fic; Notes on a Scandal
Title: Notes on a Scandal
Characters: Nishikido Ryo & Sawajiri Erika
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Owned by Johnny's Entertainment and El Extraterrestre/Avex. Not mine, just messing with.
Summary: Oh, I have loved you for so long. In which Ryo and Erika take measure of their roles in each other's lives, four years after the scandal.
48) Waves - remembered by none
He looks back at the path they've taken, and realizes that it's much like walking along the sea at midnight; there are no traces of their lives in each others', and he feels strangely empty for that.
For kitsune714 , a long overdue prompt. Took me almost as much time as the timespan in this fic! And sinonymity , with my thanks.
I've been tinkering with this for about a month.
“Come in,” was all she said, stepping aside to allow him into the foyer. Ryo entered cautiously, taking note of his surroundings. The interior of her apartment was painted a warm peach and decorated with photographs. He counted five frames just on the mantel by the doorway. Erika bent down and set a pair of slippers before his feet. He put them on.
“Tea?” she offered, making her way further inside. He nodded, trailing after her, sitting down when instructed. More photos littered every available surface, from the side-table beside the couch, to the frames hanging from the walls. Ryo didn’t notice that he had lingered on one; she pointed it out. He turned to her then, as she explained. “It’s recent. About four months ago? In Kanagawa.” Erika smiled at him, and he found himself returning it with a half-smirk. “It was a beautiful day.”
“You seem happy,” he began.
Erika thought for a moment, and then nodded. “I’ve found a comfortable spot to be,” she replied, moving to pour the tea into delicate cups gilded with gold. “Has anything changed for you at all?”
Ryo didn’t answer.
“Ah.”
2007.
A single text message: “Let’s go.”
Half an hour later he found himself driving with the top down with the GPS guiding them to a seaside - any fucking seaside. Erika rubbed the sleep from her eyes with one hand, holding down her hair with another; only yesterday it was shoulder length and no further, but now it hung well past the middle of her back in a cascade of curls.
The only thing I’m good at is change, she’d told him once. Slipping in and out of character like a recently freed minnow, barely a splash disturbed. He admired it about her, often thought it was something that they had in common.
It took them two hours to get to Shōnan. The first thing she did upon arrival was take off her shoes. Ten steps ahead of him, she suggested that they walk.
Only crazy people come to the beach in the middle of winter, and only crazy people take off their shoes doing so. He told her as much but Erika doesn’t listen to anybody. “The water’s freezing,” she yelled, with a voice half-shaky with laughter, half with the cold. She let the waves tickle her toes, anyway. If ‘tickle’ was the word for it; Ryo slipped his foot out of one sneaker and extended his toes experimentally into the water. Tiny pinpricks of pure ice covered the skin of his feet. He pulled back in surprise - Sawajiri Erika is absolutely fucking insane.
He looked up. The sun was setting, already half-sunk into the water. Minutes later, the floodlights along the beach turned on, confusing the seagulls. Ryo followed the water and found her crouched down, writing on the damp sand with a small twig.
I am.
Ryo waited for her to write some more, but she took his hand and used his arm to pull herself up. He lifted her up, grunting softly. Once she was on her feet, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began walking. His figure dwarfed hers. Their shadows blended into one huge moving blob, occasionally disturbed by the passing wave. She slipped her hands into her coat pockets.
They walked in silence until they reached the edge of a rundown dock. When he looked back, he was surprised to see how far they’d traveled. She kicked at a stray piece of driftwood, watched it make a small splash in the water and disappear.
Ryo’s trying to think of metaphors, but there aren’t any. Not any that they haven’t used between them before, anyway. He shook his head and reached into his pocket, closing his hand around a small box.
“Sawajiri.”
“I heard that you were doing 24 Hour Terebi again this year.” Her voice cut into his consciousness, brought him back to the present time. Ryo looked up to find her giving him a look of mild concern as she brought the teacup to her lips.
