Chapter 13 Part One
Gotta post this quick since my internet keeps coming and going thanks to the wind.
Not much to say about this, besides happiness turns to angst. And that’s it’s long. So enjoy!
Chapter 13:
It was just dark. Black. But it condensed into a form of deeper dark, a man. He held a box, a red box, that opened and red eyes stared out…and then the box was in Atsushi’s hands and he stared down at it as blood cascaded from his fingers to the floor in gushing rivulets, crawling along the tiles until it came upon a body. The body of Adam, his head smashed to a pulp against the sterile white floor.
Adam’s ghost was standing next to his corpse, shaking his head. He looked up then, meeting Atsushi’s eyes as he said “No longer just a pretty face” and then he stepped forward and wiped some of the blood off of Atsushi’s face and rubbed it between his fingers before tracing a foreign language on the air like he would paper. “This is how you say that in German,” he informed Atsushi, his tone scholarly. “You should learn that language; you’ll need it.”
“Why?” Atsushi asked, although he couldn’t hear his own voice at all.
“It’s important to remember things,” Adam said in response.
All of a sudden Makino was there, decked to the nines in his suit and smeared red tie, and erased the words from the wall with his hand. “Foolishness,” he said, pushing at Adam’s shoulder. The other man cracked from the touch, a large split of darkness leeching down his shoulder.
“Oh look at that,” Adam said, before everything erupted into blackness…that was abruptly cut through with the scratching sound of a pen.
The room turned white and Makino sat at a desk with a big leather ledger spread open in front of him. “Let’s see…this can go, and this,” he said, tracing his fingers over the still wet ink in the book, the black spreading over his fingers. He pointed them at Atsushi and smirked. “I’m erasing it all. It’s so much easier that way.”
The book was open in front of Atsushi now, Makino standing on the other side of the desk. “See, watch,” he said, running his hand over a scrawled name.
Imai’s name.
“All gone,” Makino said, with a condescending smile. “So, let’s move on, shall we?”
Someone gripped Atsushi’s shoulder then, and he heard his name. Looking up, Imai was leaning over him…when had he lain down?
That didn’t matter; he had to convince Imai to write his name again…it was important, so he asked him to. Imai wasn’t listening though…he wasn’t believing him.
So Atsushi grabbed his hand and it felt very solid and warm under his fingers. He tried to tell Imai what had happened…but he felt tongue-tied…like something was holding him back… but Imai seemed to understand anyway, as if the touch had been enough for him to understand.
Atsushi held on to Imai’s hand as he scrawled his name once more, dark and shining against the aging paper.
Letting go of Imai-he was safe now-Atsushi turned his head to tell Makino that he was wrong, but all he saw was his kitchen at home, where his mother was preparing dinner. Atsushi, much younger than he really was, lay in the family room, spread out on his back on the hardwood as he watched her.
She was a very vibrant force, he could remember her down to the smallest detail-her hair, her blue dress, the wrinkles around her eyes, the small stoop to her shoulders...her perfume. She rarely wore perfume. Something special must have been going on.
“You can tell your friends, Acchan,” she told him from the kitchen as she began to chop something on the counter. “It’s all right for them to come over if they’re going to help you.”
“Help me with what?” Atsushi asked, rolling over to lay on his stomach, resting his head in his hands as he watched her.
“That problem you were telling me about, silly. You told me you needed them, right?”
“Won’t Dad be mad?”
“I don’t think so. If they’re here to help everything will be all right. No one will say anything.”
Atsushi was going to answer her, but then he saw something dark pass the open screen door to his right. He turned to look at it, but all of a sudden his mother was there and she slid the door shut and locked it. “The storm’s brewing, but we’re safe here,” she told him as she pulled the curtains closed. “So go to sleep, Acchan.”
Atsushi shifted on his bed. Or at least he tried to, but he ended up backed against something plush yet solid. Opening his eyes in a squint, he realized he wasn’t at home. He was in someone’s living room, but his brain was too muzzy at the moment to remember whose. All he knew was that he didn’t need to panic. He wasn’t sure why, but it made perfect sense to him, so he just closed his eyes again.
In the dark behind his eyelids he drifted, vaguely remembering having dreamt before. It had been such a strange dream…all disjointed like a film out of order. Atsushi didn’t want to remember it, but he was also too lethargic to fight against it. It crawled into his mind to play out again, but this time…this time…only the ending remained, casting warmth over the dark tangled memories of before so that they became long forgotten.
Laying in that unfamiliar room with his eyes shut, Atsushi couldn’t help but smile sadly when he remembered. He hadn’t dreamed of his mother in such a long time, it seemed… Not in such a way, anyway. He usually woke to tears after dreams of her, but this time…despite all that had happened at the start, he still felt content, at ease. He supposed he was a sentimental fool…but it was true.
Atsushi’s restful doze was interrupted by something cold and wet touching his face. He opened his eyes slowly and there was a dog staring at him. Blinking slowly, Atsushi tried to recognize the animal but it was hard to do when he was so close.
“BJ, leave him alone I said!”
Atsushi knew where he was immediately then. The whole night before rushed back to him and he sat up quickly. BJ hopped back at his sudden motion, barking in alarm.
The abruptness of everything made Atsushi’s head ache and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose with two fingers. After a moment he opened his eyes and Imai was standing not too far away paused in the motion of reaching for BJ’s collar.
“Uh, good morning,” Imai said after a silence. He straightened up to a more traditional standing pose. He was dressed in his pajamas and robe, ugly monkey slippers on his feet. Atsushi vaguely remembered Toll buying him those once…
“I fell asleep on you, didn’t I?” Atsushi sighed, shoving the hair back from his face. It was a tangled dirty mess by now. He didn’t even want to touch it. He felt disgusting.
Imai cleared his throat. “Yeah. No big deal though. It’s not like anyone else needed the couch.”
“I guess not,” Atsushi mumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the cushion so he could sit up like a normal guest. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Around seven.”
“In the morning?”Atsushi asked, although he already knew the answer. There was sunlight trying to creep in around the closed window blinds.
“Yes, in the morning,” Imai replied dryly. “But considering you conked out around seven last night, I’m surprised you weren’t up already. Twelve hours, Acchan. That’s a record for you.”
Twelve hours? Really? Atsushi frowned in thought. He hadn’t slept that long in…ages, it seemed. And to dream of his mother too…maybe he still was dreaming?
“I’d say you can use my shower if you want,” Imai was saying, drawing Atsushi’s attention back to him, “but I don’t have any clothing for you to wear. Since, you know, you’re about a size bigger than I am.”
“No, no…that’s all right. I understand…” He did. It was about time he returned to his own place. He didn’t need to impose on Imai anymore…
“So I called Ariwara and asked him to grab something for you and bring it over,” Imai continued.
Atsushi blinked, turning his head to stare at Imai. “What?”
Imai actually smirked. “I do know how to plan ahead on some occasions,” he replied simply.
“He actually agreed to do that?”
“It took some persuasion, but, yeah, he did.”
Atsushi laughed despite his trepidation. He could just imagine Imai’s “persuasion”. “He’s going to be so pissed off, you know.”
“Nah, I told him I’d give him money for breakfast.”
Atsushi sighed. “That won’t fix things, Imai.”
“I don’t see why not, since he told me that was what he wanted in compensation.”
Atsushi just shook his head. “When will he get here?”
“He said around nine or so…Guess you’re kinda stuck as you are then,” Imai responded with a shrug.
“As long as you stay over there I don’t think I’ll hurt anyone,” Atsushi remarked dryly.
