Stranger Than Fiction- 1\?-Aoi\Uruha
Chapter 1
Yuu listened to his manager blabbering heatedly, helping himself with all kinds of hand gestures all for the sake of proving his point. He exhaled menthol flavored smoke and stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray, as if emphasizing his point. Again.
“No” - he said confidently and lit another cigarette. This one-sided conversation with Yoichi was pointless and getting too long in Yuu’s opinion. If anything, he’d prefer to be at home right now. Keeping him in the office for an hour already, all for the sake of convincing him to agree to something he won’t ever agree to. Period.
Manager’s face fell at Yuu’s reply. Not that it was unexpected, his best author was known for his pride and short temper, but after so much effort? He tried to convince him for an hour, for god’s sake! This isn’t fair, Yoichi thought. After all it’s Yuu having a writer’s block for six month already, not him. Yuu needs help, he just has to agree! But no, no- is all he can say. Yoichi took a deep breath, ready to start all over again. Yuu noticed that and smiled smugly. He dares me - Yoichi thought, and indeed Yuu was determined not to agree on something like that. He can solve his problems without involving some stranger into his life, ‘helping’, huh? Helping means involving someone into his personal life, into his own world, which he couldn’t bear. Please go on - He thought- go on and on till you’re drained completely and I can go home.
And the battle went on.
After another hour of trying to convince his author, in which he reduced himself to simple begging, Yoichi accepted his defeat. Yuu was unyielding, never showing any sign of hesitation throughout the whole meeting.
“Well. I tried.” - Yoichi rose from his seat, sighing. “Believe it or not, it’s all set already. Top management already hired a consultant for you. I just wanted to have your permission, to prepare you the best I can.”- he smiled inwardly, seeing how the smug expression fell off Yuu’s face slowly and was replaced with shock first, then annoyance and anger.
“What the hell!” - he yelled out loud, which was a bad sign in itself, and his picking the words was a sign of gradually lowering self-control, which could be dangerous for his poor agent, if not for the publisher to enter the meeting room at that exact moment.
“How are we doing here?” - publisher asked, smiling stupidly, in Yuu’s opinion, especially considering the situation.
Fifteen minutes of Yuu’s constant yelling, mixed with Yoichi’s begging ‘for god’s sake!’ and the publisher’s smiling for all he cares passed by pretty fast, eventually Yuu’s outburst died down and the publisher caught the opportunity to start speaking.
“Yuu, you’re our most wanted author, most precious writer our publishing house had since Aura Siuchi and his infamous stories. Your every book sells millions of copies, but tell me one thing, when was your last book released?”
“Two years ago, Tamaki-san.” - Yoichi mumbled, seeing Yuu’s obvious non-existent mood for talking.
“And you haven’t written a single line since that time, have you?” - Yuu turned away to look out the window, actually he could as well just stare at the wall, anything but him. He prayed good god to spare him some embarrassment, because he suffered well already. Yes he has had some troubles for a while. But he does write. He writes everyday, just like always, it’s just… nothing he writes is worth a waste of paper. And it’s not only his opinion. Yuu always writes for himself, but when he writes something to be published, he believes it should be as close to perfect, as perfection itself. Not that he’s an awesome talent or genius, he just works on his novels more than most people do. Writing and re-writing, editing, adding, cutting, re-writing again. It’s harder to the author to re-write his own creations, this one thing not any editor or manager can understand. But still it’s better if he does it himself, than let a stranger do it. Because no-one can understand it as well as Yuu can. Just because he wrote it. It’s personal. A part of him. Always. Every and each one of his writings. Even if some of them weren’t published for some reason. Sometimes he writes for himself only. No. he always writes for himself. It’s just sometimes other people can go to the bookstore and buy his thoughts and feelings. And try to understand. Because…
“He’ll help you like he did with many others, he’s the best in this business. You’ll like him, I promise. Yuu? You are not listening!” - Yuu turned to look at his torturers, as he heard the sound of his own name.
“I do. I really do.”- he said yawning, not sounding convincing at the least. Yuu felt defeated, humiliated, annoyed and above all, bored. As he couldn’t get out of the meeting room he came to hate over the years. Indeed he had some troubles writing new material. He felt some kind of nostalgia towards his old times, when his mind was clouded with all kinds of ideas 24\7, even in his sleep, when he woke up at night to write something down, just not to forget the idea and ended up writing a half of the story through the night. Times when his body seemed to function on caffeine and cigarettes only and Yoichi forced him to eat food that he cooked in his kitchen, while he was in his study, oblivious to the whole word out there. He missed being this carried away with his ideas. And here they were, his best acquaintances for life. His publisher, and his agent. Poking his nose into his own mess, like a misbehaved kitten. He was growing tired of their constant noisy and pointless talk, and he was growing angry again, at the carefully chosen words they used, as if not to hurt him. Yuu preferred straightforward people, and seeing his friend and publisher butt-kissing each other and him as well set him off. He jumped from his seat and stormed out of the building not once looking back and growling incoherent curses towards everything in the world, especially two men he left there, standing dumbfounded. Yoichi was the first to snap out of the trance. “Yuu, wait we haven’t told you everything yet!!!”
