Chapter 14 - Part One
Still Untitled....
Chapter 14
Imai still wasn’t sure he believed it.
It was long after Adam had left, through the door this time, and Imai was sitting on his bed with BJ’s head in his lap and an open bottle of wine on the nightstand. He was staring out at nothing, trying to piece everything together. His eyes were heavy and sore and he knew he should get to sleep…but once again Atsushi was keeping him up at night.
So…all this time…there was a vampire. Vampire. Interested in Atsushi. That was something a few steps out of Imai’s ability to believe.
What had been real to Imai though was the man sitting on his couch and telling Imai all of this. The same one he’d seen sitting on Atsushi’s lap that evening.
Adam looked at him with troubled eyes when he’d called him on it. “Yeah, I did. I shouldn’t have. It’s just….just that-” and here he fumbled for the first that night. He sighed, shoulders heaving under his well-made suit. “He’s very special. More so than you know.”
He held up a hand when Imai went to refute that. “I see things differently than a human can, remember. And, like I told Sakurai-san once before, he has this most brilliant shining aura about him that just attracts people like a moth to a flame…and it’s no different for the dead. Especially someone like me,” he added with a bitter laugh.
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Imai insisted, his voice tense.
Adam’s lips twisted in a sad but fond smile. “He said the same thing. And he kept calling it ‘being shiny’. It’s more than that.”
Imai’s hackles rose at the man’s expression. “How often do you two talk together then?” he asked through a stiff jaw.
Adam didn’t seem to notice his agitation. He shrugged easily. “Once and a while. He’s pretty pissed off at me right now actually….”
“I’d be pissed off at you too,” Imai grumbled.
Adam gave him a keen look. “I’m not talking about what I just did-which I really shouldn’t have done but I’ve said that-I’m talking about what was done to you.”
Imai jerked to sit up straight. “Me?”
“The reason why you didn’t know all of this by now. You don’t remember that night in Osaka at all, do you?”
That had evolved into the memory modification explanation. Imai’s head ached just from the thought of it, and his touched his temple gently. Just thinking about someone messing around in his brain was…weird. And, although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, it was also rather scary…
And that Atsushi got so angry about it…that was… Imai sighed and rubbed at his forehead. It was touching, he had to admit.
Sitting in the silence of his bedroom Imai’s fingers trailed as if on their own volition to touch his lips. That had really happened, hadn’t it? It wasn’t a dream again…?
No, it wasn’t. Nor was the truth that Atsushi knew now. He knew. Or at the very least he suspected, but Imai was sure it was more than that.
But what he knew Imai wasn’t quite sure. Not after what Adam had told him, anyway.
“You’ve been having weird dreams and such haven’t you?” Adam asked after finally convincing Imai that ‘yes, we messed with your mind. No, I’m not making this up.’
Imai nodded, but that was all. He wasn’t going to say what those dreams were. No way in hell.
“Thought so.” Adam sighed, running a hand through his hair. Imai eyed him, thinking he was looking far too comfortable sitting on his couch. “I had to do some research on all this on my own, since Makino wouldn’t tell me anything. But, apparently, this has been known to happen.”
“This,” Imai repeated.
“This-having dreams and such. It’s your brain trying to go around the mental block-that’s really what he did since he didn’t have much time, you see. Anyway, this usually happens when the work done is shoddy or the affected person’s mind is stronger than the creator of the block anticipated.”
This was sounding far too bizarre for Imai. He rubbed his forehead as Adam continued.
“So, essentially, what your mind must have done is make a crack in that block-not enough to remember, but enough to get an impression of what’s behind it-and your mind focused on these impressions… so I’m sure you’ve been having dreams about Sakurai-san and maybe something dark…maybe even hints of vampires. Something like that.” Adam was observing Imai closely as he said Atsushi’s name and Imai stared him down, refusing to show any reaction.
“So you’re saying I’m only partially remembering? And that my brain is trying to remember the rest?”
“Sort of.” Adam pursed his lips, trying to think of the best way to say it. “I think it’s more like your brain is trying to force itself to remember by any means possible-dreams, old memories pertaining to the topic, maybe even fantasies-and the more it does so the more…obsessed with it you might seem. Because people with powerful minds don’t like to have them tampered with and will do anything to fix it.”
“Oh.” Imai wasn’t able to say more than that.
“I’m sure you’ve felt this needling sense of ‘not-knowing’ too, haven’t you?”
Damn it, he had. “Yeah…”
Adam smiled. “Then I think talking about it all now will help get rid of that. And all the thoughts you’ve been having pertaining to the subject that seem odd or obsessive will probably go away over time.”
Something about Adam’s demeanor brought to mind what Imai thought a shrink would be like and he was instantly annoyed. “Maybe,” he grunted in assent.
Sitting on his bed now, Imai sighed and the air flew over his fingers. He dropped them immediately and frowned. So this…this sudden fixation on Atsushi-it was fake? So now did Atsushi think that Imai felt something for him…but he didn’t really? It was just his mind playing with him?
Imai reached for the wine bottle. “I don’t get it, BJ,” he told his dog, rubbing his fingers through the fur on the dog’s back. BJ sighed in his sleep, and Imai immediately remembered Atsushi doing that too…
He stopped, wine bottle halfway to his mouth as he felt a twinge of longing bloom in his chest. No, it couldn’t be fake, could it? Not even his mind could create an emotion like that out of nothing. Even if it was sudden and kind of obsessive at the moment, it had to stem from somewhere… some deep part of him that he had almost allowed himself to recognize that morning, the part of him that would sit and hold Atsushi’s hand for over an hour as he slept.
That couldn’t be just a mind trick. If it was, Imai would consider himself an out-of-this-world genius and let them study his brain in a laboratory.
So it was just this need his brain felt to focus on Atsushi…that was what had unburied what must have been there for a while, hiding in the dark and afraid to come out because it was just…too awkward, too strange…too….what was happening now.
Imai took a swig of his wine. “Atsushi, you asshole,” he muttered against the ridges on the mouth of the bottle. Why had he run away...? Imai didn’t want to consider it…but he had to.
There was a very high chance that Atsushi was…uncomfortable with all this.
“But he started it,” Imai mumbled to the empty room. “This time around, anyway,” he added, drinking more wine.
Granted, Imai hadn’t really been very smooth with his reaction. He winced, remembering what he’d said… but he’d been so angry at the time. Atsushi had seemed fine with it, but then he’d just stopped and…and Imai was still pissed off from earlier, so insult had compounded on insult and…
Imai sighed. He’d been an ass, he would readily admit that.
Although there was another reason Atsushi might have stopped. Maybe he’d been thinking of Adam…
“No,” Imai said sternly, his voice loud in the silent room. BJ whimpered, opening his eyes to look up at him. Imai rubbed between his ears. “Sorry, bud.”
Adam smiled morosely as he stopped in Imai’s doorway and said, completely out of the blue in Imai’s opinion, “It’d never work out between us. Sakurai-san and me, I mean. For many reasons. One of which is that, well, I’m dead. And he would never forget that.”
Imai just stared and Adam shifted once and then shrugged. “Also I really shouldn’t have gotten this involved with him anyway…it’s not professional at all.”
“No, it’s not,” Imai agreed, gravely, and Adam quirked a humorless grin at him.
“Glad to see you agree. Anyway, one more reason...” Adam’s smile turned almost sheepish. “Well, I just sat on the man’s lap and tried to make out with him and he wasn’t interested in anything I did, at all. That’s a very telling thing to a man’s pride, you see.”
Don’t wanna know don’t wanna know don’twannaknow, Imai’s mind chanted and he told himself to shut up. “Why did you do that in the first place? Yeah, yeah,” he said, cutting through anything Adam might have said. “Moth-to-flame, aura, etc etc. But that didn’t mean you had to jump him, you know.”
Adam bit his lip, looking extremely uncomfortable. It took a long while before he spoke. “Well…I never thought I’d get the chance, and…well, he truly is stunning when in his element, you know… and there he was and I just…did it,” he said the last with a defeated sigh. “I guess I should go apologize to him about that, if he doesn’t try to strangle me…”
“Atsushi wouldn’t do that,” Imai replied immediately. He didn’t know why he was trying to comfort the man…or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was trying to preserve Atsushi’s image of non-violence.
Adam’s lips quirked a bit to the side in a grin. “No he wouldn’t, would he.”
That annoyed Imai. “Stop pretending you know him,” Imai ordered, facing off against the taller, broader, bigger man with arms crossed.
Adam’s smiled twisted a little. “All right, I will. Although I do know a lot about him.”
“Maybe. But you don’t know him.”
“Do you?” Adam asked calmly and, as Imai gaped at him, he turned on his heel and opened the door. “Oh, and don’t bother trying to call and talk to Sakurai-san. He’s not home tonight. “
“Wha-how do you know that?” Imai demanded, following him to the door.
Adam looked at him with surprising seriousness. “He has a vampire admirer, Imai-san. One that is on his way to Japan, I’m sure. And it’s nighttime. Don’t you think someone should be watching out for him?”
Imai had to concede that point although he didn’t like it. But something else occurred to him and he felt his neck growing hot. “Were you…” he trailed off.
“Watching yesterday?” Adam finished. “Not in the way you think. We don’t spy on him, Imai-san. We just make sure we know where he is, watch the surroundings, and keep an eye out for anything strange. We don’t watch him eat dinner or listen to him talk to his friends.”
Imai was still suspicious. Especially with the examples Adam has given. “Does he know you do this?”
“We told him we were watching out for him, yes,” Adam replied, his manner completely business-like.
