just doing his hair. He did and acted as he like, as long as he gave the government a fruitful result to any investigation provided him. He sometimes find it amusing that some of the government staff who were ignorant about his existence assumed him to be much older than he was. Some even went as far as guessing that he was a middle-aged man with a possible beer belly.

His musings were broken when he felt himself being dragged across the floor towards the kitchen. Being dragged by one arm ached a little, so L grabbed the remainder of the chain and began resisting.
“Where are you taking me, Yagami-kun?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Or have your flu caused you to lose your sense of sight as well?” Raito grumble as he, too, used his other hand to pull the remainder of his side of the chain and continued dragging him. A tug-of-war ensued.

“But why the kitchen, Yagami-kun?”

“I am going to give you medicine for your flu, that’s why.”

“But I don’t want to eat medicine.”

“It’s for your own good, Ryuuzaki. Do you want to die of pneumonia?”

“Flu does not cause pneumonia.”

“At this rate, it just might. Now come on, Ryuuzaki.”

“But I don’t like medicine. They’re bitter and yucky and not sweet.”

“You have to eat it, whether you like it or not.”

“You can’t make me,” L glared, determined not to be taken to the kitchen. If L was afraid of anything besides being proven that Death Gods and the world of supernatural exists (since the finding of the 2nd Kira and her mentions of Death Gods), medicine was definitely his kryptonite.

“Oh, yes, I can,” Raito gave him a challenging glare. As a boy-genius and thrill-seeker, he was not one to back down from challenges and dares. L replied his glare with a “Try!” look.

Without warning, Raito grabbed L by the waist, picked him up without much effort (due to the fact that L is inhumanly light for a person who devours sweets like eating rice) and hoisted him onto his shoulder. Ignoring L’s protests and kicking of feet, he made his way to the kitchen, slammed the door shut and forced him onto a tall stool nearby the stove as he started walking towards the fridge to look for the ingredients needed to make his medicine.

“Yagami-kun is mean,” L grumbled as he sucked the tip of his thumb, reluctantly allow himself to be defeated for the moment. “I’ll have you know that your actions deserved another few more percentage in my ratings of you being Kira.”

“What does wanting the best of your health have to do with me being Kira? And for the gazillionth time, I am not Kira,” Raito said as he took out a box of rock sugar, pears, a jar of honey, a lime, a bottle of paprika and some other spices, a pot, a ladle and a few plates from their respective cupboards and the fridge, and laid them all on the counter.

“What are you doing, Yagami-kun?” L stared at all the ingredients and utensils on the kitchen counter, reaching over for the jar of honey and the box of rock sugar but was reprimanded by Raito’s warning whack of the wooden ladle. “I thought you were going to force feed me with medicine.”

“Well, since you have the habit of branding me percentage ratings of my Kira possibility with every harsh move I make, I’ve decided to go for the softer approach. It’s an age-old remedy passed down from my great-grandmother to her daughters, and since my mother had always been more of the rebellious sort during her younger age, she decided to break the tradition and pass it down to me instead, what with me being the favourite child of the family and all.”

“Guess being a tensai does have its perks,” L commented as he sat in his usual pose: feet on the stool with his knees close to his chest, back hunched, dead fish eyes wide open and thumb in his mouth as he watched Raito did his thing.

First, Raito boiled some water in the pot and waited for it to be hot enough before scooping rock sugar one by one into it and stirred until it melted. He continued this way until the water looks thick enough, then turned the fire off and let it stand. While the water cooled, he used a knife to cut the top of the pears and scooped out some of the flesh inside until it resembled a sort of cavity within. He took a tiny pinch of paprika and sprinkled it into the cavity and did the same with the other spices. He allowed L to reach over to take the pear flesh he scooped out and put in a bowl, and even passed him the spoon he used for scooping to use.

“Yagami-kun?” L suddenly broke the silence as he ate the pear flesh.

“Hai, Ryuuzaki?” Raito responded, not looking up from his activity.

“When was the last time you got sick again?”

“Junior high.”

“Was it very bad?”

“Yes, you can say it was a bitch.”

As he used his fingers to smear the spices he just sprinkled in onto the walls of the cavity of the pear, he began to tell the tale of his junior high years when he had his flu. It was the worse flu he had ever had. At first he started off feeling nauseous, but he dismissed it as being a stomach bug as he was too busy studying for his finals to be worrying about petty health disturbances. When he started losing his appetite and vomiting every time he even drank something, his parents were worried and his sister teased him of being pregnant. The doctor diagnosed him to be having a minor gastric problem due to the stress of exams and gave him some medicine to take for it. The vomiting continued occasionally, but he managed to handle it by eating as less as possible and eating his meds on time.

When he thought it was over and done with, the constant vomiting had caused him to have a sore throat due burns from stomach acids that he would occasionally regurgitate. It was so hard for him to swallow or eat any solids, and he had so much soft food like porridge, noodles and oatmeal during that period that he’d rather not eat anything at all. The sore throat infection then led to the worst fever he had ever experienced and for the first time in his entire schooling life, he actually took a week-long sick leave and his father actually made the call to school to ask them to give him a later date to sit for his finals. During that week-long sick leave, he was bedridden with the nastiest phlegm-full cough and the most annoying stuffed nose that forced him to use the nose-inhaler almost every hour by the hour. He would sometimes take the opportunity to make some last minute study, but most of the time his mother would forbid him to stress his brain to speed up the healing process.

That and also his mother’s family remedy for all flu ailments.

“Your mother sure dotes on you a lot, Yagami-kun.”

“She does have her perks sometimes,” Raito smiled a little at the memory where his mother sat there and watched as Raito tries to finish his mother’s flu remedy.

“How effective is this family remedy of yours, Yagami-kun?”

“Usually it takes about 2 to 3 days before your symptoms finally subside, but in my case back then, because of the severity of the situation, it took me 2 remedies and about 5 days.”

