Oneshot: Below the Surface
Title: Below the Surface
Genre: Angst
Pairing: KoDa
Rating: PG 13
Summary: Sometimes life gets tiring, having to move and think and respond to the endless waves of unavoidable reality can take it's toll on the mind and the body, and sometimes there comes that urge to escape it all and slip below the surface...
BELOW THE SURFACE
It felt somewhat ironic that the one place that never failed to make him feel even just that little bit calmer appeared to be the place where his heart might finally stop.
Never before had he thought he would have come to this decision…no, it wasn’t really a decision, it wasn’t premeditated, planned, well thought out, nothing, suddenly it was just there on his to do list and everything else that had been on it had disappeared, and all that was there, written in bold black letters was: DIE.
Where had this idea come from? Sure he had been having a hectic couple of months and today hadn’t exactly been a day at the fair but it wasn’t that horrible and it wasn’t just him.
Though, people were ordering him around and snapping at him and calling him an idiot and somehow dragging his feet and hefting bags the size of family suitcases under his eyes didn’t inspire anyone to cut him even the tiniest bit of slack.
And through it all he was expected to keep smiling, stay cheerful, do exactly what was expected.
But hey, today wasn’t so much different than any other bad day, it wasn’t good but it wasn’t especially bad, and even now he remembered a good number of brilliant days he had had.
So why do I keep sliding lower and lower in the water?
It wasn’t just him everyone was snapping at and ordering around. The others were tired too, and they hadn’t had a particularly great day either, there wasn’t anything today that was any worse than any other less than perfect day…
Oh shit…the fucking painkillers…
While he had been driving home a vicious throbbing headache had started at his temple and spread to the top of his head and down to the top of his neck, so the second he had gotten home he had taken two painkillers with some water.
He had left the blister pack and half a glass of tap water on the kitchen table. The problem was that even though he had only taken two, only three of the twelve pills were left when he took it out of the cupboard. That wasn’t going to look good…
I’m not quite so miserable and pathetic that I have to try and overdose as well as drowning myself, what’s next, pull apart my razor and slash my wrists?
It wouldn’t exactly be difficult to get up out of the bath, walk out to the kitchen and put away the last painkiller, back in he medicine cabinet, pour away the water, put the glass away with he others…that would mean moving and leaving the steady definite feeling of the bathroom.
Screw it, why should I care? I’ll be dead, they can ask my corpse what I was thinking all they want…
Who was ‘they’ exactly? The rest of the band, his few friends, his parents, his sister? Maybe. Would the dog miss him? He and Eri had a close pet-owner relationship, she ran with him on weekends, they knew each other’s moods, likes and dislikes and the dog didn’t respond to anyone else like she responded to Tatsuya…
Also, thinking of himself as a corpse was disconcerting. He wouldn’t hang around as a ghost would he? He didn’t want to see himself opened up on a slab, and he certainly didn’t want to see any kind of funeral. Oh, wait, his parents would be so pissed he had offed himself they wouldn’t give him a funeral.
I’m not ducking out am I?
Absolutely not. Alright, of course he felt guilty for subtracting a letter from his band, for leaving his family, his friends, his dog, but somehow, lying here, almost completely submerged in not-quite-hot water, feeling like he might fall asleep and have no control over how fast or soon he slid below he surface, he didn’t want to care.
Didn’t want to, but he did, a little. A little but not enough, not now, right now any care he had was being brutally shoved back behind his sudden, unexplainable, illogical, unavoidable desire to die.
What was it really? It wasn’t today, that was already evident to him, it wasn’t really any other day in particular, it wasn’t work, he loved music, he found he even liked acting, it wasn’t just one thing, he was just tired, dying seemed like the ultimate way of going to sleep.
Going to sleep and not waking up, that was so appealing for some reason. The very fact that not waking up was so appealing was actually a little scary, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to be properly scared.
He slid a little lower and rolled his gaze around the bathroom. Pale blue walls, white everything-else, sink, toilet, medicine cabinet, towel cabinet, bathtub, shower curtain, white tiles, each with a reflected circle of yellow light, bounced back from the bare bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling.
Didn’t I get a shade for that?