Imai sucked in his lower lip and chewed on it a moment, hesitating before forcing himself to ask, “So…do you know where he is now?” Maybe he could go talk to him…
Adam’s face was a mix between business and sympathy in the moment. It was strange. “I have an idea, but only Makino knows the exact location. And, no, I can’t tell you.”
Imai was about to protest, but Adam continued. “And really, how do you think he’d feel knowing you basically used us to hunt him down, anyway?”
Imai was about to protest that Atsushi wouldn’t mind if it meant mending the rift between them…but he knew that wasn’t true. Atsushi liked his privacy-he liked to lick his wounds by himself. That wasn’t normally the best thing for him to do, but it was his preferred method. Besides, Imai hadn’t had time for everything to sink in, to process it all, and the last thing he needed was to go and make an ass of himself.
“Yep, I’d probably say something that would ruin everything,” Imai muttered to himself, tilting his bottle to get the last drop of wine. Then he let the bottle drop to the floor and roll away across the carpet. He could get up and get more, he supposed, but he didn’t have the energy.
So he just sat on his bed and stared at the point where his ceiling and wall met and…thought about things.
This could all be some insane practical joke. But…what would that achieve? What, was it a set up to make Imai look like an idiot? By some man he’d never seen before (that he could remember.)? That didn’t make sense…
But really, how was he to believe the man was dead. It wasn’t like the man carried a shinigami badge like he was a policeman or something…
Imai snorted at the mental image. Adam certainly seemed the type of pull his badge out at every opportunity. Kinda liked he’d probably whip something else out at any given opportunity…
Imai’s attention snapped sharply into focus then as anger bubbled up in his chest. He couldn’t help it-he was just so angry at that blonde bastard… That he would take advantage of Acchan like that…
He supposed he could have been upset with Atsushi for not telling him “no” but he knew the other man too well… He never was very good at saying no to anyone. Even in a situation when he really should. (And he’d gotten in a lot of trouble over that more than once…)
Besides, none of this was Atsushi’s fault… Imai couldn’t even get angry about the whole bathroom incident now…
Imai sighed. It seemed thinking wasn’t going to get him anywhere but back in circles to that moment. Swinging his legs over the bed, he pushed the wine bottle with his toe and pondered getting another bottle, but then he had a better idea.
Reaching for the phone, he dialed Yokoyama’s number.* He’d been working with the band for the past few years as a manipulator and was always up for a night out. Or at least Imai liked to think so.
Because, damn it, if Atsushi was out for the night, why was Imai sitting moping at home? If anyone should be moping it was moody Atsushi, not Imai…
Yoko-chan was available, although he sounded partially asleep when he answered the phone. But he was a good sport and even volunteered to swing by and pick Imai up. So far so good.
Imai made a few more calls, seeing who was out and who was not. A lot of people didn’t answer, but it was already late in the evening. He’d probably find some of them as they went barhopping anyway. It was at moments like this that Imai wished for instant communication, but that wasn’t going to happen.
But he at least had Yoko-chan. He showed up about twenty minutes later to find Imai dressed and ready to go.
It was a regular night out for them. Typical bars, typical friends. If Imai drank heavier than usual no one said anything. It was sometime around three in the morning that Yoko-chan asked if maybe Imai should go home, since they did have a show the following night, but Imai ignored the suggestion. Besides, someone else-he didn’t remember who-had invited everyone over and he was going to go. So what if it took a few times to try to get into the taxi without banging his head on the top of the car? The opening was lower than he thought it would be.
It was around six in the morning when, as one of the few people there that was still awake but definitely not sober, Imai announced to the room at large that he was going to use the phone and then walked into the nearest bedroom. Someone was sound asleep on the bed, but Imai didn’t care. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and dialed a familiar number.
“Yo, Acchan, are you home yet?” he asked the answering machine that picked up at the other end. “Acchaaaaan…”
No one answered. Sighing, Imai hung up. Then he decided he should try again. Maybe Atsushi was sleeping or passed out on the couch or something and couldn’t get to the phone really fast. He should leave a longer message.
“Acchan, it’s Imai. Answer the phone. The phooooone. I’m calling to talk to you, you know. C’mon, I’m sitting here on the phone and you’re not theeerrre. Yeah, he said you wouldn’t be…but I’m sure you’re back by now? Riiight?”
And, yet again, no one answered. Sighing, Imai put the earpiece back in the cradle…then decided to call again. Maybe he should tell Atsushi he wasn’t mad at him. That might make him pick up the phone.
“Acchan, I promise I’m not mad! He explained it all to me and I have to say I wouldn’t want sex either after that. Stupid prick. But, really, I’m not mad. If I was mad I wouldn’t call you, right? Riiight? So, c’mon, answer the phone! Acchaaaaan!”
No one again. Imai hung up…then called again. He kept doing this for a while, always thinking of something else he should say, but nothing really seemed to come out right.
“I promise I don’t think you’re crazy! Everything else is a bit insane though. I mean, dead people and shit like that? Are we in a bad anime? It’s not even funny. I mean, that shit has to be funny at points, right? It can’t all be serious. That just causes emotional cancer, you know. All that negative shit builds up, right?”
Imai kept leaving messages although he slowly realized that, with every call he made that no one answered, the lonelier he became. It was like a slow sinking weight on his shoulders. After one call he put the phone down and just sat there. Whoever was in the bed accidently elbowed him in the ass as they flipped over in their sleep, but Imai didn’t move. He stared at the phone, then down at his hands.
Closing his eyes, he reached for the phone one more time. His throat was horrendously dry and his eyes ached. He really should sleep some time…but not right now.
The phone rang…and rang…and rang…then the prerecorded voice that Imai was going to hear in his dreams later. Clearing his throat softly, Imai said the one thing he would regret forever once he remembered it the next morning.
“If I said I love you, would you pick up the phone? Because I do. More than even I know.”
Imai let the phone hang after that, the earpiece gently swaying on its cord against the bedside table. Standing up he stumbled into the next room, where someone was moving around in the kitchen. “Going home,” he called out before marching out the door. Yoko-chan wasn’t there-he knew that somewhere in his mind-but Imai knew how to get a cab no matter how wasted he was. It was a learned talent.
Before he knew it Imai was collapsed on his bed. The last thing he remembered was hoping he had taken his shoes off before he was out like a light.
*
Atsushi crept off the elevator and instantly pressed with his back against the wall. He could see his apartment door just a few steps down the hallway and he looked both ways before detaching himself from the protection at his back. He tried to saunter easily down the hall, but it ended up being a bit of a jog instead.
He did not want to be here. At all. The unnerved feelings that had plagued him every since he’d returned to Tokyo days ago were telling him it was a bad idea to be here. But it was necessity. That morning, he’d woken up in the uncomfortable drafty bed with a dry throat and realized that he really was being an idiot about all this. Ruining his voice was the last thing he needed. Besides, Ariwara had only brought enough clothing for one night, and Atsushi couldn’t show up to the venue looking like he’s slept in his clothes. That wouldn’t do at all.
Besides he just felt like total shit, and he was sure he looked like it too.
Atsushi already had his key ready, not wanting to be any more exposed than necessary. He still couldn’t help but feel jittery in the few seconds it took to insert key, turn, then push the door open. He almost forgot to take the key out in his haste to close the door.
At last he was in his apartment. Sighing in relief he let his weight sag against the door. He was acting crazy over this for no reason. It was daytime. He shouldn’t have to worry about anything in the daytime…right?
But his nerves just wouldn’t settle. This was the first place he’ll look, his mind kept telling him. He’ll find your address and come here and what can you do about that?
Atsushi really wished that voice would shut up.
Since nothing had jumped out to try and attack him, Atsushi slowly began to slip his shoes off. He was just stepping up into the room when a motion in his peripheral vision startled him into turning towards the main room.
He and the woman he found at the entrance to the hallway both shrieked (although Atsushi would later ignore that little detail.)
It took Atsushi a second to take in the short and stocky middle-aged woman standing in front of him in her plain maid uniform of dark blue shirt and slacks. She held a spray bottle up at him like she was going to shoot him with it. Said weapon lowered slowly as she recognized him, her face alight with surprise that quickly turned to sheepish embarrassment. “Ah, Sakurai-san, I didn’t know you’d be home today…”
It was the maid. Just the maid. Atsushi put his hand to his chest, feeling his heart beating like crazy. “I’m sorry…” name name name name… crap. What the hell was it? “I didn’t mean to startle you…”**
The fact that he blatantly didn’t remember her name didn’t affect the woman at all. “I can come back later if you like,” she offered politely.
Atsushi hastily waved off her offer. “No, no, that’s all right. I just…It doesn’t matter if you’re here.” He managed to smile at her. “I’ll try not to get in your way.”
It was in that moment that Atsushi remember why, when he had first set up the service, he had requested an older woman as his cleaning lady. Not even an eyelash fluttered at his smile. In fact, she gave him a look that basically said “you’d better not” before going back into the other room.
Atsushi followed her meekly. “Did you clean the bathroom yet?” he asked her, feeling rather awkward.
The maid shook her head. “If you want to use it go ahead. I’ll finish up out here.”
“…all right.”
Now he felt really perturbed, having to ask permission to use his own bathroom. But, as Atsushi got ready to take a shower he realized that he felt better knowing that that stern little woman was out there in the other room. That meant he wasn’t in the apartment by himself…and that seemed to make a world of difference to his peace of mind.
That meant he allowed himself to take a more leisurely shower than he’d originally planned and he actually was able to condition his hair. He remained in the bathroom long afterward in order to breath in the steamy air, using this time to comb his hair out. He even brushed it after he was done, like his stylist constantly told him to do but he often ignored. It made him feel much too girly-granted he often put his own makeup on and had worn a skirt once or twice, but brushing his hair on his own time seemed…just over the top.