“Hmm,” Imai hummed in response, before disappearing from Atsushi’s line of sight. “I’m making breakfast.”
Atsushi turned his head at that comment, just in time to see the edge of Imai’s robe disappear into the kitchen. It was like a repeat of the night before, except with pajamas involved. “You don’t have to do that, Imai.”
“I need to eat too,” Imai chided from the other room, followed by the clutter of falling pans.
Atsushi leapt to his feet immediately, but he was still sluggish from sleeping so long and he rammed his foot against the coffee table. The same foot that had had the drum case dropped on it the day before. “Shit!” he hissed between his teeth, just as Imai called from the other room “Just moving things!”
Groaning under his breath, Atsushi fell back down on the couch and brought his foot up to inspect the damage. Pulling off his formerly-white-but-now-rather-gray sock, he discovered that his foot was sporting a rather colorful bruise now…that was actually quite painful.
“Wonderful,” he muttered. Of course he had to poke at it some, which made it throb even more. Thankfully, when he wiggled his toes everything seemed to be working right. It just hurt like a bitch.
BJ was apparently very interested in what Atsushi was doing, because he jumped up on the couch next to him and started nosing at the discolored skin. Atsushi shooed him away. “I already touched it too much already. Let’s give it a rest now.”
BJ looked up at him with pleading eyes and Atsushi could help but grin fondly. “It’s really not that interesting, I promise.”
“What’s not?”
Atsushi twisted his upper body around to look behind him and saw Imai standing there, this time sporting a spatula instead of a spoon. Atsushi immediately tucked his foot up under the nearby blanket before Imai could see. “BJ’s sniffing around, that’s all.”
Imai didn’t look convinced, but didn’t say anything about it. “I’m making omelettes. What do you want in yours?”
“Omelettes-not very traditional there,” Atsushi teased.
Imai just raised an eyebrow. “Says the man who’s raided a vending machine for breakfast.”
“It’s called being on the road,” Atsushi insisted, although he was well aware of that rather…bad habit of his.
Imai, of course, wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, I’d believe that if you did it three years ago. But not just a week ago. You can afford to eat something else now.”
Atsushi shrugged. “Old habits die hard?” he tried, hopefully.
“Uh huh.” Imai finally employed the spatula, pointing it in Atsushi’s general direction. “Well, what do you want?”
Atsushi shrugged again. “Surprise me.”
“Cigarette butts and liquor caps it is then,” Imai smirked, turning back to the kitchen.
Startled, Atsushi whirled around on the couch to face Imai directly. “You’d better not!”
Imai waved off his comment as he disappeared into the other room.
“He had better be joking,” Atsushi muttered, sinking back down on the cushion. BJ whined in sympathy.
*
Imai set to work on his omelettes right away. He contemplated going through with his threat…but Atsushi really needed to be fed, so he couldn’t actually do that. Imai grinned softly as he chopped up some peppers. It would have been amusing to see his face though.
Imai worked through the vegetables methodically, letting himself get lost in the soft thud, thud, thud of the knife against the wooden cutting block. It sounded like a really basic bass line…rather boring, but hypnotic in its own way.
Imai was more than willing to concentration on trite things like that; this morning, waking up so damn early despite his normal hatred of mornings, he had resolved himself to be in a good mood that day. He wasn’t going to let anything so fleeting as hormones bother him.
Because, last night, after he had finally gone to his room again, some part of him had realized that the attraction he was feeling…it was just a symptom of something else. What that something else was he wouldn’t let himself dwell on too long, but it was something he was sure he could live with. It was all but friendship, anyway, as soon as the sweaty palms and lurid dreams went away. So what was the big deal?
Nothing. Nothing was the big deal. So Imai had nothing to feel weird about.
He was just rather glad that Atsushi had been asleep last night.
Imai made quick work of the omelettes because, being up so early, he was off his normal eating schedule and he felt it as his stomach growled a stubborn protest. He was sure Atsushi was feeling out of whack too, after sleeping so long.
That was one thing Atsushi was never good at-sleeping. Except, of course, when he was liquored up properly. Then he’d pass out for a while, no complaints. But, other than it, he was far too twitchy and contemplative to rest easily…at least until he wore himself out. Imai had seen the beginning of such a state many times, but had never been there when he finally gave in…at least not before last night. And this one had come up rather quickly in the past few days…
Turning off the stove and sliding the last omelette onto a plate, Imai chewed on his bottom lip. Atsushi usually got truly restless when he was upset over something. So something must have really gotten to him the past few days…but what?
Thinking about it too hard made Imai feel like he ran up against a mental wall as he realized that he just couldn’t figure it out… His thoughts were merely running in spastic circles in his brain and that wouldn’t do him any good. So he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on something more mundane. Like the fact that he didn’t know if he had any clean forks left… But they could use chopsticks if necessary…
That was what they ended up doing. Eating omelettes with chopsticks. Not that either one of them cared too much. Atsushi would eat anything with anything, so it wasn’t a problem. They’d taken the same places as last night-which Atsushi had so unskillfully cleared off for them-and ate in companionable silence.
Although Imai couldn’t help but notice that Atsushi looked rather ragged with his rumpled clothes and knotted hair. And he was obviously annoyed by said hair, because whenever a strand would fall forward he would jerk his head slightly to flip it back instead of just pushing it with his hand the easy way. He ended up doing this about a billion times, since of course it never stayed back.
“I hope I have enough shampoo for that mop,” Imai commented out of the blue.
Atsushi stared at him before quirking a self-depreciating smile. “I hope so too.”
Imai steadfastly ignored the twisting in his gut at that smile and calmly kept on eating. He would not be bothered by this. At all.
But that didn’t mean he had to put up with Atsushi’s restlessness. It was starting to get annoying.
So, the exact moment that Atsushi put the last scrap of egg in his mouth, Imai was on him. “Go take a shower. Your twitching is driving me crazy!”
Atsushi couldn’t say anything in return because he still had a mouth full of food, so he just stared at Imai, startled. Then he swallowed, and Imai had the impression that he hadn’t chewed most of that. “What?”
Imai waved in the generally direction of his bedroom door. “Shower’s in the bathroom there. I’ll find you a robe or something until Ariwara gets here. Just…stop twitching!”
Again with the blank look. Imai was just about to ask if Atsushi was still asleep when the other man suddenly asked, “Is it really that bad?”
“What?”
“My hair?”
Imai drew in a calming breath before huffing irritably. “It’s hideous. Take a shower.”
Muttering something under his breath, Atsushi got to his feet and began to pick up his plate.
Imai shooed him away. “What did I say?”
“Yes, Imai-sama.”
Imai stuck his tongue out at Atsushi…but then he realized how childish that was. He couldn’t take it back…so he made faces at him too. Might as well go all the way.
Atsushi grumbled something else-although he was trying rather hard not to smile-before heading for Imai’s bedroom. For once BJ wasn’t following him-Imai had food and that was more exciting than whatever Atsushi was doing.
Imai leaned over and fed his dog a bit of egg, keeping things simple by doing that instead of wondering what Atsushi was doing in his bedroom…
After that Imai finished his breakfast and then carried everything into the kitchen. He looked at the dirty dishes in the sink, then at the plates in his hands, before dumping the new dishes into the sink on top of the old ones. They’d get done…eventually. Either by Imai or his cleaning lady… most likely the cleaning lady.
Then it was time to face the inevitable. Imai wandered into his bedroom and began to search through his rather packed closet, studiously ignoring the sound of running water in the adjacent room. There was so much stuff in the closet that had been given to him by other people…friends, acquaintances, his mother… Apparently no one thought he could buy his own clothes.
