I want to be your secret (16-17/26)
Title: I want to be your secret
Pairing: Ryopi
Genre: AU / Drama / Friendship / Romance
Rating: PG-13 (swearing)
Summary: Pi is a Johnny's idol and Ryo is a salaryman living in the same apartment building. Despite coming from different worlds, they form a friendship that ends up being a pillar of support through the various trials they encounter, slowly developing into something much, much more.
Word count: 4154
Disclaimer: I think I've run out of creative ways to say this is mine.
A/N: Sorry, I'm a bit of tease in this.
Part Two - Winter
Chapter Sixteen - A Storm is Brewing
Pi shows up at Ryo’s unit after work, a six-pack in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, but judging by the clouded look in his eyes Ryo thinks he probably started a long time ago.
Pi doesn’t say anything and Ryo doesn’t ask. They crack open the whiskey once they’re on the couch, and it’s half empty before Pi manages to give form to his thoughts.
“They said ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you,’” Pi says, and he’s proud that his voice only wavers slightly.
“Do you know when?” Ryo asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
Pi shakes his head and sighs. “It’s the waiting, you know? I can’t stand the waiting.”
Ryo can only nod.
“Shige says he’ll keep me updated. He’s going to try coming up with some plans or something, but I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”
Pi looks at Ryo and his eyes tell him that this is running a lot deeper than something that can be tossed aside in a night of hard drinking.
“Do you want to quit?” Ryo asks softly, after a pause.
“No,” Pi says slowly. “I’ve realised I kind of love my job,” and there’s a bitterness in his smile. “It’s just…I feel like I’ve always been reaching, reaching, reaching for something, only to find out that it was just an impossible dream. Like some worthless ideal.”
Ryo doesn’t say anything. He’s never put his all into anything, never really believed there was more out there to attain. Watching Pi makes him wonder if it’s worth it in the first place.
“I did everything that they asked, you know? Everything that they wanted,” he whispers, and his hands are trembling in front of him. He didn’t want to lose control, he didn’t.
Ryo nods again, feeling at a loss. He downs the rest of his glass and cracks open a beer for them both.
“God,” Pi mutters, trying to compose himself. “Maybe I was never meant to be an idol. I should have known when they broke up 4Tops. I should have left when Toma did.”
Suddenly he breaks into manic giggles.
“Oh fuck, I know what this is. This is like divine punishment for debuting without Toma! Why didn’t I fight harder for 4Tops?” Pi asks the ceiling beseechingly, still laughing madly.
Ryo looks at the beer he’s just offered Pi, and then moves it away from Pi’s grasp. “I think that’s enough drinking for tonight,” he says quietly.
The laughter fades out of Pi.
“This is all my fault,” he says solemnly. He seems to be halfway lost between hysteria and rationality, and Ryo thinks it’s the scariest thing he’s ever seen.
“I don’t know who this Toma guy is, but it’s not your fault,” Ryo says carefully.
Pi just shakes his head, makes a grab for the beer before realising it’s on the other side of the table.
“What am I going to do, Ryo?” Pi asks after a while, turning towards Ryo. Pi’s face was always boyish, always youthful, but now it only shows broken innocence and painful vulnerability.
Ryo doesn’t know what else he can say.
“I wish I could tell you, Pi,” he says hoarsely. “But I don’t know about any of this stuff. This is all social politics and marketing, and I’m not in finance for a very good reason. Just…” Ryo sighs. “Just know I’ll always be here for you, okay Pi? Always,” Ryo says, and his eyes are looking deep into Pi’s with liquid clarity. “I’m right here, okay?”
It’s the tone of Ryo’s voice that seems to push him towards sanity.
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”
*
Pi holes himself up at Ryo’s apartment, can’t stand the silence and the emptiness of his own. Ryo’s place feels more like a home than his ever did anyway, with its books and photos and food in the fridge. Ryo insists at first that Pi take the bed, but Pi is resolute in his occupation of the couch. Ryo says that since its now winter it doesn’t make sense for Pi to sleep on the couch since he’s much more perceptible to the cold. Pi merely fetches an extra quilt.
They don’t mention that night, but Pi has come to realise he has a secret longing; a wish for Ryo to take his shattered heart and mould it again, smoothing over the cracks with honest words and wide smiles like water into kneaded clay. Yet Pi can remember the smell of alcohol already stained across Ryo’s shirt and lingering on his tongue, no matter how hard he tries to pretend it wasn’t there. More than that, he’s beginning to realise all the things he’s unconsciously been asking from Ryo and all the things that they may have implied. It’s a sobering thought that makes him want to distance himself despite Ryo’s words, wherever they may have come from.
Ryo goes to work during the day and Pi goes out or plays his guitar that he brought along. Sometimes he practices dancing in front of the television, but it only brings back the empty pang in his gut. Shige calls every now and then, but there’s never anything to tell really - only promises that he’s working as hard as he can.
Pi doesn’t watch the news.
One evening two days later, as he’s setting the bowls down for dinner, Ryo says “Did I ever tell you, that just after I moved in to this place, the people next door told me that the previous tenant had committed suicide?”
“What?” Pi mumbles around a mouthful of rice that he’s nicked from the cooker. “Are you serious?”
