Half-Baked: Isn't Life Strange (9/?)
Title: Isn't Life Strange (9/?)
Fandom: Pretear, Utena, X, Gundam Wing, Fruits Basket and narrated by Keisuke (Fushigi Yuugi)
Characters/Pairings: Keisuke, Hayate, Himeno, Dorothy/Duo, Heero/Hilde, Juri/Kozue, Sorata, Sasame, Sylvia, Goh, Saitou
Word Count: 3800
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 for tulip_head. I really should finish this. Aquatinted. Well, after taking a little tangent with Human Behavior, I've returned to give Keisuke his turn again. Between the tangle of mismatched anime characters are lyrics to some Moody Blues songs. I use the lyrics as an artistic crutch honestly. They give me slivers of inspiration, but, if you asked me, I'm not sure I could pinpoint any specific connections beyond that. Chapter Nine, my gosh, already? This was actually pretty hard to write, but afterwards of course I had all these ideas bouncing around. More to come, meanwhile-enjoy... I meant for this to be longer, then I decided to break it up into two chapters instead. I've been quite surprised with the direction my characters have taken lately, I'll just trust and follow it a ways if I can. And if you can't tell by this chapter, I really want to write a pre-Half-Baked fic about Duo, Keisuke and Sorata when they were kids. It seems like such fun . . .
***
Isn't life strange
A turn of the page
Can read like before
Can we ask for more?
Each day passes by
How hard will man try?
The sea will not wait
***
Objection.
It's not something that I have to face very often. At the worst, someone frowns or raises an eyebrow. They over speak whatever might have been offending. For the most part, I'm used to others ignoring those parts of me they might not approve of.
Miaka had actually used the word once while I was in high school I had taken the last of the Ramen noodles and Mom had forgotten to make any dinner for us that night. While I was busy stuffing as much of that rubbish into my mouth as possible, Miaka had stomped her foot and pointed one finger toward the ceiling, arm completely stretched out. Of course, I didn't react to it very well then either. Nearly choking on the slimy food as it lodged partway between my throat and my mouth.
Were all of my collected objections from women? If I remember one thing of Sylvia with the utmost concreteness, it would be her final expulsion of deeply hidden and truthful opinion, "You don't know anything."
So why am I thinking about that now?
Quite simple really, this woman in front of me is insisting that I didn't listen to her. She orders a special diet for her Pekinese and because some inspired designer in need of an extra paycheck decides to change the color of the label I'm getting an earful.
"Mrs. Ebb, let me reassure you the product is exactly the same." I repeat myself feebly, alternating between trying to stay as far away from her as possible and leaning in to try and point out parts of the packaging that are similar. "We wouldn't order anything but what you wanted." I try to adjust my tactics.
"Objection!" She snaps properly through fuchsia lips. Fuchsia, I haven't seen that color in a while. It matches her pink shirt in an interesting way and I wonder if she thinks the shades are the same or if she means for them to off set each other in such striking ways.
Truth be told, I'm as close to losing my temper as I've come. Except that one time that Miaka told Mom about Sorata's shirt I hadn't returned. Of course, Mom made me take it back as soon as she knew. And I'd gotten to bicycle over to his house for the better part of the rest of the evening. But Miaka had known I meant to ~keep~ that shirt. I wouldn't have minded as much except that it happened the same night that I'd stolen the last of the Ramen.
Who says "objection" anymore these days? It's certainly a harbinger of bad things to come.
Damn, and it's only Monday.
***
Isn't life strange
A word we arrange
With no thought or care
Maker of despair
Each breath that we breathe
With love we must weave
To make us as one
***
"Keisuke," It's Hayate calling me from the living room. He's lounging on the couch, looking almost relaxed. More relaxed than I've seen him lately. But something's wrong. He has both of his overgrown feet balanced on the far arm rest and has himself spread out the rest of the way until I cross around and can see his face, hidden underneath the better part of his arm.
"Are you alright?" I ask, a bit nastily. My voice taking a bit more of a high-pitched whine to it. I suppose I'm still annoyed from the confrontation with Mrs. Ebb. She'd guaranteed me that she's only going to mainstream pet stores from now on and that supposedly family run stores like ours are lacking in sophistication. We'll see if Petco's special diets look any different.
"Thanks for asking," Hayate moans. Hmm, that's different. "I'm feeling like shit and I was wondering if you had any advil?"
"Ibuprofin?"