So saying, Raito took the jar of honey and, with a teaspoon, took a spoonful of honey and poured it into the bottom of the pears’ cavity, forming a sort of thin layer in the bottom. He then took the lime, cut it in half, took the first half and squeezed a little of the juice into the pears before taking the other half of the lime and squeezed it a little juice into the sugar water. He replaced the cut tops of the pears onto its original position and put them in one by one into the water. L looked into the pot to see the pears quarterly submerged into the sugar water and licked his lips, tempted to dip his finger in and taste it.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Raito said as he pushed L lightly away and turned on the stove, covering the pot with its lid. “Not until it’s ready.”

“When will it be ready?” L asked, again disappointed for being denied his favourite treat.

“In about,” Raito looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall, “6 hours time. Now, it’s your turn to be bedridden.”

Without even giving the young detective a chance to protest, Raito, again, hoisted L onto his shoulder and brought him up the to bedroom they shared ever since they started this confinement period. L, probably too tired to fight, just slumped as he allowed Raito, his greatest friend and rival, to manhandle him. With one hand reaching for the cooler pads, Raito put L onto the bed, tore out a cooler pad and stuck it onto L’s forehead.

“Be a good boy just this once and stay still,” Raito said as he sat on the other side of the bed, watching him like his mother watched him when he refused to do what he’s told when he’s sick.

“You’re not my father,” L mumbled grudgingly, sucking at his thumb. “You don’t tell me around. Watari does.”

“Well, Watari isn’t here for the moment, is he? He had to go on some personal business at London, remember? And since when have you ever actually listened to him?”

L remembered, but did not want to admit that he remembered because he was reminded by the possible Kira. He turned with his back facing him and continued to suck and nibble his thumb like a little child, memories of Watari telling him last night that he had to go back to London to settle some stuff at the Wammy’s House. L left the information on Wammy’s House out though, when he told Raito Watari will be going to London for a few days. Wammy’s House was the only solace he had ever found closer to his heart and it was his personal haven. He did not want some stranger, no matter how close, to know this place he was both proud and ashamed of. Proud because it was his home and the place that him who he is today, but ashamed because it was the place that reminded him of his parents who had forsaken him to.

L couldn’t remember the last time he was sick. He had no time to be sick. All his life, he was submerged in a world where humans are at their worst and it was his job to bring them to justice. Ever since he was diagnosed as a genius, his caretakers wasted no time into putting his mind to its full potential. Advance education where only the great minds of scholars can comprehend were drilled into his brain as he was home-schooled to perfection, graduating high school at an age where he should frolicking around with his 9-year-old peers. Files upon files stacked up before him in mountainous proportion and he had to solve each and every one of them. Most of them, he did it with ease, but some of the tricky ones required him to squeeze his brain juice a little to get just the right amount of deduction to catch the criminal. The whole world’s burden seemed to weigh on his shoulder and relied on him to make things right. He remembered getting a headache or two due to his lack of sleep, or maybe a backache once or twice when he hunched or slouched too much, but anything worse than that, he managed to ignore them and pretended that it didn’t exist in his system at all.

Watari, during his servitude to him, was as fatherly as possible to him: bringing him his sugary meals, reminding him to eat decent food once in a while and would sometimes check on him to see if he was both physically and mentally well. Even though sometimes he could tell that L was sick, but knowing L can handle a little health complications, he left him be and never spoke of it unless L mentioned it, which he rarely does. He was a parent, a caretaker, a baby-sitter, a butler, a messenger all in one. He had done his part well. But unfortunately, as providing as he was, he still wasn’t related to L in flesh and blood, and even though he had done his part very well, there was still something missing. He hated to admit it, but even though he was surrounded by people who looked up to him as the genius teen detective and by Watari who catered his every whim and fancy, he still felt a little lonely.

Now here he was, sick with the flu, at the worst state he had ever been—probably the first time in his entire life—and the last person he wanted to see him this vulnerable was Raito Yagami a.k.a. ‘possible’ Kira. No, not ‘possible’ Kira, a ‘definite’ Kira, it’s just that he needed more concrete evidence to prove him so. He barely believed that Raito had nothing to do with the Kira killings, even though he saw it in his eyes during his captivity in the cell that he wasn’t lying, and the fact that Detective Yagami didn’t die despite the fact that he threatened to kill both Raito and Misa-Misa in that fake act in attempts to prove his theory, and there was no way he’d believe him again. Raito’s demeanor changes as much as a chameleon changes colour, and even though Raito is telling the truth about his innocence on this case, he wasn’t taking any chances or lowering his guard. And yet now…
“You asleep, Ryuuzaki?” Raito asked in a rather soft tone, breaking L’s musing.

“No,” L replied. “I don’t need sleep.”

“Well, for this case, you have to,” Raito said as he slowly flipped L over so that the pale boy was facing him. “Go on, close your eyes. I’m going to make sure you at least get some sleep.”

“Just because Watari isn’t here, doesn’t mean you’re the boss of me, Yagami-kun,” L complained. He had never felt so much in bad shape before and he was surprised at the nasty tone he gave Raito. Raito didn’t even flinch.

“It’s the flu talking. Go to sleep, Ryuuzaki.”

“I’m not a child.”

“If you are going to behave like one, I’ll have to treat you like one. Now go to sleep. No ‘buts’.”

So saying, Raito started patting his butt as he hummed what sounded like a lullaby. L was taken aback. Raito was really true to his words: he was treating him like a child who threw a tantrum and refused to go to bed! He can tell the amusement in his copper-brown eyes as he watched him vigilantly, his lips creased in a small smile as the lullaby music escaped from them and his hand continued patting his butt in time with the music. L tried to give him an annoyed look, willing him to go away, but somewhere inside him knew that Raito was not going to back down from a puny challenge like that. He was definitely someone who always gets his way one way or another.

