Half-Baked: Memories Can Never (1/?)
Title: Memories Can Never (1/?)
Fandom: Pretear, Utena, X, Gundam Wing and narrated by Keisuke (Fushigi Yuugi)
Characters/Pairings: Keisuke, Hayate, Himeno, Dorothy, Duo, Sorata, Juri/Kozue
Word Count: 3700
Summary: AU. Some Half-Baked Ideal Called Wonderful (aka Half-Baked series) Keisuke takes an active part in his friends' love lives, while managing to get tangled in one himself.
A/N: WIP. Written between June and September of 2002 and inspired by tulip_head. I'm really fond of this story and should finish this. I'd like to wrap it up anyway. Aquatinted. I think I'm going to try a longer fic again. This time the characters are currently a collection from Pretear, Utena, X, Gundam Wing and Keisuke POV. I'm going to try to write a longer story with a better plot-but this is me I'm talking about and I'm supreme tangent girl. Lyrics by the Moody Blues song, "You Can Never Go Home."
***
I don't know what I'm searching for
I never have opened the door
Tomorrow might find me at last,
Turning my back on the past,
But, time will tell, of stars that fell,
A million years ago.
Most of the success stories I've heard have seemed more like a series of dumb luck. Sure, education, wealth, good-looks . . . that all might line you up for better odds. But the opportunity, if it isn't there: nothing will help you.
And that's where luck comes in.
A patch of good fortune will bring a good job, a sexy girlfriend, a hip apartment. Even if you only have a GED. If you catch the right person's eye or accidentally turn the wrong corner. Fortune is fickle.
And I'm tired of these deep thoughts. Pressing my fingers into the flesh of my forehead, I wonder where the throbbing is coming from. I can't get it to stop.
Maybe it's because my teeth are clenched closed. Each bone of the top teeth crushed into it's lower counterpart. I'm distracted by a brief thought of how I'm fortunate to still have my teeth. There she is again, lady Luck. Mocking me once more. Giving just so much, like a school girl tease. Nothing that really satisfies what I say I need.
It's be nice if people wouldn't mistake my habit of speaking my mind as that I'm a smart ass. Mostly what I say is just stupid. No, it's the real smart asses that get away with the sharpest remarks.
The fingers trail from my forehead to test my jaw, loosening those packed teeth. Relieving a little tension from my headache interestingly enough. Although, it's immediately followed by the sensation of pain.
"Why the hell did you punch me, Hayate?" I say finally, my tongue testing the renewed spaces of my mouth.
He scowls at me. The dark blue of his eyes hidden by that ridiculously long hair of his. Remember the comment about education, wealth and good- looks? Yup, that's Hayate. After living with him for over a year, that was when all those ideas about good luck and bad luck began to formulate. Only thing is, each door sitting open in front of him, Hayate systematically closes. He's the biggest martyr I've ever seen, and he doesn't even go to church to earn points with the guy upstairs. I suppose that makes him an even more tragic case.
It wasn't always so bad. I mean, would a cool guy like me really live with a complete jerk? Well, I did live with Saionji for a few years-and trust me, I split as soon as Hayate propositioned me. Come on, do you blame me? Prissy mirror hog or self-defeating quiet guy? I didn't even have to draw out a list of pros and cons.
And no, the punching wasn't necessarily a con. Hayate doesn't regularly beat up his roommate. I'm pretty sure that the violent outburst was due to the fact he'd had a pretty lousy day at work. And it didn't help that I called him my woman and asked for dinner as soon as I walked in the door. It wasn't like I hadn't had a hard day myself. But then again, Hayate likes women. I like . . . well, I have a broader appreciation for God's great creation.
Not that I get lucky. Ever. Mind you.
He seems almost ready to apologize. I can be pretty pathetic and cute when I want to be. It's a Yuki family trait, I've seen Miaka pull it off with her steady boyfriend. My kid sister definitely has him whipped. My charm isn't nearly as successful. But Hayate's uncurling his fist and turning bashful. He feels bad.
"If it's that bad, you could have asked me to take it back . . . before greeting me with your fist."
"I'm sorry, Keisuke." Hayate turns around quickly, clearing off his side of the couch and collapsing in it. He's still tall enough that his knees are bent above the level of the couch itself. He presses his head into the heel of his arm, turning into the corner of the couch. I can see his face turn red. He's not one to usually loose his cool.