“Yep,” Ryo answers, chopsticks now clicking down on the table. “He cheated on his wife and she found out then left him. He slit his wrists in the bathtub.”
“That’s a little full on, isn’t it?” Pi asks, a feeling of unease sliding down his back and creeping into his shoulders, making his muscles tense involuntarily.
Ryo nods imperceptibly. “I called up the real estate office and gave them a piece of my mind.”
Pi’s face is a cross between a grin and a grimace as he recalls Ryo’s temper. “I can see that happening.”
“But the contract was signed already,” Ryo continues. “So not much can be done about it, right?”
Pi nods, but he can’t help glancing around the room as if he’ll suddenly see the ghost lurking in the corners, playing poltergeist with the television.
He thinks about it in the shower, watching the water trail down the porcelain tiles, imagines it to be the blood that ends up pooling on the floor. Here, right here, a person took their life. For that man the world no longer held any hope for redemption. Nothing left to care for, nothing left to live for. Only hurt, hurt, never-ending, crushing hurt that squeezed his ribcage to suffocate his heart. A part of Pi’s head can’t help thinking, But it was his fault in the first place, right?
“Do you think the wife ever feels guilty?” Pi whispers to Ryo later that night, making his way into Ryo’s room, footsteps padded on the carpet. The moon casts an eerie glow on the white linen sheets.
“Huh? Who?” Ryo murmurs sleepily from his bed.
“The wife. Of the guy who killed himself.”
Ryo presses his palms into his eyes before sighing. “I guess so. Who wouldn’t, right?”
*
As he surrenders to sleep there’s something tugging at the corners of Ryo’s memories, something about past betrayals, but he can’t think properly anymore. It mustn’t really matter anymore.
*
Pi calls Jin the next day, sick of thinking every slight movement of air is a ghost seeking companionship in the next life, and is greeted with an excited squeal, which is then followed by multiple sounds of sympathy.
“God, Pi, what’s going to happen?” Jin asks worriedly.
Talking to Jin feels good because he knows there has to be at least one grown-up in the conversation, and in no way is Jin going to fill that role.
“I don’t know,” Pi says honestly. “They can’t take away much more than they already have.”
They chat about random things that have nothing to do with anything. How Yu’s new girlfriend swears like a sailor, and how Pin is beginning to show signs of old age. Just normal things. Except Jin doesn’t mention work and Pi never asks. After a while there’s a lull in the conversation and Jin clears his throat.
“Hey,” says Jin, voice oddly quiet. “Do you want to come and stay with me? We could just hang out and muck around. Just like old times.”
Pi frowns.
“Kame’s there, isn’t he? Is that why you’re whispering?”
“Huh? What? No!” Jin says quickly, which only confirms Pi’s belief.
Pi rolls his eyes, but he does it with a smile.
“It’s okay Jin. I’m actually staying with Ryo at the moment.”
“With Ryo?” Jin says, no longer whispering. “The skinny monkey?”
“Yeah, the skinny monkey,” Pi answers drily.
“Oh,” and he sounds surprised. “I didn’t realise you two were so close.”
Pi shrugs, even though he knows Jin can’t see. “Well we kind of went on a trip together recently, so I guess we’re pretty close.”
“Oh really? How close?” This time there is a hint of suggestion in his voice, except with Jin a hint is a bit like a hippopotamus attempting to hide behind a lamp post.
Pi groans inwardly before saying with false cheerfulness, “Okay, I’m hanging up now! It was nice talking to you! I’ll call again soon!”
“Wait! Pi! How close?” Pi hears Jin yell through the line before he hangs up.
To be honest, it’s a question he’d like to answer, too.
*
Pi makes his way to the roof late in the afternoon, wanting to get some fresh air. The day before someone had recognised him in the street, pointing and whispering to their friend, and he hasn’t felt like going outside of the building since. Besides, it’s been a while since he’s been up here.
He pulls his jacket tight around him against the cold; he’s always hated winter, always been a child of summer.
Across the city the lights blur into one another through the thick air. Pi can hear the wind pushing its way through the clustered buildings, whispering loudly and making them shiver ever so slightly. There’s a line of cyclists down below that are trying to beat the cold with the burning in their muscles, and Pi tries to remember a time when he had that kind of determination.
He wants to tell himself to suck it up, to be a man, to take it on the chin and shrug his shoulders like he’s always done.
“JUST FUCKING DEAL WITH IT, OKAY??” he screams out over the railing, disturbing a couple of pigeons that are settled on the ledge below.
“Somehow I don’t see them responding,” a voice behind him deadpans. “If it’s the birds you’re talking to, that is.”
Ryo shuffles up beside him, sliding down to sit on the cold concrete at Pi’s feet, knees pulled up close to his body so that he looks small and compact. Pi settles down next to him silently.
“How was work today?” Pi asks, determined not to talk about himself.
Ryo shrugs.
“Ohno got back from his fishing trip. He’s so black now that he blends in with his swivelly chair. Sakamoto got a promotion - he’s now in charge of biscuits as well as tea and coffee. I don’t even want to think of the sugar content in the scotch fingers he doled out for morning break. Hikaru’s decided to stay on with our section, but rumour has it he bargained for a 5-year contract that details pay rises and benefits, the ambitious bastard. Tsuyoshi has taken to wearing these African-print pants to work with felt berets. I think the conference may have broken him a little. And Nakai…well he’s a fuckturd, what more can you say, really.”