Although, he did have to admit it looked rather shiny once he was done.
Putting on his robe he padded out into the main room and headed for his bedroom. The maid was vacuuming and only spared him a glance. Closing his door resolutely behind him, Atsushi started to get dressed in the clothes he’d already lain out. He accidently kicked his travel bag and, grumbling, he picked it up and tossed it on the bed. He would have to clean it out later he supposed. Normally not emptying it would bother him…but he didn’t really have the energy to care at the moment.
Once he was mostly dressed Atsushi sat down on his bed. That soon progressed to flopping down on his back. His bed. It was nice to be there again. He curled up on his side, laying in the dark as he listened to the woman moving around in the other room. It was a very vague reminder of home, a long time ago.
After a while Atsushi shifted slightly and, as a result, was able to see his bare feet. His bruised left foot looked hideous; a mottled mix of black, red and purple. That was going to hurt later, he knew. There wasn’t much he could do about it though besides grin and bear it.
Atsushi wasn’t sure how long he lay there, trying so hard to think of nothing and largely succeeding for a change, much to his relief. At long last he sat up and, despite feeling lethargic and muddled, he got up and decided to do something. He probably had tons of mail to go through… he should start there.
Sliding his feet into some slippers, Atsushi wandered into the main room. There was a table between this room and the kitchen area where there was, as he expected, a pile of mail. And, next to it, was the answering machine. The light was blinking.
Atsushi gave the phone a wary glance. He never liked phones or phone messages. Some of the worst experiences of his life had started with phone calls. Yet, when he finally decided to look, it said that over twenty people had called. Twenty three to be exact.
“I’m popular,” he muttered ironically as he hit the play button and then started to sort through his mail. Nothing much interesting there besides random junk mail. There was one letter from a friend of his that he set aside, but the rest of it was destined for the trash.
The first message on the machine was a salesman. No one could escape those. Another was from a bar he usually frequented with a polite, friendly “where are you, now come spend money” message. Then there were a few friends and acquaintances who had most likely forgotten he was supposed to be on tour, or simply didn’t care. A few hang ups, someone calling about donations…
Atsushi’s mind was forcibly dragged to attention when he heard Imai’s voice. “Yo, Acchan, are you home yet?”
That was enough to shatter the calm Atsushi had so painstakingly developed in the past hour or so. His heart leapt into his throat and he took a quick guilty glance around the room, almost as if he expected Imai to jump out of nowhere and start yelling at him again.
But, naturally, nothing of the sort occurred. Also, much to Atsushi’s surprise, the message was…not very much all. It was pretty useless actually. That didn’t let Atsushi relax, of course. Just hearing the other man’s voice had put him instantly on edge.
Frowning, Atsushi tried to remember what the recorded time had been. He didn’t have long to think though before Imai’s voice came on again. The time was 6:05 AM that morning. Strange…
“Acchan, it’s Imai. Answer the phone. The phooooone.”
Or perhaps it wasn’t so strange considering how slurred Imai’s words were. He was obvious drunk off his ass. Atsushi rather envied him at the moment.
At least he did until he discovered the next message was Imai…then the next…and the next… As the fourth message came on and it was Imai again Atsushi began to become annoyed. How many times had he called? After the third started, Atsushi had begun to skip each message as he came to it, hearing no more than part of the first sentence. He wasn’t interested in hearing Imai’s drunken ramblings.
Four…five..six… “What the hell?” Atsushi grumbled, stabbing at the erase button. “Leave me alone.”
Seven…eight… “Damn it, Imai.” Now it seemed like Imai had set out to taunt him or something. He didn’t want to think about the other man let alone listen to his voice over and over again.
Nine..ten. Atsushi scowled as yet one more started. “That’s it. I’m not-”
Atsushi stopped speaking at the same moment his ears heard “…love you, would you pick up the phone?”
Atsushi stood there shocked as the rest of the message played, mail in one hand and his other posed over the erase button. He wasn’t aware of his comical pose though. He was too focused on the feeling that started in his chest and spread outward. It was a like a fierce pull, an ache…a tight, restricting feeling that made him breathless and numb. It was like shock…but deeper, as if another part of him besides his mind was gripped by those words and left completely blindsided.
He…hadn’t heard what he thought he heard, had he?
Please be wrong please be wrong…
The next message was playing, some woman babbling about something…but Atsushi ignored her completely and went back to the beginning of Imai’s last message.
“If I said I love you, would you pick up the phone? Because I do. More than even I know.”
Atsushi wasn’t sure what he was feeling in that moment, but it reminded him keenly of devastation. “Don’t say that,” he croaked to the answering machine, as if that would help. But not even destroying that damned machine could erase those words from Atsushi’s mind.
“I wish someone would leave me a message like that.”
Atsushi almost leapt out of his skin yet again on account of that woman. Whirling around, he saw her packing up her supplies in the kitchen. When had she…?
“Although your admirer sounds like he had a few too many…” The maid remarked. She was wearing a peculiar expression that seemed to resembling a wistful amusement. “I wonder if he’ll remember later?”
For one brief instance Atsushi want to tell her to shut up-she was his maid anyway, what right did she have to say such things? But he realized just how pretentious that sounded. She wasn’t exactly being rude…although it did annoy him to have her listening in on his private business. Then again he could have waited for her to leave before playing his messages…but, really, how was he to anticipate something like that being on there?
He didn’t try very hard to hide his annoyance so it was only natural that she would catch on. She didn’t apologize though. She simply continued to pack up her supplies in silence. Atsushi didn’t move from his place by his phone-he felt that if he did he would end up doing something rather embarrassing in front of this woman. He wasn’t sure what that would be-scream in anger, cry, call Imai and gush some strange sentiment over the phone…he didn’t know. So he remained still in the confused vortex of his thoughts as she put everything neatly into her carry case and then headed for the door.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Atsushi sat down. Right there in the middle of the floor. It was rather forced since his knees decided that moment was a good time to stop working properly.
“Damn it.”
That was all he could say. The perfect capstone for all the jumbled thoughts fighting for attention in his brain. Just…damn it.
Closing his eyes Atsushi forced himself to think. There had to be some rational thought in the mess somewhere…he just had to pluck it out. It was a lot harder than it should be.
All right. So Imai was just completely wasted and decided to call him. Nothing new there. He did that to people all the time. He just happened to say something really…embarrassing this time around.
“He probably didn’t even know what he was saying anymore…or who he was talking to,” Atsushi muttered out loud, as if someone would agree with him. Of course no one did, since he was alone. (And if someone had he’d probably die of a heart attack right then and there. He didn’t need another person popping up out of nowhere.)
Yet, if Atsushi was searching for agreement with his statement…he wasn’t going to find it within himself either. Because he knew that wasn’t true. Imai wouldn’t just randomly say “I love you”, no matter how drunk he was. Atsushi was the one who would most likely do that rather than Imai.
Besides, Atsushi had seen the jealousy on Imai face last night. It could be construed to mean something else, if he tried…but at the time he’d seen it for what it really was and, now with that message… He couldn’t really deny it. Imai felt something…if it was love or lust or something else Atsushi couldn’t quite say, but it certainly Imai thought it was the former…
Sighing mightily Atsushi let his forehead drop against his bent knees and he stared blankly at his pant legs. This was just wonderful. “I should be pissed off, Imai,” he muttered to the man that was most likely passed out somewhere right now.
Everything was going to be weird now. Atsushi had gone through that before when he’d married Sayuri. Things had just been…strange then. No one knew if they should treat her as their stylist or Atsushi’s wife. Hell, even Atsushi hadn’t really known at times.
She had only been staff though. Atsushi couldn’t imagine what would happen now with a band member…. Was it something that they faced openly? Something he had to just ignore? Something that would go away after a while?
Imai was supposed to be his friend. Not a source of uncomfortable angst. This was the last issue he needed to deal with right now… External attacks…internal attacks…he was going to go crazy.
“I hate this,” Atsushi mumbled irritably. Out of sheer spite he kicked out at the leg of the table that held the phone. It was a solidly made table though and all that did was hurt him more than anything else. At least he’d been smart enough not to use his injured foot.
Giving the table a baleful look, Atsushi moved so that he was kneeling instead of sitting. Counting to three, he then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He wasn’t going to spend the whole day sitting on his floor. He was going to do something useful…he was going to…
Atsushi stared out into his empty apartment. What was he going to do?
Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time that morning, Atsushi rubbed his face tiredly with both hands.
He just didn’t know anything anymore.
“Damn it.”
*
Imai really didn’t want to go to the venue. At all. It didn’t help that it was the same venue as the night before. Damn the Tokyo schedule.
He went though. He had to. As it was, he had to face blustering winds and pounding rain to get there. The weather fit his mood perfectly.
When he got inside he was relieved that Atsushi wasn’t there yet. It was only Toll, talking to someone on the phone. He waved at Imai. However, Imai barely had the time to take his jacket off before U-ta, Hide, and Atsushi came into the room. Imai’s mind reeled. Coming in together meant one thing-they had taken advantage of the hired transportation. And that transportation usually picked them up at their apartments. So, that meant…that Atsushi had gone home sometime that morning.
He might have called, asked to be picked up somewhere else, Imai’s brain tried to reason behind his panic. But somehow Imai knew this wasn’t so. One reason could be that Atsushi was carefully not looking at him.
Imai had the unwelcome sensation of wanting to melt into the floor. It was just adding to the sick feeling he’d felt all day; because as soon as he’d woken up that afternoon and become reasonable sober Imai had remembered the phone calls. Especially the last one.