“We are,” he replied, taking a sip off his own. Bitter. She remembered.
“Are you going to be okay?”
He must have looked like he was wondering what she meant, because she continued on. “The last time you did it, you got sick. What have I said about working just a touch too hard?”
“Says the person who worked herself to a burnout.” He gave her a winning smile. “I’m going to be fine. I was already sick before we even went on air, remember? It was swine flu season back then.”
“That’s exactly what I meant,” she returned, shaking her head as she dropped in two more sugar cubes into her cup. “I know what burnout feels like. It’s not good for you, Ryo.”
“It wasn’t good for us.” Ryo hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but there it was. He looked to her for a reaction, but Erika only stirred her tea, once clockwise, twice in the opposite direction.
“No, but we learned.”
The look in her eyes is that of pure incredulity. “Nishikido, you know that I can’t, right?” Erika choked out, staring at the contents of the box, then back up at him.
“This is yours,” he insisted. Ryo took the ring out from the box but didn’t hold it out to her - instead he took off the tiny cushion holding it and revealed a chain, slipping the ring through it. “We’ll be together someday, you know that, right? This is yours.”
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” she said helplessly.
“Accept it, anyway.” He reached over and hung the necklace ‘round her neck, fastening the clasp. The diamond glittered, catching the strobe lights and refracting. It was an impressive rock, but what’s important now is the heart that he is freely giving her.
“I’m glad,” Erika began later, setting her empty cup back down on its matching saucer, “to see that you’re doing well.”
The words seem trite, but this is Erika after all. He knew her well enough to have understood long ago that she kept things close to the chest, economical in her actions. For all her seeming flair for the dramatic, no one can really know what’s in Erika’s heart except herself.
“You, too,” was all he could say, draining his cup. In a way, he was reflecting her actions - this quieter Erika, so different from the one he’d met a thousand years ago, was only just a little unsettling. “An AVEX contract, I heard. So maybe...”
Maybe one day, she’ll sing again.
“Maybe.” Erika shrugged, and he marveled at her ability to still finish his thoughts for him, after all this time. She turned her head, looked out towards the balcony and beyond. From his seat he could see that she was growing flowers, and that some of them were abloom. He turned to her when she straightened and excused herself, watched her walk into a separate room, closing the door behind her.
Sometimes, he thought about Things; they’re asked often enough about them each time they pose for a magazine. What is Nishikido kun’s ideal type?, it often went. When do you see yourself getting married? At one point in his life, he can remember exactly, he had wanted to marry in his mid-20s, to a nice girl he could introduce to the family, and the family rice cooker, and the family dog. At one point in his life, he can remember exactly, he had wanted nothing more than to gatecrash a certain wedding, 300 photographers be damned to hell, take the bride’s hand and run, run. He had been certain, then, that she would run with him, bridal kimono and all, stumbling in her slippers, and the scenario would take on the rose glow of a beautiful sunset, and he, the hero, wins.
Nowadays he thinks different. He smiles and says things that are true, because at the end of the day what’s in his heart hasn’t really changed. He still wants to marry a nice girl who will cook and clean for him, who will let him lay his head down on her lap when he’s tired, whom he will write songs for, who will fuel his acting ability when he is asked to offer his latest co-star his love.
Only, the girl in these thoughts has changed. It’s taken him a while to come to this, and he was sure that she had arrived at the same conclusion: the answer to would it be okay if I loved someone else? had always been yes, yes of course.
She returned a few minutes later, holding something in her hand that he couldn’t yet see. Erika sat down and breathed in deeply - after she sighed, she turned to him. “I asked you to come here so that I could give you this,” she said softly, and he could almost hear an apology somewhere between those words. “This is so... discourteous,” she continued, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Returning things... to someone... you know what I mean, it’s tacky.” She shook her head. “But I don’t feel that it’s right for me to keep this, anymore.”