He pats his pocket for a cigarette before realising he’s left them downstairs and sighs heavily.
Pi just listens to a life that he can’t imagine ever having and can’t feel any emotion for. He watches the movement of Ryo’s lips and hears his voice getting rougher and deeper as the energy drains out of him.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know what to say, and Ryo finally leans his head back against the railing, his eyes drifting to a close. Neck exposed, dark hair wisping at the nape, long lines reaching down to winged clavicle and sternum and other softer mysteries.
“Fuck, I’m so tired, I don’t think I can move,” he murmurs, words as insubstantial as the air they’re breathing.
Pi doesn’t really hear it, doesn’t even really think, just reaches out a hand and drifts his fingers along Ryo’s neck. He can feel Ryo’s pulse beneath his fingers, strong and steady despite his weariness, and the slant of his jaw. Ryo turns his head slightly and manages to crack open an eye to give Pi a dark unreadable look.
Pi withdraws his hand, but Ryo’s hooded gaze doesn’t stray and he can almost imagine that there is still some invisible connection between them like a silken spider thread trailing from his fingers, linking skin to skin.
He can feel the slowly growing connection between them expanding and deflating with each shallow breath, and doesn’t know where to take it - doesn’t know how to confirm it, how to reply it. The wheel is spinning at a greater speed, and Pi can only hold on tighter in fear of falling into the unknown. Yet he can’t help thinking that maybe it would be better to just let go.
“Pi-” Ryo begins, voice soft, and reality sets back in violently.
Pi stands up abruptly, interrupting him. “Let’s go inside, hey, it’s starting to get really cold. Before you fall asleep out here and I have to carry you back,” he adds with mock exasperation.
He can feel the other’s eyes boring into him for a moment, but then Ryo merely heaves himself up and heads towards the roof exit without another word.
Any connection that Pi felt just seconds before now seems distant - only the memory of hot skin lingering on his fingers and a raw feeling in the place where it severed serves as proof of its existence.
Cursing himself mentally, he follows Ryo back to the unit.
Chapter Seventeen - Rain
Ryo doesn’t talk about it, but every now and then Pi catches Ryo just looking at him, jaw slightly tensed. Like he’s trying to calculate something, trying to weigh something up.
But it’s his eyes that are beginning to really worry Pi. Pi can see Ryo’s soul suspended in them, and it’s honest and good and straight to its very core. The antithesis to Mary and Julie’s strikingly cold eyes. They’re eyes borne of earth and dust and the darkest of nights, and every time Pi looks into them the world spins anew.
He won’t deny it; he’s been on a constant descent, tumbling down down down, with only Ryo to cling onto. But just who exactly is going to save him from falling into Ryo? Worse, what will happen to him if he doesn’t want to be saved?
*
He receives a message from Shige at around noon.
Yamashita,
Sorry I haven’t contacted you lately.
I think I’ve finally figured things out.
Will let you know soon.
Shige
Pi feels hope rise in his chest, and he jumps in the air, pumping his fist in a battle cry. Thank God, thank God.
When Ryo closes the door behind him after returning from work, he finds himself flattened under 60kg of dead weight that leaves him falling on the ground against the wall. Pi’s got his head buried in his shoulder, arms wound around his chest, and is letting out what seem to be either sobs or laughter or a mixture of both.
“Um, Pi?” Ryo asks, when his friend doesn’t say anything. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” and his reply is muffled into Ryo’s shirt. “Yeah. Pretty damn awesome, in fact.”
Ryo exhales with relief, looking up and muttering a silent thank you to whichever deity made this possible. His whole body relaxes and he wraps an arm lightly around Pi’s waist.
“About fucking time.”
*
Pi heads outside for the first time in days, and it feels good. He was never made to be cooped up - it’s almost like he’s been unleashed. He imagines that this is what it feels like for animals that have been released back into the wild after a stint in captivity. As much as he loves Ryo’s apartment, nothing beats fresh air and sunshine, even if it’s only 10 degrees and the sun has hidden itself behind a couple of threatening-looking steel clouds that have been haunting the sky all day.
He’s just finished picking up some snacks at a convenience store (Ryo had finished off the last of his pudding even though it had his name on it), when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.
“Hi, this is Yamashita,” he answers, without looking at the caller ID.
There’s a sound like grit being cleared.
“Yamashita, this is Mary Kitagawa. We’ve reached a decision,” the caller says, voice hard. She always sounds that way, and Pi doesn’t even blink. He’s been waiting for this call, and now that it’s come...
“Yes? Do you have news? Shall I come in?” Pi asks, trying to unsuccessfully reign in his elation.
There’s a pause on the other end and for a moment Pi thinks the connection’s been lost.
“Don’t bother coming in, Yamashita,” the voice finally says over the line, cold and detached with an electronic buzz. “Today or tomorrow or next week. Consider yourself on indefinite hiatus.”
The click of the phone hanging up echoes in his ears, ringing inside of his head. For a moment the world pauses and he’s no longer breathing. He doesn’t notice the convenience store bag slipping from his fingers or the plastic pudding containers hitting the ground, splitting themselves and rolling on the pavement.
The wheel shudders to an abrupt stop.