Why did I say that? Why? He must have subconsciously just wanted to fuck everything up. Because that’s what he’d done-sabotaged himself.
However, despite his overwhelming embarrassment, Imai couldn’t help but observe Atsushi out of the corner of his eye as they began to get ready for the night. Despite what the blond bastard has said last night…Atsushi looked rather okay now. He didn’t look all worn out like he had the past few days, and he seemed to be in a relatively stable mood… so had it really been a hoax?
But then how had that blond bastard disappeared and appeared out of nowhere? That had been rather…creepy, but real. Maybe Atsushi was being stalked by that man instead?
Leave it to Atsushi to attract dead or undead people.
Imai just didn’t know anything anymore it seemed… All he was sure about was that he’d keep an eye out for anyone bothering Atsushi. He didn’t know whathe could do about it exactly, especially if it was against something like a vampire …but he’d keep watch anyway. He had to.
Sitting at the dressing table, Imai surreptitiously watched Atsushi and U-ta talking over on the couch by means of the mirror. Atsushi, dressed in his costume sans jacket and boots, was having his foot wrapped by Haneda-san. His foot was up on the low table as the other man worked and U-ta, naturally, was trying to be distracting.
“What were you up to today, Acchan?”
Imai couldn’t see Atsushi’s face clearly from his position at the mirror, but he sounded calm and natural as he said, “Not much. Hung out at home…lifted some weights…”
“Ah, let me see!” U-ta insisted, grabbing Atsushi’s arm. “I have such wimpy arms,” he whined, taking the opportunity to dig his fingers into Atsushi’s bicep.
Atsushi swatted at him. Imai could hear the amusement in his voice as he said, “Quit it.”
“Don’t wanna,” U-ta said, prodding Atsushi’s arm again. “Maybe I should start weight training too,” he mused.
Atsushi tried unsuccessfully to move away from U-ta’s grabby hands, but he was trapped by Haneda, who was still working on his foot. The man gave one impatient tug on the wrapping that must have hurt because Atsushi visibly winced and sat still. “U-ta, you’re upsetting Haneda-san,” Atsushi primly informed the other man, who made a face that plainly read “ah huh. And you aren’t. ”
“Just hold on one moment more, Sakurai-san,” Haneda grunted. Imai watched as he secured the bandage and then put Atsushi’s foot down on the floor. “There, that should keep it until the show’s done. Because I’m sure you won’t reconsider…”
“No,” Atsushi said. “Too late anyway,” he added with a shrug. He flexed his foot and Imai could see his ankle move and that reminded him of just the other morning…
Imai bit his lip and looked away, focusing on the slight worried frown on Haneda’s face. “Well then, that’s the best we can do.”
“Thank you,” Atsushi said sincerely. Then he turned on U-ta. “I’ll show you muscle,” he intoned, darkly.
The look on Atsushi face must have been enough to warn U-ta, because the smaller man squirmed off the couch and tumbled to the floor just as Atsushi went to lunge at him. This startled the crouching Haneda, who fell backwards onto his rear on the floor.
Atsushi’s lunge had been a feint in reality they all quickly realized, because Atsushi stopped mid-motion and easily sat back, laughing at the disheveled U-ta laying wedged between the couch and table. “You fit rather well down there,” he said casually.
“Shut uuup,” U-ta whined, trying to look annoyed but running the effect by laughing. He kicked out at Atsushi with his foot half-heartedly.
Imai looked away from the image in the mirror then, his heart feeing heavy despite the lightheartedness he’d just witnessed. He bit his bottom lip as he listened to everyone laughing behind him. He was being a fool isolating himself, wasn’t he? He’d have to face Atsushi sometime… He supposed he could wait until after the show, but he didn’t think he could handle all this tension if it carried over onstage. It would drive him crazy.
Besides, there was only so much of the self-incriminating thought of “Idiot” he could handle bouncing around in his brain. After a while…he just needed to do something about it.
Drawing in a deep breath, Imai sat up straighter and squared his shoulders. First step…go sit on the couch. He could do this. Imai sitting down with U-ta and Atsushi-no big deal…
Imai got up off the stool and turned around…only to discover that Atsushi was now sitting by himself smoking a cigarette and that both Haneda and U-ta were long gone.
“Ah shit,” Imai muttered under his breath. Apparently it wasn’t low enough though because Atsushi looked up. There was a moment when they just stared at one another until Atsushi cleared his throat softly.
“Did you say something?” he asked.
“No,” Imai mumbled automatically.
“Ah.” That was all he said before looking away again, for all appearances interested in what was going on across the room.
Imai was pretty sure that wasn’t a good start to dispersing tension. Mainly because just by looking at one another it seemed to become amplified about one-hundred times more.
He stood there a moment more, lost between the urge to run away or go forward…because he was just looking stupid standing there.
It took a large amount of will, but Imai took the last few steps and then sank down on the couch next to Atsushi. The space between them was less than the width of a hand and Imai was highly aware of that. However, he was also conscious of the emotional gulf that was in that little space… So close, and yet…
Imai shifted uncomfortably. This was a new sensation for him. Normally he could just sit down next to Atsushi, no big deal. Now, in this moment of immense tension for an act that should have been something as natural as breathing, he hated these feelings. It was like a punch of the face, seeing just how much they screwed up everything.
This anger was just the force he needed. He turned towards Atsushi, who was acting all cool and nonchalant as if he wasn’t bothered by Imai being there-but the tenseness in his shoulders gave him away. “Look, Acchan, last night-”
“Could you help me put my boot on?”
Imai’s voice stopped dead. Atsushi had turned around to ask him that, and Imai was now face to face with Atsushi’s remarkably neutral expression. That was enough to throw Imai off the war path. “Ah…yeah, yeah, I can. But after-”
“Thanks,” Atsushi talked over Imai again, leaning forward to stub out his cigarette and collect his boots. He continued speaking towards the floor. “Haneda-san said that even with my foot wrapped I’m going to have a hard time getting this on.”
Imai balked. That was not the first interaction they needed-Imai helping shove Atsushi’s foot into a shoe. It would most likely be rather painful and…not how Imai really wanted to proceed with this. “Ah…maybe you should have one of the stylists help you instead…”
“Nah, they’re busy. Just give me a hand here,” Atsushi said, putting the boot down on the floor. He then reached over and grabbed Imai’s hands in his and moved them so that he held up the flexible leather boot shaft. Imai did as he was urged like an automaton as his mind whirled. After what had happened since yesterday, here was Atsushi manhandling like nothing had happened.
“Hold on to that as I get my foot in. Then we’ll both pull up on it, okay?” Atsushi was instructing him calmly, and Imai barely suppressed the urge to gape at him in astonishment.
This…wasn’t Atsushi. Okay…it was him, but…not the Atsushi Imai would expect at that moment. This was normal, nonchalant, nothing-weird-is-going-on Atsushi. No passion, no nerves, no anger…no reaction at all. Hell, Imai would even take a sullen, moody Atsushi like they’d been faced with the past week or so.
Maybe I just imagined the past few days… Imai wondered amidst his dizzying thoughts, but that couldn’t be.
Imai continued to hold the boot like Atsushi asked him as he considered this. He was only jerked from his thoughts when he suddenly realized that Atsushi was holding onto the boot too, and that one of his fingers was a mere hairsbreadth from his…and Imai cursed his infatuation. He would notice that so keenly and yet he couldn’t figure out what was going on in Atsushi’s head.
Atsushi gave the nonverbal cue to pull and Imai snapped to attention and did so. His foot went in, but Imai didn’t miss the way Atsushi winced. Neither one of them mentioned it.
Once it was done Atsushi flexed his foot this way and that, trying to get the leather to relax. “That should work,” he said.
“That’s…good.” Imai replied, fully realizing how lame he sounded. Not willing to give himself time to back down though he immediately launched into the topic he wanted. “About last night, Atsushi. I-“
“Thanks.” Atsushi spoke as if he didn’t even realize that Imai was saying anything. That unexpected rudeness on Atsushi’s part was enough to make Imai’s voice fall short and he just stared, gaping. He was still dumbfounded as Atsushi stood up and crossed the room to talk to someone else.
“Ah…” Imai couldn’t say more than that. He just stared, watching as Atsushi entered a completely normal conversation with someone else. “You really are avoiding me,” he muttered to no one, his tone incredulous to his own ears. It was one thing for Atsushi to avoid him physically, he supposed…but this was ridiculous!
Imai folded his arms and fumed. Why was Atsushi being such a jackass? Imai just wanted to talk about it! Atsushi was usually the one who recommended the whole ‘talk about it’ concept, anyway. Apparently it was different when the shoe was on the other foot.
There was no doubt now that Atsushi had heard all his messages…because why else would he be so avoidant?
Maybe because you treated him like garbage last night? a tiny little voice whispered in the back of Imai’s mind.
Imai bit his lip, remembering his angry reaction. I called him a fucking cocktease. To his face. Okay, so perhaps Atsushi had another reason to be pissed off at Imai besides the messages… But Atsushi was necessarily pissed off right now, was he? Not exactly. He was…indifferent.
It was almost like he…didn’t know how to react, Imai realized with a sudden, blinding epiphany.
He definitely had to have heard the messages now. Imai had to really fight the urge to bury his face in his hands. Was the…was the idea that Imai…felt that way such a bad thing that he couldn’t even let Imai explain? Couldn’t face him with any open emotion whatsoever?
Imai sighed; it was a long, heavy sound that made his shoulders slump. This was not going well at all.
