I want to be your secret (18-19/26)
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: 3841
Disclaimer: Ryo and Pi belong to each other, obviously ;D And I stole a line from a U2 song I think XD;
A/N: There's possibly an inappropriately comic moment in here somewhere XD;
Chapter Eighteen - People Past and Present
Pi doesn’t know how long he’s been walking. Doesn’t know how he ended up here in the middle of the street soaked to the skin. All he can think of are Mary’s words working their way through his system like ice, chilling everything in their path. Coldness escapes into his lungs and is sucked into his blood like oxygen, and it poisons him bitterly. He can sense it settling in his organs and freezing his arteries and it feels like thousands of splintering needles that only dig deeper in search of his core, and he knew it, he always knew it…winter never did any good for no one.
The rain falling against his skin is a slap for every naïve thought he ever had. Trailing tears along road and alley, he weeps for the child he had once been; for a life he lost so many years before. Then he weeps for the life he has gained, and how, despite everything, he has come to want it and need it so desperately.
Beneath his feet, crushing stones into the pavement, dreams like fragments with nothing but stagnant air and fading will to string them together. And separating, separating, grinding the dirt into the last vestiges of his humanity.
This was not planned for. You can account for failure, but you can’t account for the wreckage it leaves behind. It’s such a dirty business, someone had once said. It leaves such a dirty, filthy mess.
Oh if only, but if only someone had told him it would be like this…
*
Ryo didn't like asking advice of other people. It was something he rarely ever had to do, because he was usually so sure of everything around him and so sure of his beliefs. But right now, holding his mobile in a tightly clenched fist, Ryo hesitates. Despite all his bravado and apparent confidence, he really has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to be doing or how in hell he’s supposed to be helpful, and never has the next step appeared so big and so dangerous. He can’t help but pray for divine intervention to slow down his beating heart.
So Ryo calls the first reliable person that he can think of - Hina.
“Fuck, Hina,” Ryo says as soon as he answers the phone. “I need help.”
“What?” Hina responds immediately, and from the television in the background Ryo can tell that he’s just settled down for dinner, like Ryo was about to do. “Why, what happened?”
“It’s Pi,” Ryo says, running a trembling hand through his hair. “I think he’s in trouble.”
It’s terribly vague and clichéd, but Ryo’s mind doesn’t seem to be firing from all cylinders at the moment.
“Huh?” and Hina’s reply is both annoyed and confused. “What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Ryo says, voice rising as he begins to babble. “He called, and he’s in the middle of Roppongi somewhere, and I’m meant to go out there and get him, but - oh fuck, that’s pretty much near impossible. How the fuck is that meant to work? Why did I just promise the impossible?? I don’t know what I’m meant to do, or how to make things better, I just don’t know-”
"Ryo, gosh, stop complaining already!" Hina shouts unexpectedly.
Ryo's confused for a moment, before his eyebrows narrow instinctively. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm not allowed to talk about my problems or something?"
"We have problems, Ryo, you have inconveniences,” Hina snaps back with a bitter edge.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ryo growls. “This isn’t about me.”
Hina’s laugh over the phone is brittle. “Like hell it isn’t. Someone is out there that needs you and you’re on the phone complaining. For God’s sake, step up Ryo!”
“Have you lost it or something?” Ryo shouts, fingers curling into fists, but Hina doesn’t seem to be listening anymore, appears to be on a roll in fact.
“You've always had everything, but you’ve never done anything about it,” Hina yells down the wire. “Everything always seems to go your way by pure luck alone - like getting a cushy government job, and landing yourself a high class apartment for low rates. You don’t have the right to complain anymore! If you have a problem, then for once in your life do something about it, damn it!"
“Fuck you man, fuck you!” Ryo screams back at him. “This is why I deal with my problems by myself!”
Snapping the phone shut, Ryo gets up and knocks over the table before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.
In a different city, which is currently dry as dust, Hina slumps back against a couch, breathing hard. He grins.
*
Ryo doesn’t bother thanking the taxi driver as they drive up to the front of Tokyo Tower, merely throws down a wad of bills and bursts out into the rain. He doesn’t know where to start, except that Pi could see Tokyo Tower and there was a lot of traffic going on around him - which meant he could be pretty much anywhere. After careful consideration, Ryo decides to ditch the west and focus on the north east, and then there’s nothing for it but to walk.
He ends up asking random people in the street if they’ve happened to have seen one Yamashita Tomohisa, but most look at him as if he’s crazy, walking around in the middle of winter without a jacket or an umbrella. He’s kind of beginning to regret letting his anger take him over.
