fic: Screenplay 12° (1/2)

[prologuesized]

He’s the master of his great art pieces, his playful little screenplays. He’s a novelist, that’s what he is: a one-of-a-kind artist holding the strings in his little puppet theatre of dramas and tragedies.

Lines, he speaks them clearly with emotion, leaves place for small little wonders, a little something behind his eye. He’s an actor and the world is his stage. He’s a creator, the all-knowing existence.

His play number eleven is now to be wrapped up for it’s the time for his new turning point, a hundred and eighty degree turn to file it to his scrapbook and take new blank and beautifully white sheets of paper.

It’s his turning point - that’s how he calls it.

And so he’s ready for scene number one, the analysing of his new main characters and a developing plan in process, a new creation.

The psychologist, his new caretaker Akanishi Jin, takes him home.

***

Jin flips through the papers, eyeing the information of his new patient as his colleague Takizawa Hideaki tells him about the patient’s history of treatment and basic facts.

“We’re starting to get sceptic when it comes to him,” the man sighs as he sits down in the armchair, rubbing his forehead with a strained expression. “He’s in a vicious circle, always ending up being sent back after a relapse. It’s his fourth time in here. His skills and lifestyle are too ingrained. He’s gone through almost every psychologist in here.”

Jin nods his head, rubbing his lip briefly. “What do you think about him?”

“Personally?” Tackey asks and rubs his hands together, shoulders strained. “I don’t think he means harm by it. It’s like many other disorders - it’s about control and it’s out of his hands. It’s his way of coping. It’s just hard to give it up.”

“Mm,” Jin agrees, flipping the folder shut and looking at the picture of the 23 year old young man. Not that the man in the picture would be 23, no, it was an older picture. A picture taken at school; a seventeen year old teen looking straight to the camera with a charming smile and a golden-streaked and straightened hair that caresses his shoulders.

“And you don’t think this environment suits him?” he asks the older man, looking up at him to meet his eyes.

“He’s near to his release yet again,” Tackey notes. “I think we need a new tactic with him. In this place filled with ill people who aren’t ready to heal yet… It has a negative impact, it affects the healing process. Makes it harder to entirely let go. Not to mention that if he’s healed somewhere, it’s here. When he steps out of the front door… his health-territory ends. He’s back to the normal world, he’s back to where he’s sick, back with people he’s been sick with. He relapses.”

“So I should take him home,” Jin bites his lip unsurely. “Slowly adjust him.”

“Just for the final checking period. He’ll visit me three times a week for two weeks and you’ll give him home treatment,” Tackey revises. “I’m trusting on you. We’ve tried everything. Maybe you’re what he needs, your tactics.”

“I’ll take him,” Jin finds himself complying, having his itch of helping awakening. “Fourth time in treatment…”

“Work your Bakanishi-magic on him,” Tackey stands up and taps his shoulder. “I’m counting on you, Akanishi. I’d hate to see the treatment fail again.”

“I’ll do it,” Jin assures him stubbornly. “It’s just the final touch.”

And so Kamenashi Kazuya, the section’s pathological liar, moves in with him.

***

And so the screenwriter starts to write.

The main character, the lonely waxwing, a silently small person - him. The young man with a painful past that tries to keep him in its hold, the hurricane veiled with a happy smile, innocence stained and mind disfigured.

The co-star? Akanishi Jin, the person full of life and a warm smile to pull him in his arms, the saviour who finds him and takes him home, provides him with loving care and undying optimism, the person to entwine his fingers with him, the person whose lips brush against his.

Setting? Late autumn, trees and streets filled with leaves of gold and red, air chilly and scarves covering cold necks and adding colours to the scenery. Primary colours, red, blue and yellow. Smiles, laughers, skipping and the constant waiting of the first-snow, to feel the winter come and touch lips gently, coldly. To turn the lips cold, blue - and welcome the broken colours.

“Ah, you can leave your coat there, just take a free hanger!” Jin encourages him as he removes his shoes. He’s outlook seems laidback, hair brown and pulled on a messy ponytail. He scratches the back of his neck as he moves out of Kame’s way to give him more space as he removes his brown boots and places them neatly in the slightly disarranged row and removes his coat, taking Jin’s advice of the hanger as he puts it away.