"Sure," I joke, "It's no big deal. Slug me whenever you feel like it." I glance over at him every now and again while I pretend to pick up the dishes littering the coffee table. Plates from last night. And the night before and . . . well. I'm a big slob really, I was only pretending to clean mind you.
Hayate is a very mild slob. He usually keeps his living space tidy. You won't find him in the kitchen for more than three minutes at a time, and that's only if the milk has been pushed to the farthest back corner of the refrigerator.
I'd only known Hayate really since we'd started paying rent on the same place. No one really ever called for him, not even telemarketers. I'd never seen pictures of friends, family. Of course, I met him through a circle of bar buddies. But Hayate only came once and a while, never participating much more than a game of darts. He even avoided the alcohol.
I open my mouth to say something and feel the remaining pain prick again. I decide I didn't really ever want to see Hayate drink, it was bad enough dealing with the guy sober.
And as much as I want to pry, Hayate is not one to confide his feelings with anyone. I'd rather hug a porcupine.
But I can't help but wonder if his gambling with luck had taken a sour turn.
Memories can never take you back, home, sweet home.
You can never go home anymore.
All my life I never really knew me 'til today,
Now I know why, I'm just another step along the way,
I lie awake for hours, I'm just waiting for the sun.
I checked my face in the mirror and decided that any bruising wouldn't really be noticeable that evening. Leaving Hayate to brew into the evening by himself, I ate a sandwich and took off again. Leaving my plate on the coffee table of course.
I drive this classic car that's well-kept enough that it's rusting from the inside out. After trying the tired engine a second time, I pulled out. Glancing over at Hayate's motorcycle and wondering how solitary the guy could isolate himself. Even his wheels denied access to visitors.
It didn't take to long to make it down town to the Four Doors. It was a cheap beer and dark shadows type of place. The best kept secret in my opinion. Someone had cranked on the juke box starting some Presley when I walked in.
"Turn it off." I protest, making a scene. Covering my ears.
"I thought you liked classics, Keisuke?" Himeno slugs my arm as I joined her by the pool table. She was a cute kid with the most horrid hair cut flipped out by her ears. She said the hairdresser had accidentally taken a longer chunk off than they'd agreed to and had tried to even it out. Himeno had been saying that for as long as I've known her. But if you'd ask, the story was always the same.
"Some classics," I mumble, studying the placement of the balls around the table. Himeno has a great shot lined up, which she manages to miss. And we all laughed at that.
"I have the worst luck!" She laughs loudest, and puts her hands on each hip she tries to scowl down her opponent. It doesn't work as Dorothy's the coolest cucumber to cross the threshold of Four Doors. And don't ask about the name, the joint has only had two doors that I've ever seen. I almost figured out an answer to that question one evening, but I can't remember exactly what it was that I'd been drinking that night to finish the thought.
Dorothy had been leaning with her hip against the table, studying the latest placement of the pieces. She's like that, aloof and calculating. Always looking down her aristocratic nose and chin to study the commoners. The shadows of the place only make her seem more ethereal, I doubt Dorothy would let the sun color her skin. She's rather reluctant to let outside elements change her.
Not even Duo had done that. He's sitting at a table, leaning against the wall and watching the girls. The first thing you notice about that guy is his teeth, that ever present goofy smile that you just can't help mirroring.
Feeling the Duo's dynamic pull, I'm bored watching Dorothy sink another two pieces perfectly.
"Hey, gorgeous."
"Stop flattering me," I take the seat opposite him and lean against the wall myself, only turning my head to glance at him now and again. He's peering at me from the corner of his eye.
"Where's Hayate?"
"Brooding." I point at Duo's drink and wave at the waitress desperately. She smiles. She understands.
"And you just left him there?"
"Well, sure." I smile wryly. Sometimes I do that to look cute. Tonight, it was a bit necessary-my lip was still tingling. "He's in a bad mood."
Duo took another drink, watching as Dorothy crosses to the other side of the table. The blonde woman effectively ignoring Himeno's pleas and offers of money to give up her never-ending series of turns. Duo swallows noisily, with a refreshed gasp of breath, "You never cease to amaze me, Keisuke-kun. I would have thought you would be the more sensitive type. Don't you realize it's when Hayate's the gloomiest that he most needs to let his hair down."
I snicker, "And you're the one to mentor him in that area, I'm sure." Ogling that caramel colored braid of Duo's. Hayate's hair was longer than most men would let theirs go, but it was dark, coarse and manly. Duo's hair was a bit too silky making it rather pretty overall. I run my fingers through my own sandy mop chance gave me.