“You didn’t?”- the publisher raised an eyebrow. “ He’ll have a nice surprise tomorrow then.”
Yuu finally got home, with minor trouble driving through the whole city. He intentionally picked a house to live in as far from the center as possible, so he’ll have an excuse not to show up on meetings, or be late, which was his natural habit.
“Hello everybody! I’m home!” - he yelled at the empty house and giggled at his own joke, that seemed to him extraordinarily funny, considering he’d lived alone since 17. Alone means completely alone. Not a roommate, a friend, a girlfriend (Yuu even snorted at the thought of having a woman in the house), no parents, and of course he couldn't bear the thought of Yoichi living with him. He had no daily cook or maid, not that he needed one. Though Yoichi always complained about how messy his home is. And when he was all engulfed in his writing he indeed forgot about keeping the house, or even himself presentable. To hell, he even forgot to pay bills at times, so Yoichi did that too, out of pure courtesy and compassion towards the mad man, everyone thought Yuu was.
Telephone rang when Yuu finished cooking his dinner, which really was a yesterday’s Chinese takeout, warmed in the microwave. When he heard his agent’s voice on the answering machine he hurried to the phone and turned it off. He’s fed up already. No more shit for Yuu Shiroyama for today. He turned off his cell phone long ago, since Yoichi started calling him while he was on his way home. And Yuu just couldn’t be bothered. They already made a usual day of his pure hell and all Yuu wanted was to distract himself. Which he did, having his dinner and watching TV first, praying Yoichi won’t be too smart to pay him a visit. Bastard had a spare key to his house, and once he’s here Yuu won’t be leaving here alive. Or maybe he could kill himself to spare some suffering? Even better, Yuu thought, would be to kill Yoichi and spare some suffering to all the people in the world, and then kill himself to avoid going to jail. Yuu didn’t know since when he got so merciful towards all the people in the world, or so violent towards his agent, or himself. Though today was a good day to start hating them all, he thought.
A stranger. They called a stranger to fix his writer’s block. Jeez… Yuu thought, not that he was religious, if God exist than he should be a big bad asshole with a sick sense of humor. How screwed up a person should be to create a whole world full of greedy, dirty, dense creatures that care only about money, food and sex, which is the basis and the main goal of their wellbeing. Not mentioning ten tables. Which is now became to-do list for some people. Others never heard or have no care about. And punishing people for making sins is just hypocritical. Because as it said, God created people in his own image and likeness. I feel sorry for such a pitiful God - Yuu thought.
Yuu turned the TV off, not that it was more or less boring than usual, he didn’t pay attention really. It’s just he finished his meal and it was working time. Yuu sighed. Working time was the time of the day he dreaded for a while already. How pathetic. A writer scared of writing. Funny indeed. He sighed again and went to his study. Which in reality looked like a library and a closet in one. Ceiling-high bookshelves, filled with…guess what? Books! Most people use their bookshelves to keep some useless crap there, framed pictures of people they don’t love anymore, photo albums, magazines, any crap available. But not books. Yuu’s bookshelves were the happy (or not) carriers of full collection of his own writings (which were dusty because he never took them out from the shelf, Yoichi added another bestseller there from time to time, but he had nothing to add there for some lone time already, so they were as dusty as ever), all kinds of encyclopedias, which were needful things actually, for a writer especially, since he had no time to travel around the world asking people about things, or finding out by himself. They were needful things actually. Now that he has internet everywhere he goes, they’re just some good memories stuffed on the bookshelf. And other necessary materials. Yuu had a lot of needful things on the shelves, but most of them were randomly situated on his computer table and over it. Average range of lesion of Yuu’s needful things equals to his arm’s length, or in worse cases, leg’s length. It was a complete chaos. Three corners of the room were stuffed with all kinds of things, from a globe to a rubber woman- a sex toy he got as birthday present from a fan. The toy amused him so much that he wrote a thank-you letter, sending him back a 50 centimeter dildo. Purple dildo. The doll stayed in the house. He called her Staisy, for disgustingly red hair and utterly dumb face expression. But there were two spots in the room, not covered with old clothes and chocolate wrappers. One was his favorite chair. A big leather chair with a high backrest and the most comfortable seat he ever experienced. The most memorable thing about this chair was that he didn’t buy it. Oh no, it’d be too… trivial? He stole it from his oh-so-hated publisher. Once Tamaki-san bought himself a super-comfy chair for his new office, the very office Yuu is still forced to show up at from time to time to get scolded like a schoolboy. But the point is, Yuu was in a foul mood again, and seeing his publisher happy as ever, smiling for all it’s worth wasn’t pleasurable either, and the chair was awesome indeed. So he decided to kill two birds with one stone. You should have seen Tamaki’s face when he came back from a short break. No chair, no Yuu. Sad story short. And what is most amazing thing you miss, as you’re reading this story ( it means you weren’t there, dumbass) was Yuu’s face at that exact moment. As he was practically riding the chair on full speed heading from the elevators to parking lot. He was smiling. Not like Tamaki-san does. Not grinning, not smirking, not simply stretching his lips into a fake image of a smile. It was a smile of pure joy and happiness, one that you can see on weddings, when the marrying couple are indeed in love with each other. When they say “I do” they smile like that. Or maybe you could smile like that on funerals, when your old rich uncle dies, leaving all he’s got to you. I won’t continue about a mad scientist inventing something outstanding and unseen before, I’m telling you this, just so you know how Yuu looked like at that moment. Utterly happy, like he’s riding the God’s horse.