“It’s a nice flat,” Kame starts the conversation, a smile on his lips, a peaceful and rather curious expression on his face. Jin grimaces, gritting his teeth together as he waits for Kame to follow him with his suitcase and rucksack.

“It’s a small one so I’m afraid we’ll be fit into very tight places in here,” he tells him and Kame enjoys the words, the promise of closeness in them. The potential the tight places hold. “Here’s the kitchen area… there’s a small room, it’s in living room use, bathroom there… my room there and yours right at the end of the corridor,” he introduces the flat to him and helps him carry his bags to his room.

And he’s moving in with Akanishi Jin and this room might just be the very room for this story’s highlights he reminds himself with a smile and brushes Jin’s back as he walks past him, making the man slightly confused as he looks him sit down on his bed and throw his arms up as he falls on his back.

“Anything… you’d want to do?” the man asks him, trying to get back his confidence after the small stumble. He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Does this feel alright with you?”

“Of course it does,” Kame says happily and proves his point with a wide smile playing on his lips. “Because this time is my last time and then I’ll never have to return to that place again!”

“Oh? How so?” Jin asks. “I mean, I’m not trying to be rude or negative or anything, just…”

“Asking? As my psychologist?” Kame completes his dying sentence, not looking the slightest bit startled as he flips to his stomach, resting his chin to his hands’ support. “And it’s because seven is my lucky number.”

“…Seven?” Jin asks and nods unsurely.

“Yes. Seven,” Kame nods, flipping back to his back again and stretching his arms forward, arching his back and grunting joyfully. “It’s my seventh time in treatment and I’m sure that this will also be the very last!”

“It’s your fourth,” Jin corrects him. “But it has been seven years since you were first-“

“No, It’s my seventh time in treatment,” Kame insists. “Silly of you, a doctor shouldn’t forget! Or is there a misprinting in my papers?” he asks curiously. “Because I’m quite sure it’s been seven long treatment sessions and that this will be the very end of everything. It already has its special ending too!”

“Fourth,” Jin disagrees with him and sits on the bed too, ruffling his dark and fairly short locks. “But I think four is a great number. It’s my lucky number.”

“Number four? What’s so special about it?” Kame asks with a flirty manner and sits up, pinching Jin’s cheek playfully. Jin removes his hand.

“Actually, when I was a kid I won brand new stereos with a casting lot number four,” he answers. “They were pretty cool back then. Since then I’ve liked the number.”

“Maybe you’d win me now if this would’ve been my fourth treatment session,” Kame pouts. “Too bad it isn’t. But don’t worry, it’s still my seventh. Maybe we still do stand a chance. I might get lucky, you know.”

“You,” Jin states strongly, “stop that right now. The meaningless lies, the constant flirtatious attitude. Drop it. In here, if you ever want to get out of that facility that is, you’ll speak the truth and act normally. Understand? We’re going to heal you now, not come crashing down. You with me?” he asks and holds his hand out for Kame. “High five.”

“…High five,” Kame agrees and they slap their hands together. “Realism.”

“Yes. Realism,” Jin agrees and pats his shoulder. “Do you want help unpacking?”

Kame nods and looks out of the window to the golden and warm autumn scenery and decides to keep his opinion on realism to himself.

Magic is what he lives for and magic is what he gets.

***

Patient first sent to the section on March 14th 2003.

Family and teachers noticed a drastically increasing lying spree and a very vivid and strong imaginary world. Later on also manipulation of others noted. Gets himself and others in trouble by lying even without a proper reason to do so. Seems to have difficulties speaking the truth at all and is quick to distract, using means of flirting and shocking accusing. Doesn’t stop lying or admit to his lies even when caught in one.

***

His style - young and stylish with slightly loose but fitting ripped jeans and a white woollen shirt, not too thick but enough to keep him warm. Enough to draw attention to himself, enough to make him visible. For right now that’s what he has to be - visible.

Because in this story his character isn’t invisible. No, he’s very visible, especially in the territory of Jin’s little apartment he’s staying at.

The spotlight’s on him. Clap clap, move on with the plot. Create the relationships, create the conflicts. He writes down the story on his walls with tiny little scribbles, invisible scribbles. Or maybe it’s just visible for him, maybe it’s just a wall in his mind he’s writing on.

Too bad Jin isn’t very easily swooned for some strange reason. He struggles to find his place in Kame’s newest screenplay, his new mind-blowing masterpiece.