Ryo had expected as much when she offered the box and he held out a hand to take it. He knew what was inside, he didn’t care to open it. Neither did he care to insist that she keep it - she was right about it not being hers to hold on to anymore.
Erika opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He imagined that they would be more words, not any of them meaning anything to either of them anymore - probably something like... Ryo caught himself there.
He knew what she wanted to say, without her having to say it. Silence fell upon both of them, thick and heavy, almost suffocating. Ryo cleared his throat. “If that’s all, then I’ll be going now.”
“Of course,” she replied, nodding as they both stood up. She followed him as far as the genkan, watched him slip his feet back into his sneakers.
At that moment, the door opened, just as he was pocketing the box she’d given him (back). Ryo faintly heard someone call out a greeting.
Erika was smiling when he looked back up at her, clearly addressing whoever it was that was behind him. He turned around and came face-to-face with a co-worker, the same man that had been in the photos with her, the ones taken from Kanagawa.
“Nishikido kun,” Nakamaru Yuichi said wonderingly, as they both gave a slight bow in greeting. “What a surprise.”
“He was just leaving,” Erika was quick to say, as the other man stepped around him and pressed a kiss to her temple.
“Yeah,” Ryo agreed, nodding his assent. “I’ll be going now, then.” Another bow, before he walked towards the door. Erika raised a hand in a small wave.
Nishikido Ryo is going to love someone new, someone bright-eyed and honest, someone who is eager to please. She will walk on concrete as if walking on air, she will laugh openly, and she will always tell him exactly what she is thinking the moment that she thinks it. She will be charming and polite, well-mannered and good-tempered, and she will not be his ideal woman, but he will love her completely just the same.
She will not be fearless, nor will she be headstrong; he will never have to guess where his place is with her. She will not keep her words close to her heart, and she will not be petty or irrational. She will not yell or throw things when she’s upset, nor smile in the way that brightens up an entire room, nor return his affection as intensely as he gives his.
He will give her his heart, but it’s not exactly the same heart, because he’d already given it away that one time, and he can remember it exactly, a boy and a girl and the sea.
Characters: Nishikido Ryo & Sawajiri Erika
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Owned by Johnny's Entertainment and El Extraterrestre/Avex. Not mine, just messing with.
Summary: Oh, I have loved you for so long. In which Ryo and Erika take measure of their roles in each other's lives, four years after the scandal.
48) Waves - remembered by none
He looks back at the path they've taken, and realizes that it's much like walking along the sea at midnight; there are no traces of their lives in each others', and he feels strangely empty for that.
For kitsune714 , a long overdue prompt. Took me almost as much time as the timespan in this fic! And sinonymity , with my thanks.
I've been tinkering with this for about a month.
“Come in,” was all she said, stepping aside to allow him into the foyer. Ryo entered cautiously, taking note of his surroundings. The interior of her apartment was painted a warm peach and decorated with photographs. He counted five frames just on the mantel by the doorway. Erika bent down and set a pair of slippers before his feet. He put them on.
“Tea?” she offered, making her way further inside. He nodded, trailing after her, sitting down when instructed. More photos littered every available surface, from the side-table beside the couch, to the frames hanging from the walls. Ryo didn’t notice that he had lingered on one; she pointed it out. He turned to her then, as she explained. “It’s recent. About four months ago? In Kanagawa.” Erika smiled at him, and he found himself returning it with a half-smirk. “It was a beautiful day.”
“You seem happy,” he began.
Erika thought for a moment, and then nodded. “I’ve found a comfortable spot to be,” she replied, moving to pour the tea into delicate cups gilded with gold. “Has anything changed for you at all?”
Ryo didn’t answer.
“Ah.”
2007.
A single text message: “Let’s go.”
Half an hour later he found himself driving with the top down with the GPS guiding them to a seaside - any fucking seaside. Erika rubbed the sleep from her eyes with one hand, holding down her hair with another; only yesterday it was shoulder length and no further, but now it hung well past the middle of her back in a cascade of curls.