Ryo’s just walked past TV Asahi and is in the middle of questioning a middle-aged woman who’s shaking her head profusely and looking for an escape route, when a teenage girl in a sailor uniform and red track pants comes up to him.
“You’re looking for Yamapi?” the girl asks shyly, peering up from under her umbrella.
“Yes, have you seen him?” Ryo asks anxiously.
The girl seems to hesitate, and Ryo adds in what he hopes is a convincing voice, “Please. I’m not a weird stalker or anything. He’s my friend.”
She pauses before shrugging slim shoulders. “I don’t know if it was him, but there was someone who looked a lot like him walking past the Hard Rock Café. Do you know it?” she asks, pointing down the road. “My friends told me I was seeing things, but I was sure…”
Ryo’s already bowing low, making the girl take a flustered step back. Maybe Hina was right, Ryo thinks as he hurriedly makes his way towards where the girl was pointing. He really was pretty damn lucky.
*
Pi looks at the phone in his shaking hand, then slowly places it back in his pocket. Looking around at the blur of street lights and flickering signs, it doesn’t take long to forget Ryo’s words.
He’s caught up in an old lost memory that has been tucked away under delicate folds of shame, and cocooned in crushing guilt. Right now, under the fall of rain, it rises to the surface, gasping for air in an effort to make itself known.
He remembers clearly the late afternoon that he was pulled aside by Mary Kitagawa at the end of dance practice during his 17th year. There had been an upcoming concert for Takki and Tsubasa to prepare for, and he and 4Tops had spent the majority of the day going over dance routines and schedules. Kazama and Hasegawa had already headed for the change rooms, but he had asked Toma to stay behind with him to work on that kick-spin-point that he couldn’t quite perfect.
Pi had been too busy mucking around, not paying close enough attention like he was prone to do, and Toma had tried to scold him…but, well, Pi had always been his weakness. There was just something about those large, innocent brown eyes, and that face that still lacked chiselled adult definition. Anybody’s heart would soften if they looked too long.
As he finally completed the routine faultlessly, Pi had turned to Toma, a large smile on his face and his hand raised for a high-five. And then Mary had stepped out of the shadows, startling them both.
“I want to talk with you. Just Yamashita. Not you, Ikuta.”
“Wait for me, okay?” Pi had called to Toma, as he hurried after Mary’s back out of the studio. “We’ll go home together, okay?”
But in Mary’s office, barely illuminated by the waning light of day, Pi had received some surprising news. He was going to go to the JStorm recording studio tomorrow. He was going to record a few songs, although they wouldn’t tell him what for. He was going to go without the rest of 4Tops.
On the train ride home, Pi had told Toma the news. He’d been so, so supportive. But when everything came to head, and it was Pi, all by himself, plastered all over the billboards…
Even though the words that came out of his mouth were only congratulatory, Pi imagined he could see betrayal written all over Toma’s face. If it were me, I would have said no. If it were me, I would never have debuted without you.
4Tops activities had slowly diminished afterwards, and Kazama, Hasegawa, and soon Toma, had all dropped out of the company. Something about concentrating on his studies. Pi had told himself that it was his impossible work schedule that had made him lose touch with his former best friend, but deep inside he knew the truth. He couldn’t face him again, he just couldn’t - not with his betrayal staring him in the eye each and every time.
He’s lost in his reverie, the lines between reality and the imaginary slowly blurring. The vision of Toma positioned at his back hates him for leaving the rest of them behind and hates him for not being able to hold onto what he had.
Thus, ignoring the fatigue wearing away at his muscles and the pull of his drenched clothes against his skin, Pi continues to walk, the rain numbing him against the world.
*
Ryo rounds the corner of the street and sprints down the sidewalk, running through puddles and splashing water up his legs, soaking his slacks. He pauses every now and then and takes a quick sweep of the area, trying to spot anyone that might look vaguely Pi-like.
Just as he reaches the Minato council office, he thinks he spots him. He’s slowly making his way down the street without an umbrella, shoulders hunched and head hung low, the rain dripping miserably from dark strands. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him as if trying to protect himself from invisible forces closing in around him. And those yellow and green Nikes - Pi definitely owned a pair of those hideous shoes.
Ryo races forwards without a second thought, grabbing his shoulders and whirling him around, shouting “Wait!”
The guy, angular face contorting in surprise and mouth opening to reveal crooked canines, backs up quickly and lays a suspicious hand on his jeans pocket to protect his wallet. “Hey watch it!”
Ryo wants to bash his fist against the brick wall next to him, suppressing a scream of frustration.
He turns away from the stranger, not bothering to apologise, and picks up his speed. He feels like every second he loses is one second closer to finding Pi facedown in some street corner, and God help him, he doesn’t know CPR.