It took a while, but Imai dug out an old hotel robe that he must have pilfered from someplace-most likely on accident since he usually wasn’t awake when it came time to pack anyway-and he figured that it was one-size fits all, so it should work. It was white and fluffy and rather wrinkled because it was on the floor of the closet, but Atsushi had no right to complain. A few good shakes and it was good enough.
Then came the dilemma. Either he put it in the bathroom or left it on his bed. One meant going in the bathroom now, while Atsushi was still in there…while the other meant Atsushi coming out into his room…not dressed.
“Ah crap,” Imai muttered, but then he reminded himself that it didn’t matter…it didn’t matter at all… So, straightening his shoulders, Imai marched over to the bathroom door…and then knocked.
Naturally, Atsushi didn’t hear him. Imai cracked the door open a little bit. He was rather glad that he had a Western style shower at that point. “Found you something!” he called over the water.
“What?” Atsushi shouted back. The shower curtain swayed a bit and Atsushi poked his head out of the farthest side. He looked like a drowned rat, his drenched hair sticking to his face and neck.
Imai shoved the robe into the room and waved it like a flag of surrender…but it wasn’t. Bad analogy. “Wear this when you’re done.”
“Ah…sure. Thanks.” Atsushi ducked behind the rather bland cream-colored curtain and Imai edged into the room. Piling the robe on the nearest surface, he then turned and fled.
Once in the clear, Imai turned and rested his back against the wall and swallowed. Okay, he was still making a big deal out of nothing. Nothing.
Imai stayed glued against the wall, staring at nothing as he tried to think of nothing…and failed. Then the water shut off in the other room, and Imai was out of the bedroom in a shot. He skidded on the hardwood and used that momentum to take a flying leap towards the nearby couch, landing somewhat upright on the cushion. Settling himself down as best he could, Imai folded his legs and tried to look unassuming.
BJ just stared at him from where he lay by the window. Imai stared back. BJ shook his head briskly, yawned, and then lay back down.
That left Imai to twiddle his thumbs. That last for all of two seconds-Imai never saw the use behind such a meaningless gesture-and then Imai started to pick at the blanket Atsushi had used the night before.
It took a little bit longer than Imai wanted to admit for his brain to realize that he looked more conspicuous sitting on the couch like he was waiting than if he was up and doing something. It wasn’t like Atsushi was going to be jumping immediately from the bathroom to the living room anyway. At least not in the minute Imai was sitting there.
Mentally slapping himself-he was trying to avoid being an idiot about this-Imai got up and collected the used blanket and took it over to the closet. As he folded it the best he could on his own, a small question worked its way into his mind. He wondered exactly what had been so important about writing his name last night. The sheer randomness of it was…not like Atsushi at all. Granted, Imai didn’t normally hold discussions with him when he was dreaming…
Imai idly pondered what it was Atsushi could have been dreaming about… Maybe they were buying a car together? Imai snorted a laugh. Or Imai’s name could save the planet from the little green aliens by signing a peace treaty. Imai laughed outright at that. That the Imai-the world’s protector against aliens. Yep…that’s what he did in his spare time…
But, then again, Atsushi had said something about his name being erased… That was odd.
Imai shook his head. What the hell was he doing, trying to figure out someone else’s dream? They never made sense anyway… no sense at all…
Imai heard the bathroom door open and shut in the next room…and he realized that he was still holding the folded blanket. He shoved it in the closet and closed the door, not caring that his attempt at folding was in ruins now.
He turned around just as Atsushi strolled into the living room, towel drying his hair. The other man didn’t see Imai at first, because his head was covered with the towel. He was wearing the robe that Imai had given him-which fit, thankfully-but that was all. Imai kept his eyes up and aware from his bare feet and legs. “Watch out for the coffee table, Acchan.”
Atsushi stopped moving immediately before lowering the towel enough to see Imai. His hair was a matted mess. “Ah, you are out here. I was wondering if you had any disposable razors I could use…”
Imai shook his head. “Sorry, all I have is the one in there.”
“Ah.”
Imai licked his bottom lip. “You can use it if you want.”
Atsushi frowned a bit, peering at Imai closely through the stringy tendrils of his hair. Imai tried to keep his face placid, and he must have succeeded, because Atsushi didn’t seem to read anything wrong there. “Isn’t that a bit…” Atsushi began, only to trail off in the typical sign of off-handedly asking permission.
“Nah,” Imai said, waving his hand. “I need a new one anyway.”
Apparently that was enough for Atsushi-who probably hated not being clean-shaven-and he disappeared back into the other room.
“I’ll get you some slippers,” Imai called after him as he went back to the closet where he knew he’d tossed a pair before. He yanked the doors open…and the blanket he’d shoved there earlier fell out on his head.
Standing there, hand on door and cotton on his head, Imai knew then and there that today was going to be a much longer day than he’d anticipated this morning…
*
Ariwara came exactly at nine. He carried Atsushi’s normal travel bag slung over his shoulder. Imai almost dragged him into the room as soon as he got his shoes off. Why did Atsushi have to sit on the couch with his legs crossed like that when he only wore a robe? Damn that man. Imai was tired (too fond) of looking at his legs-he needed the man in some pants immediately.
Atsushi looked up as Ariwara stumbled in behind Imai. He stood up immediately. “I’m really sorry about this-” he began to say, but Ariwara shook his head.
“No big deal, Sakurai-san. I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “Not like I was doing much this morning anyway…”
That tone indicated a problem. Of course Atsushi picked up on it. He might not seem like the most social person, but he couldn’t leave someone is distress. It must be part of his love for animals that bled over at the sight of a wounded little human being, Imai supposed. Besides, Atsushi was one of those people who could sit through someone bemoaning about this and that…and actually pay attention. Imai had never been able to accomplish such a feat…
Before he knew what was happening Ariwara was sitting with Atsushi on the couch and talking about how his girlfriend broke up with him. And, naturally, Atsushi was still in the robe.
“Damn it,” Imai muttered under his breath, turning around and wandering into the kitchen. He eyed the plates in the sink and seriously considered washing them. But he…wasn’t that far gone yet. So he just sort of drifted around the room, poking at random things and making a mental grocery list…
Imai fully realized that he was hiding in his own home. He really shouldn’t have been doing that, but he couldn’t help it… He’d started going with the flow sometime that morning-most likely ever since Atsushi had woken up-and didn’t seem able to stop…
A prime example was that, after finally shaving and putting on the slippers Imai had managed to extract from the closet, Atsushi had sat down on the couch and Imai-despite the hundreds of other things he could do in that moment, one of which was run out the door screaming-had sat down next to him. There had been a tension between them that Imai had known wasn’t one-sided…but he hadn’t been able to figure out what was bothering Atsushi.
At least he hadn’t been able to until his friend began to thank him and apologize for intruding and…blah blah blah. Imai had rolled his eyes, which had stopped Atsushi short and the other man glared at him.
“I’m serious Imai,” Atsushi had said, quite seriously indeed.
“That’s the problem, Acchan,” Imai had replied, folding his arms. “You’re not imposing. So stop apologizing. It’s annoying.”
That had resulted in a dark look from Atsushi, but he didn’t say anything about it. As always. He’d simply folded his own arms and crossed his legs…much to Imai’s dismay. He had nice ankles…
That must have been his revenge against Imai, he realized now as he stood in the kitchen. On some subconscious level…Atsushi must have realized that would be the most perfect torture. Flash a bit of leg so innocently…
Or he could have just been acting like a male friend and band mate and not cared that Imai had seen his legs. Because what did that matter normally?