‘Another percentage added,’ he thought as he tried to fight the sleepiness that was creeping into his system. The flu and his insistence to stay alert despite his failing body were taking a toll on him, and the lullaby was so soothing and the patting so reassuring. Was this what he often did at home when he helped his mother baby-sit his sister? He had shown much care to his sister before during the times when he had his house bugged to spy on his daily routines, and he could tell that they were quite close. Who’s to say that he hadn’t had his share of looking after his sister when she was younger?
As he continued to wonder what possible ‘talents’ Kira had, his eyes began to flutter shut…

--:--

“…zaki? Ryuuzaki?”

L slowly opened his eyes, only to meet copper-brown ones staring back at him. He slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep off his eyes.

“What is it, Yagami-kun?”

“Sorry to wake you, but it’s time to eat your medicine.”

It didn’t take him long to register that Raito’s so-called ‘family remedy’ was still being brewed in the kitchen.

“Is it 6 hours already?”

“Mmhmm. Come along now.”

Rubbing his toes together, he got off the bed slowly and walked behind Raito without protest into the kitchen. Raito made his way towards the stove and turned it off, then uncover the pot to check on the pears. White steam came out as soon as he lifted the lid, and L could smell a mix between burnt and boiled sugar emitted out of the pot. Raito filled quarter of the kitchen sink with running water before putting on his kitchen mittens and carried the pot and put it into the water to cool. Carefully, he took out the pears one by one and put it onto a plate. With the ladle, Raito scooped a bit of the sugar water in the pot, lifted the pear top and poured it into the cavity, and did the same with the rest of the pears. After replacing the top back on, he carried the plate of pears and placed it onto the counter in front of L.

“Here, Ryuuzaki, your medicine. Make sure you finish it.”

L looked warily at the pears. He saw that the originally green pears had turned brown due to the humidity of the brewing and could tell that the flesh within also suffered the same fate. Prodding it with his finger, the pears felt soft and a little soggy, and it dented at the slightest touch. It was almost as fragile as a strawberry. With his usual sitting pose, he continued to stare at the pears, not moving an inch, studying them feverishly as he stifled another cough and sniff.

“Go on, Ryuuzaki. It’s not going to kill you, I assure you.”

Staring skeptically at Raito’s reassuring look, L reached over to take one of the pear tops and, holding onto the stem, popped the flesh into his mouth. Within seconds, his eyes actually widened as big as the time when he listened to the copy of tapes made by the 2nd Kira and her talks of Death Gods and notebooks. Both his hands flew to his mouth and he immediately toppled off the stool and onto the solid marble floor, dragging Raito along with him. Both of them fell with a loud thud and while Raito nursed his possibly bruised arm, L was seen on the floor, tossing and turning as his hands continued to hold onto his mouth. He looked as if he wanted to puke and was trying to hold it in, and his eyes continued to have the wide bewildered look, his face actually going from pink to a slight red.

“Oi, Ryuuzaki,” Raito said as he moved towards L. “Daijobu ka?”

“You…You really are…trying to…poison me…” L barely breathed his muffled words out.

“What do you mean? It’s just medicine.”

“It’s so…so…so…”

“So what, Ryuuzaki?”

“So…So…It’s so…”

“I don’t have all day, Ryuuzaki.”

“So…sweet…”

Upon hearing those words coming out of L’s mouth, Raito couldn’t contain himself. He threw his head back and laughed the loudest and longest laugh of amusement he had ever did in his entire life as L continued to writhed around the floor, forcing himself to swallow the pear top and spitting out the stem. By the time he recovered from his ordeal, Raito was trying to catch his breath after laughing out loud for so long.

“I see you find my predicament very amusing, Yagami-kun,” L said as he glared at his rival with a vengeance.

“So…Sorry…” Raito replied breathlessly. “It’s just that…it’s actually…funny to hear the L saying that his food is sweet when he eats nothing but sweets.”

“I am not fooling around, Yagami-kun. That thing,” L said as he pointed an accusing finger at the offending pears, “is too sweet.”

“Finally met your match, eh, Ryuuzaki’s taste buds?” Raito grinned as he picked them both up off the floor. “Reminds me of the time I reacted the same way as you, but not as dramatically.”

“You too?”

“Why do you think I don’t like sweet stuff and declined your every offer?”

L stole a glance at the pears and looked away, “I’m not eating those anymore.”

“Unfortunately if you want to get better and not wanting to hear the rest of the team bugging you to see a doctor, you might as well get it over and done with.”

He was right. Oh, how he hated it when Raito was right. He could imagine not hearing the end of it, especially the overzealous but underappreciated Matsuda hounding him to no end about the importance of physical health in an investigation and pestering Watari to take him to see a doctor, not to mention the rest of the team, and Detective Yagami, who had been the leader and father figure of the entire team, who most probably want L to be in tip-top shape less he infected everyone around them, including his equivalent half Raito Yagami.

With an inward sigh, he marched towards the plate of pears and started devouring them very slowly, wincing once in a while as the over-sweetness of it all bombarded his taste buds. While he ate, he asked, “I don’t see how sugar can cure my flu.”

“To be honest, I have only assumptions,” Raito shrugged as he admitted. “I suppose the fruit itself, along with the lime juice I squeezed is for the Vitamin C to counterattack and subdue the flu while the overdose of sugar is to overflow the senses and start up the body to work extra hard to digest and dilute the sugar, and at the same time give it strength and boost the immune system to fight the flu. The spices are to stimulate the blood flow and the digestive systems. But then again, I could be wrong. Who knows what people of the olden days thought about medicinal remedies?”

“I’m going to look up on it as soon as I get better.”

“Finally admitting you’re sick, aren’t you?”

“Please do not rub it in, Yagami-kun.”

As soon as he done eating, he pushed the plate towards Raito like it was something very offensive, looking away as he tried to hold back his face of disgust. Raito poured him a glass of water to wash the taste down and washed the plate and the pot before directing his attention back to L.