He’s looking at the Roppongi-Chome intersection, trying to figure out which direction he should take next, when from the corner of his eye he sees him. And this time he’s certain, even from across the road - the length of his shoulders and the angle of his feet as he walks - it has to be him.
Cars honk and come skidding to sudden stops as Ryo darts across the intersection in a way that would make mothers clasp their hands over their children’s eyes in horror. Ryo doesn’t even notice; he’s working on pure adrenalin alone.
“PI!” Ryo screams out across the street.
*
Pi shivers from a sudden chill. He thinks he hears someone calling him, but he can’t stop now. There’s no purpose to his movements anymore, just a deep longing to run away and never, ever return. Nothing about the world is logical or rational right now, what with the big awning cavern that’s carved its way right down his middle.
“Pi! Stop!” the voice calls, and it’s so familiar, but the dots don’t seem to be connecting in his brain like they used to.
“Just stop, Pi! Don’t make me run after you, damn it!”
Yet as he listens to the sound of feet hitting the wet pavement behind him, memories begin gathering speed, bundling together and gaining body and shape.
And wide smiles and mocking eyes.
And warm skin and awkward comfort.
And honest words.
“I told you I’d always be there for you!” Ryo shouts angrily through the roar of torrential rain, droplets cascading down his face and catching in his eyelashes, dripping off his nose. “Fuck it, Pi, I told you!”
Suddenly, everything clicks into place. Suddenly, every single firing cell in his body becomes instantly magnetised. Suddenly, there’s nothing he wants more than to be buried in that voice and its burning anger because he does remember.
Pi stops, begins to turn when, just as suddenly, the ground pitches upwards and fever and exhaustion and utter desolation take its toll. As his palms skid the gravel and his body slaps motionless on the ground, he hears a rush of footsteps and his own name screamed out once more in desperate panic, and all he can think of is ‘I thought you were drunk, you fucker.’
Chapter Nineteen - Looking for the Sun
He wakes and sleeps without noticing the passing of time, and in fevered delirium Pi dreams. He dreams of the ocean and of Ryo. He dreams of days spent walking aimlessly amongst the rocks and surfing the crested blue waves, and nights spent under the comfort and warmth of Egyptian cotton, bodies aligned and breath synchronised. He dreams of things that were and things that could be, and things that he’s never, ever, dared hope for.
For a moment he’s certain he’s become the ghost that haunts Ryo’s apartment, can see himself bleeding out in the bathroom, blood at his feet, across his chest, falling from his lips in crimson drops.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he whispers into the darkness. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
Sometimes he wakes abruptly, jerking upright, breath wild and erratic, in the middle of a recurring dream of night stalkers with cold, emotionless eyes the colour of obsidian. He vaguely registers Ryo’s presence, shaking him to consciousness to pour water down his throat, or changing the wet flannels resting on his forehead.
In periods of wakefulness, Pi comes in bursts of clarity and fits of delusion. One morning he wakes up to find Ryo eating a breakfast next to the bed made of white rice and miso soup.
“I like to suck on my chopsticks,” Pi says, like he’s coming out of a daze, still half-asleep.
“What?” Ryo asks, incomprehension and annoyance battling it out across his features.
“It’s just when you’re eating something really good, don’t you want to make sure you get every last bit?” Pi murmurs, half to himself.
“I have no idea what you’re fucking talking about,” Ryo says after a pause, “but Johnny better not have broken you because I only just got you to play with.”
Pi sinks back into unconsciousness.
*
Eventually, after what seems like a millennia of restless respite, he opens his eyes and finally sees.
*
Pi awakens to a pair of dark eyes under furrowed eyebrows glaring at him. Glaring at him like they were just daring him to wake up. He’s leaning back on a chair that Pi recognises as belonging in the kitchen, arms folded across his chest, wearing a grey jersey and matching sweats. As Pi struggles to sit upright under the weight of blankets, he can feel that he’s wearing something similar. But more than anything, Pi understands that this moment of awareness is different than the rest. His mind seems strangely light and clear.
“Ryo?” Pi says groggily.
“Don’t you ‘Ryo?’ me, you bastard,” Ryo growls in response, not moving an inch to help Pi up.
“What day is it?” Pi asks, trying to arrange his still drowsy thoughts.
“Tuesday,” is Ryo’s short response. It doesn’t mean anything to Pi, except to tell him that Ryo’s skipping work, so he tries a different approach.
“What’s going on?”
Ryo sighs, the scowl still plastered to his face. “You were very, very sick.”
Pi’s eyebrows knit together in concentration. “Then why didn’t I go to a doctor?”
Ryo’s look is reproachful. “You think I wouldn’t call a doctor?” He sighs again, turning away and staring into the middle distance. “They made a house call a few days ago when your fever spiked.”
