Inside and Out - #16, Denial - Chapter 5
Title: Inside and Out
Author: jibunnohana
Theme: #16, denial
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ni~ya x Sakito
Band[s]: Nightmare
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Comments: I really hope this chapter makes sense since I wrote it in short spurts spaced very far apart. X3;;
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3 (plus companion ficlet by josietries)
Chapter 4
March passed uneventfully, then April. Yuuji fell into a contentedly mundane routine of work, practice and sleep. He would practice on his own whenever there was a spare moment, scribbling snatches of bassline to show Sakito for approval later. It amazed Yuuji how much he had grown to crave the other boy’s quiet approval since they’d started spending more time together. At least once a week he sought Sakito’s company outside band practice. And by all appearances Sakito seemed passively happy to have him to tag along with himself and Hitsugi. Yuuji was quickly learning the truth to the shorter guitarist’s observation - the two did seem to be together a lot, and more often than not anywhere but Sakito’s house. If the rest of his family was anything like his sister, then Yuuji could understand why. The Ikari household was far more inviting than the Sakaguchi household could ever be, he decided one day when Hitsugi’s mother lent the boys her eyeliner and helped them choose outfits when they landed their second gig in the middle of May.
Anxiety and excitement were high in the dressing room a half an hour before they were supposed to go on. So great was the tension, in fact, that it caused Yuuji to break into semi-psychotic laughter at Yomi’s appearance when he turned back from the mirror. The dark raccoon eyes he had given himself told of the vocalist’s lack of expertise with the eyeliner. Two yellow puffs of bleached hair stuck out from the top of his head, causing him to look even more animalistic than ever.
“You look like a deranged panda.”
“Shove it. At least I have a cool name, not like Yuuji,” Yomi twittered in return, obviously amused by his own reflection in the mirror.
Yuuji waved a hand dismissively and the short boy hopped away to smear white cream paint all over Hitsugi, including some places he didn’t want painted. Sakito was already finished and sitting on one of the dilapidated chairs, staring at his tapping foot and chewing his lower lip. He had elected to leave his hair down, and with the black choker around his slender neck and the sloping V of his marabou-trimmed white shirt he looked a bit like an adolescent girl. They all looked ridiculous, but that was half the fun.
Initial impressions notwithstanding, Sakito also looked as if he were about to implode, and for good reason. Yuuji glanced at the wall clock, finding there was only fifteen minutes until show time, and they hadn’t set up yet. “Where the hell is Zannin?” he muttered, mostly to himself, but Sakito jumped in his seat, startled out of his private thoughts.
“I don’t know.” He was clearly distressed, brow furrowed and lips pressed together in a thin line. “But if he doesn’t get here soon….”
We’ll have to cancel, Yuuji finished the thought in his head. “We still have a little time.” He picked up his bass and fiddled with the strings, pretending to tune, though he really just needed something to do with his hands.
All he received in reply was a vague ‘hmm’, and Sakito got up to talk to Hitsugi. While the two conferred, Yuuji alternated between watching Yomi massage his neck, suddenly serious, and the second hand tick by on the clock. Ten minutes….five minutes….
The stage hand peeked around the edge of the door, beckoning them to follow. “It’s time,” he said, pointing at his watch.
The knots in Yuuji’s stomach tightened as Hitsugi stepped over to talk to him. He could hear the exchange was quick and to the point. “Our drummer isn’t here yet….” Hitsugi began. “Is it possible to switch the line-up? I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
The stage hand’s face remained impassive as he responded with a shrug. “I can’t do anything about that. You could ask if anyone from the other bands knows your stuff….” He trailed off as Hitsugi shook his head.
“This is only our second show, I doubt it,” the guitarist said quietly.
“Then you’ll have to cancel. There’s nothing I can do, the manager won’t want to change the order.” The guy seemed sympathetic, but helplessly so. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sakito stop fidgeting abruptly at the word ‘cancel’.
Hitsugi sighed and seemed to sag with a brief apologetic glance back at the other three. “Alright, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” Both men bowed and the stage hand disappeared back into the hall. Aside from Yomi chucking an empty plastic cup at the closed door, the room was completely still. No one wanted to voice the obvious, that they had all expected this deep down when Zannin started coming invariably late to the practices. Now he wasn’t there at all when he was most needed. There was never any explanation, and no one had the guts - not even Yomi - to ask him outright.
There was a slight rustling, and uneven footfalls passing Yuuji’s left. He looked up in time to see Sakito slip away without bothering to close the door behind him or mention where he was going. Hitsugi looked troubled, still standing near the same spot, but he didn’t try to stop the retreating form of his friend.
“This sucks major ass,” Yomi stated, falling moodily into a chair. To stave off idleness, Hitsugi began moving around the room, picking up their paraphernalia left strewn about in their zeal to get ready, and sorted it into bags.