"Tylenol, I don't care."
I hate acting like his wife. But I try to remember his charity at Sylvia's party as I go to fill a glass with water, before he has to ask. It is my turn, and I'm not completely heartless.
"Here," I hand him the glass and more pills than he really needs. He scowls at me, squinting and I can see the strain around his eyes. I cross to sit in my chair, somehow he's permanently claimed the beat up couch, leaving me with the orange recliner. I reach up to turn out the light and we're sitting in relative darkness. I can hear him sigh with a bit of relief. Swallowing noisily for a moment, then setting down the now empty glass, almost dropping it. He keeps it from falling over, and lets the extra pills spill across the coffee table.
The only light now the blue green glow of the fish tank.
"I feel like I have someone beating my skull with drum sticks." Hayate murmurs between his teeth, I almost don't catch some of the words.
"I guess you're not going out tonight."
"It's after nine, no." Hayate laughs hoarsely, "Oh, any my head hurts."
"Maybe you have sunstroke!" I say enthusiastically. Sitting together in the near darkness like this feels strange. And vulnerable, so we've put on our sarcastic faces tonight I guess.
But apparently Hayate didn't get that memo, he continues, whispering. "Something's wrong with me, that's for sure."
"You mean that little thing of you turning coward whenever that Sasame guy puts the moves on Himeno?" If he's opening the door, I'll follow him.
"You don't get it yet, Keisuke?"
"What, that you're not even trying to get your girl? And it seems like the two of you go way back. You worked for her dad, Hayate." If he's going to use my name against me, I can use his. It's sort of funny that everything extra I know about Hayate at this point has been learned by eavesdropping for the most part.
"It's not that I don't want to be with her. It's just that I . . ."
"Dear God, you're pathetic." But as soon as I say it, I wish I hadn't interrupted. Because he clams up tighter than Dorothy's lips when Duo starts irrationally smashing glasses.
"You're leaving yourself wide open with that one." And now he annoys me because he's gracefully sidestepping the old argument I've invited. "Don't talk so loudly . . ."
"I guess I'm bad at pep talks." I shudder, remembering once when I'd tried to patch Miaka and her boyfriend back together. It had worked then, but in order to encourage Hayate now I have to believe again that love does conquer all. That love was something, the only thing, guaranteed in our lives. While I might not be as quick to consol Hayate now that I've got a few years under my belt, I can still blush at how beautifully cliché my feelings can be. Can still be. When I daydream about the right guy. "But I understand how you feel."
"I know you do."
***
Isn't life strange
A turn of a page
A book without light
Unless with love we write;
To throw it away
To lose just a day
The quicksand of time
***
Neither of us made it out until that Friday. Hayate missed his first days of work. The headache seemed the precipitation of something a bit more vicious attacking his health. I played nurse-maid with a great deal of more willingness than I had the first night. Handing out vitamins and Halls, Kleenex and even managed to get manly Hayate to try one cup of herbal tea when doused with enough honey to make it bearable. I promised him that once he was healthy enough to defend himself, I wasn't going to let him live that fact down.
I sort of reveled in getting to play doctor, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let Hayate know that.
"Hayate!" Duo lights up as my roommate sits down. We've come early to Four Doors with the idea that we would leave earlier also. Not that it factored in terribly much, but Heero's sprints were the first exhibition of Saturday's race. Duo apparently had been playing solitaire and began pulling the cards in toward himself as we sat down. "Keisuke's been giving us updates, and it appears once again that the rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated."
"Not so," Hayate half-grinned in what he must have considered his attempt at humor. Oh boy, he must be feeling better to sound so lame. And we must have been spending too much time in close quarters for me to be this ungracious toward him.
Tempering myself, I turn to Duo, "All by yourself tonight?"
"So far." Duo shrugged, "And most of this whole week."
"What are you saying?" I start to laugh, "Don't you have better things to do than to come here every night?"
"Well, I suppose . . . since I've been coming here just long enough to hook up with Kazuma and go over a few things." Duo began to rub his hands on either side of his beer like he were rolling a gigantic cigarette, "His girlfriend apparently has had it with Kazuma's new band obsession and we're meeting in secret for a while until she calms down."
"Girlfriend?"
"Yeah, the self-centered trim girl who played the keyboard last weekend." Duo notes our nodding, "Kazuma says she just doesn't take very well to new things and in a few weeks she'll be back to normal."
"Especially if she's going to be your keyboardist." I shake my head.