Symphony 12°. He hears the tune playing in his head as he plays cards with Jin, a soft and playful little melody. This is a happy story, at least for most of the parts. It all starts with a tragedy but it rises, that’s what he knows.

Jin’s writing his character on his own, but Kame sure is working on guiding him to the right direction, even if it requires aggressive measures. But it’s alright, because maybe his character in this play is a little slower, just like he seems to be - it increases the magic.

Maybe this story has fairytale factors. His feelings for Jin - instantly love at first sight. Jin’s feelings for him - slowly growing and acknowledged but stronger and more passionate than what anyone else could ever even imagine offering him.

It’s a romance, this one. A romantic little piece, a lovely short-story he stars in.

“Seven,” he says and throws the card at the table. Jin flips it around, showing him the heart four.

“Bullshit,” he tells him and hands the two cards from the table to him. Kame takes them with a glare, a small smile tucking his lips. Jin throws another card on the table. “Six. Come on, don’t lose this round.”

“You underestimate me,” Kame complains. “Is this your idea of therapy? Playing cards?”

“With this game and your situation, yes,” Jin agrees and takes a card from the pack. “Come on. Remember, this is a place where you can tell the truth. Here you speak the truth.”

Kame decides to answer by rolling his eyes. “I know that, stop the therapist-talk, I rather resent it. The patient-therapist relationship, the same boring questions and statements being said all over and over again. I’m not stupid, you know, nor do I suffer from a bad memory. And this game is pointless if no one throws in a lie or two every now and then. I can go without as well. Ten, does it fall?”

“It’s our job to ask you how you’re feeling and make you feel as comfortable as possible. Make you know that you have support,” Jin says to him. “It doesn’t mean that we think of you lowly. And no, it doesn’t fall,” he says and turns the card, revealing a ten. “…Damn it…”

Kame smirks as Jin picks up the cards. “There’s a heart ten from me to you,” he says and makes a flirty smooching motion with his lips. “And I wouldn’t call it comfortable, I think it’s the opposite. You know what I think? I think you’re training us, the lower class. You drive us crazy and by that way turn us to the right way. ‘How are you feeling today?’ ‘How are you feeling today?’ ‘How are you feeling today?’ In the end you’d do anything to just get rid of that sound. That’s why we heal. To get rid of you.”

“Six,” Jin says again as he throws a card to the table. “And if you’d prefer it, I could stop asking.”

“I’d rather talk to you if you were my friend. Let out a little of yourself as well. I don’t want to be a dog in need for training, I want to be equal. I’m not mentally challenged, even if they send me to that establishment I’m still on your level. Be my friend and I’ll give you a little more of myself. Nine.”

“When you’ll spend more time with me you’ll come to notice that’s exactly what I do with my patients,” Jin answers him. “My patients mean a lot to me. This isn’t just a job, you aren’t just yet another nutcase. You’re someone who needs help and I can offer it, I can try my best to help you, give you the support. Your case is also my case, even when you’re gone. You’re important to me on a personal level. Another nine,” Jin tells him. “We’ll befriend. With just a little more time.”

“Does that work on your patients?” Kame asks with his lips slightly pursed. “Befriending. Caring about them on a personal level.”

“Sometimes,” Jin shrugs. “Different kind of people work for different kind of patients. With some people it works. Some not.”

“Some are out of your reach,” Kame reminds him. “No matter how you try, you can’t save everyone. And aren’t you a little naïve sometimes? Your patients might be fooling around with you. King.”

“Sometimes they are,” Jin agrees with a hesitant and slow nod. “But I do my best with them. And I try to trust them the best that I can.”

“And why is that?” Kame insists on knowing. “You know mentally ill people are hardly reliable.”

“Because no one else trusts them,” Jin shrugs. “It’s not like a person like that has any motivation to heal. If no one believes in them. I want to believe in them.”

“Idiot,” Kame laughs. “Naïve. And it works?”

“In some cases,” Jin insists. “And I’m hoping that it will start working this time too. That you can walk out for good. Another king.”

“What if I’d come back just to see you?” Kame asks. “Would you take me in here all alone with you again?”

“I’d be disappointed,” Jin disagrees. “I wouldn’t think I’m good for you so I’d give you to another psychiatrist.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Kame asks and Jin snaps his eyes at him.