“Time for bed again. And I promise you the next time you wake up it won’t be for another dose of medicine again.”

L quietly let himself be led to the bedroom and be tucked into bed again. Somehow the overdose of sugar was making him rather lethargic. He wanted to continue on the Kira case, but right now, the Kira case can be damned and go to hell. He never felt like this before when he ate other sugary food, but this seemed to cut the cake. He barely was able to contain his yawn as Raito lay beside him again and watched him like before. I guess that’s how little kids feel after having too much sugar and go hyperactive all day, L thought as he nibbled his thumb.

“Yagami-kun?”

“What is it, Ryuuzaki?”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Why do you ask?” Raito raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“You put so much effort into making me better,” L said, not looking directly at him. “You got me off the case for a moment, brewed medicine for me, made me rest, made me eat my medicine, and now this. Why? After all my suspicions towards you and my blatant accusation, you still did the things you did just now. Not even Watari made such an effort. Why?”

“Why? The same reason why you’re my friend.”

“Friend?”

“Remember where we first met? You told me that I was your first friend, and that you liked me to a point. I didn’t lie when I said I feel the same way too and that I’m happy to be your first friend. This is what friends do, Ryuuzaki. They care for each other.”

L stared back at Raito with a slight shock in his eyes. Friend? Care? This is what friends do? Never in his life had he ever heard such statement. He had never had a friend, thus claimed Raito to be his first and only friend whom he can converse as an equal, but he continued to hold his reserves for fear of him being who he really is and never gave a thought about truly treating him like a real friend. He found it hard to believe such notion from the boy he continuously suspected without a moment’s rest. He had to be lying. He had to! He just wanted his guard down and make him trust him wholeheartedly, just this once. He searched Raito’s eyes for any sign of deceit in his words and surprisingly found none. He closed his slightly welled-up eyes and let his bangs hide them from Raito, not wanting him to see his tears of denial and defeat, and the hint of vulnerability and shameful sadness.

“You’re just saying that,” L said, masking his choked voice.

“No, I’m not. Now go to sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Raito went back to fatherly mode as he hummed the lullaby again and pat his butt to make him sleep. L smiled inwardly as he let his tears flow and stain the bed, his bangs still hiding them from the ‘definite’, no, ‘possible’ Kira. It wouldn’t hurt being a child again, if it’s only for a day. It does feel nice to not be in control for once. If all doubts of Raito being Kira be cleared 100 percent, and that he was not the person he feared to truly be, he could get used to this treatment.

As L let the Dream World to return once again to harbour him into whatever La La Land it may take him, he could’ve sworn he felt Raito’s peck on his forehead.

Dancing Queen

Created: 12-4-07

DANCING QUEEN

“Illust-chan! Another round of diet coke for the ladies here!”

“Coming!”

I was struck out of my muse by Big Bob and quickly went back to my job as I was hired to do. Big Bob—the fat tub of lard—gave me a disapproving look and I gave him the I-know-I’m-sorry look before pouring a round of diet cokes to those dumb blonde Paris-look-alikes who were sitting at the bar wearing something so skimpy, you’d think they would rather wear thread than cover their already overexposed bosoms. As I clean the glasses to be used for the next batch of customers, I could hear them talking about him.

“So? Were you lucky this time?”

“Nope. Still pays no freakin’ attention to me.”

“I told you he’s gay!”

“It still doesn’t hurt trying. Maybe I can even convert him back to straight, or at least settle with bi.”
“You are so desperate, girl. You need to get out more!”

I don’t need to ask to know that they are talking about the Dancing Queen, who is right there at the DDR 5th Mix dance machine, stomping away like it’s nobody’s business. Yes, everyone knows he’s a guy. His body screams masculine with testosterones between his legs, but his face, though in first glance you can tell that he’s all male, if you ever get a chance to look closer, he has certain quality features that made him look…slightly feminine as well. His soft sad smile, his piercing jade-green eyes framed by perfectly round, thin glasses, his arms as he moves to the beat and his legs as he lands his feet onto the dance pods accurately to every beat of the arrow shown on the dance screen, all of them spelled a woman in a man’s body. He was more towards beautiful, not handsome, thus earned the name Dancing Queen.

To tell the truth he had more nicknames that could put secret agents like James Bond or Ethan Hunt to shame, ranging from Snow Princess to Green-Eyed Angel to Quicksilver to Prancing Feet. But ‘Dancing Queen’ was the most popular, and through time, it seemed to stick. Since the first time he came 3 years ago into this exclusive invite-only arcade pub Big Bob take much pride in being the owner of, his presence alone made a deep set impression to men and women alike. No one knows how he managed to become a member of Honeydukes Arcadia Pub—usually people of the high-ups are the ones who can only have access to all the state-of-the-art gaming systems, some not even out in the market (or never will be due to controversial reasons), and allow themselves to drink themselves silly after a long night of gaming—and he didn’t seem to look like someone they know from their rich, born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-the-mouth society, but as soon as he set foot into his blasting noisy surroundings, he turned heads with his absolutely delectable built and deep-set eyes as he made his way through the crowd, chewing his gum and ignoring everyone’s stares. I can still remember the clothes he wore the first time he came into Honeydukes, even though it’s been 3 years: a tight body-fit sleeveless vest, leather pants that were sinfully wrapped around the shape of his nether regions and a pair of boots you’d only see worn by kids categorized in the Goth or punk section.

As soon as he flashed his membership card to Big Bob, asking for his number of game tokens, I could tell by his eyes that he was a cold and unapproachable demeanor that nobody could touch or get close to. He was not proud or haughty like some rich kids I served, or lecherous either. In fact, he was very polite and had the decency not to stare at my sorry excuse for a bartender uniform (it looks more like the cat suit some otaku-s have fetishes on, and I suspect Big Bob being one of them), and would smile whenever we make eye contact. But if you looked into his green eyes, you saw that despite its sparkle, it was cold as ice, and built behind an invisible frozen wall so thick, no one alive or dead can penetrate it. When he dances on that dance machine, every eye in the place is instinctively drawn to him. Everyone notices him because of his ironically masculine beauty with a touch of femininity, and his dexterous, larger-than-life dancing, with an air of mystery as well, like trying to keep a child guessing what’s behind closed doors. His membership card bore the name ‘Bree Underhill’, but we all know that’s his fake name. But then again, some of our high-class customers come in using a pseudonym for a member name for privacy purposes, and we didn’t mind, as long as they got money on the table for us.