"Tell me about it." Duo glances over my far shoulder and I turn to see Imari hovering by us. She has her thick red hair pulled back again, but this time she's a bit more modestly dressed than I've seen her last. "Hey, Imari, no date tonight huh?" He leans over into Hayate speaking in a stage whisper. "I was just telling her that outfit screams 'hands off I'm taken' just earlier."
Imari shifts from one foot to another, apparently a bit flustered and trying to decide if it was worth losing her cool over. Apparently someone else's personality was rubbing off on her as she said roguishly, "And apparently the message has worked, hasn't it?" She tosses her head and goes off to help someone else.
"I hope she knows what we want." Hayate twists in his seat to see her talking to another table of older cowboys.
"Imari'll know." Duo brushes my roommate's concern aside, "She's seeing that foppish handyman that helps set up our music."
"Sano?" I feel my spirits lift. "That's good news." If Imari's blissfully happy in love, then all is right with the rest of the universe again.
"She's not the only one with good news." Duo watches me pointedly, "I suppose you've heard from Sorata?"
My lower lip slips away from the upper one as my jaw loosens. Thankfully, Hayate wants to be a junior ventriloquist, I hear my question come from his voice, "No, we haven't. What's up?"
"You remember that fortune old Scharmie gave Sorata when we were kids and stole Juri's car for a weekend trip?" Duo's still talking and I'm remembering rather perfectly the wildness of that experience. Duo had just transferred in and stolen our imaginations away with his crazy antics and schemes. That was where Duo had heard a live sax performer and found his dream. Then a pretty prostitute that told us stories about her life none of us would forget had rescued the three of us from a flat tire. And as we finally rolled through a small town on our way home, we'd decided to stop at a shady looking old whole of a shack that had darkly drawn curtains and a sign reading "fortunes."
"About the Asian woman that would shred his heart to pieces like a Samurai?" I raise an eyebrow. Madam Scharmie had coaxed us one by one into her back room which was separated only by a dark curtain with golden suns and moons dotting it. Of course, we had been able to hear everything in spite of the appearance of confidentiality.
"What's this?" Hayate encourages, intrigued.
"Bingo." Duo snaps a finger at me like a gun and clicks his tongue.
"So?" I'm feeling a little dense, or I don't want to guess.
"I'm going to let him tell you, Keisuke. But I don't think you're really going to like it," Duo almost looks sympathetic until Hayate persists with his questioning. I hardly have time to react, but I have a feeling that Duo's trying to give me a friendly warning.
"She told me I was going to die at the age twenty-four of a hideous contraction of my small intestines." Duo chortles, his brown bangs vibrating with belly laughs. Apparently, Duo's fondness for the memories of that weekend are as strong as my own.
"What did she tell you?" Hayate turns to me, his blue eyes amused flashing darkly. It reminds me of the nature music that Scharmie had playing in some hidden corner of her back room. I had been the last of us to pass her curtains and had nearly knocked the wind out of myself from walking into the chair she intended for me to sit in. Recovering, and holding by stomach in sympathy, I had let her take my other hand.
Studying my palm, she traced the lines with the edge of her finger's nail. Strangely violating even though she was only holding my hand. The edge of her sleeve brushing against the table top. The only light, an internal glow from the crystal ball she neglected. She mumbled to herself, the low chanting voice I had only heard from outside before, this time they were recognizable words. "Two loves, no real interest in women." She had peered at me a moment in the near darkness and hummed and hawed to herself a bit more. "You will have no real success in your job. Loneliness." I had never been that impressed with my hands before, that evening I certainly wasn't.
"From the objected, you will learn of sacrifice, truth and love."
"Objected?" Hayate laughs, almost snorting his drink that Imari brought us just before. "Not rejected? Not neglected or subjected?" Duo joins in, apparently he can't help himself either. I sit across from them patiently. The giggling fit would subside after they recovered from missing each other's company.
I needn't point out that while Madam Scharmie was classic she was far from reliable. Duo at twenty-eight had long exceeded his expiration date.
***
Just in a simple conversation
You can hear the feeling change
Like a river running down
Down to the sea
And if you need an explanation
I defy you to explain
But something's not the same
And it's bothering me
***
So I've become a little uneasy. It's been a rough week. After nursing Hayate back to his health it felt like we both emerged from beneath the surface of an oil spill in order to find the rig itself had sailed past us. Losing touch with the gang had never seemed so important before. But now each day took us farther away from where we wanted to be or even from where we were.