Pi just can’t think clearly. “I don’t remember.”
“Fuck Pi, you were so out of it…” Ryo says, voice trailing off, shaking his head slightly. Then he looks at Pi sharply, eyes hard. “Don’t you ever get sick like that again, do you hear me?”
Pi wants to argue, to sarcastically promise to try his hardest or ardently insist it wasn’t his fault. But that deep weariness has set in again, sleep calling once more, and he merely nods his head, closing his eyes and falling back against the pillows.
When he wakes again, it’s the middle of the night and Ryo’s no longer there beside him. He feels stronger now and oddly calm, and he manages to heft aside two of the blankets that have been piled on top of him as well as the shirt he’s wearing. A glass of water has been placed on the bedside table, which he drinks from thirstily, before hopping out of bed to go to the bathroom. His legs feel strange and wobbly like a newborn calf’s, and it takes effort to balance and walk in a straight line. By the time he’s washed his hands he’s already beginning to feel the cold once more, and he heads back to bed, pulling the covers tightly over him.
Pi burrows deeper under the blankets, feeling the warmth of the sheets beneath him. He stretches his toes against the cotton, trying to immerse himself as much as possible in the softest of embraces. There’s an indent in the mattress that’s just above where Pi would find comfortable. He wonders how long he would have to lie here to make an indent of his own - a small yet permanent furrow that only he can slip into.
Just as the thought of passing time once more enters his mind, he hears a soft knock on the door, which pushes open slowly to reveal Ryo, one hand rubbing furiously at his eyes and hair sticking up like a haystack. He doesn’t look as angry compared to before, just worn-out.
“Hey,” he says quietly, voice husky from fatigue, as he stands awkwardly in the doorframe.
Pi shuffles up, pulling the blankets with him, and frees a hand to pat the space on the bed next to him. Ryo ambles over and slides between the sheets. They lay like that for a while, knees pulled up and facing each other, sharing the warmth between them under the covers. Ryo’s eyes soon begin to close, and just as Pi thinks he’s fallen asleep, he lets out a deep breath.
“You had me worried, you know?” he murmurs.
Pi shuts his eyes. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” Ryo says, eyes blinking open wearily. “I thought…I don’t know - like you weren’t coming back or something.” He sighs. “I was so scared, Pi.”
Pi feels his heart hammering in his chest, not knowing if it’s because of Ryo’s words or the memories they are dragging up. “Yeah,” is all he can respond with.
Ryo’s hand stretches out blindly under the blankets, and Pi instinctively reaches out, searching for that connection. Ryo’s grasp is strong and secure, just like he remembers - like it’s ready to catch and to steady. He thinks he can feel the vibrant life force seeping into him through the touch, filling in the spaces that were left gaping and wounded with warmth and serenity.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Ryo says softly.
Pi doesn’t answer immediately and Ryo doesn’t push it, merely closes his eyes again and waits.
“I’ve been put on hiatus,” Pi eventually whispers, so quiet that Ryo can barely hear.
“For how long?” Ryo asks, just as quietly.
A pause, and then, “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll be going back.”
The words come out without any forethought, but even as he’s saying them, Pi knows they’re true. Even if they did ask him to come back, he wouldn’t go. He’s had his fill.
Yet despite the certainty of his stance, Pi can’t stop the tears making their way down his cheeks and dripping onto his pillow. It’s not a long, hard cry that wracks his body with sobs. It’s silent and sombre and one that signifies recognition of an end - the end of his life as an idol, and the end of the pain inflicted on him for the sake of a business. Because that was what this was all about really - dollar signs and bank accounts and an endless greed that had swallowed him whole before spitting him out again. They had felt it just to let his worth be defined by ratings and sales, and Pi had stood by and nodded and tried vainly to meet both their wishes and the public’s insatiable desire for more. There had never been any true satisfaction, but that was what had kept him fighting, kept him going - in truth, his appetite was as big as theirs. But here, standing at the end of it all, Pi can’t help seeing things in a different light. Some things just don’t end up going anywhere, no matter how much drive you have. Sometimes you just need to stop and consider and change directions. And for Pi, he can finally say that he’s had enough. Maybe, he realises, the wheel’s never stopped - it’s only circling back, gears grinding and straining with difficulty to find a new path, a new way forward.
As the final tears dry Ryo’s still gripping his hand tightly, and Pi’s glad for it. A part of him feels that every single pretence of control would collapse and break if he had to let go.
He doesn’t know when he falls back asleep, but come morning and Ryo’s still beside him. And under the covers one hand is still lightly clasping Ryo’s, and the other is curled in a fist.