The bass in Yuuji’s hands found its way automatically into the case and other accoutrements did the same, a task he wasn’t even aware his hands were accomplishing because his brain was focused entirely on Sakito. Zannin’s apparent lack of disregard for his bandmates was far less worrisome than the slim guitarist’s reaction to it.
“Where do you think Sakito went?”
“I don’t know….” Hitsugi bit his lip and glanced at the door. He seemed anxious, but unsure what to do. “We should probably leave him alone for a little while, I guess.”
Nodding reluctantly, Yuuji finished gathering his things, and left Hitsugi to take care of the rest. While the guitarist’s back was turned he slipped out the door, mumbling something about going for a smoke, though he didn’t wait to see if they heard. His concern and curiosity over Sakito’s continued absence got the better of him, spurring the bassist to seek him out in the gentle spring air. Of course, the tiny private parking lot behind the live house was unlit, but there was enough filtering over from streetlamps on the other side of the building to make out Sakito’s unobtrusive outline as he sat on one of the concrete bumpers. The boy was bent forward with his chin on his knees and arms loose at his sides, listlessly opening and closing his cell phone. Yuuji could guess that he must have brought it along to call Zannin, but he had to ask the outcome.
“Did you get a hold of him?” He walked over calmly and sat very close to Sakito on the narrow concrete, fulfilling his excuse for leaving by fishing out his cigarette pack and a lighter.
Sakito kept his face hidden in shadow and a mass of carefully brushed hair. His voice sounded strained when he finally answered. “No…”
“Mn,” Yuuji gave a noncommittal reply around a puff of smoke. Shoving the packet back in his pocket, he tried his hardest not to stare at the top of Sakito’s head, though it was difficult when he wanted badly to know what the other was feeling. A soft sniffle escaped through Sakito’s barriers, and he straightened up, perhaps lured out of his shell by the tantalizing smell of burning tobacco. Yuuji caught a glimpse of his face, and he thought under the makeup the rims of Sakito’s eyes looked a little pinker than usual, but rather more like he was tired and stressed than crying (for which the bassist was very relieved).
Sure enough, Sakito’s timid hand stopped short of the white stick held slightly below Yuuji’s knee, waiting for permission to share. “Here, you look like you could use it,” he said, relinquishing the cigarette to the grateful Sakito.
“Thanks. I kind of gave myself a headache,” he mumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose and drawing a shaky drag around repressed tears.
With a half smile, Yuuji shifted uncomfortably. His discomfort wasn’t because he was unused to dealing with the emotions of others - far from it - but because it was Sakito and he didn’t seem to function in quite the same way as the rest of the middle class population. “Well…that happens if you try too hard to hold it all in,” Yuuji said uncertainly, knowing that was highly unhelpful, but at a loss.
Sakito laughed faintly, and looked for half a second like he was going to break down. Yuuji automatically started to panic inwardly, but for nothing. They sat in silence, passing the cigarette back and forth until Sakito looked to be in a calmer mood, more thoughtful than upset. “What do you think happened?” he wondered out loud, to which Yuuji had no factual answer.
“You must have scared him off, slave-driver.” Almost instantly Yuuji regretted his quip to lighten the mood, being apparently the wrong way to go about it. Sakito wasn’t letting on that he was shocked in the least, but he frowned and dropped his chin on his knees again. Open mouth, insert foot.
“It’s not your fault. I’ll bet he just wasn’t serious about the band. Or maybe something happened…” the bassist added hastily, uncomfortably reminded of his own hesitation some months before. With any luck, Sakito was not thinking of the same thing. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? Maybe it’ll turn out to be an accident, but we can always find a new drummer.”
As he spoke encouragingly in hopes of enlivening the dejected figure next to him, Yuuji rested his arm across Sakito’s shoulders, afraid to give him an actual hug without express consent. Much to his surprise and confusion, the other boy accepted his comfort by dropping his head sideways onto the bassist’s knee. He knew of Sakito’s subtle oddities, but that was still more than he ever anticipated. His heart lurched unexpectedly when his friend’s warm cheek settled against his leg, and it took all of Yuuji’s willpower not to flinch.
“I don’t know what to do now,” Sakito admitted, sighing. “Should I keep calling?”
Yuuji withdrew his arm with the excuse of snuffing out the cigarette, lightly brushing his fingers over Sakito’s hair. He couldn’t help it, the warmth and softness was too tempting, and the guitarist didn’t seem to notice. “No, let’s leave it be for now. Do you want to come over for a while?”
He was right in guessing that Sakito didn’t want to go home; the cheek against his leg bumped up and down as he nodded and sat up. “Sure, yes. Let’s get something to eat on the way, if that’s alright.”
