draft; Everyday
I'd begun writing this last year, and sort of just never thought about how to end it.
Everyday
Nishikido Ryo and Sawajiri Erika
She's not exactly sure how she ended up here.
i. everyday, of our lives
2005.
They fight all the time, and she's always the first to leave. Erika dislikes living on the edge of a precipice - she must pull back, or jump. These days, more often than not, she pulls back, scared of what she might lose, holding on with all her heart. Some days, she thinks, that she'll pull back so far and let go entirely; she's not far from it, she thinks. If this... thing with him was tangible, she'd liken it to wispy mist at the moment.
She thinks maybe she's already lost him. She thinks maybe he's already lost her.
Because even as she steps away from the irresistible edge, Ryo retreats into his impenetrable shell, frowning and sulking, arms crossed over his chest as he sits on the couch, eyes dark. She knows her voice cannot reach him now, but if she touches him she might get a little of him to come back, please Ryo, I won't hurt you anymore, I'm here, I love you. But she doesn't. The further he retreats into himself, the further she steps away, repelled by his silence, hurt by his stony expression. He isn't listening to her. It's the hedgehog's dillemma - she, too, has spikes.
So she thinks maybe all they do is hurt each other. And she thinks maybe it's best if she leaves. She'll give him space, but more than that, because Erika never gives anything halfway - a universe, a galaxy, a black hole to drown his sorrows in. She will give him these things because she thinks she is strong, chin in the air, held high. Her father taught her never to bow down to any man. Her mother never did, and that was why he loved her.
She's thankful for the work. It distracts her, makes her think there are other things in the world, and she does not have to cater to his (childish, impossible) whims. She feels better doing something with her hands. But when she comes home and he isn't there, she still feels rather empty inside, her heart beating out a hollow sound.
ii. dream a little dream of me
2007.
"You're really marrying him?"
She can't quite decipher that tone of voice. It's both empty and accusatory at the same time. The cashmere crumples under her hand - she's closed her fist without meaning to. Slowly, she unfurls her fingers one by one, focusing on the small movement.
Let go. Let go, let go. Let go, let go...
Erika folds the sweater carefully and tucks it into her luggage as she nods. "I'm really marrying him," she answers, finally. "Tsuyoshi is a good man. He can give me the life I want."
The life she wants is decadence and designer clothing; the life she wants is travel and warm sunshine. The life she wants isn't something she can live in the middle of a media storm - it's stifling, she feels like the breath is being pulled forcibly out of her lungs. Loss of flight, she can endure; loss of air is another thing entirely.
Ryo doesn't answer. He never does. Arms crossed over his chest, his eyes are dark, his jaw set. Erika hoists the bag, and he makes no move to help.
Tsuyoshi is the way out of this hell. And the exit was Ryo's apartment door. She sets the bag on her shoulder, and gives him one last kiss.
"Goodbye," she tells him, straightening. Erika opens her mouth to say more, but no words come out. So she closes it, and takes a step back.
Two steps later and he hasn't moved from his place. She whirls around, then, ready to fly.
iii. the trouble with love is
2010.
News of her divorce breaks out and spreads like wildfire. The information cannot be contained - a single comment turns into media speculation, that turns quickly into a circus, as things of the sort are wont to do.
Before they put words in her mouth, she says them herself.
Just like clockwork, he calls.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ryo asks, brusque.
"Hello to you, too," she replies, amused. "Don't I even merit a "hey, how are you doing?"
"Hey. How are you doing," he repeats, evenly. "Now what the hell are you doing, Sawajiri?"
Erika sighs, pulling the curtain away from her window. The reporters have camped out downstairs, in the pouring April rain. She could care less about the little buggers - but her mother has been fretting. Kenji remains stoic - his only response is "don't do anything you don't want to do".
He needn't have told her twice, she was going to do that anyway.
"Sawajiri?" his voice brings her back.
"I'm here," she murmurs, letting the curtain drop. "I'm sorry, I don't quite understand the question. I reckon you already know what the hell it is I'm doing." She repeats his exact enunciation. "I'm getting divorced. My brother is taking care of it now."
Ryo sighs, in that way he does when he's exasperated. He refrains from pointing out the obvious and asks again. "Why?"
She thinks about it for a long moment.