Oddly enough, I feel as if I'm being pulled elsewhere. It started when Hilde called Saturday morning. Hayate and I had managed to convince Duo to retire from Four Doors at a reasonable hour and after sleeping soundly, her wake up call wasn't as nearly as annoying as it could have been.
Her voice, so characteristically enthusiastic, cracked a little as she proudly commented about how Heero's times behind the wheel were earning him some real recognition. I don't know about that, but with Hilde cheering him along, Heero might just be able to accomplish anything. I remember the way they share entire thoughts with a familiar glance or with a shake of their similarly trimmed short hair. Remember me mentioning how I'd mistaken them for siblings? It's really peculiar, but they have the same high angled nose and Prussian blue eyes and dark, dark hair that they keep cut short. In some cases, opposites attract, but those two were peas of the same pod.
"So what time are you going to be there?"
"We figured we'd leave by about four." I cast a glance toward Hayate's closed door. I suspect he's going to sleep away most of the day. You wouldn't know it for looking at him, but Hayate covets his sleep much more than the average person. "If I can get Hayate out of bed . . ."
"Keisuke, you have to!" Hilde's voice lifts a pitch, she usually has a rather sultry voice, so the change is dramatic and playful. Unexpected for how petite she is. I can just imagine her now taking the phone in both hands and glaring into it. With Hilde there is no silence, she's always cooing or making sounds in her throat. Filling the space with comfortableness that I admire.
"No worries." I chuckle, pacing the apartment in my socks. Shuffling. Honestly, I'm a little restless. I couldn't help wondering about Himeno. And wondering what was behind Hayate's reluctance.
"Later then." Hilde's tone cheerful again, "I've got to go drag Mr. Yuy's butt out of bed myself."
I tend to get a great deal done on Saturday mornings. I look at the garbage and consider taking it out. I open the dishwasher and check to make sure it's full. The sink sure is. I glance in the refrigerator and consider the many tupperwares that have been in there just a bit too long. Months. The spaghetti sauce in the back was Saionji's if that tells you anything. I wonder how far back in the storage closet the vacuum has gotten itself. And if we ever did put it together. Perhaps if I simply take a shower, that'll be enough to rinse out the tub. Ultimately, I make my way to the living room. Scoot the opened and unopened bills from the recliner onto the coffee table corner not littered by dishes and sit.
Then I watch cartoons.
Hayate still hasn't made an appearance by the next time the phone rings. I don't want to answer it, since most likely it's that horrid telephone company that thinks I need to switch over to them. That and I'm starting to get hungry.
"Hey, Keisuke, want to get something to eat?"
"You've read my mind." Thud. Well, if it isn't Sorata coming to my rescue. I haven't seen him in a week. "Duo said you had some news."
He's quiet a moment. Nothing quite like silence on the phone to make you really uncomfortable. It's empty space while you stand alone in one room while someone else is standing somewhere else doing who knows what, except talking of course. But it's only a moment, "He doesn't know the half of it." Sorata's still speaking lightly, but a new grave Sorata has taken his place noticeably. "But this isn't something you can talk about on the phone. Do you want to meet at that particular time, in that particular place?"
He's teasing me. Whenever I'm overly nervous, I can tend to get vague. Proper pronouns and clear descriptions completely escape me. If Sorata's saying that, he's not nervous. He's serious.
It's my turn to be overly quiet. Then I realize that this might be that moment I was always trying to be ready for. The moment when I have to either object, or . . . or something else.
"You don't mean? You haven't? You are?" I surprise myself. The light glee, the friendly inquisition-somehow I manage it. My hopes re-knitting themselves into self-acceptance. I can handle this. I can be supportive. I will never be given the opportunity to be anything else. "You're pregnant?
"How did you guess?" His relief is obvious as the Sorata voice I've come to love returns. "But honestly, Keisuke . . ." The strange pause again. Why doesn't he just say it?
Or can't he? Does he really need my permission? If I can give him anything, it's that.
"You've found the girl of your dreams, haven't you?" I coax, loving his uncertainty more than anything else I've loved in this world. More than my autographed picture of David Duchovny. Well of course, this is Sorata. I love him more than anything.
"She's more than I ever expected."
***
You know it makes me want to cry, cry, cry-
Wished I could be in your heart
To be one with your love
Wished I could be in your eyes
Looking back there you were, and here we are.