Chapters 20-22
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: 3841
Disclaimer: Ryo and Pi belong to each other, obviously ;D And I stole a line from a U2 song I think XD;
A/N: There's possibly an inappropriately comic moment in here somewhere XD;
Chapter Eighteen - People Past and Present
Pi doesn’t know how long he’s been walking. Doesn’t know how he ended up here in the middle of the street soaked to the skin. All he can think of are Mary’s words working their way through his system like ice, chilling everything in their path. Coldness escapes into his lungs and is sucked into his blood like oxygen, and it poisons him bitterly. He can sense it settling in his organs and freezing his arteries and it feels like thousands of splintering needles that only dig deeper in search of his core, and he knew it, he always knew it…winter never did any good for no one.
The rain falling against his skin is a slap for every naïve thought he ever had. Trailing tears along road and alley, he weeps for the child he had once been; for a life he lost so many years before. Then he weeps for the life he has gained, and how, despite everything, he has come to want it and need it so desperately.
Beneath his feet, crushing stones into the pavement, dreams like fragments with nothing but stagnant air and fading will to string them together. And separating, separating, grinding the dirt into the last vestiges of his humanity.
This was not planned for. You can account for failure, but you can’t account for the wreckage it leaves behind. It’s such a dirty business, someone had once said. It leaves such a dirty, filthy mess.
Oh if only, but if only someone had told him it would be like this…
*
Ryo didn't like asking advice of other people. It was something he rarely ever had to do, because he was usually so sure of everything around him and so sure of his beliefs. But right now, holding his mobile in a tightly clenched fist, Ryo hesitates. Despite all his bravado and apparent confidence, he really has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to be doing or how in hell he’s supposed to be helpful, and never has the next step appeared so big and so dangerous. He can’t help but pray for divine intervention to slow down his beating heart.
So Ryo calls the first reliable person that he can think of - Hina.
“Fuck, Hina,” Ryo says as soon as he answers the phone. “I need help.”
“What?” Hina responds immediately, and from the television in the background Ryo can tell that he’s just settled down for dinner, like Ryo was about to do. “Why, what happened?”
“It’s Pi,” Ryo says, running a trembling hand through his hair. “I think he’s in trouble.”
It’s terribly vague and clichéd, but Ryo’s mind doesn’t seem to be firing from all cylinders at the moment.
“Huh?” and Hina’s reply is both annoyed and confused. “What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Ryo says, voice rising as he begins to babble. “He called, and he’s in the middle of Roppongi somewhere, and I’m meant to go out there and get him, but - oh fuck, that’s pretty much near impossible. How the fuck is that meant to work? Why did I just promise the impossible?? I don’t know what I’m meant to do, or how to make things better, I just don’t know-”
"Ryo, gosh, stop complaining already!" Hina shouts unexpectedly.
Ryo's confused for a moment, before his eyebrows narrow instinctively. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm not allowed to talk about my problems or something?"
"We have problems, Ryo, you have inconveniences,” Hina snaps back with a bitter edge.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ryo growls. “This isn’t about me.”
Hina’s laugh over the phone is brittle. “Like hell it isn’t. Someone is out there that needs you and you’re on the phone complaining. For God’s sake, step up Ryo!”
“Have you lost it or something?” Ryo shouts, fingers curling into fists, but Hina doesn’t seem to be listening anymore, appears to be on a roll in fact.
“You've always had everything, but you’ve never done anything about it,” Hina yells down the wire. “Everything always seems to go your way by pure luck alone - like getting a cushy government job, and landing yourself a high class apartment for low rates. You don’t have the right to complain anymore! If you have a problem, then for once in your life do something about it, damn it!"
“Fuck you man, fuck you!” Ryo screams back at him. “This is why I deal with my problems by myself!”
Snapping the phone shut, Ryo gets up and knocks over the table before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.
In a different city, which is currently dry as dust, Hina slumps back against a couch, breathing hard. He grins.
*
Ryo doesn’t bother thanking the taxi driver as they drive up to the front of Tokyo Tower, merely throws down a wad of bills and bursts out into the rain. He doesn’t know where to start, except that Pi could see Tokyo Tower and there was a lot of traffic going on around him - which meant he could be pretty much anywhere. After careful consideration, Ryo decides to ditch the west and focus on the north east, and then there’s nothing for it but to walk.
He ends up asking random people in the street if they’ve happened to have seen one Yamashita Tomohisa, but most look at him as if he’s crazy, walking around in the middle of winter without a jacket or an umbrella. He’s kind of beginning to regret letting his anger take him over.
Ryo’s just walked past TV Asahi and is in the middle of questioning a middle-aged woman who’s shaking her head profusely and looking for an escape route, when a teenage girl in a sailor uniform and red track pants comes up to him.
