How you appear in Light’s eyes apparently, at least back when you had enough hair to have twin tails.
“Why isn’t there a Clark Gable in my generation?” your sister sobs.
Little Mei is watching Gone with the Wind. The colored version. You open your mouth to make a scathing comment, but just then Vivien Leigh as Scarlett flounces across the screen. Quite against your will, you feel yourself drop down next to your sister.
Some time later, as Scarlett vows to the world she’ll never go hungry, Facebook dings.
“Don’t wait for me.”
Your sister flaps her hand. As if I was ever planning to.
Your eyebrows rise at the blinking Facebook. It’s Light, who is an old friend, even older than Knight. You can still remember junior year high school, when Light would traipse the hallways waving Pride and Prejudice and lamenting, “Why aren’t there any Elizabeth Bennets?”
Wait. There’s a connection here. A disturbing one.
“Oneeeee-chan!” comes the cyber-wail that (thankfully) shatters your musings. Despite their similar names, Light has twice of Knight’s height, and half of Knight’s sanity.
“Well hello,” you mutter aloud even as your fingers flick across the keyboard.
“I had a nightmare~”
In public, Light is every Chinese mother’s dream. Twenty-two, with a banker’s salary, and enough height to make an Amazonian supermodel turn, it certainly doesn’t help his face is not-bad too. He’s also exceptionally well-mannered, even gallant, and sometimes you can’t help but wonder how many women (past and future) will be tricked by that persona.
In private, however, Light’s an otaku with a penchant for tsundere and twintails. He also has an inborn talent for trolling and being (not acting) Hamlet. Even after all these years, you still can’t tell when he’s seriously trolling you, or just being serious. He makes you want to pull your hair out often enough, but years and too much shared life experience have created too many ties—and tolerance—for you to ignore him.
Plus, Light is genuinely sweet. Despite his cynical pageantry, Light is the one who’ll walk through a typhoon to buy birthday pastries. (You never did forget that otherwise-uneventful birthday.)
So in the end, you settle for a scathing but sincere, “Love you too.”
Ironically–or maybe not so ironically, given it is Light–it sets you up nicely for the change in topic.
“So, how old is she?” you prod.
Some people prefer blonds. You like guys with glasses.
“Twenty seven.”
Despite his otaku-ness, when it comes to real life, Light likes older woman.
“Single?” you demand.
“Yes.”
You rock in your chair in a mixture of delight and suspicion. “Alright.”
There are so many psychological layers to Light’s preference that really, you generally don’t like to think about it too much. It’s romantic and all, but it’s also difficult, even foolish, because really, how many women in their right, independent, healthy mind really want a younger man?
Maybe you’re just projecting. You hope you are. Because the last girl Light dated certainly justified all of your concerns.
Light’s too much of a friend not to sense your mood across the cyberspace. “All the interns already know,” he types dismissively. “It’s become the new running joke.”
His blasé attitude is not enough to keep you from being slightly concerned.
“D’you think he’s serious?” you ask Knight later.
And it’s definitely not enough to keep you from gossiping.
“Who knows?” Knight yawns. Although you have his ear, most of his attention is on his email, a sad symptom of his 9-5 job.
“I suppose he’s just like a puppy yipping for attention.”
“Pawing at your feet,” Knight agrees distractedly.
“Or pantyhose.”
Knight pauses at your imagery. “Hm. He’ll be fine, Zwei.”
“I know.” You stop asking, but your fingers continue to drum against the table.
Several hours later, your Facebook dings again.
“I need to get a wife for tax benefits.”