So much for Imai’s resolve not to act weird. But sitting there for over half an hour and having to ignore it and say it didn’t bother him at all…that had been next to impossible. He’d tried…but had failed. Especially when the damn man had begun to bounce his leg absentmindedly.
That was when Imai had spurted out the most random of things. “I dreamed about windows last night.”
Atsushi attention had snapped from the television to Imai’s face in an instant. The cigarette he’d lit a while before dangled from his fingers. “Wha---windows?”
“Err…yeah. It was…a weird dream…They…err…broke and stuff… ” Imai had trailed off. This had been a bad topic to start on, he’d realized. He couldn’t exactly say what else his dream had been about…
Atsushi had still been staring at him.
“So…er….did you dream about anything interesting?”
Atsushi had laughed then, a small chuckle that was close to rubbing Imai the wrong way…if he hadn’t been so thrown off balance by it. “Is that what you really wanted to know? You could have just asked instead of talking about windows, Imai.”
“I wouldn’t say that was my aim,” Imai had mumbled, folding his arms tighter.
Atsushi had shaken his head, but after a moment his lips had turned up in a half-smile. “Did I wake you up or something last night?”
Yes. Something like that. “I heard you moving around a bit…”
“Hmm…” Atsushi’s eyes had left Imai then and stared out somewhere in the room. He had begun to pick at the cotton threads in the robe and a long silence fell before he answered. “I…dreamt of my mother.”
Imai clearly remembered his dumbfounded reaction to those simple words. That was what was bothering Atsushi? His mother? Still? But…that had been years ago. Sure, he’d been a bit slow to mourn at the time-mostly out of shock and stress-but he’d eventually gotten around to it. Imai remembered that clearly enough. So what was with all this now…?
Imai would easily admit he wasn’t very good with human emotions…especially not the dark brooding ones that Atsushi liked to cling to… so maybe this reemergence was natural?
But, if he’d dreamt of his mother…why would Atsushi insist on Imai’s name… unless he’d only reacted that way because Imai had partially woken him up and so he’d incorporated Imai into whatever dream he was having?
Imai sighed, bracing his hands against the kitchen counter. He didn’t know why he was so obsessed with finding out what Atsushi had been dreaming about. It could have been a whole bunch of random shit for all he knew. It really wasn’t all that important for one thing…and they were also none of his business.
Usually Imai didn’t take much stock in dreams anyway, so this preoccupation was definitely odd to him…but then again, he remembered all the dreams that he had been having recently…especially the one…and he couldn’t help but think that maybe they, at least, were important…
The sound of a closing door broke Imai line of thought and he went over to the entrance to the other room. Ariwara was still sitting on the couch, oddly enough; it was Atsushi who was missing. The closed bedroom door was enough evidence for Imai to understand that he was getting dressed. Finally.
Ariwara must have sensed Imai in the doorway, because he turned around. Oddly enough, his ears where a bit pink, like he was blushing. “Uh…you have a very nice place, Imai-san,” he muttered awkwardly.
“Guess so,” Imai replied, leaning against the wall.
Ariwara shifted about a bit more. “Uh…Sakurai-san and I are gonna go out to lunch…do you want to come?”
Imai’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Lunch? Now? Certainly Atsushi was capable of packing a lot of food into that slim body, but he’d only had breakfast an hour ago-one that Imai hadn’t exactly slaved over, but he’d made it, damn it….
Ariwara accurately read his expression and his lips twisted a bit in a wry smile. “Well, we’re not going to eat now. I don’t know exactly what we’re gonna do, but,” here Ariwara shrugged. “We’re in Tokyo. There’s bound to be something.”
That didn’t make Imai’s eyebrows go back down. If possible, they would have risen higher. Since when did home-body Atsushi just go wander around in the afternoon?
Ariwara was staring at Imai expectantly, and it took him a moment to remember the actual question. But, before he could answer the door to the bedroom opened and out stepped Atsushi in a pair of black jeans and a shimmering grey button down. He looked…very good in that outfit, Imai decided then and there, much to his dismay.
Atsushi looked up from straightening his cuffs and took in the scene. “You asked him?” he questioned Ariwara, who nodded. Then Atsushi turned his attention to Imai and was it just Imai’s imagination or was there some awkwardness between them in that moment before he asked, “And?”
Imai licked his bottom lip. Then he bit it. Then he felt his neck start to warm up at the stupid things he was doing. So he looked down…and saw his slippers. “Euh…no, I’ll stay here. Gotta get dressed and stuff anyway…” As soon as those words left his lips Imai felt as if a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders. Yes, he would be free of Atsushi soon…
Atsushi continued to look at him for a moment before shrugging slightly. It wasn’t much more than a jerk of his left shoulder. “All right.”
That seemed to be Ariwara’s cue, because the other man hopped to his feet. It wasn’t long after that the both of them were on their way out the door. While Atsushi said a finally goodbye to the forlorn BJ, Ariwara refused to accept the money Imai had promised him, saying he had just been joking.
“No, take it,” Imai insisted, shoving the yen bills into the other man’s hand. When Ariwara refused again, Imai played his trump card. “Atsushi will feel guilty if you don’t.”
That did it, of course. Since no one wanted to upset Atsushi.
Sometimes Imai wondered at that mindset. People were more likely to care less about offending Imai-who was more prone to getting angry-than the more mild-mannered Atsushi. Maybe it was because Atsushi was mild-mannered. Apparently they didn’t think he could handle their misuse of his good nature…but that wasn’t quite true. He put up with Imai, after all, among other people.
Atsushi appeared in the corner of Imai’s vision, stepping down into his shoes. “I’ll see you later, Imai,” he said as he tied his laces. He scraped his hair back from his face in order to look up at Imai once he was done. “Thanks again.”
Imai pressed his lips together firmly as Atsushi spoke. “Anytime, Acchan,” he muttered at last, reaching down instinctively to rub BJ’s head as it bumped against his leg.
There was a moment as they all stood there, no one moving…but then Atsushi seemed to snap out of whatever daze they had fallen into and swung his bag over one shoulder and, tipping his head in Imai’s direction, disappeared out the door. Ariwara bowed a farewell in turn before following.
Imai stood there as the door clicked shut and felt a bit…well, he wasn’t sure. But his chest hurt. Rubbing at his breast bone idly with one hand while he continued to stroke BJ’s head with the other, he pondered this reaction. He wasn’t jealous. He’d felt that emotion before. Besides, it was just Ariwara (why he should even considering feeling jealous of Ariwara was something he wasn’t going to think about too closely) and he really had needed to get Atsushi out of his living room…
He could help thinking that it was the manner in which Atsushi had left that bothered him. Granted, the man had apologized and thanked him numerous times, so it wasn’t that. But he’d just…left.
Imai pushed hard against his chest as a reminder to himself to stop being such a sappy fool. What had he expected? A goodbye kiss? They’d been coming and going around each other in the same relaxed manner for years. He really was losing his mind.
But, although he’d needed to get Atsushi out of his apartment…he hadn’t wanted to. Maybe that was what was bothering him… Imai had liked having Atsushi there because he knew where he was…that he’d been a solid presence next to him… Imai’s dream, creeping on the edges of his mind the entire morning, came to the forefront. That must be what was bothering him the most-worry. But he’d just been dreaming…
Imai stopped petting BJ’s head and the dog whined softly. Imai looked down at the sudden sound and ruffled the dog’s ears gently. “Ah, nothing to get upset about,” he told both BJ and himself. “C’mon, let’s get something done.”
And so he did. Imai was nothing if not determined. Or stubborn. Whichever.