“You’re looking for Yamapi?” the girl asks shyly, peering up from under her umbrella.
“Yes, have you seen him?” Ryo asks anxiously.
The girl seems to hesitate, and Ryo adds in what he hopes is a convincing voice, “Please. I’m not a weird stalker or anything. He’s my friend.”
She pauses before shrugging slim shoulders. “I don’t know if it was him, but there was someone who looked a lot like him walking past the Hard Rock Café. Do you know it?” she asks, pointing down the road. “My friends told me I was seeing things, but I was sure…”
Ryo’s already bowing low, making the girl take a flustered step back. Maybe Hina was right, Ryo thinks as he hurriedly makes his way towards where the girl was pointing. He really was pretty damn lucky.
*
Pi looks at the phone in his shaking hand, then slowly places it back in his pocket. Looking around at the blur of street lights and flickering signs, it doesn’t take long to forget Ryo’s words.
He’s caught up in an old lost memory that has been tucked away under delicate folds of shame, and cocooned in crushing guilt. Right now, under the fall of rain, it rises to the surface, gasping for air in an effort to make itself known.
He remembers clearly the late afternoon that he was pulled aside by Mary Kitagawa at the end of dance practice during his 17th year. There had been an upcoming concert for Takki and Tsubasa to prepare for, and he and 4Tops had spent the majority of the day going over dance routines and schedules. Kazama and Hasegawa had already headed for the change rooms, but he had asked Toma to stay behind with him to work on that kick-spin-point that he couldn’t quite perfect.
Pi had been too busy mucking around, not paying close enough attention like he was prone to do, and Toma had tried to scold him…but, well, Pi had always been his weakness. There was just something about those large, innocent brown eyes, and that face that still lacked chiselled adult definition. Anybody’s heart would soften if they looked too long.
As he finally completed the routine faultlessly, Pi had turned to Toma, a large smile on his face and his hand raised for a high-five. And then Mary had stepped out of the shadows, startling them both.
“I want to talk with you. Just Yamashita. Not you, Ikuta.”
“Wait for me, okay?” Pi had called to Toma, as he hurried after Mary’s back out of the studio. “We’ll go home together, okay?”
But in Mary’s office, barely illuminated by the waning light of day, Pi had received some surprising news. He was going to go to the JStorm recording studio tomorrow. He was going to record a few songs, although they wouldn’t tell him what for. He was going to go without the rest of 4Tops.
On the train ride home, Pi had told Toma the news. He’d been so, so supportive. But when everything came to head, and it was Pi, all by himself, plastered all over the billboards…
Even though the words that came out of his mouth were only congratulatory, Pi imagined he could see betrayal written all over Toma’s face. If it were me, I would have said no. If it were me, I would never have debuted without you.
4Tops activities had slowly diminished afterwards, and Kazama, Hasegawa, and soon Toma, had all dropped out of the company. Something about concentrating on his studies. Pi had told himself that it was his impossible work schedule that had made him lose touch with his former best friend, but deep inside he knew the truth. He couldn’t face him again, he just couldn’t - not with his betrayal staring him in the eye each and every time.
He’s lost in his reverie, the lines between reality and the imaginary slowly blurring. The vision of Toma positioned at his back hates him for leaving the rest of them behind and hates him for not being able to hold onto what he had.
Thus, ignoring the fatigue wearing away at his muscles and the pull of his drenched clothes against his skin, Pi continues to walk, the rain numbing him against the world.
*
Ryo rounds the corner of the street and sprints down the sidewalk, running through puddles and splashing water up his legs, soaking his slacks. He pauses every now and then and takes a quick sweep of the area, trying to spot anyone that might look vaguely Pi-like.
Just as he reaches the Minato council office, he thinks he spots him. He’s slowly making his way down the street without an umbrella, shoulders hunched and head hung low, the rain dripping miserably from dark strands. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him as if trying to protect himself from invisible forces closing in around him. And those yellow and green Nikes - Pi definitely owned a pair of those hideous shoes.
Ryo races forwards without a second thought, grabbing his shoulders and whirling him around, shouting “Wait!”
The guy, angular face contorting in surprise and mouth opening to reveal crooked canines, backs up quickly and lays a suspicious hand on his jeans pocket to protect his wallet. “Hey watch it!”
Ryo wants to bash his fist against the brick wall next to him, suppressing a scream of frustration.
He turns away from the stranger, not bothering to apologise, and picks up his speed. He feels like every second he loses is one second closer to finding Pi facedown in some street corner, and God help him, he doesn’t know CPR.