And then the sky abruptly rips in two. It descends; bears down on Pi and rattles him as if he were nothing but bones. And Pi is suddenly overcome with everything that is happening - with the gravity of the situation, with the words that tumbled down like a prelude to a storm. It’s soaking through his skin and drowning his being and there, right there, slipping through his open fingers, he senses them washing away his very essence. A whining sound escapes from his throat and it hurts, never knew it could hurt this much just to be alive.
He feels the rush of emotions pressing in, setting his teeth on edge and his fingernails scraping along skin, biting into palms that bleed. And yet it doesn’t end. It continues until he’s shaking and sweating and the only thing surrounding him is white noise that blends into the roar of the rain. And the pain, the constant pain that never leaves him.
There’s a passerby moving in front of him, asking if he’s okay, but nothing seems to register anymore.
Breath rushing forth in vicious gasps, Pi gives in to primitive instinct and runs and runs and runs.
*
Ryo comes home from work to a house filled with silence. It happens sometimes; Pi would be out shopping or on the roof or just taking a walk. God knew he hated being cooped up with nothing to do - he was a man who had never had more than two weeks to himself in his whole life. But there’s something unsettling Ryo today. Pi’s breakfast dishes are still sitting unwashed in the sink, one of his shirts is still thrown on the back of the couch. Rather than just popping out for a while it seems like Pi’s been snatched from the room or suddenly spirited away.
Ryo turns his head towards the window and the landscape below, which is still drowning in the unexpected downpour of torrential rain that had encroached upon the city this morning. He tries to push away the thought of whether Pi has remembered to bring along an umbrella or not. Pi always calls him such a mother when he asks things like that.
He begins to make dinner. He travels on autopilot, puts the rice in the rice cooker, begins chopping vegetables, turns the stove on. He wonders if he should give Pi a call to ask if he will be home for dinner before mentally berating himself. He’s a grown man, Ryo thinks. He can take care of himself. He doesn’t even really live with me. He doesn’t have to report to me about everything he’s doing. He doesn’t have to leave me notes, or drop a text or just a quick call to let me know he’s gone out and he’s okay…
“Shit,” Ryo swears, as he burns his hand on the side of the frying pan he’s heating on the stove. “Shit.”
Even with that warning he can’t help his mind wandering. He thinks about that night on the rooftop and the coolness of Pi’s fingers on his neck, which had reached out as if in slow motion. Thinks about the words that he had wanted to say without even knowing what they were. There had been fear in Pi’s eyes that night and Ryo desperately tries to squash any thoughts of Pi out in the rain and scared (he’s a grown man, damn it!). No, the only thing Pi has to be scared of now is Ryo and his uncontrollable and apparently unavoidable feelings.
Ryo slams a fork down on the table.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, reaching for his mobile.
Telling himself it’s not weird in the slightest to be this worried about his grown adult male friend, Ryo quickly dials Pi’s number. It rings and rings and rings and does nothing for Ryo’s heart, until it suddenly transfers to voice mail. Ryo frowns and tries again. There’s still no answer, and breathing hard, Ryo calls for a third time. It rings four times and Ryo’s about to descend into full-fledged panic, when Pi answers - except all Ryo can hear is static and rain and the sound of car horns and squealing tyres as they speed past.
“Pi?” Ryo says, trying to keep his voice calm. He will not overreact. “Pi, are you there?”
There’s still no response and the sound of the rain is driving Ryo crazy. Insane thoughts keep running through his head, like Pi’s been kidnapped and is being held for ransom, or he’s been robbed and beaten up and left to die in a deserted alleyway somewhere. It’s stupid and crazy and illogical, and Ryo knows this, but he can’t help screaming down the phone as all sense of reason leaves him “Pi?? Answer me you fucking bastard! Fucking answer me, damn it!”
Nothing.
Then, Ryo hears an intake of breath - the kind you hear people take when they’ve just been pulled from the ocean and someone’s been pumping oxygen into their lungs. That kind of first half-cough, that shaky and desperate gasp for air.
“Ryo?” comes a quiet voice and relief, pure, sweet relief, floods through every inch of his body.
“Pi? Are you okay?” Ryo demands. “Where are you?”
“Ryo…” comes the reply which is not a reply. There’s something in his tone that makes all the worry come back in full force.
Ryo clutches the phone in an iron grip.
“Pi, where are you? Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you right away.”
“I don’t know,” and Ryo can hardly hear for all the rain, and Pi’s voice is but a mere whisper. “Somewhere in Roppongi? I can see Tokyo Tower.”
“Why are you in Roppongi? Are you with someone? Are you with Jin?” Ryo questions, almost biting his tongue to stop their torrent.
There’s a sigh on the other end and the response that comes is broken and frightened.
“Something bad happened,” Pi quakes, his voice so small that he sounds as if he’s regressed twenty years. “Something really bad.”
Ryo has to pull the phone away from his ear for a moment. He remembers when he was little and his emotions always got the better of him, making him lash out irrationally and unintentionally. Remembers throwing chairs and biting his kindergarten teacher on the hand. Now, he screws his eyes shut and counts backwards from ten, cracking all the knuckles in his hands. When he can catch a steady breath he raises the phone once more.
“Stay right where you are Pi, okay? I’m coming to get you.”