***
Part Eight / Part Ten
Fandom: Pretear, Utena, X, Gundam Wing, Fruits Basket and narrated by Keisuke (Fushigi Yuugi)
Characters/Pairings: Keisuke, Hayate, Himeno, Dorothy/Duo, Heero/Hilde, Juri/Kozue, Sorata, Sasame, Sylvia, Goh, Saitou
Word Count: 3800
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 for tulip_head. I really should finish this. Aquatinted. Well, after taking a little tangent with Human Behavior, I've returned to give Keisuke his turn again. Between the tangle of mismatched anime characters are lyrics to some Moody Blues songs. I use the lyrics as an artistic crutch honestly. They give me slivers of inspiration, but, if you asked me, I'm not sure I could pinpoint any specific connections beyond that. Chapter Nine, my gosh, already? This was actually pretty hard to write, but afterwards of course I had all these ideas bouncing around. More to come, meanwhile-enjoy... I meant for this to be longer, then I decided to break it up into two chapters instead. I've been quite surprised with the direction my characters have taken lately, I'll just trust and follow it a ways if I can. And if you can't tell by this chapter, I really want to write a pre-Half-Baked fic about Duo, Keisuke and Sorata when they were kids. It seems like such fun . . .
Click to view***
Isn't life strange
A turn of the page
Can read like before
Can we ask for more?
Each day passes by
How hard will man try?
The sea will not wait
***
Objection.
It's not something that I have to face very often. At the worst, someone frowns or raises an eyebrow. They over speak whatever might have been offending. For the most part, I'm used to others ignoring those parts of me they might not approve of.
Miaka had actually used the word once while I was in high school I had taken the last of the Ramen noodles and Mom had forgotten to make any dinner for us that night. While I was busy stuffing as much of that rubbish into my mouth as possible, Miaka had stomped her foot and pointed one finger toward the ceiling, arm completely stretched out. Of course, I didn't react to it very well then either. Nearly choking on the slimy food as it lodged partway between my throat and my mouth.
Were all of my collected objections from women? If I remember one thing of Sylvia with the utmost concreteness, it would be her final expulsion of deeply hidden and truthful opinion, "You don't know anything."
So why am I thinking about that now?
Quite simple really, this woman in front of me is insisting that I didn't listen to her. She orders a special diet for her Pekinese and because some inspired designer in need of an extra paycheck decides to change the color of the label I'm getting an earful.
"Mrs. Ebb, let me reassure you the product is exactly the same." I repeat myself feebly, alternating between trying to stay as far away from her as possible and leaning in to try and point out parts of the packaging that are similar. "We wouldn't order anything but what you wanted." I try to adjust my tactics.
"Objection!" She snaps properly through fuchsia lips. Fuchsia, I haven't seen that color in a while. It matches her pink shirt in an interesting way and I wonder if she thinks the shades are the same or if she means for them to off set each other in such striking ways.
Truth be told, I'm as close to losing my temper as I've come. Except that one time that Miaka told Mom about Sorata's shirt I hadn't returned. Of course, Mom made me take it back as soon as she knew. And I'd gotten to bicycle over to his house for the better part of the rest of the evening. But Miaka had known I meant to ~keep~ that shirt. I wouldn't have minded as much except that it happened the same night that I'd stolen the last of the Ramen.
Who says "objection" anymore these days? It's certainly a harbinger of bad things to come.
Damn, and it's only Monday.
***
Isn't life strange
A word we arrange
With no thought or care
Maker of despair
Each breath that we breathe
With love we must weave
To make us as one
***
"Keisuke," It's Hayate calling me from the living room. He's lounging on the couch, looking almost relaxed. More relaxed than I've seen him lately. But something's wrong. He has both of his overgrown feet balanced on the far arm rest and has himself spread out the rest of the way until I cross around and can see his face, hidden underneath the better part of his arm.
"Are you alright?" I ask, a bit nastily. My voice taking a bit more of a high-pitched whine to it. I suppose I'm still annoyed from the confrontation with Mrs. Ebb. She'd guaranteed me that she's only going to mainstream pet stores from now on and that supposedly family run stores like ours are lacking in sophistication. We'll see if Petco's special diets look any different.
"Thanks for asking," Hayate moans. Hmm, that's different. "I'm feeling like shit and I was wondering if you had any advil?"
"Ibuprofin?"
"Tylenol, I don't care."