Post too large. Gotta mark part two.
Part Two
Not much to say about this, besides happiness turns to angst. And that’s it’s long. So enjoy!
Chapter 13:
It was just dark. Black. But it condensed into a form of deeper dark, a man. He held a box, a red box, that opened and red eyes stared out…and then the box was in Atsushi’s hands and he stared down at it as blood cascaded from his fingers to the floor in gushing rivulets, crawling along the tiles until it came upon a body. The body of Adam, his head smashed to a pulp against the sterile white floor.
Adam’s ghost was standing next to his corpse, shaking his head. He looked up then, meeting Atsushi’s eyes as he said “No longer just a pretty face” and then he stepped forward and wiped some of the blood off of Atsushi’s face and rubbed it between his fingers before tracing a foreign language on the air like he would paper. “This is how you say that in German,” he informed Atsushi, his tone scholarly. “You should learn that language; you’ll need it.”
“Why?” Atsushi asked, although he couldn’t hear his own voice at all.
“It’s important to remember things,” Adam said in response.
All of a sudden Makino was there, decked to the nines in his suit and smeared red tie, and erased the words from the wall with his hand. “Foolishness,” he said, pushing at Adam’s shoulder. The other man cracked from the touch, a large split of darkness leeching down his shoulder.
“Oh look at that,” Adam said, before everything erupted into blackness…that was abruptly cut through with the scratching sound of a pen.
The room turned white and Makino sat at a desk with a big leather ledger spread open in front of him. “Let’s see…this can go, and this,” he said, tracing his fingers over the still wet ink in the book, the black spreading over his fingers. He pointed them at Atsushi and smirked. “I’m erasing it all. It’s so much easier that way.”
The book was open in front of Atsushi now, Makino standing on the other side of the desk. “See, watch,” he said, running his hand over a scrawled name.
Imai’s name.
“All gone,” Makino said, with a condescending smile. “So, let’s move on, shall we?”
Someone gripped Atsushi’s shoulder then, and he heard his name. Looking up, Imai was leaning over him…when had he lain down?
That didn’t matter; he had to convince Imai to write his name again…it was important, so he asked him to. Imai wasn’t listening though…he wasn’t believing him.
So Atsushi grabbed his hand and it felt very solid and warm under his fingers. He tried to tell Imai what had happened…but he felt tongue-tied…like something was holding him back… but Imai seemed to understand anyway, as if the touch had been enough for him to understand.
Atsushi held on to Imai’s hand as he scrawled his name once more, dark and shining against the aging paper.
Letting go of Imai-he was safe now-Atsushi turned his head to tell Makino that he was wrong, but all he saw was his kitchen at home, where his mother was preparing dinner. Atsushi, much younger than he really was, lay in the family room, spread out on his back on the hardwood as he watched her.
She was a very vibrant force, he could remember her down to the smallest detail-her hair, her blue dress, the wrinkles around her eyes, the small stoop to her shoulders...her perfume. She rarely wore perfume. Something special must have been going on.
“You can tell your friends, Acchan,” she told him from the kitchen as she began to chop something on the counter. “It’s all right for them to come over if they’re going to help you.”
“Help me with what?” Atsushi asked, rolling over to lay on his stomach, resting his head in his hands as he watched her.
“That problem you were telling me about, silly. You told me you needed them, right?”
“Won’t Dad be mad?”
“I don’t think so. If they’re here to help everything will be all right. No one will say anything.”
Atsushi was going to answer her, but then he saw something dark pass the open screen door to his right. He turned to look at it, but all of a sudden his mother was there and she slid the door shut and locked it. “The storm’s brewing, but we’re safe here,” she told him as she pulled the curtains closed. “So go to sleep, Acchan.”
Atsushi shifted on his bed. Or at least he tried to, but he ended up backed against something plush yet solid. Opening his eyes in a squint, he realized he wasn’t at home. He was in someone’s living room, but his brain was too muzzy at the moment to remember whose. All he knew was that he didn’t need to panic. He wasn’t sure why, but it made perfect sense to him, so he just closed his eyes again.
In the dark behind his eyelids he drifted, vaguely remembering having dreamt before. It had been such a strange dream…all disjointed like a film out of order. Atsushi didn’t want to remember it, but he was also too lethargic to fight against it. It crawled into his mind to play out again, but this time…this time…only the ending remained, casting warmth over the dark tangled memories of before so that they became long forgotten.
Laying in that unfamiliar room with his eyes shut, Atsushi couldn’t help but smile sadly when he remembered. He hadn’t dreamed of his mother in such a long time, it seemed… Not in such a way, anyway. He usually woke to tears after dreams of her, but this time…despite all that had happened at the start, he still felt content, at ease. He supposed he was a sentimental fool…but it was true.
Atsushi’s restful doze was interrupted by something cold and wet touching his face. He opened his eyes slowly and there was a dog staring at him. Blinking slowly, Atsushi tried to recognize the animal but it was hard to do when he was so close.
“BJ, leave him alone I said!”
Atsushi knew where he was immediately then. The whole night before rushed back to him and he sat up quickly. BJ hopped back at his sudden motion, barking in alarm.
The abruptness of everything made Atsushi’s head ache and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose with two fingers. After a moment he opened his eyes and Imai was standing not too far away paused in the motion of reaching for BJ’s collar.
“Uh, good morning,” Imai said after a silence. He straightened up to a more traditional standing pose. He was dressed in his pajamas and robe, ugly monkey slippers on his feet. Atsushi vaguely remembered Toll buying him those once…
“I fell asleep on you, didn’t I?” Atsushi sighed, shoving the hair back from his face. It was a tangled dirty mess by now. He didn’t even want to touch it. He felt disgusting.
Imai cleared his throat. “Yeah. No big deal though. It’s not like anyone else needed the couch.”
“I guess not,” Atsushi mumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the cushion so he could sit up like a normal guest. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Around seven.”
“In the morning?”Atsushi asked, although he already knew the answer. There was sunlight trying to creep in around the closed window blinds.
“Yes, in the morning,” Imai replied dryly. “But considering you conked out around seven last night, I’m surprised you weren’t up already. Twelve hours, Acchan. That’s a record for you.”
Twelve hours? Really? Atsushi frowned in thought. He hadn’t slept that long in…ages, it seemed. And to dream of his mother too…maybe he still was dreaming?
“I’d say you can use my shower if you want,” Imai was saying, drawing Atsushi’s attention back to him, “but I don’t have any clothing for you to wear. Since, you know, you’re about a size bigger than I am.”
“No, no…that’s all right. I understand…” He did. It was about time he returned to his own place. He didn’t need to impose on Imai anymore…
“So I called Ariwara and asked him to grab something for you and bring it over,” Imai continued.
Atsushi blinked, turning his head to stare at Imai. “What?”
Imai actually smirked. “I do know how to plan ahead on some occasions,” he replied simply.
“He actually agreed to do that?”
“It took some persuasion, but, yeah, he did.”
Atsushi laughed despite his trepidation. He could just imagine Imai’s “persuasion”. “He’s going to be so pissed off, you know.”
“Nah, I told him I’d give him money for breakfast.”
Atsushi sighed. “That won’t fix things, Imai.”
“I don’t see why not, since he told me that was what he wanted in compensation.”
Atsushi just shook his head. “When will he get here?”
“He said around nine or so…Guess you’re kinda stuck as you are then,” Imai responded with a shrug.
“As long as you stay over there I don’t think I’ll hurt anyone,” Atsushi remarked dryly.
“Hmm,” Imai hummed in response, before disappearing from Atsushi’s line of sight. “I’m making breakfast.”