He had, months ago, it had gotten torn during some party or other…why was there a party here again? Oh, never mind, it didn’t matter anymore, he didn’t even remember who had torn it or how. The next tenants of his apartment could buy their own shade. If anyone could actually buy or rent it, maybe the landlord would leave out the minor detail of a famous idol committing suicide in the bathtub…
Tipping his head back he stared up at the ceiling, also white, smooth. In fact, without his glasses or contacts he couldn’t actually fathom the distance between himself and the flat white ceiling, it became a white blur with no depth, no perception of actual existence, like staring into a fog. Was that the painkillers rearing their red and yellow heads or was he just crazy? No, simple ocular science, he couldn’t perceive the depth of the space between him and the solid ceiling without his glasses.
His eyes were confused. Just like the rest of him…
I want to sleep…and never wake up…
He slid lower still and tipped his head back a little further so he could still see and breathe for a moment longer, glancing at the half open bathroom door. Why had he left that open again? Probably no reason, just clumsy forgetfulness as per usual most likely.
Though that might give someone a clue as to how to find his corpse after he didn’t show up for work. How long before people started to come looking for him? How long would they assume he was sick or something before they became worried enough to ask the landlord for the spare key to come looking for him.
Of course they’d need the key, he had locked the door from the inside and now he couldn’t remember where he had put it down. Maybe it was with those painkillers and the glass of water.
If he slid any further down in the water he wouldn’t be able to breathe, a little more and he would be completely submerged…
His feet had been braced against the bottom of the tub, holding him in place until now. He lifted them slightly and slid completely below the surface of the water, not bothering to take a breath. It surprised him a little how quickly he was running out of air, his chest feeling tight, painful, like it was trapped in a vice.
His eyes were shut tight at first, but slowly he opened them and stared up through the rippling surface at the distorted ceiling, a soft blur growing like ice crystals around the edges of his vision, making it duller by the second.
Faintly, vaguely he thought he heard knocking.
Is that my heartbeat? No…my heart beat should be slowing down…this sound is getting…louder…
It was true, the knocking, slow enough at first, was getting louder, harder, and faster, almost frantic. He even thought he could hear a voice…whose voice was that…?
It didn’t matter, the door was locked, and if the person knocking on his door didn’t assume he was out and leave, they would most likely go and find the landlord to ask for the spare, by which time it would be too late.
He let his eyes fall shut again, feeling his slowing heartbeat in his ears, felt it vibrating weakly through the water, the pain increasing, but it would be over soon enough.
“Tat-chan!”
All of a sudden hands were wrapping around his arms, pulling him up from the water, dragging him from the bath where he fell onto his back, the cruel cold of the smooth white tiles burning his back and shoulders.
“Tat-chan! Wake up!”
Slowly he opened his eyes, slowly processing the tousled black hair falling into scared brown eyes…he opened his mouth, spluttering and coughing as the water that he started to invade his body was suddenly rejected.
His ‘saviour’ pressed hard on his chest a few times, forcing more water out of his mouth. He had never thrown up water before and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Though all he could really think of was why are you here? Why do you care? Why didn’t you let me die?
“Damnit Ueda don’t ever do that to me again!” the hoarse, fear stained voice met his ears suddenly and he tried again to open his eyes properly. He tried to speak but his throat wouldn’t cooperate and it hurt.
As he was pulled into a pair of surprisingly strong arms, held against a hard chest and rocked slowly, the water still clinging to his skin he blinked, feeling more confused now than ever.
“Ko…ki…” he muttered raspily.
Koki lay him back down, smoothing his hair away from his eyes and looking around for a towel as he had started shaking as the water on his skin cooled and dried.
All this Tatsuya watched with blank eyes, unable to bring himself to move. He opened his mouth again, but the words were too difficult, he couldn’t get them out, though somehow Koki could tell what he was trying to say.
“You think I don’t notice? You think I can’t see that look in your eyes? You think I don’t worry about you when your voice goes flat and your eyes stop shining?” his voice cracked as he spoke and he leaned over him, wrapping his arms around his trembling body. Tatsuya stared up at the ceiling, tears clouding his vision.
I’m sorry Koki, I just…I just…
He wasn’t even sure what his excuse was anymore, he had wanted to sleep, to give up, to be able to escape…from what he was no longer entirely sure, he struggled to lift his arms, sliding them over Koki’s back as the latter lifted him into his lap, holding him tight and wrapping the towel over his shoulders.
“I’m…sorry…Ko…ki…” he whispered. Koki shook his head and stroked his damp hair.
“Don’t be, just stay with me,”
Tatsuya tilted his head to see his tear streaked face.
“Stay here with me,”