What the hell, too big AGAIN? Argh. LINK
Chapter 14
Imai still wasn’t sure he believed it.
It was long after Adam had left, through the door this time, and Imai was sitting on his bed with BJ’s head in his lap and an open bottle of wine on the nightstand. He was staring out at nothing, trying to piece everything together. His eyes were heavy and sore and he knew he should get to sleep…but once again Atsushi was keeping him up at night.
So…all this time…there was a vampire. Vampire. Interested in Atsushi. That was something a few steps out of Imai’s ability to believe.
What had been real to Imai though was the man sitting on his couch and telling Imai all of this. The same one he’d seen sitting on Atsushi’s lap that evening.
Adam looked at him with troubled eyes when he’d called him on it. “Yeah, I did. I shouldn’t have. It’s just….just that-” and here he fumbled for the first that night. He sighed, shoulders heaving under his well-made suit. “He’s very special. More so than you know.”
He held up a hand when Imai went to refute that. “I see things differently than a human can, remember. And, like I told Sakurai-san once before, he has this most brilliant shining aura about him that just attracts people like a moth to a flame…and it’s no different for the dead. Especially someone like me,” he added with a bitter laugh.
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Imai insisted, his voice tense.
Adam’s lips twisted in a sad but fond smile. “He said the same thing. And he kept calling it ‘being shiny’. It’s more than that.”
Imai’s hackles rose at the man’s expression. “How often do you two talk together then?” he asked through a stiff jaw.
Adam didn’t seem to notice his agitation. He shrugged easily. “Once and a while. He’s pretty pissed off at me right now actually….”
“I’d be pissed off at you too,” Imai grumbled.
Adam gave him a keen look. “I’m not talking about what I just did-which I really shouldn’t have done but I’ve said that-I’m talking about what was done to you.”
Imai jerked to sit up straight. “Me?”
“The reason why you didn’t know all of this by now. You don’t remember that night in Osaka at all, do you?”
That had evolved into the memory modification explanation. Imai’s head ached just from the thought of it, and his touched his temple gently. Just thinking about someone messing around in his brain was…weird. And, although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, it was also rather scary…
And that Atsushi got so angry about it…that was… Imai sighed and rubbed at his forehead. It was touching, he had to admit.
Sitting in the silence of his bedroom Imai’s fingers trailed as if on their own volition to touch his lips. That had really happened, hadn’t it? It wasn’t a dream again…?
No, it wasn’t. Nor was the truth that Atsushi knew now. He knew. Or at the very least he suspected, but Imai was sure it was more than that.
But what he knew Imai wasn’t quite sure. Not after what Adam had told him, anyway.
“You’ve been having weird dreams and such haven’t you?” Adam asked after finally convincing Imai that ‘yes, we messed with your mind. No, I’m not making this up.’
Imai nodded, but that was all. He wasn’t going to say what those dreams were. No way in hell.
“Thought so.” Adam sighed, running a hand through his hair. Imai eyed him, thinking he was looking far too comfortable sitting on his couch. “I had to do some research on all this on my own, since Makino wouldn’t tell me anything. But, apparently, this has been known to happen.”
“This,” Imai repeated.
“This-having dreams and such. It’s your brain trying to go around the mental block-that’s really what he did since he didn’t have much time, you see. Anyway, this usually happens when the work done is shoddy or the affected person’s mind is stronger than the creator of the block anticipated.”
This was sounding far too bizarre for Imai. He rubbed his forehead as Adam continued.
“So, essentially, what your mind must have done is make a crack in that block-not enough to remember, but enough to get an impression of what’s behind it-and your mind focused on these impressions… so I’m sure you’ve been having dreams about Sakurai-san and maybe something dark…maybe even hints of vampires. Something like that.” Adam was observing Imai closely as he said Atsushi’s name and Imai stared him down, refusing to show any reaction.
“So you’re saying I’m only partially remembering? And that my brain is trying to remember the rest?”
“Sort of.” Adam pursed his lips, trying to think of the best way to say it. “I think it’s more like your brain is trying to force itself to remember by any means possible-dreams, old memories pertaining to the topic, maybe even fantasies-and the more it does so the more…obsessed with it you might seem. Because people with powerful minds don’t like to have them tampered with and will do anything to fix it.”
“Oh.” Imai wasn’t able to say more than that.
“I’m sure you’ve felt this needling sense of ‘not-knowing’ too, haven’t you?”
Damn it, he had. “Yeah…”
Adam smiled. “Then I think talking about it all now will help get rid of that. And all the thoughts you’ve been having pertaining to the subject that seem odd or obsessive will probably go away over time.”
Something about Adam’s demeanor brought to mind what Imai thought a shrink would be like and he was instantly annoyed. “Maybe,” he grunted in assent.
Sitting on his bed now, Imai sighed and the air flew over his fingers. He dropped them immediately and frowned. So this…this sudden fixation on Atsushi-it was fake? So now did Atsushi think that Imai felt something for him…but he didn’t really? It was just his mind playing with him?
Imai reached for the wine bottle. “I don’t get it, BJ,” he told his dog, rubbing his fingers through the fur on the dog’s back. BJ sighed in his sleep, and Imai immediately remembered Atsushi doing that too…
He stopped, wine bottle halfway to his mouth as he felt a twinge of longing bloom in his chest. No, it couldn’t be fake, could it? Not even his mind could create an emotion like that out of nothing. Even if it was sudden and kind of obsessive at the moment, it had to stem from somewhere… some deep part of him that he had almost allowed himself to recognize that morning, the part of him that would sit and hold Atsushi’s hand for over an hour as he slept.
That couldn’t be just a mind trick. If it was, Imai would consider himself an out-of-this-world genius and let them study his brain in a laboratory.
So it was just this need his brain felt to focus on Atsushi…that was what had unburied what must have been there for a while, hiding in the dark and afraid to come out because it was just…too awkward, too strange…too….what was happening now.
Imai took a swig of his wine. “Atsushi, you asshole,” he muttered against the ridges on the mouth of the bottle. Why had he run away...? Imai didn’t want to consider it…but he had to.
There was a very high chance that Atsushi was…uncomfortable with all this.
“But he started it,” Imai mumbled to the empty room. “This time around, anyway,” he added, drinking more wine.
Granted, Imai hadn’t really been very smooth with his reaction. He winced, remembering what he’d said… but he’d been so angry at the time. Atsushi had seemed fine with it, but then he’d just stopped and…and Imai was still pissed off from earlier, so insult had compounded on insult and…
Imai sighed. He’d been an ass, he would readily admit that.
Although there was another reason Atsushi might have stopped. Maybe he’d been thinking of Adam…
“No,” Imai said sternly, his voice loud in the silent room. BJ whimpered, opening his eyes to look up at him. Imai rubbed between his ears. “Sorry, bud.”
Adam smiled morosely as he stopped in Imai’s doorway and said, completely out of the blue in Imai’s opinion, “It’d never work out between us. Sakurai-san and me, I mean. For many reasons. One of which is that, well, I’m dead. And he would never forget that.”
Imai just stared and Adam shifted once and then shrugged. “Also I really shouldn’t have gotten this involved with him anyway…it’s not professional at all.”
“No, it’s not,” Imai agreed, gravely, and Adam quirked a humorless grin at him.
“Glad to see you agree. Anyway, one more reason...” Adam’s smile turned almost sheepish. “Well, I just sat on the man’s lap and tried to make out with him and he wasn’t interested in anything I did, at all. That’s a very telling thing to a man’s pride, you see.”
Don’t wanna know don’t wanna know don’twannaknow, Imai’s mind chanted and he told himself to shut up. “Why did you do that in the first place? Yeah, yeah,” he said, cutting through anything Adam might have said. “Moth-to-flame, aura, etc etc. But that didn’t mean you had to jump him, you know.”
Adam bit his lip, looking extremely uncomfortable. It took a long while before he spoke. “Well…I never thought I’d get the chance, and…well, he truly is stunning when in his element, you know… and there he was and I just…did it,” he said the last with a defeated sigh. “I guess I should go apologize to him about that, if he doesn’t try to strangle me…”
“Atsushi wouldn’t do that,” Imai replied immediately. He didn’t know why he was trying to comfort the man…or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was trying to preserve Atsushi’s image of non-violence.
Adam’s lips quirked a bit to the side in a grin. “No he wouldn’t, would he.”
That annoyed Imai. “Stop pretending you know him,” Imai ordered, facing off against the taller, broader, bigger man with arms crossed.
Adam’s smiled twisted a little. “All right, I will. Although I do know a lot about him.”
“Maybe. But you don’t know him.”
“Do you?” Adam asked calmly and, as Imai gaped at him, he turned on his heel and opened the door. “Oh, and don’t bother trying to call and talk to Sakurai-san. He’s not home tonight. “
“Wha-how do you know that?” Imai demanded, following him to the door.
Adam looked at him with surprising seriousness. “He has a vampire admirer, Imai-san. One that is on his way to Japan, I’m sure. And it’s nighttime. Don’t you think someone should be watching out for him?”
Imai had to concede that point although he didn’t like it. But something else occurred to him and he felt his neck growing hot. “Were you…” he trailed off.
“Watching yesterday?” Adam finished. “Not in the way you think. We don’t spy on him, Imai-san. We just make sure we know where he is, watch the surroundings, and keep an eye out for anything strange. We don’t watch him eat dinner or listen to him talk to his friends.”
Imai was still suspicious. Especially with the examples Adam has given. “Does he know you do this?”
“We told him we were watching out for him, yes,” Adam replied, his manner completely business-like.