Atsushi turned his head at that comment, just in time to see the edge of Imai’s robe disappear into the kitchen. It was like a repeat of the night before, except with pajamas involved. “You don’t have to do that, Imai.”
“I need to eat too,” Imai chided from the other room, followed by the clutter of falling pans.
Atsushi leapt to his feet immediately, but he was still sluggish from sleeping so long and he rammed his foot against the coffee table. The same foot that had had the drum case dropped on it the day before. “Shit!” he hissed between his teeth, just as Imai called from the other room “Just moving things!”
Groaning under his breath, Atsushi fell back down on the couch and brought his foot up to inspect the damage. Pulling off his formerly-white-but-now-rather-gray sock, he discovered that his foot was sporting a rather colorful bruise now…that was actually quite painful.
“Wonderful,” he muttered. Of course he had to poke at it some, which made it throb even more. Thankfully, when he wiggled his toes everything seemed to be working right. It just hurt like a bitch.
BJ was apparently very interested in what Atsushi was doing, because he jumped up on the couch next to him and started nosing at the discolored skin. Atsushi shooed him away. “I already touched it too much already. Let’s give it a rest now.”
BJ looked up at him with pleading eyes and Atsushi could help but grin fondly. “It’s really not that interesting, I promise.”
“What’s not?”
Atsushi twisted his upper body around to look behind him and saw Imai standing there, this time sporting a spatula instead of a spoon. Atsushi immediately tucked his foot up under the nearby blanket before Imai could see. “BJ’s sniffing around, that’s all.”
Imai didn’t look convinced, but didn’t say anything about it. “I’m making omelettes. What do you want in yours?”
“Omelettes-not very traditional there,” Atsushi teased.
Imai just raised an eyebrow. “Says the man who’s raided a vending machine for breakfast.”
“It’s called being on the road,” Atsushi insisted, although he was well aware of that rather…bad habit of his.
Imai, of course, wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, I’d believe that if you did it three years ago. But not just a week ago. You can afford to eat something else now.”
Atsushi shrugged. “Old habits die hard?” he tried, hopefully.
“Uh huh.” Imai finally employed the spatula, pointing it in Atsushi’s general direction. “Well, what do you want?”
Atsushi shrugged again. “Surprise me.”
“Cigarette butts and liquor caps it is then,” Imai smirked, turning back to the kitchen.
Startled, Atsushi whirled around on the couch to face Imai directly. “You’d better not!”
Imai waved off his comment as he disappeared into the other room.
“He had better be joking,” Atsushi muttered, sinking back down on the cushion. BJ whined in sympathy.
*
Imai set to work on his omelettes right away. He contemplated going through with his threat…but Atsushi really needed to be fed, so he couldn’t actually do that. Imai grinned softly as he chopped up some peppers. It would have been amusing to see his face though.
Imai worked through the vegetables methodically, letting himself get lost in the soft thud, thud, thud of the knife against the wooden cutting block. It sounded like a really basic bass line…rather boring, but hypnotic in its own way.
Imai was more than willing to concentration on trite things like that; this morning, waking up so damn early despite his normal hatred of mornings, he had resolved himself to be in a good mood that day. He wasn’t going to let anything so fleeting as hormones bother him.
Because, last night, after he had finally gone to his room again, some part of him had realized that the attraction he was feeling…it was just a symptom of something else. What that something else was he wouldn’t let himself dwell on too long, but it was something he was sure he could live with. It was all but friendship, anyway, as soon as the sweaty palms and lurid dreams went away. So what was the big deal?
Nothing. Nothing was the big deal. So Imai had nothing to feel weird about.
He was just rather glad that Atsushi had been asleep last night.
Imai made quick work of the omelettes because, being up so early, he was off his normal eating schedule and he felt it as his stomach growled a stubborn protest. He was sure Atsushi was feeling out of whack too, after sleeping so long.
That was one thing Atsushi was never good at-sleeping. Except, of course, when he was liquored up properly. Then he’d pass out for a while, no complaints. But, other than it, he was far too twitchy and contemplative to rest easily…at least until he wore himself out. Imai had seen the beginning of such a state many times, but had never been there when he finally gave in…at least not before last night. And this one had come up rather quickly in the past few days…
Turning off the stove and sliding the last omelette onto a plate, Imai chewed on his bottom lip. Atsushi usually got truly restless when he was upset over something. So something must have really gotten to him the past few days…but what?
Thinking about it too hard made Imai feel like he ran up against a mental wall as he realized that he just couldn’t figure it out… His thoughts were merely running in spastic circles in his brain and that wouldn’t do him any good. So he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on something more mundane. Like the fact that he didn’t know if he had any clean forks left… But they could use chopsticks if necessary…
That was what they ended up doing. Eating omelettes with chopsticks. Not that either one of them cared too much. Atsushi would eat anything with anything, so it wasn’t a problem. They’d taken the same places as last night-which Atsushi had so unskillfully cleared off for them-and ate in companionable silence.
Although Imai couldn’t help but notice that Atsushi looked rather ragged with his rumpled clothes and knotted hair. And he was obviously annoyed by said hair, because whenever a strand would fall forward he would jerk his head slightly to flip it back instead of just pushing it with his hand the easy way. He ended up doing this about a billion times, since of course it never stayed back.
“I hope I have enough shampoo for that mop,” Imai commented out of the blue.
Atsushi stared at him before quirking a self-depreciating smile. “I hope so too.”
Imai steadfastly ignored the twisting in his gut at that smile and calmly kept on eating. He would not be bothered by this. At all.
But that didn’t mean he had to put up with Atsushi’s restlessness. It was starting to get annoying.
So, the exact moment that Atsushi put the last scrap of egg in his mouth, Imai was on him. “Go take a shower. Your twitching is driving me crazy!”
Atsushi couldn’t say anything in return because he still had a mouth full of food, so he just stared at Imai, startled. Then he swallowed, and Imai had the impression that he hadn’t chewed most of that. “What?”
Imai waved in the generally direction of his bedroom door. “Shower’s in the bathroom there. I’ll find you a robe or something until Ariwara gets here. Just…stop twitching!”
Again with the blank look. Imai was just about to ask if Atsushi was still asleep when the other man suddenly asked, “Is it really that bad?”
“What?”
“My hair?”
Imai drew in a calming breath before huffing irritably. “It’s hideous. Take a shower.”
Muttering something under his breath, Atsushi got to his feet and began to pick up his plate.
Imai shooed him away. “What did I say?”
“Yes, Imai-sama.”
Imai stuck his tongue out at Atsushi…but then he realized how childish that was. He couldn’t take it back…so he made faces at him too. Might as well go all the way.
Atsushi grumbled something else-although he was trying rather hard not to smile-before heading for Imai’s bedroom. For once BJ wasn’t following him-Imai had food and that was more exciting than whatever Atsushi was doing.
Imai leaned over and fed his dog a bit of egg, keeping things simple by doing that instead of wondering what Atsushi was doing in his bedroom…
After that Imai finished his breakfast and then carried everything into the kitchen. He looked at the dirty dishes in the sink, then at the plates in his hands, before dumping the new dishes into the sink on top of the old ones. They’d get done…eventually. Either by Imai or his cleaning lady… most likely the cleaning lady.
Then it was time to face the inevitable. Imai wandered into his bedroom and began to search through his rather packed closet, studiously ignoring the sound of running water in the adjacent room. There was so much stuff in the closet that had been given to him by other people…friends, acquaintances, his mother… Apparently no one thought he could buy his own clothes.