"I've got to break up this music." Duo pulls out his wallet just as the waitress sits down my drink with a smile. I smile back. Duo likes to break things up. He broke up with Dorothy, not that either of them would admit they were ever something together that might be broken. He broke rules shamelessly-I'm pretty sure that Four Doors has a no shirt, no shoes, no service policy. Duo always seems to lose those articles from his body the later the evening gets. And once, with no explanation at all, I got to watch him break an entire set of glass glasses. I'm so glad I don't have that snapping point most guys get pressured into.
Hayate lashes out, Duo smashes things. They're both great guys. It's just the world's piling up on their backs and they haven't yet learned to shake it off. Although, Duo fakes it pretty well.
When the journey we are making has begun,
Don't deny the feeling that is stealing through your heart,
Every happy ending needs to have a start.
It was just then that the love birds slipped in. Dorothy studies them with a displaced interest. Himeno waves enthusiastically, accidentally bumping the table with her body and spoiling Dorothy's next shot. Duo's already coaxed the juke box to play some rather horrid selection of country. I should have known better than to leave us at his music mercy.
I take another quick drink. Where's the waitress? I need another.
"Bleh, can you believe it? My car is still in the shop and I'm having my big sister tow me around." Sorata takes Duo's old seat and begs my pity with his best puppy expression. If only he had any idea how cute he is? Sorata and I go way back. We graduated from high school together, discovered porn together, got caught with it together. He's a normal, all around nice guy with the sort of simple eyes that look their best curled about in a smile. I can feel my ears turning red.
Sometimes it would be nice to have longer hair, I do believe.
"What else is new?" I fix my eyes instead on the women by the bar, Sorata's sister a tall foreboding shadow. Juri had always been sure that any serious mischief the two of us might have caused was nipped and quick. Next to her tall form was Kozue, coyly tangled with her girlfriend, of course. They were rather inseparable and older than the rest of us. They only bothered with Four Doors when Sorata's car broke down.
"Had to bring them along with, didn't ya?" Duo slaps Sorata's near shoulder with great affection and takes the next seat, reclaiming what was left at the bottom of his glass in one swallow. "You know I've always had the hots for the little one." Duo pretended to pierce his heart with the nearest eating utensil. "Kills me to see them so happy . . . without me."
"Shut up. It's embarrassing." Sorata grumbles, always slipping into his role as the younger sibling. Folding his arms on the table and slouching over, as if his comment was made in complete confidence.
"You might want to watch what you say." Dorothy appears at the end of the table. Does she ever miss a word of any conversation? "I wouldn't be surprised if you find someone to settle down with and turn into a your very own pile of slimy goo."
"You are just such a romantic." Duo quips, as Dorothy pulls a chair to the end of the table. Himeno has already slid in next to me. I'm squirming in my seat. I need another drink.
"You should talk." Dorothy arced one eyebrow, she's especially cool tonight. But when she wants to play, the conversation can certainly turn interesting. Everyone's distracted by their familiar banter, Sorata's laughing in that high pitch manner that always makes me want to laugh at him since it's so put on. Or is it that I want to laugh with him?
Can you tell that Sorata's sort of a sore point? I hate to admit it, but, when he does find the right girl, I'm going to cry all the way through the wedding.
"Don't talk like that!" Himeno says with her cute determination and idealism, "Love is a wonderful thing. Makes the most fascinating pile of goo ever." God, I love her optimism. Puts me to shame.
All my life I never really knew me 'til today,
Now I know why, I'm just another step along the way,
Weep no more for treasures you've been searching for in vain.
'Cos the truth is gently falling with the rain,
High above the forest lie the pastures of the sun,
Where the two that learned the secret are now one.
It's Sunday morning and I'm at the mall way too soon after early mass. I'm sure that God and I might have some differences of opinion, but I like to keep in touch. There's something about going every once and a while that sort of refreshes, like scrubbing all those stupid decisions from the last week and trying again. I might not always have my act together, but I want to look back at my life and agree that I made the best choices possible to benefit everyone.
I wander past the still locked stores, dark behind the iron bars. I'm on my second lap and as I pass the door I entered the third time Hayate matches my slowing step.
"Hey." I smile, I'm rather predictable in my patterns. Friday night Four Doors, Saturday Four Doors, Sunday morning mass and then a trip to the mall to walk a few laps with the old folks in town and to check out the recent DVD releases. Then the rest of Sunday at home watching my arguably well invested money. It's not really a surprise that Hayate found me, I'm easy to find.