Author: jibunnohana
Theme: #16, denial
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ni~ya x Sakito
Band[s]: Nightmare
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Comments: I really hope this chapter makes sense since I wrote it in short spurts spaced very far apart. X3;;
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3 (plus companion ficlet by josietries)
Chapter 4
March passed uneventfully, then April. Yuuji fell into a contentedly mundane routine of work, practice and sleep. He would practice on his own whenever there was a spare moment, scribbling snatches of bassline to show Sakito for approval later. It amazed Yuuji how much he had grown to crave the other boy’s quiet approval since they’d started spending more time together. At least once a week he sought Sakito’s company outside band practice. And by all appearances Sakito seemed passively happy to have him to tag along with himself and Hitsugi. Yuuji was quickly learning the truth to the shorter guitarist’s observation - the two did seem to be together a lot, and more often than not anywhere but Sakito’s house. If the rest of his family was anything like his sister, then Yuuji could understand why. The Ikari household was far more inviting than the Sakaguchi household could ever be, he decided one day when Hitsugi’s mother lent the boys her eyeliner and helped them choose outfits when they landed their second gig in the middle of May.
Anxiety and excitement were high in the dressing room a half an hour before they were supposed to go on. So great was the tension, in fact, that it caused Yuuji to break into semi-psychotic laughter at Yomi’s appearance when he turned back from the mirror. The dark raccoon eyes he had given himself told of the vocalist’s lack of expertise with the eyeliner. Two yellow puffs of bleached hair stuck out from the top of his head, causing him to look even more animalistic than ever.
“You look like a deranged panda.”
“Shove it. At least I have a cool name, not like Yuuji,” Yomi twittered in return, obviously amused by his own reflection in the mirror.
Yuuji waved a hand dismissively and the short boy hopped away to smear white cream paint all over Hitsugi, including some places he didn’t want painted. Sakito was already finished and sitting on one of the dilapidated chairs, staring at his tapping foot and chewing his lower lip. He had elected to leave his hair down, and with the black choker around his slender neck and the sloping V of his marabou-trimmed white shirt he looked a bit like an adolescent girl. They all looked ridiculous, but that was half the fun.
Initial impressions notwithstanding, Sakito also looked as if he were about to implode, and for good reason. Yuuji glanced at the wall clock, finding there was only fifteen minutes until show time, and they hadn’t set up yet. “Where the hell is Zannin?” he muttered, mostly to himself, but Sakito jumped in his seat, startled out of his private thoughts.
“I don’t know.” He was clearly distressed, brow furrowed and lips pressed together in a thin line. “But if he doesn’t get here soon….”
We’ll have to cancel, Yuuji finished the thought in his head. “We still have a little time.” He picked up his bass and fiddled with the strings, pretending to tune, though he really just needed something to do with his hands.
All he received in reply was a vague ‘hmm’, and Sakito got up to talk to Hitsugi. While the two conferred, Yuuji alternated between watching Yomi massage his neck, suddenly serious, and the second hand tick by on the clock. Ten minutes….five minutes….
The stage hand peeked around the edge of the door, beckoning them to follow. “It’s time,” he said, pointing at his watch.
The knots in Yuuji’s stomach tightened as Hitsugi stepped over to talk to him. He could hear the exchange was quick and to the point. “Our drummer isn’t here yet….” Hitsugi began. “Is it possible to switch the line-up? I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
The stage hand’s face remained impassive as he responded with a shrug. “I can’t do anything about that. You could ask if anyone from the other bands knows your stuff….” He trailed off as Hitsugi shook his head.
“This is only our second show, I doubt it,” the guitarist said quietly.
“Then you’ll have to cancel. There’s nothing I can do, the manager won’t want to change the order.” The guy seemed sympathetic, but helplessly so. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sakito stop fidgeting abruptly at the word ‘cancel’.
Hitsugi sighed and seemed to sag with a brief apologetic glance back at the other three. “Alright, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” Both men bowed and the stage hand disappeared back into the hall. Aside from Yomi chucking an empty plastic cup at the closed door, the room was completely still. No one wanted to voice the obvious, that they had all expected this deep down when Zannin started coming invariably late to the practices. Now he wasn’t there at all when he was most needed. There was never any explanation, and no one had the guts - not even Yomi - to ask him outright.
There was a slight rustling, and uneven footfalls passing Yuuji’s left. He looked up in time to see Sakito slip away without bothering to close the door behind him or mention where he was going. Hitsugi looked troubled, still standing near the same spot, but he didn’t try to stop the retreating form of his friend.
“This sucks major ass,” Yomi stated, falling moodily into a chair. To stave off idleness, Hitsugi began moving around the room, picking up their paraphernalia left strewn about in their zeal to get ready, and sorted it into bags.