The only thing I’m good at is change, she’d told him once. Slipping in and out of character like a recently freed minnow, barely a splash disturbed. He admired it about her, often thought it was something that they had in common.
It took them two hours to get to Shōnan. The first thing she did upon arrival was take off her shoes. Ten steps ahead of him, she suggested that they walk.
Only crazy people come to the beach in the middle of winter, and only crazy people take off their shoes doing so. He told her as much but Erika doesn’t listen to anybody. “The water’s freezing,” she yelled, with a voice half-shaky with laughter, half with the cold. She let the waves tickle her toes, anyway. If ‘tickle’ was the word for it; Ryo slipped his foot out of one sneaker and extended his toes experimentally into the water. Tiny pinpricks of pure ice covered the skin of his feet. He pulled back in surprise - Sawajiri Erika is absolutely fucking insane.
He looked up. The sun was setting, already half-sunk into the water. Minutes later, the floodlights along the beach turned on, confusing the seagulls. Ryo followed the water and found her crouched down, writing on the damp sand with a small twig.
I am.
Ryo waited for her to write some more, but she took his hand and used his arm to pull herself up. He lifted her up, grunting softly. Once she was on her feet, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began walking. His figure dwarfed hers. Their shadows blended into one huge moving blob, occasionally disturbed by the passing wave. She slipped her hands into her coat pockets.
They walked in silence until they reached the edge of a rundown dock. When he looked back, he was surprised to see how far they’d traveled. She kicked at a stray piece of driftwood, watched it make a small splash in the water and disappear.
Ryo’s trying to think of metaphors, but there aren’t any. Not any that they haven’t used between them before, anyway. He shook his head and reached into his pocket, closing his hand around a small box.
“Sawajiri.”
“I heard that you were doing 24 Hour Terebi again this year.” Her voice cut into his consciousness, brought him back to the present time. Ryo looked up to find her giving him a look of mild concern as she brought the teacup to her lips.
“We are,” he replied, taking a sip off his own. Bitter. She remembered.
“Are you going to be okay?”
He must have looked like he was wondering what she meant, because she continued on. “The last time you did it, you got sick. What have I said about working just a touch too hard?”
“Says the person who worked herself to a burnout.” He gave her a winning smile. “I’m going to be fine. I was already sick before we even went on air, remember? It was swine flu season back then.”
“That’s exactly what I meant,” she returned, shaking her head as she dropped in two more sugar cubes into her cup. “I know what burnout feels like. It’s not good for you, Ryo.”
“It wasn’t good for us.” Ryo hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but there it was. He looked to her for a reaction, but Erika only stirred her tea, once clockwise, twice in the opposite direction.
“No, but we learned.”
The look in her eyes is that of pure incredulity. “Nishikido, you know that I can’t, right?” Erika choked out, staring at the contents of the box, then back up at him.
“This is yours,” he insisted. Ryo took the ring out from the box but didn’t hold it out to her - instead he took off the tiny cushion holding it and revealed a chain, slipping the ring through it. “We’ll be together someday, you know that, right? This is yours.”
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” she said helplessly.
“Accept it, anyway.” He reached over and hung the necklace ‘round her neck, fastening the clasp. The diamond glittered, catching the strobe lights and refracting. It was an impressive rock, but what’s important now is the heart that he is freely giving her.
“I’m glad,” Erika began later, setting her empty cup back down on its matching saucer, “to see that you’re doing well.”
The words seem trite, but this is Erika after all. He knew her well enough to have understood long ago that she kept things close to the chest, economical in her actions. For all her seeming flair for the dramatic, no one can really know what’s in Erika’s heart except herself.
“You, too,” was all he could say, draining his cup. In a way, he was reflecting her actions - this quieter Erika, so different from the one he’d met a thousand years ago, was only just a little unsettling. “An AVEX contract, I heard. So maybe...”
Maybe one day, she’ll sing again.