Chapters 18-19
Pairing: Ryopi
Genre: AU / Drama / Friendship / Romance
Rating: PG-13 (swearing)
Summary: Pi is a Johnny's idol and Ryo is a salaryman living in the same apartment building. Despite coming from different worlds, they form a friendship that ends up being a pillar of support through the various trials they encounter, slowly developing into something much, much more.
Word count: 4154
Disclaimer: I think I've run out of creative ways to say this is mine.
A/N: Sorry, I'm a bit of tease in this.
Part Two - Winter
Chapter Sixteen - A Storm is Brewing
Pi shows up at Ryo’s unit after work, a six-pack in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, but judging by the clouded look in his eyes Ryo thinks he probably started a long time ago.
Pi doesn’t say anything and Ryo doesn’t ask. They crack open the whiskey once they’re on the couch, and it’s half empty before Pi manages to give form to his thoughts.
“They said ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you,’” Pi says, and he’s proud that his voice only wavers slightly.
“Do you know when?” Ryo asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
Pi shakes his head and sighs. “It’s the waiting, you know? I can’t stand the waiting.”
Ryo can only nod.
“Shige says he’ll keep me updated. He’s going to try coming up with some plans or something, but I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”
Pi looks at Ryo and his eyes tell him that this is running a lot deeper than something that can be tossed aside in a night of hard drinking.
“Do you want to quit?” Ryo asks softly, after a pause.
“No,” Pi says slowly. “I’ve realised I kind of love my job,” and there’s a bitterness in his smile. “It’s just…I feel like I’ve always been reaching, reaching, reaching for something, only to find out that it was just an impossible dream. Like some worthless ideal.”
Ryo doesn’t say anything. He’s never put his all into anything, never really believed there was more out there to attain. Watching Pi makes him wonder if it’s worth it in the first place.
“I did everything that they asked, you know? Everything that they wanted,” he whispers, and his hands are trembling in front of him. He didn’t want to lose control, he didn’t.
Ryo nods again, feeling at a loss. He downs the rest of his glass and cracks open a beer for them both.
“God,” Pi mutters, trying to compose himself. “Maybe I was never meant to be an idol. I should have known when they broke up 4Tops. I should have left when Toma did.”
Suddenly he breaks into manic giggles.
“Oh fuck, I know what this is. This is like divine punishment for debuting without Toma! Why didn’t I fight harder for 4Tops?” Pi asks the ceiling beseechingly, still laughing madly.
Ryo looks at the beer he’s just offered Pi, and then moves it away from Pi’s grasp. “I think that’s enough drinking for tonight,” he says quietly.
The laughter fades out of Pi.
“This is all my fault,” he says solemnly. He seems to be halfway lost between hysteria and rationality, and Ryo thinks it’s the scariest thing he’s ever seen.
“I don’t know who this Toma guy is, but it’s not your fault,” Ryo says carefully.
Pi just shakes his head, makes a grab for the beer before realising it’s on the other side of the table.
“What am I going to do, Ryo?” Pi asks after a while, turning towards Ryo. Pi’s face was always boyish, always youthful, but now it only shows broken innocence and painful vulnerability.
Ryo doesn’t know what else he can say.
“I wish I could tell you, Pi,” he says hoarsely. “But I don’t know about any of this stuff. This is all social politics and marketing, and I’m not in finance for a very good reason. Just…” Ryo sighs. “Just know I’ll always be here for you, okay Pi? Always,” Ryo says, and his eyes are looking deep into Pi’s with liquid clarity. “I’m right here, okay?”
It’s the tone of Ryo’s voice that seems to push him towards sanity.
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”
*
Pi holes himself up at Ryo’s apartment, can’t stand the silence and the emptiness of his own. Ryo’s place feels more like a home than his ever did anyway, with its books and photos and food in the fridge. Ryo insists at first that Pi take the bed, but Pi is resolute in his occupation of the couch. Ryo says that since its now winter it doesn’t make sense for Pi to sleep on the couch since he’s much more perceptible to the cold. Pi merely fetches an extra quilt.
They don’t mention that night, but Pi has come to realise he has a secret longing; a wish for Ryo to take his shattered heart and mould it again, smoothing over the cracks with honest words and wide smiles like water into kneaded clay. Yet Pi can remember the smell of alcohol already stained across Ryo’s shirt and lingering on his tongue, no matter how hard he tries to pretend it wasn’t there. More than that, he’s beginning to realise all the things he’s unconsciously been asking from Ryo and all the things that they may have implied. It’s a sobering thought that makes him want to distance himself despite Ryo’s words, wherever they may have come from.
Ryo goes to work during the day and Pi goes out or plays his guitar that he brought along. Sometimes he practices dancing in front of the television, but it only brings back the empty pang in his gut. Shige calls every now and then, but there’s never anything to tell really - only promises that he’s working as hard as he can.
Pi doesn’t watch the news.
One evening two days later, as he’s setting the bowls down for dinner, Ryo says “Did I ever tell you, that just after I moved in to this place, the people next door told me that the previous tenant had committed suicide?”
“What?” Pi mumbles around a mouthful of rice that he’s nicked from the cooker. “Are you serious?”
“Yep,” Ryo answers, chopsticks now clicking down on the table. “He cheated on his wife and she found out then left him. He slit his wrists in the bathtub.”