"What's coming out this week?"
"Not much," We pass the same lady in the yellow polka dot shirt I've lapped each time. I smile at her. She smiles back. "I'm thinking about looking for something classic. Hitchcock maybe."
"Sounds . . . nice." He's trying something hard. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, a slouch in his posture.
"I suppose you still feel bad about Friday and want to buy me a make up gift?" I toss and arm across his shoulders and purr coyly. He flinches, trying still to get used to my more flamboyant moments. "Don't sweat it, Hayate. You're still okay in my book."
"I don't know why . . ."
I let the arm slip from his shoulders and give him some space. Oh my gosh, is this a confession?
"Maybe I was angry."
"You really shouldn't lash out at those you love, Hayate man." I slip in lightly, offering him every opportunity to fall back into normal brooding Hayate mode. "You're too hard on yourself, though."
"Love?" Hayate laughs sort of hoarsely, the sort that kind of rasps on the ear and sounds like a death rattle.
The silence is thick a moment. So thick that the music mix of a popular song on the radio can't cut it. I feel it might be a good thing for Hayate to loosen up. And I'm not very fond of having someone vent their frustrations on me-even if I am a smart ass. Oops, there I confessed it. Funny how Sundays will do that to me.
"You don't have to explain, just don't do it again." I sigh, "and I'll try not to be as insensitive."
Hayate doesn't say anything as we stand in front of the movie store, watching the manager unlock the gate and lift it up half way. I check my watch. Doesn't she see us right here? Waiting. Let us in already.
"You see, I have a bit of a problem." Hayate runs his finger through that hair of his, until it tangles around the clasp holding it together at the bottom, pulling a few strands free. He's going to have to re-bind them now.
"A problem?" My ears prick just as the manager finishes opening the store's guard door. We slip inside, the first ones to peruse the merchandise that morning.
"Yeah, someone from my past."
I don't know what I'm searching for
I never have opened the door,
Tomorrow might find me at last,
Turning my back on the past,
But, time will tell, of stars that fell,
A million years ago.
Make the room stop spinning. I'm in the apartment, Hayate and I had managed to make it back home by means of our separate vehicles and my newest Hitchcock lay forgotten on the coffee table, next to Friday and Saturday's forgotten dinner dishes.
The room's spinning and I don't have a drop of alcohol in my system. Except that communion wine.
Hayate even looks a little relieved, if dizzy himself. We've lived together how long and . . . now his closet door starts to open. And we're both surprised how the mistakes of our childhood can follow us into our presents. Shaping who we are, how we think, what we say. Toss in a little bit of luck. And that's how we become ourselves.
"So what do I do?" Hayate asks, imploring me. That's a first. Not many people seek out my opinion, I'm flattered, but I decide it might not be the best to mention how I'm feeling at that exact moment. Don't want to jeopardize any of my fragilely won integrity.
"Come clean, be honest with her."
"You make it sound so easy." Hayate falls back against his seat, not liking my answer.
"What do you want? Step by step instructions? For me to hold your hand through this, oh wait. That might give her the wrong idea." I laugh at my own joke, Hayate's not laughing. "I don't mean that you have to tell her how you feel. But I think you should tell her that this guy is back in the country. He was her friend too, you said."
"I don't want to share her."
"Dear Lord," I stare at the ceiling, "It's not like you have any claim on her either. The kid has no idea you're sweet on her."
The look Hayate gives me curdles the milk I had in my breakfast cereal ten hours ago.
"Well, you don't." I shake my head, "You hardly come down to Four Doors anymore. And it's not like you see Himeno anywhere else. She's not yours unless you ask her."
His scowl deepens. I wonder how long he's harbored these feelings. And of course, it's a stupid man who doesn't begin to act on them until a rival shows himself.
And whoever this Sesame fellow is, he's definitely enough of a threat to shake Hayate's monkish resolve to leave Himeno untainted. And there again is the silly male idea that their special woman might be flawless.
"Besides," I conspire wickedly, "Wouldn't it work to your advantage to tell Himeno yourself? That way you'll be by her side when she sees him next. Rather than this Sesame swooping her off her feet unexpectedly. Easy way to get ahead, huh?"
He's actually considering what I've said.
But even my best ideas cannot escape fate. There's always the unexpected variable called luck.
Memories can never take you back, home, sweet home.