Imai sucked in his lower lip and chewed on it a moment, hesitating before forcing himself to ask, “So…do you know where he is now?” Maybe he could go talk to him…
Adam’s face was a mix between business and sympathy in the moment. It was strange. “I have an idea, but only Makino knows the exact location. And, no, I can’t tell you.”
Imai was about to protest, but Adam continued. “And really, how do you think he’d feel knowing you basically used us to hunt him down, anyway?”
Imai was about to protest that Atsushi wouldn’t mind if it meant mending the rift between them…but he knew that wasn’t true. Atsushi liked his privacy-he liked to lick his wounds by himself. That wasn’t normally the best thing for him to do, but it was his preferred method. Besides, Imai hadn’t had time for everything to sink in, to process it all, and the last thing he needed was to go and make an ass of himself.
“Yep, I’d probably say something that would ruin everything,” Imai muttered to himself, tilting his bottle to get the last drop of wine. Then he let the bottle drop to the floor and roll away across the carpet. He could get up and get more, he supposed, but he didn’t have the energy.
So he just sat on his bed and stared at the point where his ceiling and wall met and…thought about things.
This could all be some insane practical joke. But…what would that achieve? What, was it a set up to make Imai look like an idiot? By some man he’d never seen before (that he could remember.)? That didn’t make sense…
But really, how was he to believe the man was dead. It wasn’t like the man carried a shinigami badge like he was a policeman or something…
Imai snorted at the mental image. Adam certainly seemed the type of pull his badge out at every opportunity. Kinda liked he’d probably whip something else out at any given opportunity…
Imai’s attention snapped sharply into focus then as anger bubbled up in his chest. He couldn’t help it-he was just so angry at that blonde bastard… That he would take advantage of Acchan like that…
He supposed he could have been upset with Atsushi for not telling him “no” but he knew the other man too well… He never was very good at saying no to anyone. Even in a situation when he really should. (And he’d gotten in a lot of trouble over that more than once…)
Besides, none of this was Atsushi’s fault… Imai couldn’t even get angry about the whole bathroom incident now…
Imai sighed. It seemed thinking wasn’t going to get him anywhere but back in circles to that moment. Swinging his legs over the bed, he pushed the wine bottle with his toe and pondered getting another bottle, but then he had a better idea.
Reaching for the phone, he dialed Yokoyama’s number.* He’d been working with the band for the past few years as a manipulator and was always up for a night out. Or at least Imai liked to think so.
Because, damn it, if Atsushi was out for the night, why was Imai sitting moping at home? If anyone should be moping it was moody Atsushi, not Imai…
Yoko-chan was available, although he sounded partially asleep when he answered the phone. But he was a good sport and even volunteered to swing by and pick Imai up. So far so good.
Imai made a few more calls, seeing who was out and who was not. A lot of people didn’t answer, but it was already late in the evening. He’d probably find some of them as they went barhopping anyway. It was at moments like this that Imai wished for instant communication, but that wasn’t going to happen.
But he at least had Yoko-chan. He showed up about twenty minutes later to find Imai dressed and ready to go.
It was a regular night out for them. Typical bars, typical friends. If Imai drank heavier than usual no one said anything. It was sometime around three in the morning that Yoko-chan asked if maybe Imai should go home, since they did have a show the following night, but Imai ignored the suggestion. Besides, someone else-he didn’t remember who-had invited everyone over and he was going to go. So what if it took a few times to try to get into the taxi without banging his head on the top of the car? The opening was lower than he thought it would be.
It was around six in the morning when, as one of the few people there that was still awake but definitely not sober, Imai announced to the room at large that he was going to use the phone and then walked into the nearest bedroom. Someone was sound asleep on the bed, but Imai didn’t care. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and dialed a familiar number.
“Yo, Acchan, are you home yet?” he asked the answering machine that picked up at the other end. “Acchaaaaan…”
No one answered. Sighing, Imai hung up. Then he decided he should try again. Maybe Atsushi was sleeping or passed out on the couch or something and couldn’t get to the phone really fast. He should leave a longer message.
“Acchan, it’s Imai. Answer the phone. The phooooone. I’m calling to talk to you, you know. C’mon, I’m sitting here on the phone and you’re not theeerrre. Yeah, he said you wouldn’t be…but I’m sure you’re back by now? Riiight?”
And, yet again, no one answered. Sighing, Imai put the earpiece back in the cradle…then decided to call again. Maybe he should tell Atsushi he wasn’t mad at him. That might make him pick up the phone.
“Acchan, I promise I’m not mad! He explained it all to me and I have to say I wouldn’t want sex either after that. Stupid prick. But, really, I’m not mad. If I was mad I wouldn’t call you, right? Riiight? So, c’mon, answer the phone! Acchaaaaan!”
No one again. Imai hung up…then called again. He kept doing this for a while, always thinking of something else he should say, but nothing really seemed to come out right.
“I promise I don’t think you’re crazy! Everything else is a bit insane though. I mean, dead people and shit like that? Are we in a bad anime? It’s not even funny. I mean, that shit has to be funny at points, right? It can’t all be serious. That just causes emotional cancer, you know. All that negative shit builds up, right?”
Imai kept leaving messages although he slowly realized that, with every call he made that no one answered, the lonelier he became. It was like a slow sinking weight on his shoulders. After one call he put the phone down and just sat there. Whoever was in the bed accidently elbowed him in the ass as they flipped over in their sleep, but Imai didn’t move. He stared at the phone, then down at his hands.
Closing his eyes, he reached for the phone one more time. His throat was horrendously dry and his eyes ached. He really should sleep some time…but not right now.
The phone rang…and rang…and rang…then the prerecorded voice that Imai was going to hear in his dreams later. Clearing his throat softly, Imai said the one thing he would regret forever once he remembered it the next morning.
“If I said I love you, would you pick up the phone? Because I do. More than even I know.”
Imai let the phone hang after that, the earpiece gently swaying on its cord against the bedside table. Standing up he stumbled into the next room, where someone was moving around in the kitchen. “Going home,” he called out before marching out the door. Yoko-chan wasn’t there-he knew that somewhere in his mind-but Imai knew how to get a cab no matter how wasted he was. It was a learned talent.
Before he knew it Imai was collapsed on his bed. The last thing he remembered was hoping he had taken his shoes off before he was out like a light.
*
Atsushi crept off the elevator and instantly pressed with his back against the wall. He could see his apartment door just a few steps down the hallway and he looked both ways before detaching himself from the protection at his back. He tried to saunter easily down the hall, but it ended up being a bit of a jog instead.
He did not want to be here. At all. The unnerved feelings that had plagued him every since he’d returned to Tokyo days ago were telling him it was a bad idea to be here. But it was necessity. That morning, he’d woken up in the uncomfortable drafty bed with a dry throat and realized that he really was being an idiot about all this. Ruining his voice was the last thing he needed. Besides, Ariwara had only brought enough clothing for one night, and Atsushi couldn’t show up to the venue looking like he’s slept in his clothes. That wouldn’t do at all.
Besides he just felt like total shit, and he was sure he looked like it too.
Atsushi already had his key ready, not wanting to be any more exposed than necessary. He still couldn’t help but feel jittery in the few seconds it took to insert key, turn, then push the door open. He almost forgot to take the key out in his haste to close the door.
At last he was in his apartment. Sighing in relief he let his weight sag against the door. He was acting crazy over this for no reason. It was daytime. He shouldn’t have to worry about anything in the daytime…right?
But his nerves just wouldn’t settle. This was the first place he’ll look, his mind kept telling him. He’ll find your address and come here and what can you do about that?
Atsushi really wished that voice would shut up.
Since nothing had jumped out to try and attack him, Atsushi slowly began to slip his shoes off. He was just stepping up into the room when a motion in his peripheral vision startled him into turning towards the main room.
He and the woman he found at the entrance to the hallway both shrieked (although Atsushi would later ignore that little detail.)
It took Atsushi a second to take in the short and stocky middle-aged woman standing in front of him in her plain maid uniform of dark blue shirt and slacks. She held a spray bottle up at him like she was going to shoot him with it. Said weapon lowered slowly as she recognized him, her face alight with surprise that quickly turned to sheepish embarrassment. “Ah, Sakurai-san, I didn’t know you’d be home today…”
It was the maid. Just the maid. Atsushi put his hand to his chest, feeling his heart beating like crazy. “I’m sorry…” name name name name… crap. What the hell was it? “I didn’t mean to startle you…”**
The fact that he blatantly didn’t remember her name didn’t affect the woman at all. “I can come back later if you like,” she offered politely.
Atsushi hastily waved off her offer. “No, no, that’s all right. I just…It doesn’t matter if you’re here.” He managed to smile at her. “I’ll try not to get in your way.”
It was in that moment that Atsushi remember why, when he had first set up the service, he had requested an older woman as his cleaning lady. Not even an eyelash fluttered at his smile. In fact, she gave him a look that basically said “you’d better not” before going back into the other room.
Atsushi followed her meekly. “Did you clean the bathroom yet?” he asked her, feeling rather awkward.
The maid shook her head. “If you want to use it go ahead. I’ll finish up out here.”
“…all right.”
Now he felt really perturbed, having to ask permission to use his own bathroom. But, as Atsushi got ready to take a shower he realized that he felt better knowing that that stern little woman was out there in the other room. That meant he wasn’t in the apartment by himself…and that seemed to make a world of difference to his peace of mind.
That meant he allowed himself to take a more leisurely shower than he’d originally planned and he actually was able to condition his hair. He remained in the bathroom long afterward in order to breath in the steamy air, using this time to comb his hair out. He even brushed it after he was done, like his stylist constantly told him to do but he often ignored. It made him feel much too girly-granted he often put his own makeup on and had worn a skirt once or twice, but brushing his hair on his own time seemed…just over the top.