The bass in Yuuji’s hands found its way automatically into the case and other accoutrements did the same, a task he wasn’t even aware his hands were accomplishing because his brain was focused entirely on Sakito. Zannin’s apparent lack of disregard for his bandmates was far less worrisome than the slim guitarist’s reaction to it.
“Where do you think Sakito went?”
“I don’t know….” Hitsugi bit his lip and glanced at the door. He seemed anxious, but unsure what to do. “We should probably leave him alone for a little while, I guess.”
Nodding reluctantly, Yuuji finished gathering his things, and left Hitsugi to take care of the rest. While the guitarist’s back was turned he slipped out the door, mumbling something about going for a smoke, though he didn’t wait to see if they heard. His concern and curiosity over Sakito’s continued absence got the better of him, spurring the bassist to seek him out in the gentle spring air. Of course, the tiny private parking lot behind the live house was unlit, but there was enough filtering over from streetlamps on the other side of the building to make out Sakito’s unobtrusive outline as he sat on one of the concrete bumpers. The boy was bent forward with his chin on his knees and arms loose at his sides, listlessly opening and closing his cell phone. Yuuji could guess that he must have brought it along to call Zannin, but he had to ask the outcome.
“Did you get a hold of him?” He walked over calmly and sat very close to Sakito on the narrow concrete, fulfilling his excuse for leaving by fishing out his cigarette pack and a lighter.
Sakito kept his face hidden in shadow and a mass of carefully brushed hair. His voice sounded strained when he finally answered. “No…”
“Mn,” Yuuji gave a noncommittal reply around a puff of smoke. Shoving the packet back in his pocket, he tried his hardest not to stare at the top of Sakito’s head, though it was difficult when he wanted badly to know what the other was feeling. A soft sniffle escaped through Sakito’s barriers, and he straightened up, perhaps lured out of his shell by the tantalizing smell of burning tobacco. Yuuji caught a glimpse of his face, and he thought under the makeup the rims of Sakito’s eyes looked a little pinker than usual, but rather more like he was tired and stressed than crying (for which the bassist was very relieved).
Sure enough, Sakito’s timid hand stopped short of the white stick held slightly below Yuuji’s knee, waiting for permission to share. “Here, you look like you could use it,” he said, relinquishing the cigarette to the grateful Sakito.
“Thanks. I kind of gave myself a headache,” he mumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose and drawing a shaky drag around repressed tears.
With a half smile, Yuuji shifted uncomfortably. His discomfort wasn’t because he was unused to dealing with the emotions of others - far from it - but because it was Sakito and he didn’t seem to function in quite the same way as the rest of the middle class population. “Well…that happens if you try too hard to hold it all in,” Yuuji said uncertainly, knowing that was highly unhelpful, but at a loss.
Sakito laughed faintly, and looked for half a second like he was going to break down. Yuuji automatically started to panic inwardly, but for nothing. They sat in silence, passing the cigarette back and forth until Sakito looked to be in a calmer mood, more thoughtful than upset. “What do you think happened?” he wondered out loud, to which Yuuji had no factual answer.
“You must have scared him off, slave-driver.” Almost instantly Yuuji regretted his quip to lighten the mood, being apparently the wrong way to go about it. Sakito wasn’t letting on that he was shocked in the least, but he frowned and dropped his chin on his knees again. Open mouth, insert foot.
“It’s not your fault. I’ll bet he just wasn’t serious about the band. Or maybe something happened…” the bassist added hastily, uncomfortably reminded of his own hesitation some months before. With any luck, Sakito was not thinking of the same thing. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? Maybe it’ll turn out to be an accident, but we can always find a new drummer.”
As he spoke encouragingly in hopes of enlivening the dejected figure next to him, Yuuji rested his arm across Sakito’s shoulders, afraid to give him an actual hug without express consent. Much to his surprise and confusion, the other boy accepted his comfort by dropping his head sideways onto the bassist’s knee. He knew of Sakito’s subtle oddities, but that was still more than he ever anticipated. His heart lurched unexpectedly when his friend’s warm cheek settled against his leg, and it took all of Yuuji’s willpower not to flinch.
“I don’t know what to do now,” Sakito admitted, sighing. “Should I keep calling?”
Yuuji withdrew his arm with the excuse of snuffing out the cigarette, lightly brushing his fingers over Sakito’s hair. He couldn’t help it, the warmth and softness was too tempting, and the guitarist didn’t seem to notice. “No, let’s leave it be for now. Do you want to come over for a while?”
He was right in guessing that Sakito didn’t want to go home; the cheek against his leg bumped up and down as he nodded and sat up. “Sure, yes. Let’s get something to eat on the way, if that’s alright.”