He comes in every weekend from Friday to Sunday exactly at 6pm and leaves at 2.30am sharp. Not a minute less, not a minute more. No one knows why he does that or why he comes here either. Not even I, who have served him throughout the 3 years, know what secret lies behind his strict regime and religious appearances. Back then, when he first started showing up, he made it sure to everyone that the DDR machines belonged to him and no one else, at least for a couple of hours and breaks for drinks in between. He had tried all the other games at least once, but the DDR machines were always his main target. We have a section where we lined up all different mixes of DDR, from the first generation of DDR to the latest ones like Supernova and Dance Mania and Dormax, and that was his personal haven. He started off rather stumbling at first, trying out all the songs under the Basic Level, ignoring all the stares and teasing giggles from the audiences whenever he made a mistake or ended up failing the game. When he finally got the hang of all the songs in Basic Level, he moved on to Trick Level, then finally to Maniac Level. That was his regime whenever he tried a new DDR machine. Soon he becomes the ruler of all DDR dancers, and, as soon as he arrives at the DDR machines section, picks any DDR machine depending on his mood and immediately deposits his tokens and chooses his song under Maniac Level, and from there, starts stomping away like it was nobody’s business. After he had his hour-filled of entertainment, he would pass by all the awed spectators with a shoulder colder than the North Pole and headed to my side to ask for his usual drinks. From his facial features and built, I can tell that he had been through a lot of trials and tribulation, and had seen more awful and nightmarish things than an old war veteran. I can tell that he had done something rather horrible and he had experienced something traumatic, but no one is brave or idiotic enough to ask him what happened and try to break him out of the invisible prison he caught himself in.

As soon as his list of songs end, he gets off and moves his way as fluidly as drinking water towards the bar where I am. I don’t know why he personally picked me to serve him and not Big Bob or Chatty Charlotte (we call her that for obvious reasons), but I was happy to oblige.

“The usual, please,” he asks in that quiet way of his that would even make the coldest of women or men’s heart melt and every other person’s spine tingle and swoon. He didn’t need to ask twice. My hands automatically starts moving on its own, making his usual gin tonic and soda whiskey, with a thin slice of lemon in his gin and a dash of cherry in his whiskey. He always says please and tips me five bucks even though sometimes I would say that it’s on the house, and he never orders any other drinks despite the multi-coloured bottles and vials around us that would give better booze kick than what he has every weekend night.

He may look like a harmless kid who just wants to get by his night and enjoy his games but from that vividly shocking night 2 years ago, I can tell you that he was definitely no monkey business. One thing I learnt from the Dancing Queen was that you can comment on anything except his lightning bolt birthmark that was the cream of the crop of his masculine-feminine features. It stood out almost like a scar and whoever dared to lay their eyes a second longer on them would earn his famous cutting edge glare that could send you to a thousand deaths and back again in an instant. It was as if the birthmark was reserved for a certain someone’s eyes and no one else.

As I was saying, the incident 2 years ago was the moment I realized that the Dancing Queen was not someone you can mess with easily. It all started with some punk who decided to brave it and challenge him into a dance-off. He approached the Dormax 6th Mix the same time as the Dancing Queen and gave him eye contact, telling him that he’s gonna show him what he got. The Dancing Queen just shrugged, dropped the tokens in and stood onto the dance pod, waiting for him to catch up. They picked some of the most famous songs from Dormax 6th Mix like Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Bumble Bee and a Japanese song I couldn’t recall the title of, and chose Maniac Level and started dancing away. The punk stumbled a bit, but overall, while the Dancing Queen scored his perfect S grade, he scraped by with a C or a B grade, and his band of friends cheered him on happily. The punk, encouraged by his friends, braved himself to ask if the Dancing Queen would consider him and asked if he’d like a drink on him. I thought the Dancing Queen was finally opening up and turning the key on the lock of his invisible prison as he shrugged half-heartedly and followed after the punk towards my direction, leaving behind a group of Dancing Queen’s not-so-secret admirers with their jaws threatening to hit the floor and the punk’s band of misfits giving high-fives to each other at their wake.

But then, just when everything was going on fine as they chatted and I poured them their drinks, the punk, and then the whole pub, soon realized that the “harmless” teen was truly an ice-statue with a secret fire burning like hell within. I had watched as the punk suddenly reached up with his finger carelessly stroking his lightning bolt birthmark as he questioned about it. The dumbass never knew what hit him. He immediately held the punk in a death grip and, like those people in those chink movies, threw him off his chair in a somersault that would rival the best of gymnast alike, ramming his back so hard onto the floor, you’d swear it was broken. Without even a chance for the punk to get up, he slammed his foot onto his gut and put pressure on it as he voiced his words through clenched teeth one by one, the words I would remember for the rest of my life.

“Do. Not. Touch. My. Birth. Mark.”

Needless to say, no one dared to even think of looking at the birthmark and the poor punk had to be hospitalized with a broken neck, a mild concussion and a bruised gut.

A quartet comes in about two hours after the Dancing Queen got his drinks. Three rather good looking men and woman and one man rather out-of-place, for the fact. The woman, with her reddish-brown hair and chocolate eyes, is with the awkward redhead freckled man and she is persuading him to come and try out the Area 51 shooting game, in which the man refused. The other two men, one with that ebony-black wild hair and out-of-this-world handsome look, and the other, who had milk chocolate for hair and amber eyes, are obviously lovers as they seem to be stuck together like glue. Everyone seemed to be unsuccessfully discreet as they discussed about them, trying in vain to point at them secretly and whispering at each other’s ear as they stole a glance once in a while. The way they were going at it, it seemed that despite their bikerboy—and girl—looks, the quartet before me must be someone of great importance.

