Fic and a Travel Update
I cannot even summarize how much today has sucked. Last night, too.
Good fucking god. I was sort of panicking last night so mom gave me two (2) glasses of wine. Apparently my tolerance has become, uh, nonexistent? I was kind of plastered and miserable and ended up trying to throw up to get my lucidity back. It didn't work.
Perfect timing for the doorbell to ring, right, just when I'm packing, right? Guess who.
My ex. Yeah, that one. The girl. Most of you know this story, I think. In short, worst mistake of my life.
She said I owed her at least fifteen minutes, which sort of made me panic even more, so I went outside to talk, in my pyjamas no less, and she was talking at me and she kept hitting on me so fucking blatantly and making comments when all I was doing was going on about how much I loved my girlfriend.
Ahem. Excerpt of the conversation.
"Are you feeling me up?"
"Uh. No. My hand brushed your arm. I'm... sorry?"
"Oh, I wasn't complaining, I just wasn't sure what you were thinking."
"... nothing? I love my girlfriend."
"I do too!"
"... kay."
"But hey, mine's back in Chicago. If you ever want to give us a shot again--"
"I'm happily attached." (read: happily attached and wouldn't be interested even if I wasn't)
"Oh, well, so am I. *awkward pause* You know what one of my favorite things has become?"
"what?"
"Cunnilingus!"
"........................."
"And I've gotten so GOOD at it."
"... I have a vibrator."
"Good for you! But yeah, seriously. I wouldn't care if anything happened."
"... I would."
She tried to kiss me and I wouldn't let her. At that point I made her just leave and took a rather shaky drunk walk, not feeling very good at all. Physically ill and like shit and then I got texts about thanatoast having to go to bed and I freaked the fuck out because I was too far away by then and I sort of had a breakdown.
Didn't get any better after I passed out soon after (I was like. five minutes late. I kind of hate myself for this a lot. but then again, I sort of hate myself for this shit last night anyway.) and woke up feeling better, but still shitty and rather emotionally unstable. Drove to the airport. Kept texting back and forth with thanatoast. I fucked up. I should have been there. Watch while I bathe in guilt I deserve. jflksdgjlkafsda fucking hell ass balls I hate myself. Proceeded to have another breakdown in public in the airport in front of my FATHER. Cue hating self --> extreme.
I have been so panicked. So fucking panicked. It's not just what an ass I was last night with all this shit, but also how much hsa been building up to this one point and I'm terrified. Now things are really taking off-- more than even before, and I'm so scared. It's happening so fast, so much at once, I feel like I'm paralyzed with fear because I'm terrifed I'm going to do something wrong. Of course, one of the times I really need her support, I ruined it for myself and don't deserve it. God fucking shit I am such an asshole.
I don't know what else to do.
Never mind that our flight was first delayed an hour. Then another half hour. Then another three hours. Uhhhh.
No way we could have caught the connecting flight out of Detroit. No way in hell. Of course, I'm always the one in charge of this shit and organization and what-the-fuck-not I don't know and I get to call Northwestern to reschedule. So when I end up giving us ANOTHER stop between flights, I feel even more massively guilty.
Amazingly enough, we somehow made it out of Kansas City in one piece after waiting at the airport for 6 hours and eating shitty-- seriously shitty-- food because I was hungry to the point of pain. Blegh. Miracle that was.
So we finally get to Detroit with another one hour delay. Which is great, because we were supposed to have a 40 minute layover on this new flight, but we got to Detroit at 9:10, and our flight out of there stopped boarding at... 9:15.
Um. Yeah. Ass.
We somehow made it, though, by running through the whole airport.
Then on the plain flight across the Atlantic (which I'm on right now, btw, 34 minutes left! Am typing on Takami, though battery will run out soon), we got stuck with the same seat in all different rows. One girl gave up her seat and switched with us, but this other asshole in our middle row of three didn't. Fuckhead. So of course I get stuck with my sister. Which was a lot of fun on the way to Detroit, I should say. She got all of Death Note in manga form for Christmas and we were reading the character guides and making ones for us and making fun of them etc. etc. yeah, we were separated on that flight, too. We basically got the last seats on all these flights. Nevermind that my sister spilled water all over me on the flight to Denver, and so far in this flight to Amsterdam I have had water spilled all over me as well as orange juice.
My stomach is also threatening to eat itself because I cannot deal with things not being resolved which is why I'm typing this up anyway, I guess, to let off steam. As well as that fic.
Thankfully there was tv/movies on this plane to watch, and I watched scrubs and fotc and yeaaaah. Mom is in a ridiculously shitty mood, and we won't be in Frankfurt until uhhhh 5pm local time? I think. Too lazy to check now. Then we have to pray our rental car (which I had initially reserved for 9am, hurrr) is still there so we get to have a four hour drive from Frankfurt to Munich after the third flight, Amsterdam to Frankfurt.
Oh yes. Today has been AWESOME. CAN YOU TELL.
I want to be home. I am so miserable and panicked about all this shit and jksaldgjkflk fucking hell.
Ah, have to put electronics away. Ass. Fine, whatever.
Fic! Though it's HiruClaire, and really just for thanatoast.