You can never go home anymore.
Part Two
Fandom: Pretear, Utena, X, Gundam Wing and narrated by Keisuke (Fushigi Yuugi)
Characters/Pairings: Keisuke, Hayate, Himeno, Dorothy, Duo, Sorata, Juri/Kozue
Word Count: 3700
Summary: AU. Some Half-Baked Ideal Called Wonderful (aka Half-Baked series) Keisuke takes an active part in his friends' love lives, while managing to get tangled in one himself.
A/N: WIP. Written between June and September of 2002 and inspired by tulip_head. I'm really fond of this story and should finish this. I'd like to wrap it up anyway. Aquatinted. I think I'm going to try a longer fic again. This time the characters are currently a collection from Pretear, Utena, X, Gundam Wing and Keisuke POV. I'm going to try to write a longer story with a better plot-but this is me I'm talking about and I'm supreme tangent girl. Lyrics by the Moody Blues song, "You Can Never Go Home."
Click to view***
I don't know what I'm searching for
I never have opened the door
Tomorrow might find me at last,
Turning my back on the past,
But, time will tell, of stars that fell,
A million years ago.
Most of the success stories I've heard have seemed more like a series of dumb luck. Sure, education, wealth, good-looks . . . that all might line you up for better odds. But the opportunity, if it isn't there: nothing will help you.
And that's where luck comes in.
A patch of good fortune will bring a good job, a sexy girlfriend, a hip apartment. Even if you only have a GED. If you catch the right person's eye or accidentally turn the wrong corner. Fortune is fickle.
And I'm tired of these deep thoughts. Pressing my fingers into the flesh of my forehead, I wonder where the throbbing is coming from. I can't get it to stop.
Maybe it's because my teeth are clenched closed. Each bone of the top teeth crushed into it's lower counterpart. I'm distracted by a brief thought of how I'm fortunate to still have my teeth. There she is again, lady Luck. Mocking me once more. Giving just so much, like a school girl tease. Nothing that really satisfies what I say I need.
It's be nice if people wouldn't mistake my habit of speaking my mind as that I'm a smart ass. Mostly what I say is just stupid. No, it's the real smart asses that get away with the sharpest remarks.
The fingers trail from my forehead to test my jaw, loosening those packed teeth. Relieving a little tension from my headache interestingly enough. Although, it's immediately followed by the sensation of pain.
"Why the hell did you punch me, Hayate?" I say finally, my tongue testing the renewed spaces of my mouth.
He scowls at me. The dark blue of his eyes hidden by that ridiculously long hair of his. Remember the comment about education, wealth and good- looks? Yup, that's Hayate. After living with him for over a year, that was when all those ideas about good luck and bad luck began to formulate. Only thing is, each door sitting open in front of him, Hayate systematically closes. He's the biggest martyr I've ever seen, and he doesn't even go to church to earn points with the guy upstairs. I suppose that makes him an even more tragic case.
It wasn't always so bad. I mean, would a cool guy like me really live with a complete jerk? Well, I did live with Saionji for a few years-and trust me, I split as soon as Hayate propositioned me. Come on, do you blame me? Prissy mirror hog or self-defeating quiet guy? I didn't even have to draw out a list of pros and cons.
And no, the punching wasn't necessarily a con. Hayate doesn't regularly beat up his roommate. I'm pretty sure that the violent outburst was due to the fact he'd had a pretty lousy day at work. And it didn't help that I called him my woman and asked for dinner as soon as I walked in the door. It wasn't like I hadn't had a hard day myself. But then again, Hayate likes women. I like . . . well, I have a broader appreciation for God's great creation.
Not that I get lucky. Ever. Mind you.
He seems almost ready to apologize. I can be pretty pathetic and cute when I want to be. It's a Yuki family trait, I've seen Miaka pull it off with her steady boyfriend. My kid sister definitely has him whipped. My charm isn't nearly as successful. But Hayate's uncurling his fist and turning bashful. He feels bad.
"If it's that bad, you could have asked me to take it back . . . before greeting me with your fist."
"I'm sorry, Keisuke." Hayate turns around quickly, clearing off his side of the couch and collapsing in it. He's still tall enough that his knees are bent above the level of the couch itself. He presses his head into the heel of his arm, turning into the corner of the couch. I can see his face turn red. He's not one to usually loose his cool.