He’s looking at the Roppongi-Chome intersection, trying to figure out which direction he should take next, when from the corner of his eye he sees him. And this time he’s certain, even from across the road - the length of his shoulders and the angle of his feet as he walks - it has to be him.
Cars honk and come skidding to sudden stops as Ryo darts across the intersection in a way that would make mothers clasp their hands over their children’s eyes in horror. Ryo doesn’t even notice; he’s working on pure adrenalin alone.
“PI!” Ryo screams out across the street.
*
Pi shivers from a sudden chill. He thinks he hears someone calling him, but he can’t stop now. There’s no purpose to his movements anymore, just a deep longing to run away and never, ever return. Nothing about the world is logical or rational right now, what with the big awning cavern that’s carved its way right down his middle.
“Pi! Stop!” the voice calls, and it’s so familiar, but the dots don’t seem to be connecting in his brain like they used to.
“Just stop, Pi! Don’t make me run after you, damn it!”
Yet as he listens to the sound of feet hitting the wet pavement behind him, memories begin gathering speed, bundling together and gaining body and shape.
And wide smiles and mocking eyes.
And warm skin and awkward comfort.
And honest words.
“I told you I’d always be there for you!” Ryo shouts angrily through the roar of torrential rain, droplets cascading down his face and catching in his eyelashes, dripping off his nose. “Fuck it, Pi, I told you!”
Suddenly, everything clicks into place. Suddenly, every single firing cell in his body becomes instantly magnetised. Suddenly, there’s nothing he wants more than to be buried in that voice and its burning anger because he does remember.
Pi stops, begins to turn when, just as suddenly, the ground pitches upwards and fever and exhaustion and utter desolation take its toll. As his palms skid the gravel and his body slaps motionless on the ground, he hears a rush of footsteps and his own name screamed out once more in desperate panic, and all he can think of is ‘I thought you were drunk, you fucker.’
Chapter Nineteen - Looking for the Sun
He wakes and sleeps without noticing the passing of time, and in fevered delirium Pi dreams. He dreams of the ocean and of Ryo. He dreams of days spent walking aimlessly amongst the rocks and surfing the crested blue waves, and nights spent under the comfort and warmth of Egyptian cotton, bodies aligned and breath synchronised. He dreams of things that were and things that could be, and things that he’s never, ever, dared hope for.
For a moment he’s certain he’s become the ghost that haunts Ryo’s apartment, can see himself bleeding out in the bathroom, blood at his feet, across his chest, falling from his lips in crimson drops.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he whispers into the darkness. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
Sometimes he wakes abruptly, jerking upright, breath wild and erratic, in the middle of a recurring dream of night stalkers with cold, emotionless eyes the colour of obsidian. He vaguely registers Ryo’s presence, shaking him to consciousness to pour water down his throat, or changing the wet flannels resting on his forehead.
In periods of wakefulness, Pi comes in bursts of clarity and fits of delusion. One morning he wakes up to find Ryo eating a breakfast next to the bed made of white rice and miso soup.
“I like to suck on my chopsticks,” Pi says, like he’s coming out of a daze, still half-asleep.
“What?” Ryo asks, incomprehension and annoyance battling it out across his features.
“It’s just when you’re eating something really good, don’t you want to make sure you get every last bit?” Pi murmurs, half to himself.
“I have no idea what you’re fucking talking about,” Ryo says after a pause, “but Johnny better not have broken you because I only just got you to play with.”
Pi sinks back into unconsciousness.
*
Eventually, after what seems like a millennia of restless respite, he opens his eyes and finally sees.
*
Pi awakens to a pair of dark eyes under furrowed eyebrows glaring at him. Glaring at him like they were just daring him to wake up. He’s leaning back on a chair that Pi recognises as belonging in the kitchen, arms folded across his chest, wearing a grey jersey and matching sweats. As Pi struggles to sit upright under the weight of blankets, he can feel that he’s wearing something similar. But more than anything, Pi understands that this moment of awareness is different than the rest. His mind seems strangely light and clear.
“Ryo?” Pi says groggily.
“Don’t you ‘Ryo?’ me, you bastard,” Ryo growls in response, not moving an inch to help Pi up.
“What day is it?” Pi asks, trying to arrange his still drowsy thoughts.
“Tuesday,” is Ryo’s short response. It doesn’t mean anything to Pi, except to tell him that Ryo’s skipping work, so he tries a different approach.
“What’s going on?”
Ryo sighs, the scowl still plastered to his face. “You were very, very sick.”
Pi’s eyebrows knit together in concentration. “Then why didn’t I go to a doctor?”
Ryo’s look is reproachful. “You think I wouldn’t call a doctor?” He sighs again, turning away and staring into the middle distance. “They made a house call a few days ago when your fever spiked.”