This is the most I've written in a while.
I told you I'd try to make it up to you somehow. It's not much, but... I'm out of ideas. ._.
I don't take you for granted, and you know that. I love you more than anything in this world, and I know that nothing is guaranteed. I always have to stay on my feet. I love you so much. Please, just--
Last night was shit, and this is all my fault. I'm really, really fucking sorry. If there's anything else I can do besides this, tell me.
I can't wait to talk to you again next ._. <333
Title: Take On Me
Rating: G
Characters: Hiruma Youichi, Claire Bennet
Word Count: 2522
Warnings: fourth-wall-breakage
Summary: See Title. If you don't get it, we aren't friends anymore :|||
Disclaimer: The characters herein belongs to Riichiro Inagaki, Yusuke Murata, Tim Kring, NBC, and Shueisha and are used because I am addicted to Riichiro Inagaki's Eyeshield 21 universe and characters as well as Tim Kring's Heroes universe. No one is profiting from anything written in this story. I am not Riichiro Inagaki, I am not Yusuke Murata, and I am not Tim Kring.
Author's Notes: I love you and I'm sorry. ._.
Zach had started it, actually.
Claire only regretted the fact that she didn't heed his advice sooner when she found herself hundreds of miles away from him and his obsessions, but still, reading these things, watching the corresponding shows--
In a strange way it made her feel significantly more connected to him, and she found herself smiling more and more as she slowly read through his recommendations.
But it wasn't until the strange one about football, of all things, that she found herself truly hooked beyond repair.
It was more than interesting. It was, miraculously enough, holding her attention-- a fictional outlet for all of her personal shortcomings and losses-- a fantastic distraction from the horrors her life presented to her on a frequent basis.
It really wasn't all so bad.
Anyone that knew anything about Claire would have already known whom she'd empathize with the most in the strange shonen animanga, and yet she found herself inevitably drawn to one character in particular.
He was strange-- truly unique and something else-- he strove and fought to outshine everyone around him, making sure that they knew he was something special.
And he was. Anyone that couldn't see how remarkable he really was had to be blind. He was everything she wanted to-- but couldn't be. Standing out from the crowd, making his own things happen, hell-- having something in life to look forward to and aspire towards-- she couldn't remember the last time she'd ever felt that way.
She wasn't even entirely certain such a time had ever existed for her.
A lone sigh escaped as she stared at the page, sitting in the small-ish Costa Verde school library, not even supposed to join the other kids for lunch, knowing full well how much she'd stand out just by being herself.
A rather ominous, however accurate, statement to make, given Claire's life record up until that point.
Another soft sigh and she turned the page, right to left, feeling a little deviant through all this and not minding in the least.
Her own unique marker that had nothing to do with being able to regrow her kidney.
She'd been racing through the manga so quickly that she had to remind herself that at one point, she'd run out of reading material and she'd end up bored and feeling meaningless once more, something that scared her plenty if she was being entirely honest with herself about the whole matter.
Something on the page moved.
Even though Claire had to admit that she'd had a rather lot of strange occurrences happen in her life-- especially within the last six months-- this wasn't normal even for her. Still, she didn't question it as anything abnormal-- really, she was probably just seeing things.
A wry frown appeared on her face and she turned the page again, continuing to read.
Hiruma Youichi was staring right back at her.
It was strange, seeing that sort of thing-- she considered, very briefly, if perhaps manga artists were simply capable of such realistic artistry, writing it off as pure coincidence once more.
It was an odd scene, really-- Mamori-- the girl she'd been starting to feel vaguely jealous of ever since the end of the Death March-- had just slipped inside an empty room, official-looking room on the celebratory cruise, looking for the blonde, rather singular Quarterback, finding him asleep at the table and draping the coat of her own fashionable ensemble over him with a smile before leaving once more--
Claire had been certain that when he woke, he'd be more than a little displeased with Mamori's uninvited act of kindness, however he might have been grateful for it, but nothing of the sort happened.
He'd simply opened his eyes and smiled straight at her, gaze unwavering, making her falter for another moment or so until the picture started to truly move in every sense of the word, making her blink in near-terror and worry her bottom lip.
"What are you staring at, fucking blondie?"
She'd never thought that cocky, smarmy grin would be directed at her, for any reason whatsoever.
But apparently a manga comic book coming to life before her eyes was a good enough reason-- and even Claire had to suddenly wonder if this really was just simply her fault for leading such a Strange life in the first place.
Pointing at herself, her brow furrowed in question. There wasn't really anyone else around-- she checked just to make sure, staring back at the picture in the book.
Stranger things have happened, Claire. No need to panic.
"Kekeke, who else?"
She would have remarked on his girly little laugh had she not been as prepared for it as she was, and if, perhaps, the occasion had called for it in the first place.
It really didn't.
Watching him move to stand, he set Mamori's superfluous jacket aside, grinning once more as he leaned against the front of the table, waving her in.
She was about to protest about the absurdity of it all when she realized that she didn't seem to have a choice.
Then again, it wasn't the sort of thing Hiruma Youichi did in the first place, giving people choices and actually letting them choose, consequently.