Not to mention Big Bob acknowledged them with a round of the most expensive cocktails on the house.

“How do you do, Master Black, Master Lupin? My, my, Mistress Granger, you and Master Weasley look stunning tonight!”

“Thanks, Big Bob,” the woman named Mistress Granger smiled as she took her cocktail and clinked glasses with the rest of the quartet before continuing, “Business raving as usual, Big Bob?”

“Oh, you’re too kind, Mistress. Business is just same old, same old,” Big Bob chuckled. “Oh, here comes Master Snape now!”

The quartet turned as they watched someone moved up to the bar. He had an expressionless look on his face, like a cold statue with a porcelain mask on his face, and his skin was rather sallow. His shoulder-length hair hung and framed his face almost perfectly and despite his hooked nose, he was almost handsome in his own mature way. He was wearing a sort of body-hugging attire that was blacker than a star-less midnight sky and covered 90 percent of his body except his hands. He nodded in acknowledgement at the quartet’s greeting wave and sat far away from them, but not before giving them a glare that looked kind of familiar with his tunnel-dark eyes when the quartet gestured him to join them.

“Poor guy,” the man called Master Black lamented. “He still hadn’t gotten over that incident.”

“Yeah,” Big Bob agreed as he stole a look at the seemingly forlorn aura Master Snape gave out despite his expressionless face. “It’s not always something like this happen on your wedding day.”

“Sorry to pry but,” Chatty Charlotte’s curiosity over their conversation never fails to get to her. “what did happen to Master Snape?”

“He was supposed to get married on Christmas Eve a few years ago,” Master Lupin replied. “It was the happiest day of his life, until Lucius appeared.”

“Yeah,” Master Weasley agreed with a grudge. “That bloke who loves no one but himself had the galls to show up before the wedding ceremony to tell Snape that he was sorry for dumping him for Narcissa and actually kissed him in front of everyone! What I’d give to kick his sorry ass right now!”

“We decided to break the midwives’ rule about not meeting the groom before wedding and sneak into the groom’s room,” Mistress Granger continued. “We caught him in the act. Harry was so shocked and felt so betrayed he locked himself in the toilet and down a bottle of detergent that was lying around. He was hospitalized and had his stomach pumped, but as soon as he regained consciousness, he disappeared. That was the last time anyone had seen him.”

“Guess I can understand him being the runaway bride for a reason,” I commented, feeling rather sorry for Master Snape who is right now having his back towards the bar, looking at all the other people playing away in their games like a bunch of escaped lunatics.

“And you girls have heard enough,” Big Bob said as he pushed me and Chatty Charlotte away. “Illust-chan, go tend to Master Snape and tell him that drinks are on the house.”

Grumbling in protests, I walked over to Master Snape and called out to him, “Welcome to Honeydukes, Master Snape. May I take your order?”

“Thank you, barkeep,” he replied in a rather perfect English accent as he turned around. “I would like to have a gin tonic with a slice of lemon and a soda whiskey with a dash of cherry, please.”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” I exclaimed, feeling as if I’m experiencing dejavu. “You ordered the same drinks just like him!”

“Just like who?”

“Only our most regular customer, the Dancing Queen! He comes in every weekend, and always orders the set of drinks you just ordered.”

“Dancing Queen? You got a real name behind that? And why Dancing Queen if he’s a boy?”

“Everybody calls him that. Dunno why. Probably because of his almost feminine look that is almost beautiful than he should be handsome. And because he’s like the Queen of the DDR machines over there,” I say as I point towards the DDR machines. “He rules that territory. He dances alone, drinks alone, never let any advances towards him, never really talks to anyone, but he just keeps coming back for some reason. You should see the way he dances; you’d swear his feet never touch the ground…”

“Is he here now?!”

Somehow, the cold mask he wore suddenly broke, and in its place was a rather panicky one, the colour of pink rushing up to his sallow cheeks. I checked my digital watch and saw that it is coming to 4.30am.

“Sorry, Master Snape. I’m afraid you missed him. He always leave at 2.30am sharp,” I replied with a shrug, then realize something and turn to Chatty Charlotte, asking, “Hey, Chat, what day is it today?”
“It’s Friday today,” she replied after taking a glance at our digital calendar on the bar wall. “Wassup, Illust-chan?”

“Nothing,” I shook my head, then turned back to Master Snape and said, “Well, he always show up during weekends, so since today is Friday, there is a definite possibility he’ll show up tomorrow Saturday at 6pm sharp. But I’d suggest you lay off challenging him to dance. The last one ended up being more than just an out-patient.”

“Is there something distinctive you can tell me about him? A mark of some kind?”

I swear I have never seen desperation like I see in this man’s eyes right now. Could it be possible that the Dancing Queen is…?

“Umm…I think he wears a pair of thin glasses, and has some sort of a birthmark on his right forehead…”

“Like this?”

I took a look at the picture he whipped out of his wallet. I gasped as he showed me the picture of the Dancing Queen, but a slightly younger version of himself, maybe 3 or 4 years younger than his current look. He and Master Snape were standing in amidst of a torrent of graduated students and in front of the school signboard bearing the colourful bold words “HOGWARTS PRESTIGE UNIVERSITY OF ARTS”. They were posing in front of the camera side by side: Master Snape wearing a suit that looked like what all university professors often wear with his hand on the Dancing Queen’s shoulder and him wearing his university graduation clothes, hugging Master Snape’s waist with one hand and the other holding a piece of rolled up degree certificate that held a promising future ahead of him. The only difference between our current Dancing Queen and this Dancing Queen was that his smile wasn’t soft or sad or cold, but happy, blissful and radiant like there was nothing in the world that could bother or hurt him in any way possible.