Although, he did have to admit it looked rather shiny once he was done.
Putting on his robe he padded out into the main room and headed for his bedroom. The maid was vacuuming and only spared him a glance. Closing his door resolutely behind him, Atsushi started to get dressed in the clothes he’d already lain out. He accidently kicked his travel bag and, grumbling, he picked it up and tossed it on the bed. He would have to clean it out later he supposed. Normally not emptying it would bother him…but he didn’t really have the energy to care at the moment.
Once he was mostly dressed Atsushi sat down on his bed. That soon progressed to flopping down on his back. His bed. It was nice to be there again. He curled up on his side, laying in the dark as he listened to the woman moving around in the other room. It was a very vague reminder of home, a long time ago.
After a while Atsushi shifted slightly and, as a result, was able to see his bare feet. His bruised left foot looked hideous; a mottled mix of black, red and purple. That was going to hurt later, he knew. There wasn’t much he could do about it though besides grin and bear it.
Atsushi wasn’t sure how long he lay there, trying so hard to think of nothing and largely succeeding for a change, much to his relief. At long last he sat up and, despite feeling lethargic and muddled, he got up and decided to do something. He probably had tons of mail to go through… he should start there.
Sliding his feet into some slippers, Atsushi wandered into the main room. There was a table between this room and the kitchen area where there was, as he expected, a pile of mail. And, next to it, was the answering machine. The light was blinking.
Atsushi gave the phone a wary glance. He never liked phones or phone messages. Some of the worst experiences of his life had started with phone calls. Yet, when he finally decided to look, it said that over twenty people had called. Twenty three to be exact.
“I’m popular,” he muttered ironically as he hit the play button and then started to sort through his mail. Nothing much interesting there besides random junk mail. There was one letter from a friend of his that he set aside, but the rest of it was destined for the trash.
The first message on the machine was a salesman. No one could escape those. Another was from a bar he usually frequented with a polite, friendly “where are you, now come spend money” message. Then there were a few friends and acquaintances who had most likely forgotten he was supposed to be on tour, or simply didn’t care. A few hang ups, someone calling about donations…
Atsushi’s mind was forcibly dragged to attention when he heard Imai’s voice. “Yo, Acchan, are you home yet?”
That was enough to shatter the calm Atsushi had so painstakingly developed in the past hour or so. His heart leapt into his throat and he took a quick guilty glance around the room, almost as if he expected Imai to jump out of nowhere and start yelling at him again.
But, naturally, nothing of the sort occurred. Also, much to Atsushi’s surprise, the message was…not very much all. It was pretty useless actually. That didn’t let Atsushi relax, of course. Just hearing the other man’s voice had put him instantly on edge.
Frowning, Atsushi tried to remember what the recorded time had been. He didn’t have long to think though before Imai’s voice came on again. The time was 6:05 AM that morning. Strange…
“Acchan, it’s Imai. Answer the phone. The phooooone.”
Or perhaps it wasn’t so strange considering how slurred Imai’s words were. He was obvious drunk off his ass. Atsushi rather envied him at the moment.
At least he did until he discovered the next message was Imai…then the next…and the next… As the fourth message came on and it was Imai again Atsushi began to become annoyed. How many times had he called? After the third started, Atsushi had begun to skip each message as he came to it, hearing no more than part of the first sentence. He wasn’t interested in hearing Imai’s drunken ramblings.
Four…five..six… “What the hell?” Atsushi grumbled, stabbing at the erase button. “Leave me alone.”
Seven…eight… “Damn it, Imai.” Now it seemed like Imai had set out to taunt him or something. He didn’t want to think about the other man let alone listen to his voice over and over again.
Nine..ten. Atsushi scowled as yet one more started. “That’s it. I’m not-”
Atsushi stopped speaking at the same moment his ears heard “…love you, would you pick up the phone?”
Atsushi stood there shocked as the rest of the message played, mail in one hand and his other posed over the erase button. He wasn’t aware of his comical pose though. He was too focused on the feeling that started in his chest and spread outward. It was a like a fierce pull, an ache…a tight, restricting feeling that made him breathless and numb. It was like shock…but deeper, as if another part of him besides his mind was gripped by those words and left completely blindsided.
He…hadn’t heard what he thought he heard, had he?
Please be wrong please be wrong…
The next message was playing, some woman babbling about something…but Atsushi ignored her completely and went back to the beginning of Imai’s last message.
“If I said I love you, would you pick up the phone? Because I do. More than even I know.”
Atsushi wasn’t sure what he was feeling in that moment, but it reminded him keenly of devastation. “Don’t say that,” he croaked to the answering machine, as if that would help. But not even destroying that damned machine could erase those words from Atsushi’s mind.
“I wish someone would leave me a message like that.”
Atsushi almost leapt out of his skin yet again on account of that woman. Whirling around, he saw her packing up her supplies in the kitchen. When had she…?
“Although your admirer sounds like he had a few too many…” The maid remarked. She was wearing a peculiar expression that seemed to resembling a wistful amusement. “I wonder if he’ll remember later?”
For one brief instance Atsushi want to tell her to shut up-she was his maid anyway, what right did she have to say such things? But he realized just how pretentious that sounded. She wasn’t exactly being rude…although it did annoy him to have her listening in on his private business. Then again he could have waited for her to leave before playing his messages…but, really, how was he to anticipate something like that being on there?
He didn’t try very hard to hide his annoyance so it was only natural that she would catch on. She didn’t apologize though. She simply continued to pack up her supplies in silence. Atsushi didn’t move from his place by his phone-he felt that if he did he would end up doing something rather embarrassing in front of this woman. He wasn’t sure what that would be-scream in anger, cry, call Imai and gush some strange sentiment over the phone…he didn’t know. So he remained still in the confused vortex of his thoughts as she put everything neatly into her carry case and then headed for the door.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Atsushi sat down. Right there in the middle of the floor. It was rather forced since his knees decided that moment was a good time to stop working properly.
“Damn it.”
That was all he could say. The perfect capstone for all the jumbled thoughts fighting for attention in his brain. Just…damn it.
Closing his eyes Atsushi forced himself to think. There had to be some rational thought in the mess somewhere…he just had to pluck it out. It was a lot harder than it should be.
All right. So Imai was just completely wasted and decided to call him. Nothing new there. He did that to people all the time. He just happened to say something really…embarrassing this time around.
“He probably didn’t even know what he was saying anymore…or who he was talking to,” Atsushi muttered out loud, as if someone would agree with him. Of course no one did, since he was alone. (And if someone had he’d probably die of a heart attack right then and there. He didn’t need another person popping up out of nowhere.)
Yet, if Atsushi was searching for agreement with his statement…he wasn’t going to find it within himself either. Because he knew that wasn’t true. Imai wouldn’t just randomly say “I love you”, no matter how drunk he was. Atsushi was the one who would most likely do that rather than Imai.
Besides, Atsushi had seen the jealousy on Imai face last night. It could be construed to mean something else, if he tried…but at the time he’d seen it for what it really was and, now with that message… He couldn’t really deny it. Imai felt something…if it was love or lust or something else Atsushi couldn’t quite say, but it certainly Imai thought it was the former…
Sighing mightily Atsushi let his forehead drop against his bent knees and he stared blankly at his pant legs. This was just wonderful. “I should be pissed off, Imai,” he muttered to the man that was most likely passed out somewhere right now.
Everything was going to be weird now. Atsushi had gone through that before when he’d married Sayuri. Things had just been…strange then. No one knew if they should treat her as their stylist or Atsushi’s wife. Hell, even Atsushi hadn’t really known at times.
She had only been staff though. Atsushi couldn’t imagine what would happen now with a band member…. Was it something that they faced openly? Something he had to just ignore? Something that would go away after a while?
Imai was supposed to be his friend. Not a source of uncomfortable angst. This was the last issue he needed to deal with right now… External attacks…internal attacks…he was going to go crazy.
“I hate this,” Atsushi mumbled irritably. Out of sheer spite he kicked out at the leg of the table that held the phone. It was a solidly made table though and all that did was hurt him more than anything else. At least he’d been smart enough not to use his injured foot.
Giving the table a baleful look, Atsushi moved so that he was kneeling instead of sitting. Counting to three, he then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He wasn’t going to spend the whole day sitting on his floor. He was going to do something useful…he was going to…
Atsushi stared out into his empty apartment. What was he going to do?
Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time that morning, Atsushi rubbed his face tiredly with both hands.
He just didn’t know anything anymore.
“Damn it.”
*
Imai really didn’t want to go to the venue. At all. It didn’t help that it was the same venue as the night before. Damn the Tokyo schedule.
He went though. He had to. As it was, he had to face blustering winds and pounding rain to get there. The weather fit his mood perfectly.
When he got inside he was relieved that Atsushi wasn’t there yet. It was only Toll, talking to someone on the phone. He waved at Imai. However, Imai barely had the time to take his jacket off before U-ta, Hide, and Atsushi came into the room. Imai’s mind reeled. Coming in together meant one thing-they had taken advantage of the hired transportation. And that transportation usually picked them up at their apartments. So, that meant…that Atsushi had gone home sometime that morning.
He might have called, asked to be picked up somewhere else, Imai’s brain tried to reason behind his panic. But somehow Imai knew this wasn’t so. One reason could be that Atsushi was carefully not looking at him.
Imai had the unwelcome sensation of wanting to melt into the floor. It was just adding to the sick feeling he’d felt all day; because as soon as he’d woken up that afternoon and become reasonable sober Imai had remembered the phone calls. Especially the last one.