When she answers, it's sassy, cheerful. She can fake emotion just as well as the next would-be actress. "What makes you think I'll tell you when I didn't even tell the press? Please, don't take this the wrong way, but it isn't any of your business."
"But it is -" he cuts himself off, frowning. Sometimes he forgets that she isn't his problem anymore. "Are you okay?" he asks instead.
It takes her just as long as the first pause to answer.
"I'm okay," she says, softly. "I'm just tired."
iv. across the universe
Ryo is definitely like clockwork, he mails everyday after that. Maybe it's a newfound fascination for his new phone with a full keyboard, but the messages he sends are all loaded nonsense.
"Today, I'll do my best at work, too."
She finally decides to mail back. "Nishikido. I think you're mistaking my number for your j-web updates."
Do you want to go out sometime?
Despite herself, she laughs out. "No," is the short reply.
That's okay, I had a date anyway.
"Good... for you?" she doesn't include the question mark in her answer. Erika's not so sure what she's supposed to feel at this time, but that's her first real laugh in a long while, so she's thankful. Faking happiness is a tiring thing. And it's confusing - she's fairly sure she had forgotten what really being happy felt like.
How about tomorrow?
"How about never," she replies, but adds on a laughing emoji. "You're persistent."
I discovered, he answers, recently, that I'm M.
Erika flips the phone closed after that and leaves it on her dresser. The smile on her face is real.
v. hey soul sister
"Did you order already?" is the first thing she asks, sliding into the booth and taking her hat off, shaking her hair out.
Ryo's easy smirk hasn't changed in five years. He closes the menu and sets it aside - checks her out and tries not to look like he's doing it. Erika isn't as easily fooled as he thinks. "I did," he answers, nodding. "No crab. I knew you couldn't resist me."
It's as if the line zips by her from out of fucking nowhere. It takes her a second to recover. "Hai, hai~" she agrees, nodding as she reaches over, patting his head. "I am weak to your magnetic charm. I'm drawn to you like gravity. You're the most handsome man in Tokyo, and I'd be a fool not to go out with you."
"Really?" his expression changes from Casanova to eager puppy.
Her face goes flat. "No, not really." Erika pulls her hand back, but he grasps her wrist. She looks down at his fingers, confused.
Everyday
Nishikido Ryo and Sawajiri Erika
She's not exactly sure how she ended up here.
i. everyday, of our lives
2005.
They fight all the time, and she's always the first to leave. Erika dislikes living on the edge of a precipice - she must pull back, or jump. These days, more often than not, she pulls back, scared of what she might lose, holding on with all her heart. Some days, she thinks, that she'll pull back so far and let go entirely; she's not far from it, she thinks. If this... thing with him was tangible, she'd liken it to wispy mist at the moment.
She thinks maybe she's already lost him. She thinks maybe he's already lost her.
Because even as she steps away from the irresistible edge, Ryo retreats into his impenetrable shell, frowning and sulking, arms crossed over his chest as he sits on the couch, eyes dark. She knows her voice cannot reach him now, but if she touches him she might get a little of him to come back, please Ryo, I won't hurt you anymore, I'm here, I love you. But she doesn't. The further he retreats into himself, the further she steps away, repelled by his silence, hurt by his stony expression. He isn't listening to her. It's the hedgehog's dillemma - she, too, has spikes.
So she thinks maybe all they do is hurt each other. And she thinks maybe it's best if she leaves. She'll give him space, but more than that, because Erika never gives anything halfway - a universe, a galaxy, a black hole to drown his sorrows in. She will give him these things because she thinks she is strong, chin in the air, held high. Her father taught her never to bow down to any man. Her mother never did, and that was why he loved her.
She's thankful for the work. It distracts her, makes her think there are other things in the world, and she does not have to cater to his (childish, impossible) whims. She feels better doing something with her hands. But when she comes home and he isn't there, she still feels rather empty inside, her heart beating out a hollow sound.
ii. dream a little dream of me
2007.
"You're really marrying him?"
She can't quite decipher that tone of voice. It's both empty and accusatory at the same time. The cashmere crumples under her hand - she's closed her fist without meaning to. Slowly, she unfurls her fingers one by one, focusing on the small movement.
Let go. Let go, let go. Let go, let go...
Erika folds the sweater carefully and tucks it into her luggage as she nods. "I'm really marrying him," she answers, finally. "Tsuyoshi is a good man. He can give me the life I want."