It took a while, but Imai dug out an old hotel robe that he must have pilfered from someplace-most likely on accident since he usually wasn’t awake when it came time to pack anyway-and he figured that it was one-size fits all, so it should work. It was white and fluffy and rather wrinkled because it was on the floor of the closet, but Atsushi had no right to complain. A few good shakes and it was good enough.
Then came the dilemma. Either he put it in the bathroom or left it on his bed. One meant going in the bathroom now, while Atsushi was still in there…while the other meant Atsushi coming out into his room…not dressed.
“Ah crap,” Imai muttered, but then he reminded himself that it didn’t matter…it didn’t matter at all… So, straightening his shoulders, Imai marched over to the bathroom door…and then knocked.
Naturally, Atsushi didn’t hear him. Imai cracked the door open a little bit. He was rather glad that he had a Western style shower at that point. “Found you something!” he called over the water.
“What?” Atsushi shouted back. The shower curtain swayed a bit and Atsushi poked his head out of the farthest side. He looked like a drowned rat, his drenched hair sticking to his face and neck.
Imai shoved the robe into the room and waved it like a flag of surrender…but it wasn’t. Bad analogy. “Wear this when you’re done.”
“Ah…sure. Thanks.” Atsushi ducked behind the rather bland cream-colored curtain and Imai edged into the room. Piling the robe on the nearest surface, he then turned and fled.
Once in the clear, Imai turned and rested his back against the wall and swallowed. Okay, he was still making a big deal out of nothing. Nothing.
Imai stayed glued against the wall, staring at nothing as he tried to think of nothing…and failed. Then the water shut off in the other room, and Imai was out of the bedroom in a shot. He skidded on the hardwood and used that momentum to take a flying leap towards the nearby couch, landing somewhat upright on the cushion. Settling himself down as best he could, Imai folded his legs and tried to look unassuming.
BJ just stared at him from where he lay by the window. Imai stared back. BJ shook his head briskly, yawned, and then lay back down.
That left Imai to twiddle his thumbs. That last for all of two seconds-Imai never saw the use behind such a meaningless gesture-and then Imai started to pick at the blanket Atsushi had used the night before.
It took a little bit longer than Imai wanted to admit for his brain to realize that he looked more conspicuous sitting on the couch like he was waiting than if he was up and doing something. It wasn’t like Atsushi was going to be jumping immediately from the bathroom to the living room anyway. At least not in the minute Imai was sitting there.
Mentally slapping himself-he was trying to avoid being an idiot about this-Imai got up and collected the used blanket and took it over to the closet. As he folded it the best he could on his own, a small question worked its way into his mind. He wondered exactly what had been so important about writing his name last night. The sheer randomness of it was…not like Atsushi at all. Granted, Imai didn’t normally hold discussions with him when he was dreaming…
Imai idly pondered what it was Atsushi could have been dreaming about… Maybe they were buying a car together? Imai snorted a laugh. Or Imai’s name could save the planet from the little green aliens by signing a peace treaty. Imai laughed outright at that. That the Imai-the world’s protector against aliens. Yep…that’s what he did in his spare time…
But, then again, Atsushi had said something about his name being erased… That was odd.
Imai shook his head. What the hell was he doing, trying to figure out someone else’s dream? They never made sense anyway… no sense at all…
Imai heard the bathroom door open and shut in the next room…and he realized that he was still holding the folded blanket. He shoved it in the closet and closed the door, not caring that his attempt at folding was in ruins now.
He turned around just as Atsushi strolled into the living room, towel drying his hair. The other man didn’t see Imai at first, because his head was covered with the towel. He was wearing the robe that Imai had given him-which fit, thankfully-but that was all. Imai kept his eyes up and aware from his bare feet and legs. “Watch out for the coffee table, Acchan.”
Atsushi stopped moving immediately before lowering the towel enough to see Imai. His hair was a matted mess. “Ah, you are out here. I was wondering if you had any disposable razors I could use…”
Imai shook his head. “Sorry, all I have is the one in there.”
“Ah.”
Imai licked his bottom lip. “You can use it if you want.”
Atsushi frowned a bit, peering at Imai closely through the stringy tendrils of his hair. Imai tried to keep his face placid, and he must have succeeded, because Atsushi didn’t seem to read anything wrong there. “Isn’t that a bit…” Atsushi began, only to trail off in the typical sign of off-handedly asking permission.
“Nah,” Imai said, waving his hand. “I need a new one anyway.”
Apparently that was enough for Atsushi-who probably hated not being clean-shaven-and he disappeared back into the other room.
“I’ll get you some slippers,” Imai called after him as he went back to the closet where he knew he’d tossed a pair before. He yanked the doors open…and the blanket he’d shoved there earlier fell out on his head.
Standing there, hand on door and cotton on his head, Imai knew then and there that today was going to be a much longer day than he’d anticipated this morning…
*
Ariwara came exactly at nine. He carried Atsushi’s normal travel bag slung over his shoulder. Imai almost dragged him into the room as soon as he got his shoes off. Why did Atsushi have to sit on the couch with his legs crossed like that when he only wore a robe? Damn that man. Imai was tired (too fond) of looking at his legs-he needed the man in some pants immediately.
Atsushi looked up as Ariwara stumbled in behind Imai. He stood up immediately. “I’m really sorry about this-” he began to say, but Ariwara shook his head.
“No big deal, Sakurai-san. I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “Not like I was doing much this morning anyway…”
That tone indicated a problem. Of course Atsushi picked up on it. He might not seem like the most social person, but he couldn’t leave someone is distress. It must be part of his love for animals that bled over at the sight of a wounded little human being, Imai supposed. Besides, Atsushi was one of those people who could sit through someone bemoaning about this and that…and actually pay attention. Imai had never been able to accomplish such a feat…
Before he knew what was happening Ariwara was sitting with Atsushi on the couch and talking about how his girlfriend broke up with him. And, naturally, Atsushi was still in the robe.
“Damn it,” Imai muttered under his breath, turning around and wandering into the kitchen. He eyed the plates in the sink and seriously considered washing them. But he…wasn’t that far gone yet. So he just sort of drifted around the room, poking at random things and making a mental grocery list…
Imai fully realized that he was hiding in his own home. He really shouldn’t have been doing that, but he couldn’t help it… He’d started going with the flow sometime that morning-most likely ever since Atsushi had woken up-and didn’t seem able to stop…
A prime example was that, after finally shaving and putting on the slippers Imai had managed to extract from the closet, Atsushi had sat down on the couch and Imai-despite the hundreds of other things he could do in that moment, one of which was run out the door screaming-had sat down next to him. There had been a tension between them that Imai had known wasn’t one-sided…but he hadn’t been able to figure out what was bothering Atsushi.
At least he hadn’t been able to until his friend began to thank him and apologize for intruding and…blah blah blah. Imai had rolled his eyes, which had stopped Atsushi short and the other man glared at him.
“I’m serious Imai,” Atsushi had said, quite seriously indeed.
“That’s the problem, Acchan,” Imai had replied, folding his arms. “You’re not imposing. So stop apologizing. It’s annoying.”
That had resulted in a dark look from Atsushi, but he didn’t say anything about it. As always. He’d simply folded his own arms and crossed his legs…much to Imai’s dismay. He had nice ankles…
That must have been his revenge against Imai, he realized now as he stood in the kitchen. On some subconscious level…Atsushi must have realized that would be the most perfect torture. Flash a bit of leg so innocently…
Or he could have just been acting like a male friend and band mate and not cared that Imai had seen his legs. Because what did that matter normally?