"Sure," I joke, "It's no big deal. Slug me whenever you feel like it." I glance over at him every now and again while I pretend to pick up the dishes littering the coffee table. Plates from last night. And the night before and . . . well. I'm a big slob really, I was only pretending to clean mind you.
Hayate is a very mild slob. He usually keeps his living space tidy. You won't find him in the kitchen for more than three minutes at a time, and that's only if the milk has been pushed to the farthest back corner of the refrigerator.
I'd only known Hayate really since we'd started paying rent on the same place. No one really ever called for him, not even telemarketers. I'd never seen pictures of friends, family. Of course, I met him through a circle of bar buddies. But Hayate only came once and a while, never participating much more than a game of darts. He even avoided the alcohol.
I open my mouth to say something and feel the remaining pain prick again. I decide I didn't really ever want to see Hayate drink, it was bad enough dealing with the guy sober.
And as much as I want to pry, Hayate is not one to confide his feelings with anyone. I'd rather hug a porcupine.
But I can't help but wonder if his gambling with luck had taken a sour turn.
Memories can never take you back, home, sweet home.
You can never go home anymore.
All my life I never really knew me 'til today,
Now I know why, I'm just another step along the way,
I lie awake for hours, I'm just waiting for the sun.
I checked my face in the mirror and decided that any bruising wouldn't really be noticeable that evening. Leaving Hayate to brew into the evening by himself, I ate a sandwich and took off again. Leaving my plate on the coffee table of course.
I drive this classic car that's well-kept enough that it's rusting from the inside out. After trying the tired engine a second time, I pulled out. Glancing over at Hayate's motorcycle and wondering how solitary the guy could isolate himself. Even his wheels denied access to visitors.
It didn't take to long to make it down town to the Four Doors. It was a cheap beer and dark shadows type of place. The best kept secret in my opinion. Someone had cranked on the juke box starting some Presley when I walked in.
"Turn it off." I protest, making a scene. Covering my ears.
"I thought you liked classics, Keisuke?" Himeno slugs my arm as I joined her by the pool table. She was a cute kid with the most horrid hair cut flipped out by her ears. She said the hairdresser had accidentally taken a longer chunk off than they'd agreed to and had tried to even it out. Himeno had been saying that for as long as I've known her. But if you'd ask, the story was always the same.
"Some classics," I mumble, studying the placement of the balls around the table. Himeno has a great shot lined up, which she manages to miss. And we all laughed at that.
"I have the worst luck!" She laughs loudest, and puts her hands on each hip she tries to scowl down her opponent. It doesn't work as Dorothy's the coolest cucumber to cross the threshold of Four Doors. And don't ask about the name, the joint has only had two doors that I've ever seen. I almost figured out an answer to that question one evening, but I can't remember exactly what it was that I'd been drinking that night to finish the thought.
Dorothy had been leaning with her hip against the table, studying the latest placement of the pieces. She's like that, aloof and calculating. Always looking down her aristocratic nose and chin to study the commoners. The shadows of the place only make her seem more ethereal, I doubt Dorothy would let the sun color her skin. She's rather reluctant to let outside elements change her.
Not even Duo had done that. He's sitting at a table, leaning against the wall and watching the girls. The first thing you notice about that guy is his teeth, that ever present goofy smile that you just can't help mirroring.
Feeling the Duo's dynamic pull, I'm bored watching Dorothy sink another two pieces perfectly.
"Hey, gorgeous."
"Stop flattering me," I take the seat opposite him and lean against the wall myself, only turning my head to glance at him now and again. He's peering at me from the corner of his eye.
"Where's Hayate?"
"Brooding." I point at Duo's drink and wave at the waitress desperately. She smiles. She understands.
"And you just left him there?"
"Well, sure." I smile wryly. Sometimes I do that to look cute. Tonight, it was a bit necessary-my lip was still tingling. "He's in a bad mood."
Duo took another drink, watching as Dorothy crosses to the other side of the table. The blonde woman effectively ignoring Himeno's pleas and offers of money to give up her never-ending series of turns. Duo swallows noisily, with a refreshed gasp of breath, "You never cease to amaze me, Keisuke-kun. I would have thought you would be the more sensitive type. Don't you realize it's when Hayate's the gloomiest that he most needs to let his hair down."
I snicker, "And you're the one to mentor him in that area, I'm sure." Ogling that caramel colored braid of Duo's. Hayate's hair was longer than most men would let theirs go, but it was dark, coarse and manly. Duo's hair was a bit too silky making it rather pretty overall. I run my fingers through my own sandy mop chance gave me.