“That’s a little full on, isn’t it?” Pi asks, a feeling of unease sliding down his back and creeping into his shoulders, making his muscles tense involuntarily.
Ryo nods imperceptibly. “I called up the real estate office and gave them a piece of my mind.”
Pi’s face is a cross between a grin and a grimace as he recalls Ryo’s temper. “I can see that happening.”
“But the contract was signed already,” Ryo continues. “So not much can be done about it, right?”
Pi nods, but he can’t help glancing around the room as if he’ll suddenly see the ghost lurking in the corners, playing poltergeist with the television.
He thinks about it in the shower, watching the water trail down the porcelain tiles, imagines it to be the blood that ends up pooling on the floor. Here, right here, a person took their life. For that man the world no longer held any hope for redemption. Nothing left to care for, nothing left to live for. Only hurt, hurt, never-ending, crushing hurt that squeezed his ribcage to suffocate his heart. A part of Pi’s head can’t help thinking, But it was his fault in the first place, right?
“Do you think the wife ever feels guilty?” Pi whispers to Ryo later that night, making his way into Ryo’s room, footsteps padded on the carpet. The moon casts an eerie glow on the white linen sheets.
“Huh? Who?” Ryo murmurs sleepily from his bed.
“The wife. Of the guy who killed himself.”
Ryo presses his palms into his eyes before sighing. “I guess so. Who wouldn’t, right?”
*
As he surrenders to sleep there’s something tugging at the corners of Ryo’s memories, something about past betrayals, but he can’t think properly anymore. It mustn’t really matter anymore.
*
Pi calls Jin the next day, sick of thinking every slight movement of air is a ghost seeking companionship in the next life, and is greeted with an excited squeal, which is then followed by multiple sounds of sympathy.
“God, Pi, what’s going to happen?” Jin asks worriedly.
Talking to Jin feels good because he knows there has to be at least one grown-up in the conversation, and in no way is Jin going to fill that role.
“I don’t know,” Pi says honestly. “They can’t take away much more than they already have.”
They chat about random things that have nothing to do with anything. How Yu’s new girlfriend swears like a sailor, and how Pin is beginning to show signs of old age. Just normal things. Except Jin doesn’t mention work and Pi never asks. After a while there’s a lull in the conversation and Jin clears his throat.
“Hey,” says Jin, voice oddly quiet. “Do you want to come and stay with me? We could just hang out and muck around. Just like old times.”
Pi frowns.
“Kame’s there, isn’t he? Is that why you’re whispering?”
“Huh? What? No!” Jin says quickly, which only confirms Pi’s belief.
Pi rolls his eyes, but he does it with a smile.
“It’s okay Jin. I’m actually staying with Ryo at the moment.”
“With Ryo?” Jin says, no longer whispering. “The skinny monkey?”
“Yeah, the skinny monkey,” Pi answers drily.
“Oh,” and he sounds surprised. “I didn’t realise you two were so close.”
Pi shrugs, even though he knows Jin can’t see. “Well we kind of went on a trip together recently, so I guess we’re pretty close.”
“Oh really? How close?” This time there is a hint of suggestion in his voice, except with Jin a hint is a bit like a hippopotamus attempting to hide behind a lamp post.
Pi groans inwardly before saying with false cheerfulness, “Okay, I’m hanging up now! It was nice talking to you! I’ll call again soon!”
“Wait! Pi! How close?” Pi hears Jin yell through the line before he hangs up.
To be honest, it’s a question he’d like to answer, too.
*
Pi makes his way to the roof late in the afternoon, wanting to get some fresh air. The day before someone had recognised him in the street, pointing and whispering to their friend, and he hasn’t felt like going outside of the building since. Besides, it’s been a while since he’s been up here.
He pulls his jacket tight around him against the cold; he’s always hated winter, always been a child of summer.
Across the city the lights blur into one another through the thick air. Pi can hear the wind pushing its way through the clustered buildings, whispering loudly and making them shiver ever so slightly. There’s a line of cyclists down below that are trying to beat the cold with the burning in their muscles, and Pi tries to remember a time when he had that kind of determination.
He wants to tell himself to suck it up, to be a man, to take it on the chin and shrug his shoulders like he’s always done.
“JUST FUCKING DEAL WITH IT, OKAY??” he screams out over the railing, disturbing a couple of pigeons that are settled on the ledge below.
“Somehow I don’t see them responding,” a voice behind him deadpans. “If it’s the birds you’re talking to, that is.”
Ryo shuffles up beside him, sliding down to sit on the cold concrete at Pi’s feet, knees pulled up close to his body so that he looks small and compact. Pi settles down next to him silently.
“How was work today?” Pi asks, determined not to talk about himself.
Ryo shrugs.
“Ohno got back from his fishing trip. He’s so black now that he blends in with his swivelly chair. Sakamoto got a promotion - he’s now in charge of biscuits as well as tea and coffee. I don’t even want to think of the sugar content in the scotch fingers he doled out for morning break. Hikaru’s decided to stay on with our section, but rumour has it he bargained for a 5-year contract that details pay rises and benefits, the ambitious bastard. Tsuyoshi has taken to wearing these African-print pants to work with felt berets. I think the conference may have broken him a little. And Nakai…well he’s a fuckturd, what more can you say, really.”