So much for Imai’s resolve not to act weird. But sitting there for over half an hour and having to ignore it and say it didn’t bother him at all…that had been next to impossible. He’d tried…but had failed. Especially when the damn man had begun to bounce his leg absentmindedly.
That was when Imai had spurted out the most random of things. “I dreamed about windows last night.”
Atsushi attention had snapped from the television to Imai’s face in an instant. The cigarette he’d lit a while before dangled from his fingers. “Wha---windows?”
“Err…yeah. It was…a weird dream…They…err…broke and stuff… ” Imai had trailed off. This had been a bad topic to start on, he’d realized. He couldn’t exactly say what else his dream had been about…
Atsushi had still been staring at him.
“So…er….did you dream about anything interesting?”
Atsushi had laughed then, a small chuckle that was close to rubbing Imai the wrong way…if he hadn’t been so thrown off balance by it. “Is that what you really wanted to know? You could have just asked instead of talking about windows, Imai.”
“I wouldn’t say that was my aim,” Imai had mumbled, folding his arms tighter.
Atsushi had shaken his head, but after a moment his lips had turned up in a half-smile. “Did I wake you up or something last night?”
Yes. Something like that. “I heard you moving around a bit…”
“Hmm…” Atsushi’s eyes had left Imai then and stared out somewhere in the room. He had begun to pick at the cotton threads in the robe and a long silence fell before he answered. “I…dreamt of my mother.”
Imai clearly remembered his dumbfounded reaction to those simple words. That was what was bothering Atsushi? His mother? Still? But…that had been years ago. Sure, he’d been a bit slow to mourn at the time-mostly out of shock and stress-but he’d eventually gotten around to it. Imai remembered that clearly enough. So what was with all this now…?
Imai would easily admit he wasn’t very good with human emotions…especially not the dark brooding ones that Atsushi liked to cling to… so maybe this reemergence was natural?
But, if he’d dreamt of his mother…why would Atsushi insist on Imai’s name… unless he’d only reacted that way because Imai had partially woken him up and so he’d incorporated Imai into whatever dream he was having?
Imai sighed, bracing his hands against the kitchen counter. He didn’t know why he was so obsessed with finding out what Atsushi had been dreaming about. It could have been a whole bunch of random shit for all he knew. It really wasn’t all that important for one thing…and they were also none of his business.
Usually Imai didn’t take much stock in dreams anyway, so this preoccupation was definitely odd to him…but then again, he remembered all the dreams that he had been having recently…especially the one…and he couldn’t help but think that maybe they, at least, were important…
The sound of a closing door broke Imai line of thought and he went over to the entrance to the other room. Ariwara was still sitting on the couch, oddly enough; it was Atsushi who was missing. The closed bedroom door was enough evidence for Imai to understand that he was getting dressed. Finally.
Ariwara must have sensed Imai in the doorway, because he turned around. Oddly enough, his ears where a bit pink, like he was blushing. “Uh…you have a very nice place, Imai-san,” he muttered awkwardly.
“Guess so,” Imai replied, leaning against the wall.
Ariwara shifted about a bit more. “Uh…Sakurai-san and I are gonna go out to lunch…do you want to come?”
Imai’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Lunch? Now? Certainly Atsushi was capable of packing a lot of food into that slim body, but he’d only had breakfast an hour ago-one that Imai hadn’t exactly slaved over, but he’d made it, damn it….
Ariwara accurately read his expression and his lips twisted a bit in a wry smile. “Well, we’re not going to eat now. I don’t know exactly what we’re gonna do, but,” here Ariwara shrugged. “We’re in Tokyo. There’s bound to be something.”
That didn’t make Imai’s eyebrows go back down. If possible, they would have risen higher. Since when did home-body Atsushi just go wander around in the afternoon?
Ariwara was staring at Imai expectantly, and it took him a moment to remember the actual question. But, before he could answer the door to the bedroom opened and out stepped Atsushi in a pair of black jeans and a shimmering grey button down. He looked…very good in that outfit, Imai decided then and there, much to his dismay.
Atsushi looked up from straightening his cuffs and took in the scene. “You asked him?” he questioned Ariwara, who nodded. Then Atsushi turned his attention to Imai and was it just Imai’s imagination or was there some awkwardness between them in that moment before he asked, “And?”
Imai licked his bottom lip. Then he bit it. Then he felt his neck start to warm up at the stupid things he was doing. So he looked down…and saw his slippers. “Euh…no, I’ll stay here. Gotta get dressed and stuff anyway…” As soon as those words left his lips Imai felt as if a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders. Yes, he would be free of Atsushi soon…
Atsushi continued to look at him for a moment before shrugging slightly. It wasn’t much more than a jerk of his left shoulder. “All right.”
That seemed to be Ariwara’s cue, because the other man hopped to his feet. It wasn’t long after that the both of them were on their way out the door. While Atsushi said a finally goodbye to the forlorn BJ, Ariwara refused to accept the money Imai had promised him, saying he had just been joking.
“No, take it,” Imai insisted, shoving the yen bills into the other man’s hand. When Ariwara refused again, Imai played his trump card. “Atsushi will feel guilty if you don’t.”
That did it, of course. Since no one wanted to upset Atsushi.
Sometimes Imai wondered at that mindset. People were more likely to care less about offending Imai-who was more prone to getting angry-than the more mild-mannered Atsushi. Maybe it was because Atsushi was mild-mannered. Apparently they didn’t think he could handle their misuse of his good nature…but that wasn’t quite true. He put up with Imai, after all, among other people.
Atsushi appeared in the corner of Imai’s vision, stepping down into his shoes. “I’ll see you later, Imai,” he said as he tied his laces. He scraped his hair back from his face in order to look up at Imai once he was done. “Thanks again.”
Imai pressed his lips together firmly as Atsushi spoke. “Anytime, Acchan,” he muttered at last, reaching down instinctively to rub BJ’s head as it bumped against his leg.
There was a moment as they all stood there, no one moving…but then Atsushi seemed to snap out of whatever daze they had fallen into and swung his bag over one shoulder and, tipping his head in Imai’s direction, disappeared out the door. Ariwara bowed a farewell in turn before following.
Imai stood there as the door clicked shut and felt a bit…well, he wasn’t sure. But his chest hurt. Rubbing at his breast bone idly with one hand while he continued to stroke BJ’s head with the other, he pondered this reaction. He wasn’t jealous. He’d felt that emotion before. Besides, it was just Ariwara (why he should even considering feeling jealous of Ariwara was something he wasn’t going to think about too closely) and he really had needed to get Atsushi out of his living room…
He could help thinking that it was the manner in which Atsushi had left that bothered him. Granted, the man had apologized and thanked him numerous times, so it wasn’t that. But he’d just…left.
Imai pushed hard against his chest as a reminder to himself to stop being such a sappy fool. What had he expected? A goodbye kiss? They’d been coming and going around each other in the same relaxed manner for years. He really was losing his mind.
But, although he’d needed to get Atsushi out of his apartment…he hadn’t wanted to. Maybe that was what was bothering him… Imai had liked having Atsushi there because he knew where he was…that he’d been a solid presence next to him… Imai’s dream, creeping on the edges of his mind the entire morning, came to the forefront. That must be what was bothering him the most-worry. But he’d just been dreaming…
Imai stopped petting BJ’s head and the dog whined softly. Imai looked down at the sudden sound and ruffled the dog’s ears gently. “Ah, nothing to get upset about,” he told both BJ and himself. “C’mon, let’s get something done.”
And so he did. Imai was nothing if not determined. Or stubborn. Whichever.
Post too large. Gotta mark part two.
Part Two