"I've got to break up this music." Duo pulls out his wallet just as the waitress sits down my drink with a smile. I smile back. Duo likes to break things up. He broke up with Dorothy, not that either of them would admit they were ever something together that might be broken. He broke rules shamelessly-I'm pretty sure that Four Doors has a no shirt, no shoes, no service policy. Duo always seems to lose those articles from his body the later the evening gets. And once, with no explanation at all, I got to watch him break an entire set of glass glasses. I'm so glad I don't have that snapping point most guys get pressured into.
Hayate lashes out, Duo smashes things. They're both great guys. It's just the world's piling up on their backs and they haven't yet learned to shake it off. Although, Duo fakes it pretty well.
When the journey we are making has begun,
Don't deny the feeling that is stealing through your heart,
Every happy ending needs to have a start.
It was just then that the love birds slipped in. Dorothy studies them with a displaced interest. Himeno waves enthusiastically, accidentally bumping the table with her body and spoiling Dorothy's next shot. Duo's already coaxed the juke box to play some rather horrid selection of country. I should have known better than to leave us at his music mercy.
I take another quick drink. Where's the waitress? I need another.
"Bleh, can you believe it? My car is still in the shop and I'm having my big sister tow me around." Sorata takes Duo's old seat and begs my pity with his best puppy expression. If only he had any idea how cute he is? Sorata and I go way back. We graduated from high school together, discovered porn together, got caught with it together. He's a normal, all around nice guy with the sort of simple eyes that look their best curled about in a smile. I can feel my ears turning red.
Sometimes it would be nice to have longer hair, I do believe.
"What else is new?" I fix my eyes instead on the women by the bar, Sorata's sister a tall foreboding shadow. Juri had always been sure that any serious mischief the two of us might have caused was nipped and quick. Next to her tall form was Kozue, coyly tangled with her girlfriend, of course. They were rather inseparable and older than the rest of us. They only bothered with Four Doors when Sorata's car broke down.
"Had to bring them along with, didn't ya?" Duo slaps Sorata's near shoulder with great affection and takes the next seat, reclaiming what was left at the bottom of his glass in one swallow. "You know I've always had the hots for the little one." Duo pretended to pierce his heart with the nearest eating utensil. "Kills me to see them so happy . . . without me."
"Shut up. It's embarrassing." Sorata grumbles, always slipping into his role as the younger sibling. Folding his arms on the table and slouching over, as if his comment was made in complete confidence.
"You might want to watch what you say." Dorothy appears at the end of the table. Does she ever miss a word of any conversation? "I wouldn't be surprised if you find someone to settle down with and turn into a your very own pile of slimy goo."
"You are just such a romantic." Duo quips, as Dorothy pulls a chair to the end of the table. Himeno has already slid in next to me. I'm squirming in my seat. I need another drink.
"You should talk." Dorothy arced one eyebrow, she's especially cool tonight. But when she wants to play, the conversation can certainly turn interesting. Everyone's distracted by their familiar banter, Sorata's laughing in that high pitch manner that always makes me want to laugh at him since it's so put on. Or is it that I want to laugh with him?
Can you tell that Sorata's sort of a sore point? I hate to admit it, but, when he does find the right girl, I'm going to cry all the way through the wedding.
"Don't talk like that!" Himeno says with her cute determination and idealism, "Love is a wonderful thing. Makes the most fascinating pile of goo ever." God, I love her optimism. Puts me to shame.
All my life I never really knew me 'til today,
Now I know why, I'm just another step along the way,
Weep no more for treasures you've been searching for in vain.
'Cos the truth is gently falling with the rain,
High above the forest lie the pastures of the sun,
Where the two that learned the secret are now one.
It's Sunday morning and I'm at the mall way too soon after early mass. I'm sure that God and I might have some differences of opinion, but I like to keep in touch. There's something about going every once and a while that sort of refreshes, like scrubbing all those stupid decisions from the last week and trying again. I might not always have my act together, but I want to look back at my life and agree that I made the best choices possible to benefit everyone.
I wander past the still locked stores, dark behind the iron bars. I'm on my second lap and as I pass the door I entered the third time Hayate matches my slowing step.
"Hey." I smile, I'm rather predictable in my patterns. Friday night Four Doors, Saturday Four Doors, Sunday morning mass and then a trip to the mall to walk a few laps with the old folks in town and to check out the recent DVD releases. Then the rest of Sunday at home watching my arguably well invested money. It's not really a surprise that Hayate found me, I'm easy to find.