Master Snape seemed to have taken my gasp as a yes for he immediately gets off his seat and goes over to the quartet. I watched in curiosity as he gestured them to somewhere less noisy and speaks to them possibly about the conversation we just had. His face looked as if he is trying to contain his excitement that is threatening to break out and his mouth seem to be moving at top speed. The quartet look shocked for a while, then Master Lupin and Master Black sighed in relief while Mistress Granger looked like she is about to cry and Master Weasley almost in the verge of hyperventilating. They quickly took off without further ado, leaving us barkeeps to wonder what that was all about, although my heart and mind begin to come to a possible conclusion.

The next night, on the dot, the Dancing Queen showed up and comes towards my side, ordering his usual gin tonic and soda whiskey. I was tempted to tell him what happened last night, but I decided against it. I don’t want to spoil the surprise. I want to see for myself what is going to be in store for the rest of this night. As I poured his drinks, I secretly studied the clothes that he wore tonight. He has a dark reddish-orange tank top on, with glittering beads sewn into the shape of flames, and a pair of black denim pants with the reddish-yellowish-orange flame patterns at the hem and at the bottom, going up as if it were licking his legs with its heat. He wore a pair of dark red wrist collars that have a picture of a lion wearing a red crown on its mane on them, and a dark red choker around his nice slender neck. And, again, he was wearing the boots that he wore 3 years ago when he first came to Honeydukes.

“Here you go, darling. You look like you need these shots.”

“Thanks,” he smiled sadly and downed them like he hadn’t drunk in years.

“What’s the matter, darling? You look like crap, no offence.”

“None taken. I just…had a rather long day, is all.”

“Well, nothing beats a good game of dance, eh, darling? Run along. The DDR machines are all yours.”

“Thanks, barkeep. You’ve been an angel,” he replies as he heads to the DDR machine section.

The smile he flashed me before he left looks so much like the one in the picture Master Snape showed me, and it is a smile I’ll take to my grave.

About 8.30pm, the quartet and Master Snape comes, and the first place they stop by is my side. I noticed Master Snape’s clothes was a sleeveless shirt the colour of forest green, with silver snakes with each other’s tail in their mouths forming a circle embroidered on the back of the shirt, and a pair of darker greenish-silver leather pants and matching boots as the Dancing Queen’s. It felt nostalgic, as if he was both a forest readily be consumed by the hellfire that burned deep within the hearth of the Dancing Queen’s icy world and a snake dying to subdue the raging lion with either its constriction or its bite of death. I don’t have to look at his questioning eyes to know what he wants. I just jerked my head towards the direction of the Dancing Queen who is right now stomping feverishly at the machine along with the Dariram (European Mix) song. He takes one look and gasped silently, then had to be held onto and led to a seat by Master Black and Master Lupin as he glued his eyes at this astonishing sight.

“Bloody hell, mate!” Master Weasley exclaimed as he, too, look towards his direction.

“I don’t believe it…All this time he’s been right there…”

“How long have you guys been searching for him?” I dared myself to probe them.

“Almost 5 years now,” Mistress Granger choked, her tears threatening to fall. The next moment is just conversation between Master Snape and the quartet.

“Damn, Snivellus, how’d you manage to lose an ass that fine?”

“Are you asking to be driven six feet under, Black?”

“Please, Paddy, don’t be so mean. Sev’s been through enough already.”

“I know, Moony, but it wouldn’t hurt teasing Snivellus for a while. He needs the spirits’ up anyways.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, Prof? An invitation? We’re not here to watch him dance. Go talk to him!”

“Mione, you know better than to scare him off!”

“Ron’s right, Mione. It’s just going to make matters worse. Besides, we can’t be sure that he had let bygones be bygones or having doubts about each other’s sincerity. Go dance with him, Sev. You’re the only person alive who can ever match his speed, agility and dance moves, ever since he got you hooked into DDR. If there hasn’t been any challengers, that means he must’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time.”

“We’ll keep an eye on you, Snivellus, just right here. We don’t want him running off like a frightened puppy now, do we?”

Master Snape nods and gets off the seat towards the direction of the DDR machine. As he made his way closer and closer towards the Dancing Queen’s direction, Master Black gives a naughty look and turns to Master Weasley and Mistress Granger.

“So, who’s on for a little bet?”

“That is just so you, Siri,” Mistress Granger groaned. “Always in for poking fun onto other people’s misery.”

“I say Harry will give him a good hard sock on the face the moment he sees him and runs off without a word,” Master Black suggested, not really listening to what Mistress Granger just said.

“I’m gonna say ol’ Har’s gonna snog him like there’s no tomorrow,” Master Weasley replied, getting into the game.

“Ron! Of all people, you?!”

“Hey, I’m a Weasley! Weasley’s don’t back down from a bet!”

“So, mate, a hundred bucks?”

“Double or nothing!”

“Good God, you people!”

Master Lupin just giggled humorously at their antics.

While Master Weasley and Master Black lay out the dough, I looked up at the direction of the DDR machine section. The Dancing Queen was, as usual, lost in his little dance world, stomping away as the audience behind him, both regulars and newcomers, stare in awe, clapping their hands either in time with the beat to cheer him on or in glee and admiration at how flawlessly he conquered the game, not letting one single dance arrow outsmart him, earning him dozens upon dozens of perfect scores and more than 100 combos. As time allowed it, he both belonged and ruled the DDR universe, blind and immune to his surroundings and practically absorbed in his dance, showing to the entire world that he was untouchable by anyone but his awaited soul mate as he danced in a way that seemed beckoning for his love to return to him.