“No,” he answers truthfully. “No girlfriend.”

“Sexual orientation?” Kame tries with a smirk but Jin puts his last two cards in the pile on the table.

“Two twos. I win,” he says, ignoring the question.

Kame thinks he knows the answer.

He’s pleased. It would’ve been quite difficult trying to change Jin’s ways completely in just a few weeks.

He yearns for his magic.

He wants to get aggressive.

***

Problems seems to have arisen in school-age. Since the age of 14 the patient has become withdrawn and has had very little friends. Since earliest grades been picked on for his appearance. Problems at home, elder brother has been caught several times with shoplifting and parents seem to have drinking problems, slight depression and work stress. A smart and multitalented young man but seems to struggle with school somewhat, possibly due to the environment and his rather violent reaction to it.

***

Primary colours of red and blue perfected by the golden sunrays and yellow leaves. The start of their friendship and small hints of the upcoming romance in the way they look at each others. The way he looks at Jin and laughs.

His character is happy, daring and carefree. He’s a bird, yes, he’s a waxwing. The waxwing. And in Jin’s cage he sings, sings as beautifully as a bird of his kind possibly can.

Jin loves the mornings. So he does his best to be like the awakening morning, be the very beginning of everything.

In the primary colours he’s red like some of the leaves he falls in when he has fun outside with Jin in the park, enjoying the wet and big piles of soft leaves all over. Jin jumps in with him with a child-like excitement, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

Jin is blue. Today, Jin is blue. But he’s wrapped in the red, red leaves, the same colour as Kame’s scarf. Today he is wrapped in the very symbolism Kame’s creating for their play. He entwines their fingers and laughs a genuine laugh, at least that’s what it is in his script, jumps over the older man and makes them sink deeper in the leaves with a loud squeal.

They’re bonding, that’s what they’re doing. Jin is accustoming him to the outdoor life with as carefree attitude as he can create but Kame knows there’s a little more to it. They’re bonding, because Jin bonds with his patients. And Kame bonds with Jin.

And he can swear that all of this is just one stupid, silly little excuse for Jin to be able to go out and play like a child in the high piles of leaves before the first snow falls.

He pants for air and stretches his hand out for the golden sun. Jin slips his sunglasses off and puts them on him to protect his eyes from blinding as badly as they do. Kame feels a connection.

“I like you, Jin,” he murmurs to the other one’s ear as he rolls over him again and Jin crosses his arms and keeps him at a distance with them. “I’m glad it’s you. To whom I’ve fallen for. I’m glad it’s you.”

“Quit the sweet talk,” Jin orders him strictly. “Quit the lies. These leaves are lie-free. They’re reality. Realism.”

“I think they’re magic,” Kame disagrees as he stumbles back on his feet, takes an armful of leaves and throws them in the air. “Magic, magic, magic!”

Jin sighs as he sits up, brushing a few leaves that had fallen on his hair away. “They aren’t magic, they’re real. Because real has its own little magic in it too. Reality can be magical, just like this moment and these leaves. This is far from magic, but this is still quite magical isn’t it?”

“I still think it’s magic,” Kame disagrees strongly. “And I wouldn’t like it any other way as much.”

“You have the power to make your choice, Kame. Not me. I can’t do it for you. It’s your decision to take a step forward. To keep taking steps forward without stumbling and running back,” Jin states strongly. “I can’t do that. But you can. You can do that.”

“Keep walking onwards?” Kame asks, an amused laughter leaving his crooked lips. “But I prefer dancing, Jin,” he continues and starts spinning around, taking dance steps to all directions. Jin watches him and Kame enjoys his eyes on him.

“You like dancing?” he asks and Kame stops before him, offering him a hand with a mischievous smile.

“Do you like dancing, Jin?” he asks as he pulls Jin on his feet, brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Or do you have two left feet?”

“I prefer walking onwards,” Jin answers. “…Talking metaphorically. Other than that, I really do prefer dancing.”

“Then dance with me,” Kame insists and entwines their fingers again, walking around Jin and guiding him to follow the motion. “Just a little dance. It can’t hurt too much, can it? The thrill of a dance, the sweat. The work you put in it, the art you make. Don’t you like a good dance?”

And Jin wonders if Kame’s lies have only turned into dangerous little metaphors he doesn’t know the right answers to.