He pats his pocket for a cigarette before realising he’s left them downstairs and sighs heavily.
Pi just listens to a life that he can’t imagine ever having and can’t feel any emotion for. He watches the movement of Ryo’s lips and hears his voice getting rougher and deeper as the energy drains out of him.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know what to say, and Ryo finally leans his head back against the railing, his eyes drifting to a close. Neck exposed, dark hair wisping at the nape, long lines reaching down to winged clavicle and sternum and other softer mysteries.
“Fuck, I’m so tired, I don’t think I can move,” he murmurs, words as insubstantial as the air they’re breathing.
Pi doesn’t really hear it, doesn’t even really think, just reaches out a hand and drifts his fingers along Ryo’s neck. He can feel Ryo’s pulse beneath his fingers, strong and steady despite his weariness, and the slant of his jaw. Ryo turns his head slightly and manages to crack open an eye to give Pi a dark unreadable look.
Pi withdraws his hand, but Ryo’s hooded gaze doesn’t stray and he can almost imagine that there is still some invisible connection between them like a silken spider thread trailing from his fingers, linking skin to skin.
He can feel the slowly growing connection between them expanding and deflating with each shallow breath, and doesn’t know where to take it - doesn’t know how to confirm it, how to reply it. The wheel is spinning at a greater speed, and Pi can only hold on tighter in fear of falling into the unknown. Yet he can’t help thinking that maybe it would be better to just let go.
“Pi-” Ryo begins, voice soft, and reality sets back in violently.
Pi stands up abruptly, interrupting him. “Let’s go inside, hey, it’s starting to get really cold. Before you fall asleep out here and I have to carry you back,” he adds with mock exasperation.
He can feel the other’s eyes boring into him for a moment, but then Ryo merely heaves himself up and heads towards the roof exit without another word.
Any connection that Pi felt just seconds before now seems distant - only the memory of hot skin lingering on his fingers and a raw feeling in the place where it severed serves as proof of its existence.
Cursing himself mentally, he follows Ryo back to the unit.
Chapter Seventeen - Rain
Ryo doesn’t talk about it, but every now and then Pi catches Ryo just looking at him, jaw slightly tensed. Like he’s trying to calculate something, trying to weigh something up.
But it’s his eyes that are beginning to really worry Pi. Pi can see Ryo’s soul suspended in them, and it’s honest and good and straight to its very core. The antithesis to Mary and Julie’s strikingly cold eyes. They’re eyes borne of earth and dust and the darkest of nights, and every time Pi looks into them the world spins anew.
He won’t deny it; he’s been on a constant descent, tumbling down down down, with only Ryo to cling onto. But just who exactly is going to save him from falling into Ryo? Worse, what will happen to him if he doesn’t want to be saved?
*
He receives a message from Shige at around noon.
Yamashita,
Sorry I haven’t contacted you lately.
I think I’ve finally figured things out.
Will let you know soon.
Shige
Pi feels hope rise in his chest, and he jumps in the air, pumping his fist in a battle cry. Thank God, thank God.
When Ryo closes the door behind him after returning from work, he finds himself flattened under 60kg of dead weight that leaves him falling on the ground against the wall. Pi’s got his head buried in his shoulder, arms wound around his chest, and is letting out what seem to be either sobs or laughter or a mixture of both.
“Um, Pi?” Ryo asks, when his friend doesn’t say anything. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” and his reply is muffled into Ryo’s shirt. “Yeah. Pretty damn awesome, in fact.”
Ryo exhales with relief, looking up and muttering a silent thank you to whichever deity made this possible. His whole body relaxes and he wraps an arm lightly around Pi’s waist.
“About fucking time.”
*
Pi heads outside for the first time in days, and it feels good. He was never made to be cooped up - it’s almost like he’s been unleashed. He imagines that this is what it feels like for animals that have been released back into the wild after a stint in captivity. As much as he loves Ryo’s apartment, nothing beats fresh air and sunshine, even if it’s only 10 degrees and the sun has hidden itself behind a couple of threatening-looking steel clouds that have been haunting the sky all day.
He’s just finished picking up some snacks at a convenience store (Ryo had finished off the last of his pudding even though it had his name on it), when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.
“Hi, this is Yamashita,” he answers, without looking at the caller ID.
There’s a sound like grit being cleared.
“Yamashita, this is Mary Kitagawa. We’ve reached a decision,” the caller says, voice hard. She always sounds that way, and Pi doesn’t even blink. He’s been waiting for this call, and now that it’s come...
“Yes? Do you have news? Shall I come in?” Pi asks, trying to unsuccessfully reign in his elation.
There’s a pause on the other end and for a moment Pi thinks the connection’s been lost.
“Don’t bother coming in, Yamashita,” the voice finally says over the line, cold and detached with an electronic buzz. “Today or tomorrow or next week. Consider yourself on indefinite hiatus.”
The click of the phone hanging up echoes in his ears, ringing inside of his head. For a moment the world pauses and he’s no longer breathing. He doesn’t notice the convenience store bag slipping from his fingers or the plastic pudding containers hitting the ground, splitting themselves and rolling on the pavement.
The wheel shudders to an abrupt stop.