He barely registered Master Snape as the older man approached the DDR 5th Mix and waited for him to finish his last song and deposit in his next batch of tokens before he quickly slotted in his share. Needless to say, everyone was on their toes as they saw that it wasn’t someone of their age, but someone old enough to be their father wanting to challenge the Dancing Queen who had done nothing but maintained his record as ruler of all DDR dancers. They smirked and snigger—laughed, even—as Master Snape stepped up to the machine beside the Dancing Queen, giving him a Oh-you’re-going-down-old-timer look as they stepped back to anticipate the upcoming blunders the older man was bound to make.

Whatever happened next was indeed an amazing sight to behold.

The Dancing Queen only realized that he had a challenger when he looked up to see the dance screen displaying a two-player mode and noticed from the corner of his eye a finger to press the button confirming the mode they need to play. When he turned fully to catch a glimpse of the challenger who started off by picking the song Hero (European Mix) and pressed Maniac Level, everyone, including the quartet and I, can see the cold jade-green eyes of the Dancing Queen, or Harry—I’ve now learnt his name after so long of guessing—automatically sprang to life in shock and surprise. Master Snape just smiled and gestured to him that the song has begun. Without taking his eyes off the older man, Harry danced along to the beat, his eyes swirled with mixed emotions of disbelief, longing, shock, and most importantly, love. It was a wonder he could still dance and score a perfect S grade with his eyes glued towards Master Snape.

The older man was no limp biscuit either. He, despite his age, danced perfectly and in time with the beat, without missing a single dance arrow, and he did all that without even breaking a sweat. The audience, again, had their jaws threatening to fall and hit the floor and their eyes bulging out so much, it seemed like they would fall out of the their sockets any second. He danced three more songs entitled Never Gonna Make You Stop, Shooting Star and Paranoia Mix, all of them in Maniac Level, and he danced them all without having to hold onto the support railing, just like Harry. They moved in perfect accord, the duet dancing moving as if they were dancing as one instead of two. Even the dancing characters on the screen remained without one dominating the other as most games do when one of a pair is often the better dancer. Caught in the moment, the audience began to cheer loudly and clapping, occasional exclamation of disbelief like “Holy shit!” “Oh…My…God…” “What the fuck…?” and “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me??” popped out among them. When they were done, they both scored an overall S grade and the audience practically clapped their hands and cheered their throats raw over the stupendous feat they’ve just witness.

After 3 years of watching and serving Harry, I finally saw the ice cold face of his melt and the prison finally broken into shards of nothingness. He actually broke into tears as he continued to stare at Master Snape in disbelief, his body trembling as he got off the dance machine and inch his way closer towards the older man. Master Snape smiled softly as he extended his arms towards his long-awaited beau, and without a moment’s hesitation, Harry fell into his arms and hugged him like there was no tomorrow. Those who still had the hicks for the Dancing Queen looked like they wish they could just find a high spot and jump to their deaths as they watched in utmost horror and heartbreaking disappointment at Harry kissing Master Snape hungrily, his salty tears mixed together with their passionate fight for tongue-dominance. I was lost in ecstasy at the sight; so lost that I forgot to serve the other customers that crowded around the counter for their drinks. In fact, I don’t think they mind the lack of customer service at the moment as their eyes were just as equally transfixed as I was—including Big Bob and Chatty Charlotte—at the sight that they thought would never see in their lifetime.

Harry and Master Snape were in each other’s arms for almost a full 10 minutes before the older man finally tore himself off him gently and led him towards my direction by the hand. The crowd parted reluctantly, their eyes brimming with jealousy and their faces green with envy as they watched them moving closer towards me and joining the quartet. Mistress Granger was the first person to jump and almost glomping him like they hadn’t seen each other like forever. Well, technically, it could have felt like forever when they’re long lost best friends. Master Weasley clapped Harry’s back and grinned, shouting “Welcome back, mate!” amidst the loud music and blasting noises of the arcade games. Master Black ruffled Harry’s head, smiling from ear to ear and said “So this is where my godson have been hiding all these years!” and Master Lupin hugging him and kissing him on the forehead. Harry wiped away his happy tears from his sparkling jade-green eyes and apologized profusely to them for all the trouble he caused, in which the quartet waved it off, relieved that their little friend was alright.

“The usual please,” Harry said as he returned to Master Snape’s arms again, their hands interlocking with each other. I poured two of each drinks and gave the other set to Master Snape.

“I’m curious, mate,” Master Weasley voiced out. “It is an exclusive invite-only pub. How did you manage?”

“Believe it or not, it was Drake who got me in,” Harry grinned.

“What?? That Malfoy spawn??” Master Black exclaimed. I pretended to be very busy in cleaning glasses as I listened in.

“Yeah. He said it was his way of saying sorry for his father being so brash. He was planning on pursuing politics anyway, just to overthrow his old man, and speaking of his old man, he and his wife are going through a rather tough battle over property custody in their divorce settlement. He said it wouldn’t be a good image to still go to these kinds of places for someone running for office, so he let me have it. Bree Underhill. Hah! I swear he watches too much LOTR!”

“That is definitely the cheesiest pseudonym anyone has ever used in here,” Mistress Granger nodded in agreement.

“Anyway, Drake said that there is a possibility you guys might show up, and probably Sev as well, because he had seen you and Sev come over here once in a while. I didn’t think it would take this long a wait.”

“As long as we’ve found you,” Master Lupin said. “That’s all that matters now.”

“I didn’t think you’d still drink our favourite drink, love,” Master Snape said as he clink glasses with Harry.

“They remind me of us, and our first night together as couples,” Harry replied sheepishly. “Somehow I couldn’t give those up and drink something else. I’m sorry, Sev, for leaving you like that…”

“Hush,” Master Snape stopped him with a chaste kiss on the lips. “It is not your fault, neither your burden to bear. Now that I’ve found you, I’ll never leave you ever again. I’m sorry for finding you so late a time.”

“Better late than never, love,” Harry snuggled in Master Snape’s embrace and kissed him deeply and passionately.

I watched with warmth in my heart at the love they shared, and whispered a silent prayer that they would bathe in this happiness forever.