The life she wants is decadence and designer clothing; the life she wants is travel and warm sunshine. The life she wants isn't something she can live in the middle of a media storm - it's stifling, she feels like the breath is being pulled forcibly out of her lungs. Loss of flight, she can endure; loss of air is another thing entirely.
Ryo doesn't answer. He never does. Arms crossed over his chest, his eyes are dark, his jaw set. Erika hoists the bag, and he makes no move to help.
Tsuyoshi is the way out of this hell. And the exit was Ryo's apartment door. She sets the bag on her shoulder, and gives him one last kiss.
"Goodbye," she tells him, straightening. Erika opens her mouth to say more, but no words come out. So she closes it, and takes a step back.
Two steps later and he hasn't moved from his place. She whirls around, then, ready to fly.
iii. the trouble with love is
2010.
News of her divorce breaks out and spreads like wildfire. The information cannot be contained - a single comment turns into media speculation, that turns quickly into a circus, as things of the sort are wont to do.
Before they put words in her mouth, she says them herself.
Just like clockwork, he calls.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ryo asks, brusque.
"Hello to you, too," she replies, amused. "Don't I even merit a "hey, how are you doing?"
"Hey. How are you doing," he repeats, evenly. "Now what the hell are you doing, Sawajiri?"
Erika sighs, pulling the curtain away from her window. The reporters have camped out downstairs, in the pouring April rain. She could care less about the little buggers - but her mother has been fretting. Kenji remains stoic - his only response is "don't do anything you don't want to do".
He needn't have told her twice, she was going to do that anyway.
"Sawajiri?" his voice brings her back.
"I'm here," she murmurs, letting the curtain drop. "I'm sorry, I don't quite understand the question. I reckon you already know what the hell it is I'm doing." She repeats his exact enunciation. "I'm getting divorced. My brother is taking care of it now."
Ryo sighs, in that way he does when he's exasperated. He refrains from pointing out the obvious and asks again. "Why?"
She thinks about it for a long moment.
When she answers, it's sassy, cheerful. She can fake emotion just as well as the next would-be actress. "What makes you think I'll tell you when I didn't even tell the press? Please, don't take this the wrong way, but it isn't any of your business."
"But it is -" he cuts himself off, frowning. Sometimes he forgets that she isn't his problem anymore. "Are you okay?" he asks instead.
It takes her just as long as the first pause to answer.
"I'm okay," she says, softly. "I'm just tired."
iv. across the universe
Ryo is definitely like clockwork, he mails everyday after that. Maybe it's a newfound fascination for his new phone with a full keyboard, but the messages he sends are all loaded nonsense.
"Today, I'll do my best at work, too."
She finally decides to mail back. "Nishikido. I think you're mistaking my number for your j-web updates."
Do you want to go out sometime?
Despite herself, she laughs out. "No," is the short reply.
That's okay, I had a date anyway.
"Good... for you?" she doesn't include the question mark in her answer. Erika's not so sure what she's supposed to feel at this time, but that's her first real laugh in a long while, so she's thankful. Faking happiness is a tiring thing. And it's confusing - she's fairly sure she had forgotten what really being happy felt like.
How about tomorrow?
"How about never," she replies, but adds on a laughing emoji. "You're persistent."
I discovered, he answers, recently, that I'm M.
Erika flips the phone closed after that and leaves it on her dresser. The smile on her face is real.
v. hey soul sister
"Did you order already?" is the first thing she asks, sliding into the booth and taking her hat off, shaking her hair out.
Ryo's easy smirk hasn't changed in five years. He closes the menu and sets it aside - checks her out and tries not to look like he's doing it. Erika isn't as easily fooled as he thinks. "I did," he answers, nodding. "No crab. I knew you couldn't resist me."
It's as if the line zips by her from out of fucking nowhere. It takes her a second to recover. "Hai, hai~" she agrees, nodding as she reaches over, patting his head. "I am weak to your magnetic charm. I'm drawn to you like gravity. You're the most handsome man in Tokyo, and I'd be a fool not to go out with you."
"Really?" his expression changes from Casanova to eager puppy.
Her face goes flat. "No, not really." Erika pulls her hand back, but he grasps her wrist. She looks down at his fingers, confused.