I hate acting like his wife. But I try to remember his charity at Sylvia's party as I go to fill a glass with water, before he has to ask. It is my turn, and I'm not completely heartless.
"Here," I hand him the glass and more pills than he really needs. He scowls at me, squinting and I can see the strain around his eyes. I cross to sit in my chair, somehow he's permanently claimed the beat up couch, leaving me with the orange recliner. I reach up to turn out the light and we're sitting in relative darkness. I can hear him sigh with a bit of relief. Swallowing noisily for a moment, then setting down the now empty glass, almost dropping it. He keeps it from falling over, and lets the extra pills spill across the coffee table.
The only light now the blue green glow of the fish tank.
"I feel like I have someone beating my skull with drum sticks." Hayate murmurs between his teeth, I almost don't catch some of the words.
"I guess you're not going out tonight."
"It's after nine, no." Hayate laughs hoarsely, "Oh, any my head hurts."
"Maybe you have sunstroke!" I say enthusiastically. Sitting together in the near darkness like this feels strange. And vulnerable, so we've put on our sarcastic faces tonight I guess.
But apparently Hayate didn't get that memo, he continues, whispering. "Something's wrong with me, that's for sure."
"You mean that little thing of you turning coward whenever that Sasame guy puts the moves on Himeno?" If he's opening the door, I'll follow him.
"You don't get it yet, Keisuke?"
"What, that you're not even trying to get your girl? And it seems like the two of you go way back. You worked for her dad, Hayate." If he's going to use my name against me, I can use his. It's sort of funny that everything extra I know about Hayate at this point has been learned by eavesdropping for the most part.
"It's not that I don't want to be with her. It's just that I . . ."
"Dear God, you're pathetic." But as soon as I say it, I wish I hadn't interrupted. Because he clams up tighter than Dorothy's lips when Duo starts irrationally smashing glasses.
"You're leaving yourself wide open with that one." And now he annoys me because he's gracefully sidestepping the old argument I've invited. "Don't talk so loudly . . ."
"I guess I'm bad at pep talks." I shudder, remembering once when I'd tried to patch Miaka and her boyfriend back together. It had worked then, but in order to encourage Hayate now I have to believe again that love does conquer all. That love was something, the only thing, guaranteed in our lives. While I might not be as quick to consol Hayate now that I've got a few years under my belt, I can still blush at how beautifully cliché my feelings can be. Can still be. When I daydream about the right guy. "But I understand how you feel."
"I know you do."
***
Isn't life strange
A turn of a page
A book without light
Unless with love we write;
To throw it away
To lose just a day
The quicksand of time
***
Neither of us made it out until that Friday. Hayate missed his first days of work. The headache seemed the precipitation of something a bit more vicious attacking his health. I played nurse-maid with a great deal of more willingness than I had the first night. Handing out vitamins and Halls, Kleenex and even managed to get manly Hayate to try one cup of herbal tea when doused with enough honey to make it bearable. I promised him that once he was healthy enough to defend himself, I wasn't going to let him live that fact down.
I sort of reveled in getting to play doctor, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let Hayate know that.
"Hayate!" Duo lights up as my roommate sits down. We've come early to Four Doors with the idea that we would leave earlier also. Not that it factored in terribly much, but Heero's sprints were the first exhibition of Saturday's race. Duo apparently had been playing solitaire and began pulling the cards in toward himself as we sat down. "Keisuke's been giving us updates, and it appears once again that the rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated."
"Not so," Hayate half-grinned in what he must have considered his attempt at humor. Oh boy, he must be feeling better to sound so lame. And we must have been spending too much time in close quarters for me to be this ungracious toward him.
Tempering myself, I turn to Duo, "All by yourself tonight?"
"So far." Duo shrugged, "And most of this whole week."
"What are you saying?" I start to laugh, "Don't you have better things to do than to come here every night?"
"Well, I suppose . . . since I've been coming here just long enough to hook up with Kazuma and go over a few things." Duo began to rub his hands on either side of his beer like he were rolling a gigantic cigarette, "His girlfriend apparently has had it with Kazuma's new band obsession and we're meeting in secret for a while until she calms down."
"Girlfriend?"
"Yeah, the self-centered trim girl who played the keyboard last weekend." Duo notes our nodding, "Kazuma says she just doesn't take very well to new things and in a few weeks she'll be back to normal."
"Especially if she's going to be your keyboardist." I shake my head.