Why did I say that? Why? He must have subconsciously just wanted to fuck everything up. Because that’s what he’d done-sabotaged himself.
However, despite his overwhelming embarrassment, Imai couldn’t help but observe Atsushi out of the corner of his eye as they began to get ready for the night. Despite what the blond bastard has said last night…Atsushi looked rather okay now. He didn’t look all worn out like he had the past few days, and he seemed to be in a relatively stable mood… so had it really been a hoax?
But then how had that blond bastard disappeared and appeared out of nowhere? That had been rather…creepy, but real. Maybe Atsushi was being stalked by that man instead?
Leave it to Atsushi to attract dead or undead people.
Imai just didn’t know anything anymore it seemed… All he was sure about was that he’d keep an eye out for anyone bothering Atsushi. He didn’t know whathe could do about it exactly, especially if it was against something like a vampire …but he’d keep watch anyway. He had to.
Sitting at the dressing table, Imai surreptitiously watched Atsushi and U-ta talking over on the couch by means of the mirror. Atsushi, dressed in his costume sans jacket and boots, was having his foot wrapped by Haneda-san. His foot was up on the low table as the other man worked and U-ta, naturally, was trying to be distracting.
“What were you up to today, Acchan?”
Imai couldn’t see Atsushi’s face clearly from his position at the mirror, but he sounded calm and natural as he said, “Not much. Hung out at home…lifted some weights…”
“Ah, let me see!” U-ta insisted, grabbing Atsushi’s arm. “I have such wimpy arms,” he whined, taking the opportunity to dig his fingers into Atsushi’s bicep.
Atsushi swatted at him. Imai could hear the amusement in his voice as he said, “Quit it.”
“Don’t wanna,” U-ta said, prodding Atsushi’s arm again. “Maybe I should start weight training too,” he mused.
Atsushi tried unsuccessfully to move away from U-ta’s grabby hands, but he was trapped by Haneda, who was still working on his foot. The man gave one impatient tug on the wrapping that must have hurt because Atsushi visibly winced and sat still. “U-ta, you’re upsetting Haneda-san,” Atsushi primly informed the other man, who made a face that plainly read “ah huh. And you aren’t. ”
“Just hold on one moment more, Sakurai-san,” Haneda grunted. Imai watched as he secured the bandage and then put Atsushi’s foot down on the floor. “There, that should keep it until the show’s done. Because I’m sure you won’t reconsider…”
“No,” Atsushi said. “Too late anyway,” he added with a shrug. He flexed his foot and Imai could see his ankle move and that reminded him of just the other morning…
Imai bit his lip and looked away, focusing on the slight worried frown on Haneda’s face. “Well then, that’s the best we can do.”
“Thank you,” Atsushi said sincerely. Then he turned on U-ta. “I’ll show you muscle,” he intoned, darkly.
The look on Atsushi face must have been enough to warn U-ta, because the smaller man squirmed off the couch and tumbled to the floor just as Atsushi went to lunge at him. This startled the crouching Haneda, who fell backwards onto his rear on the floor.
Atsushi’s lunge had been a feint in reality they all quickly realized, because Atsushi stopped mid-motion and easily sat back, laughing at the disheveled U-ta laying wedged between the couch and table. “You fit rather well down there,” he said casually.
“Shut uuup,” U-ta whined, trying to look annoyed but running the effect by laughing. He kicked out at Atsushi with his foot half-heartedly.
Imai looked away from the image in the mirror then, his heart feeing heavy despite the lightheartedness he’d just witnessed. He bit his bottom lip as he listened to everyone laughing behind him. He was being a fool isolating himself, wasn’t he? He’d have to face Atsushi sometime… He supposed he could wait until after the show, but he didn’t think he could handle all this tension if it carried over onstage. It would drive him crazy.
Besides, there was only so much of the self-incriminating thought of “Idiot” he could handle bouncing around in his brain. After a while…he just needed to do something about it.
Drawing in a deep breath, Imai sat up straighter and squared his shoulders. First step…go sit on the couch. He could do this. Imai sitting down with U-ta and Atsushi-no big deal…
Imai got up off the stool and turned around…only to discover that Atsushi was now sitting by himself smoking a cigarette and that both Haneda and U-ta were long gone.
“Ah shit,” Imai muttered under his breath. Apparently it wasn’t low enough though because Atsushi looked up. There was a moment when they just stared at one another until Atsushi cleared his throat softly.
“Did you say something?” he asked.
“No,” Imai mumbled automatically.
“Ah.” That was all he said before looking away again, for all appearances interested in what was going on across the room.
Imai was pretty sure that wasn’t a good start to dispersing tension. Mainly because just by looking at one another it seemed to become amplified about one-hundred times more.
He stood there a moment more, lost between the urge to run away or go forward…because he was just looking stupid standing there.
It took a large amount of will, but Imai took the last few steps and then sank down on the couch next to Atsushi. The space between them was less than the width of a hand and Imai was highly aware of that. However, he was also conscious of the emotional gulf that was in that little space… So close, and yet…
Imai shifted uncomfortably. This was a new sensation for him. Normally he could just sit down next to Atsushi, no big deal. Now, in this moment of immense tension for an act that should have been something as natural as breathing, he hated these feelings. It was like a punch of the face, seeing just how much they screwed up everything.
This anger was just the force he needed. He turned towards Atsushi, who was acting all cool and nonchalant as if he wasn’t bothered by Imai being there-but the tenseness in his shoulders gave him away. “Look, Acchan, last night-”
“Could you help me put my boot on?”
Imai’s voice stopped dead. Atsushi had turned around to ask him that, and Imai was now face to face with Atsushi’s remarkably neutral expression. That was enough to throw Imai off the war path. “Ah…yeah, yeah, I can. But after-”
“Thanks,” Atsushi talked over Imai again, leaning forward to stub out his cigarette and collect his boots. He continued speaking towards the floor. “Haneda-san said that even with my foot wrapped I’m going to have a hard time getting this on.”
Imai balked. That was not the first interaction they needed-Imai helping shove Atsushi’s foot into a shoe. It would most likely be rather painful and…not how Imai really wanted to proceed with this. “Ah…maybe you should have one of the stylists help you instead…”
“Nah, they’re busy. Just give me a hand here,” Atsushi said, putting the boot down on the floor. He then reached over and grabbed Imai’s hands in his and moved them so that he held up the flexible leather boot shaft. Imai did as he was urged like an automaton as his mind whirled. After what had happened since yesterday, here was Atsushi manhandling like nothing had happened.
“Hold on to that as I get my foot in. Then we’ll both pull up on it, okay?” Atsushi was instructing him calmly, and Imai barely suppressed the urge to gape at him in astonishment.
This…wasn’t Atsushi. Okay…it was him, but…not the Atsushi Imai would expect at that moment. This was normal, nonchalant, nothing-weird-is-going-on Atsushi. No passion, no nerves, no anger…no reaction at all. Hell, Imai would even take a sullen, moody Atsushi like they’d been faced with the past week or so.
Maybe I just imagined the past few days… Imai wondered amidst his dizzying thoughts, but that couldn’t be.
Imai continued to hold the boot like Atsushi asked him as he considered this. He was only jerked from his thoughts when he suddenly realized that Atsushi was holding onto the boot too, and that one of his fingers was a mere hairsbreadth from his…and Imai cursed his infatuation. He would notice that so keenly and yet he couldn’t figure out what was going on in Atsushi’s head.
Atsushi gave the nonverbal cue to pull and Imai snapped to attention and did so. His foot went in, but Imai didn’t miss the way Atsushi winced. Neither one of them mentioned it.
Once it was done Atsushi flexed his foot this way and that, trying to get the leather to relax. “That should work,” he said.
“That’s…good.” Imai replied, fully realizing how lame he sounded. Not willing to give himself time to back down though he immediately launched into the topic he wanted. “About last night, Atsushi. I-“
“Thanks.” Atsushi spoke as if he didn’t even realize that Imai was saying anything. That unexpected rudeness on Atsushi’s part was enough to make Imai’s voice fall short and he just stared, gaping. He was still dumbfounded as Atsushi stood up and crossed the room to talk to someone else.
“Ah…” Imai couldn’t say more than that. He just stared, watching as Atsushi entered a completely normal conversation with someone else. “You really are avoiding me,” he muttered to no one, his tone incredulous to his own ears. It was one thing for Atsushi to avoid him physically, he supposed…but this was ridiculous!
Imai folded his arms and fumed. Why was Atsushi being such a jackass? Imai just wanted to talk about it! Atsushi was usually the one who recommended the whole ‘talk about it’ concept, anyway. Apparently it was different when the shoe was on the other foot.
There was no doubt now that Atsushi had heard all his messages…because why else would he be so avoidant?
Maybe because you treated him like garbage last night? a tiny little voice whispered in the back of Imai’s mind.
Imai bit his lip, remembering his angry reaction. I called him a fucking cocktease. To his face. Okay, so perhaps Atsushi had another reason to be pissed off at Imai besides the messages… But Atsushi was necessarily pissed off right now, was he? Not exactly. He was…indifferent.
It was almost like he…didn’t know how to react, Imai realized with a sudden, blinding epiphany.
He definitely had to have heard the messages now. Imai had to really fight the urge to bury his face in his hands. Was the…was the idea that Imai…felt that way such a bad thing that he couldn’t even let Imai explain? Couldn’t face him with any open emotion whatsoever?
Imai sighed; it was a long, heavy sound that made his shoulders slump. This was not going well at all.
What the hell, too big AGAIN? Argh. LINK