"What's coming out this week?"
"Not much," We pass the same lady in the yellow polka dot shirt I've lapped each time. I smile at her. She smiles back. "I'm thinking about looking for something classic. Hitchcock maybe."
"Sounds . . . nice." He's trying something hard. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, a slouch in his posture.
"I suppose you still feel bad about Friday and want to buy me a make up gift?" I toss and arm across his shoulders and purr coyly. He flinches, trying still to get used to my more flamboyant moments. "Don't sweat it, Hayate. You're still okay in my book."
"I don't know why . . ."
I let the arm slip from his shoulders and give him some space. Oh my gosh, is this a confession?
"Maybe I was angry."
"You really shouldn't lash out at those you love, Hayate man." I slip in lightly, offering him every opportunity to fall back into normal brooding Hayate mode. "You're too hard on yourself, though."
"Love?" Hayate laughs sort of hoarsely, the sort that kind of rasps on the ear and sounds like a death rattle.
The silence is thick a moment. So thick that the music mix of a popular song on the radio can't cut it. I feel it might be a good thing for Hayate to loosen up. And I'm not very fond of having someone vent their frustrations on me-even if I am a smart ass. Oops, there I confessed it. Funny how Sundays will do that to me.
"You don't have to explain, just don't do it again." I sigh, "and I'll try not to be as insensitive."
Hayate doesn't say anything as we stand in front of the movie store, watching the manager unlock the gate and lift it up half way. I check my watch. Doesn't she see us right here? Waiting. Let us in already.
"You see, I have a bit of a problem." Hayate runs his finger through that hair of his, until it tangles around the clasp holding it together at the bottom, pulling a few strands free. He's going to have to re-bind them now.
"A problem?" My ears prick just as the manager finishes opening the store's guard door. We slip inside, the first ones to peruse the merchandise that morning.
"Yeah, someone from my past."
I don't know what I'm searching for
I never have opened the door,
Tomorrow might find me at last,
Turning my back on the past,
But, time will tell, of stars that fell,
A million years ago.
Make the room stop spinning. I'm in the apartment, Hayate and I had managed to make it back home by means of our separate vehicles and my newest Hitchcock lay forgotten on the coffee table, next to Friday and Saturday's forgotten dinner dishes.
The room's spinning and I don't have a drop of alcohol in my system. Except that communion wine.
Hayate even looks a little relieved, if dizzy himself. We've lived together how long and . . . now his closet door starts to open. And we're both surprised how the mistakes of our childhood can follow us into our presents. Shaping who we are, how we think, what we say. Toss in a little bit of luck. And that's how we become ourselves.
"So what do I do?" Hayate asks, imploring me. That's a first. Not many people seek out my opinion, I'm flattered, but I decide it might not be the best to mention how I'm feeling at that exact moment. Don't want to jeopardize any of my fragilely won integrity.
"Come clean, be honest with her."
"You make it sound so easy." Hayate falls back against his seat, not liking my answer.
"What do you want? Step by step instructions? For me to hold your hand through this, oh wait. That might give her the wrong idea." I laugh at my own joke, Hayate's not laughing. "I don't mean that you have to tell her how you feel. But I think you should tell her that this guy is back in the country. He was her friend too, you said."
"I don't want to share her."
"Dear Lord," I stare at the ceiling, "It's not like you have any claim on her either. The kid has no idea you're sweet on her."
The look Hayate gives me curdles the milk I had in my breakfast cereal ten hours ago.
"Well, you don't." I shake my head, "You hardly come down to Four Doors anymore. And it's not like you see Himeno anywhere else. She's not yours unless you ask her."
His scowl deepens. I wonder how long he's harbored these feelings. And of course, it's a stupid man who doesn't begin to act on them until a rival shows himself.
And whoever this Sesame fellow is, he's definitely enough of a threat to shake Hayate's monkish resolve to leave Himeno untainted. And there again is the silly male idea that their special woman might be flawless.
"Besides," I conspire wickedly, "Wouldn't it work to your advantage to tell Himeno yourself? That way you'll be by her side when she sees him next. Rather than this Sesame swooping her off her feet unexpectedly. Easy way to get ahead, huh?"
He's actually considering what I've said.
But even my best ideas cannot escape fate. There's always the unexpected variable called luck.
Memories can never take you back, home, sweet home.
You can never go home anymore.
Part Two