"Tell me about it." Duo glances over my far shoulder and I turn to see Imari hovering by us. She has her thick red hair pulled back again, but this time she's a bit more modestly dressed than I've seen her last. "Hey, Imari, no date tonight huh?" He leans over into Hayate speaking in a stage whisper. "I was just telling her that outfit screams 'hands off I'm taken' just earlier."
Imari shifts from one foot to another, apparently a bit flustered and trying to decide if it was worth losing her cool over. Apparently someone else's personality was rubbing off on her as she said roguishly, "And apparently the message has worked, hasn't it?" She tosses her head and goes off to help someone else.
"I hope she knows what we want." Hayate twists in his seat to see her talking to another table of older cowboys.
"Imari'll know." Duo brushes my roommate's concern aside, "She's seeing that foppish handyman that helps set up our music."
"Sano?" I feel my spirits lift. "That's good news." If Imari's blissfully happy in love, then all is right with the rest of the universe again.
"She's not the only one with good news." Duo watches me pointedly, "I suppose you've heard from Sorata?"
My lower lip slips away from the upper one as my jaw loosens. Thankfully, Hayate wants to be a junior ventriloquist, I hear my question come from his voice, "No, we haven't. What's up?"
"You remember that fortune old Scharmie gave Sorata when we were kids and stole Juri's car for a weekend trip?" Duo's still talking and I'm remembering rather perfectly the wildness of that experience. Duo had just transferred in and stolen our imaginations away with his crazy antics and schemes. That was where Duo had heard a live sax performer and found his dream. Then a pretty prostitute that told us stories about her life none of us would forget had rescued the three of us from a flat tire. And as we finally rolled through a small town on our way home, we'd decided to stop at a shady looking old whole of a shack that had darkly drawn curtains and a sign reading "fortunes."
"About the Asian woman that would shred his heart to pieces like a Samurai?" I raise an eyebrow. Madam Scharmie had coaxed us one by one into her back room which was separated only by a dark curtain with golden suns and moons dotting it. Of course, we had been able to hear everything in spite of the appearance of confidentiality.
"What's this?" Hayate encourages, intrigued.
"Bingo." Duo snaps a finger at me like a gun and clicks his tongue.
"So?" I'm feeling a little dense, or I don't want to guess.
"I'm going to let him tell you, Keisuke. But I don't think you're really going to like it," Duo almost looks sympathetic until Hayate persists with his questioning. I hardly have time to react, but I have a feeling that Duo's trying to give me a friendly warning.
"She told me I was going to die at the age twenty-four of a hideous contraction of my small intestines." Duo chortles, his brown bangs vibrating with belly laughs. Apparently, Duo's fondness for the memories of that weekend are as strong as my own.
"What did she tell you?" Hayate turns to me, his blue eyes amused flashing darkly. It reminds me of the nature music that Scharmie had playing in some hidden corner of her back room. I had been the last of us to pass her curtains and had nearly knocked the wind out of myself from walking into the chair she intended for me to sit in. Recovering, and holding by stomach in sympathy, I had let her take my other hand.
Studying my palm, she traced the lines with the edge of her finger's nail. Strangely violating even though she was only holding my hand. The edge of her sleeve brushing against the table top. The only light, an internal glow from the crystal ball she neglected. She mumbled to herself, the low chanting voice I had only heard from outside before, this time they were recognizable words. "Two loves, no real interest in women." She had peered at me a moment in the near darkness and hummed and hawed to herself a bit more. "You will have no real success in your job. Loneliness." I had never been that impressed with my hands before, that evening I certainly wasn't.
"From the objected, you will learn of sacrifice, truth and love."
"Objected?" Hayate laughs, almost snorting his drink that Imari brought us just before. "Not rejected? Not neglected or subjected?" Duo joins in, apparently he can't help himself either. I sit across from them patiently. The giggling fit would subside after they recovered from missing each other's company.
I needn't point out that while Madam Scharmie was classic she was far from reliable. Duo at twenty-eight had long exceeded his expiration date.
***
Just in a simple conversation
You can hear the feeling change
Like a river running down
Down to the sea
And if you need an explanation
I defy you to explain
But something's not the same
And it's bothering me
***
So I've become a little uneasy. It's been a rough week. After nursing Hayate back to his health it felt like we both emerged from beneath the surface of an oil spill in order to find the rig itself had sailed past us. Losing touch with the gang had never seemed so important before. But now each day took us farther away from where we wanted to be or even from where we were.