But back to the point. Yuu’s room was all kinds of messy except for two spots, the second was his guitar stand in the corner. Five guitars. Four electric and one precious acoustic. He played a lot. Especially when his thoughts and ideas were too hard to put into words… he put them into music. He was indeed a good player, even tried playing in a band once, but he was too antisocial to put up with four more people. He didn’t enjoy their constant drinking contests and violation of his music ideas which was the main reason he left. Also he couldn’t bear the thought of becoming a real famous person. I mean yes, he’s a famous writer and a lot of people read his books, but he doesn’t have to show his face everywhere possible to get attention. and making a fuss over himself was not in his plans for entire life.
Anyways, here he was, sitting on his favourite chair and staring onto blank MS word page. Pathetic, isn’t it? He got carried away with all kinds of memories of his life, and somehow his mind wandered back to the most unpleasant topic of the year- his writer’s block and that mysterious consultant his fussy publisher had the guts to hire for him. What does Yuu know about him? Him. He’s a man, that what Yoichi mentioned, he’s a professional, Yuu thought pleased, maybe then he’ll get the point sooner and leave him alone. A stranger. Yuu hated strangers. Yoichi earned his trust over the years (how many? Ten? More?), he really worked hard for it, and sometimes Yuu dreads the day when Yoichi decides to leave him. He somehow didn’t think that he doesn’t plan on leaving, he just knew he will one day. And it made his heart sink. People always betray him. That’s common knowledge. His parents, his friends, even his dog died when he was 17, and he never got another pet since then. What will it be like when Yoichi leaves? Sad, lonely, empty. Yuu often felt empty. In fact he always felt empty when he lacked ideas. That’s what he was made for, Yuu thought, to write down ideas, not for living a daily life.
He didn’t know anything more about that guy, but he didn’t need more to imagine. Not tall, ordinary-looking man, wearing silver-stripped suit. Dark hair, or maybe brown. Not long, something you can show up in front of your boss. Neat and glossy. Always smiling (Yuu cringed at the though) that flashy - one million dollars worth smile. Annoying. Utterly annoying.
Yuu sighed in defeat and took his guitar. He’s too stressed for today to try and write something. Indeed when creating something becomes your job, it loses that piece of free soul. A piece of god, his mother could have said. That was it. Yuu’s ordinary evening. Trying to write, failing, playing guitar till he’s sleepy enough or it’s too early in the morning to stay awake. He always considered early mornings the most pleasurable time of day to sleep. And most unholy time to show up at his door, and or to call him. But his fate was in the unholy mood that day. Or night. Or early morning. He went to sleep two hours later, considering his guitar was too tired to listen to his whining about life put into accords and just started to enjoy another nightmare he always had.
He woke up to the loud banging on his front door. Considering 8 a.m. to be the time when the only person to show at his door could be a lost tourist or a postman, he covered his head with a pillow and was about to drift back into the dreamland. But. There’s always that ‘But’ that keeps people from sleep at eight in the morning. And there was this but, when someone you dearly want to leave you alone keeps on banging on your door never taking a break. Which is not a healthy atmosphere for a sleeping person. And this ‘but’ made Yuu pull his precious butt from the bed to get the door.
“You can stop banging already, door’s opened.” - he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“You’re probably Yuu Shiroyama? I’m Kouyou Takashima, your consul…”
“Contact my agent for whatever it is you want from me. And DON’T you dare knock on my door again. I’m trying to sleep here.”- Yuu never even looked twice at the honey blonde man smiling sweetly at him. The man named Kouyou wanted to add something, probably that he is to live with his client, read- Yuu, but Yuu never stayed long enough to have a chat. He hated chatting and 8 in the morning is indeed an ungodly hour.
“Wait, please? I’ll just…” - the door shut in Kouyou’s face with a loud BANG.- “drop my things here then…” he added hesitantly before turning around and going back to his car.
--- TBC--