Pi just can’t think clearly. “I don’t remember.”
“Fuck Pi, you were so out of it…” Ryo says, voice trailing off, shaking his head slightly. Then he looks at Pi sharply, eyes hard. “Don’t you ever get sick like that again, do you hear me?”
Pi wants to argue, to sarcastically promise to try his hardest or ardently insist it wasn’t his fault. But that deep weariness has set in again, sleep calling once more, and he merely nods his head, closing his eyes and falling back against the pillows.
When he wakes again, it’s the middle of the night and Ryo’s no longer there beside him. He feels stronger now and oddly calm, and he manages to heft aside two of the blankets that have been piled on top of him as well as the shirt he’s wearing. A glass of water has been placed on the bedside table, which he drinks from thirstily, before hopping out of bed to go to the bathroom. His legs feel strange and wobbly like a newborn calf’s, and it takes effort to balance and walk in a straight line. By the time he’s washed his hands he’s already beginning to feel the cold once more, and he heads back to bed, pulling the covers tightly over him.
Pi burrows deeper under the blankets, feeling the warmth of the sheets beneath him. He stretches his toes against the cotton, trying to immerse himself as much as possible in the softest of embraces. There’s an indent in the mattress that’s just above where Pi would find comfortable. He wonders how long he would have to lie here to make an indent of his own - a small yet permanent furrow that only he can slip into.
Just as the thought of passing time once more enters his mind, he hears a soft knock on the door, which pushes open slowly to reveal Ryo, one hand rubbing furiously at his eyes and hair sticking up like a haystack. He doesn’t look as angry compared to before, just worn-out.
“Hey,” he says quietly, voice husky from fatigue, as he stands awkwardly in the doorframe.
Pi shuffles up, pulling the blankets with him, and frees a hand to pat the space on the bed next to him. Ryo ambles over and slides between the sheets. They lay like that for a while, knees pulled up and facing each other, sharing the warmth between them under the covers. Ryo’s eyes soon begin to close, and just as Pi thinks he’s fallen asleep, he lets out a deep breath.
“You had me worried, you know?” he murmurs.
Pi shuts his eyes. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” Ryo says, eyes blinking open wearily. “I thought…I don’t know - like you weren’t coming back or something.” He sighs. “I was so scared, Pi.”
Pi feels his heart hammering in his chest, not knowing if it’s because of Ryo’s words or the memories they are dragging up. “Yeah,” is all he can respond with.
Ryo’s hand stretches out blindly under the blankets, and Pi instinctively reaches out, searching for that connection. Ryo’s grasp is strong and secure, just like he remembers - like it’s ready to catch and to steady. He thinks he can feel the vibrant life force seeping into him through the touch, filling in the spaces that were left gaping and wounded with warmth and serenity.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Ryo says softly.
Pi doesn’t answer immediately and Ryo doesn’t push it, merely closes his eyes again and waits.
“I’ve been put on hiatus,” Pi eventually whispers, so quiet that Ryo can barely hear.
“For how long?” Ryo asks, just as quietly.
A pause, and then, “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll be going back.”
The words come out without any forethought, but even as he’s saying them, Pi knows they’re true. Even if they did ask him to come back, he wouldn’t go. He’s had his fill.
Yet despite the certainty of his stance, Pi can’t stop the tears making their way down his cheeks and dripping onto his pillow. It’s not a long, hard cry that wracks his body with sobs. It’s silent and sombre and one that signifies recognition of an end - the end of his life as an idol, and the end of the pain inflicted on him for the sake of a business. Because that was what this was all about really - dollar signs and bank accounts and an endless greed that had swallowed him whole before spitting him out again. They had felt it just to let his worth be defined by ratings and sales, and Pi had stood by and nodded and tried vainly to meet both their wishes and the public’s insatiable desire for more. There had never been any true satisfaction, but that was what had kept him fighting, kept him going - in truth, his appetite was as big as theirs. But here, standing at the end of it all, Pi can’t help seeing things in a different light. Some things just don’t end up going anywhere, no matter how much drive you have. Sometimes you just need to stop and consider and change directions. And for Pi, he can finally say that he’s had enough. Maybe, he realises, the wheel’s never stopped - it’s only circling back, gears grinding and straining with difficulty to find a new path, a new way forward.
As the final tears dry Ryo’s still gripping his hand tightly, and Pi’s glad for it. A part of him feels that every single pretence of control would collapse and break if he had to let go.
He doesn’t know when he falls back asleep, but come morning and Ryo’s still beside him. And under the covers one hand is still lightly clasping Ryo’s, and the other is curled in a fist.
Chapters 20-22