Oddly enough, I feel as if I'm being pulled elsewhere. It started when Hilde called Saturday morning. Hayate and I had managed to convince Duo to retire from Four Doors at a reasonable hour and after sleeping soundly, her wake up call wasn't as nearly as annoying as it could have been.
Her voice, so characteristically enthusiastic, cracked a little as she proudly commented about how Heero's times behind the wheel were earning him some real recognition. I don't know about that, but with Hilde cheering him along, Heero might just be able to accomplish anything. I remember the way they share entire thoughts with a familiar glance or with a shake of their similarly trimmed short hair. Remember me mentioning how I'd mistaken them for siblings? It's really peculiar, but they have the same high angled nose and Prussian blue eyes and dark, dark hair that they keep cut short. In some cases, opposites attract, but those two were peas of the same pod.
"So what time are you going to be there?"
"We figured we'd leave by about four." I cast a glance toward Hayate's closed door. I suspect he's going to sleep away most of the day. You wouldn't know it for looking at him, but Hayate covets his sleep much more than the average person. "If I can get Hayate out of bed . . ."
"Keisuke, you have to!" Hilde's voice lifts a pitch, she usually has a rather sultry voice, so the change is dramatic and playful. Unexpected for how petite she is. I can just imagine her now taking the phone in both hands and glaring into it. With Hilde there is no silence, she's always cooing or making sounds in her throat. Filling the space with comfortableness that I admire.
"No worries." I chuckle, pacing the apartment in my socks. Shuffling. Honestly, I'm a little restless. I couldn't help wondering about Himeno. And wondering what was behind Hayate's reluctance.
"Later then." Hilde's tone cheerful again, "I've got to go drag Mr. Yuy's butt out of bed myself."
I tend to get a great deal done on Saturday mornings. I look at the garbage and consider taking it out. I open the dishwasher and check to make sure it's full. The sink sure is. I glance in the refrigerator and consider the many tupperwares that have been in there just a bit too long. Months. The spaghetti sauce in the back was Saionji's if that tells you anything. I wonder how far back in the storage closet the vacuum has gotten itself. And if we ever did put it together. Perhaps if I simply take a shower, that'll be enough to rinse out the tub. Ultimately, I make my way to the living room. Scoot the opened and unopened bills from the recliner onto the coffee table corner not littered by dishes and sit.
Then I watch cartoons.
Hayate still hasn't made an appearance by the next time the phone rings. I don't want to answer it, since most likely it's that horrid telephone company that thinks I need to switch over to them. That and I'm starting to get hungry.
"Hey, Keisuke, want to get something to eat?"
"You've read my mind." Thud. Well, if it isn't Sorata coming to my rescue. I haven't seen him in a week. "Duo said you had some news."
He's quiet a moment. Nothing quite like silence on the phone to make you really uncomfortable. It's empty space while you stand alone in one room while someone else is standing somewhere else doing who knows what, except talking of course. But it's only a moment, "He doesn't know the half of it." Sorata's still speaking lightly, but a new grave Sorata has taken his place noticeably. "But this isn't something you can talk about on the phone. Do you want to meet at that particular time, in that particular place?"
He's teasing me. Whenever I'm overly nervous, I can tend to get vague. Proper pronouns and clear descriptions completely escape me. If Sorata's saying that, he's not nervous. He's serious.
It's my turn to be overly quiet. Then I realize that this might be that moment I was always trying to be ready for. The moment when I have to either object, or . . . or something else.
"You don't mean? You haven't? You are?" I surprise myself. The light glee, the friendly inquisition-somehow I manage it. My hopes re-knitting themselves into self-acceptance. I can handle this. I can be supportive. I will never be given the opportunity to be anything else. "You're pregnant?
"How did you guess?" His relief is obvious as the Sorata voice I've come to love returns. "But honestly, Keisuke . . ." The strange pause again. Why doesn't he just say it?
Or can't he? Does he really need my permission? If I can give him anything, it's that.
"You've found the girl of your dreams, haven't you?" I coax, loving his uncertainty more than anything else I've loved in this world. More than my autographed picture of David Duchovny. Well of course, this is Sorata. I love him more than anything.
"She's more than I ever expected."
***
You know it makes me want to cry, cry, cry-
Wished I could be in your heart
To be one with your love
Wished I could be in your eyes
Looking back there you were, and here we are.
***
Part Eight / Part Ten