“Maybe.” Erika shrugged, and he marveled at her ability to still finish his thoughts for him, after all this time. She turned her head, looked out towards the balcony and beyond. From his seat he could see that she was growing flowers, and that some of them were abloom. He turned to her when she straightened and excused herself, watched her walk into a separate room, closing the door behind her.
Sometimes, he thought about Things; they’re asked often enough about them each time they pose for a magazine. What is Nishikido kun’s ideal type?, it often went. When do you see yourself getting married? At one point in his life, he can remember exactly, he had wanted to marry in his mid-20s, to a nice girl he could introduce to the family, and the family rice cooker, and the family dog. At one point in his life, he can remember exactly, he had wanted nothing more than to gatecrash a certain wedding, 300 photographers be damned to hell, take the bride’s hand and run, run. He had been certain, then, that she would run with him, bridal kimono and all, stumbling in her slippers, and the scenario would take on the rose glow of a beautiful sunset, and he, the hero, wins.
Nowadays he thinks different. He smiles and says things that are true, because at the end of the day what’s in his heart hasn’t really changed. He still wants to marry a nice girl who will cook and clean for him, who will let him lay his head down on her lap when he’s tired, whom he will write songs for, who will fuel his acting ability when he is asked to offer his latest co-star his love.
Only, the girl in these thoughts has changed. It’s taken him a while to come to this, and he was sure that she had arrived at the same conclusion: the answer to would it be okay if I loved someone else? had always been yes, yes of course.
She returned a few minutes later, holding something in her hand that he couldn’t yet see. Erika sat down and breathed in deeply - after she sighed, she turned to him. “I asked you to come here so that I could give you this,” she said softly, and he could almost hear an apology somewhere between those words. “This is so... discourteous,” she continued, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Returning things... to someone... you know what I mean, it’s tacky.” She shook her head. “But I don’t feel that it’s right for me to keep this, anymore.”
Ryo had expected as much when she offered the box and he held out a hand to take it. He knew what was inside, he didn’t care to open it. Neither did he care to insist that she keep it - she was right about it not being hers to hold on to anymore.
Erika opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He imagined that they would be more words, not any of them meaning anything to either of them anymore - probably something like... Ryo caught himself there.
He knew what she wanted to say, without her having to say it. Silence fell upon both of them, thick and heavy, almost suffocating. Ryo cleared his throat. “If that’s all, then I’ll be going now.”
“Of course,” she replied, nodding as they both stood up. She followed him as far as the genkan, watched him slip his feet back into his sneakers.
At that moment, the door opened, just as he was pocketing the box she’d given him (back). Ryo faintly heard someone call out a greeting.
Erika was smiling when he looked back up at her, clearly addressing whoever it was that was behind him. He turned around and came face-to-face with a co-worker, the same man that had been in the photos with her, the ones taken from Kanagawa.
“Nishikido kun,” Nakamaru Yuichi said wonderingly, as they both gave a slight bow in greeting. “What a surprise.”
“He was just leaving,” Erika was quick to say, as the other man stepped around him and pressed a kiss to her temple.
“Yeah,” Ryo agreed, nodding his assent. “I’ll be going now, then.” Another bow, before he walked towards the door. Erika raised a hand in a small wave.
Nishikido Ryo is going to love someone new, someone bright-eyed and honest, someone who is eager to please. She will walk on concrete as if walking on air, she will laugh openly, and she will always tell him exactly what she is thinking the moment that she thinks it. She will be charming and polite, well-mannered and good-tempered, and she will not be his ideal woman, but he will love her completely just the same.
She will not be fearless, nor will she be headstrong; he will never have to guess where his place is with her. She will not keep her words close to her heart, and she will not be petty or irrational. She will not yell or throw things when she’s upset, nor smile in the way that brightens up an entire room, nor return his affection as intensely as he gives his.
He will give her his heart, but it’s not exactly the same heart, because he’d already given it away that one time, and he can remember it exactly, a boy and a girl and the sea.