And then the sky abruptly rips in two. It descends; bears down on Pi and rattles him as if he were nothing but bones. And Pi is suddenly overcome with everything that is happening - with the gravity of the situation, with the words that tumbled down like a prelude to a storm. It’s soaking through his skin and drowning his being and there, right there, slipping through his open fingers, he senses them washing away his very essence. A whining sound escapes from his throat and it hurts, never knew it could hurt this much just to be alive.
He feels the rush of emotions pressing in, setting his teeth on edge and his fingernails scraping along skin, biting into palms that bleed. And yet it doesn’t end. It continues until he’s shaking and sweating and the only thing surrounding him is white noise that blends into the roar of the rain. And the pain, the constant pain that never leaves him.
There’s a passerby moving in front of him, asking if he’s okay, but nothing seems to register anymore.
Breath rushing forth in vicious gasps, Pi gives in to primitive instinct and runs and runs and runs.
*
Ryo comes home from work to a house filled with silence. It happens sometimes; Pi would be out shopping or on the roof or just taking a walk. God knew he hated being cooped up with nothing to do - he was a man who had never had more than two weeks to himself in his whole life. But there’s something unsettling Ryo today. Pi’s breakfast dishes are still sitting unwashed in the sink, one of his shirts is still thrown on the back of the couch. Rather than just popping out for a while it seems like Pi’s been snatched from the room or suddenly spirited away.
Ryo turns his head towards the window and the landscape below, which is still drowning in the unexpected downpour of torrential rain that had encroached upon the city this morning. He tries to push away the thought of whether Pi has remembered to bring along an umbrella or not. Pi always calls him such a mother when he asks things like that.
He begins to make dinner. He travels on autopilot, puts the rice in the rice cooker, begins chopping vegetables, turns the stove on. He wonders if he should give Pi a call to ask if he will be home for dinner before mentally berating himself. He’s a grown man, Ryo thinks. He can take care of himself. He doesn’t even really live with me. He doesn’t have to report to me about everything he’s doing. He doesn’t have to leave me notes, or drop a text or just a quick call to let me know he’s gone out and he’s okay…
“Shit,” Ryo swears, as he burns his hand on the side of the frying pan he’s heating on the stove. “Shit.”
Even with that warning he can’t help his mind wandering. He thinks about that night on the rooftop and the coolness of Pi’s fingers on his neck, which had reached out as if in slow motion. Thinks about the words that he had wanted to say without even knowing what they were. There had been fear in Pi’s eyes that night and Ryo desperately tries to squash any thoughts of Pi out in the rain and scared (he’s a grown man, damn it!). No, the only thing Pi has to be scared of now is Ryo and his uncontrollable and apparently unavoidable feelings.
Ryo slams a fork down on the table.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, reaching for his mobile.
Telling himself it’s not weird in the slightest to be this worried about his grown adult male friend, Ryo quickly dials Pi’s number. It rings and rings and rings and does nothing for Ryo’s heart, until it suddenly transfers to voice mail. Ryo frowns and tries again. There’s still no answer, and breathing hard, Ryo calls for a third time. It rings four times and Ryo’s about to descend into full-fledged panic, when Pi answers - except all Ryo can hear is static and rain and the sound of car horns and squealing tyres as they speed past.
“Pi?” Ryo says, trying to keep his voice calm. He will not overreact. “Pi, are you there?”
There’s still no response and the sound of the rain is driving Ryo crazy. Insane thoughts keep running through his head, like Pi’s been kidnapped and is being held for ransom, or he’s been robbed and beaten up and left to die in a deserted alleyway somewhere. It’s stupid and crazy and illogical, and Ryo knows this, but he can’t help screaming down the phone as all sense of reason leaves him “Pi?? Answer me you fucking bastard! Fucking answer me, damn it!”
Nothing.
Then, Ryo hears an intake of breath - the kind you hear people take when they’ve just been pulled from the ocean and someone’s been pumping oxygen into their lungs. That kind of first half-cough, that shaky and desperate gasp for air.
“Ryo?” comes a quiet voice and relief, pure, sweet relief, floods through every inch of his body.
“Pi? Are you okay?” Ryo demands. “Where are you?”
“Ryo…” comes the reply which is not a reply. There’s something in his tone that makes all the worry come back in full force.
Ryo clutches the phone in an iron grip.
“Pi, where are you? Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you right away.”
“I don’t know,” and Ryo can hardly hear for all the rain, and Pi’s voice is but a mere whisper. “Somewhere in Roppongi? I can see Tokyo Tower.”
“Why are you in Roppongi? Are you with someone? Are you with Jin?” Ryo questions, almost biting his tongue to stop their torrent.
There’s a sigh on the other end and the response that comes is broken and frightened.
“Something bad happened,” Pi quakes, his voice so small that he sounds as if he’s regressed twenty years. “Something really bad.”
Ryo has to pull the phone away from his ear for a moment. He remembers when he was little and his emotions always got the better of him, making him lash out irrationally and unintentionally. Remembers throwing chairs and biting his kindergarten teacher on the hand. Now, he screws his eyes shut and counts backwards from ten, cracking all the knuckles in his hands. When he can catch a steady breath he raises the phone once more.
“Stay right where you are Pi, okay? I’m coming to get you.”
Chapters 18-19