The world around her shifted into Black and White all of a suddenly, a whorl of color dissipating as she felt herself being sucked into what felt like some sort of time-space-continuum vortex-- she really wished she'd spent more time with Hiro Nakamura all of a sudden to learn more about this crap-- before being spat out once more on the other side.
The other side that seemed to be the very same sketchy room she'd seen him in just prior.
"Kekeke, took you long enough."
"I don't understand."
"I, quite frankly, don't really care. But you should know that. You should also know why you're here."
"But you put me here!"
"Saaa, that means nothing, fucking blondie. You tell me."
Again with the smarmy grin she'd grown to love and was quickly learning to hate once more, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned his ass back against the back of the chair.
"I can be as special as I want, here," she whispered, the realization washing over her like a dead weight she was more than grateful to have lifted, in spite of it meaning that she more or less couldn't-- didn't want to-- leave here again when it was all set and done.
"Here, with me, Cinderella."
"How much time do I have?" she asked him a bit uneasily, feeling a knot constricting in her stomach as she did so.
"Depends. Don't know, don't care. But I'll be damned if I'm going to entertain some chick just because she wants to be ~*special*~. I have more important things to be doing, Barbie."
Making a face, she glared back at him. "This isn't funny! It's not like I chose to be here! Besides--"
Seemingly the second she'd started ranting, he'd turned around and was heading back out the door. And it was only Claire running forward and grabbing onto his arm to force him back to face her that kept him from disappearing forever.
"Don't you dare just leave me here, you bastard!"
"Psh, you'd think you'd know me better by now after all that time you wasted reading about me."
But when she touched him, he froze, staring back at her with a strange expression in his eyes, slowly shaking his head. "Don't touch me."
It wasn't an order. It was a threat.
"Why?"
"Don't act stupid. I know you're not."
When she still didn't let his arm go, he wrenched it out, glaring fiercely. "Che."
"Hiruma-kun?" there came Mamori's rather distinctive voice, however Japanese it might have been, and Hiruma froze once more.
"Shit. This is all your fault. No we've got the fucking manager on our trail. Come on!"
He didn't even give her a chance to do so much as protest as he grabbed her wrist, glaring and shaking his head at her abruptly when she went to grab for Mamori's coat. "Leave it! We need to get you somewhere else, she can't see you're here, it'd mess everything up."
Why it would, she wasn't sure, but nevertheless she followed instructions, running with him, abandoning the jacket haphazardly placed on the chair. Mamori would understand-- she knew him, after all. Knew how impregnable he was.
Claire wondered whether she thought him worth it in spite of all his obvious shortcomings before promptly pushing the thought aside when she found herself not liking the thought in the least, instead suddenly considering if she could tolerate it.
He wasn't Brody. He wasn't Zach or West, either, he was just--
He really was a remarkable lot like her when you looked underneath the surface.
Blink and you miss it-- when she opened her eyes once more she found them both in a rather cramped broom closet.
"Great. What a dream date."
"Don't get your hopes up too high about this, this has nothing to do with you."
It was then that she realized that he wouldn't explain-- even though he knew what had come to pass here-- the young Quarterback suddenly interrupting her thoughts once more.
"Look, I get it, you've read a lot about me. You probably know more about me than I want anyone to know. Ever. Don't let it get to your head. I get it. But I know you, too, Claire-bear."
She swallowed audibly, staring back at her, hard and determined, voice down to nothing but a whispered growl.
"I don't--"
"You're as fictional as I am."
"Then what--"
"There had to be a way, right? What, you think this was all some coincidence? I need..." he growled sharply, staring her down as if questioning himself through all this, "your help."
It had to have killed him to say that.
"With what on earth would you need my help?"
"Even if I spend the next couple of weeks before the Christmas Bowl in an oxygen capsule, it won't be enough. I can't play with a fucking broken arm, okay? No one else would ever believe a miracle that I just healed my arm from one day to the next, so I will stay in there anyway while the others train-- but I need to train, too. They just won't know about it. I don't care how you do it, just-- I need you to fix this."
His arm.
He looked wryly at her, seeing if she understood.
Pulling her sleeve-length shirt back to expose her wrist, she stared back at him. "Got a knife?"
"Keke, tend to have more guns than knives, but I guess it's my lucky day." There was a pause, his next words nearly muffled completely, but there was something to be said for perfect hearing, after all. "Knew I could count on you."
Smiling, she took the knife from him, slicing a shallow cut over his palm, feeling a great deal guilty when he winced at the action. "It'll be gone in a second," she said, eliciting a growl from him, which she interpreted as his way of saying shut up, this is embarrassing enough as it is.
The gash on her own hand was quite a bit deeper-- wary of it healing again, and far too soon to help him.
Then she grabbed his wounded hand, pressing the palms together.
"What did I tell you about not touching?" he snapped, pulling his hand back, however in vain as she held him steady regardless.
It was her turn to tell him to shut up.
He got it about a moment later, his hand finally relaxing in her grip and just holding it. Rare, but somewhat nice. However strange it had to feel to know so much about a person in spite of never having met them in real life before this very moment, him knowing all about her life, too.
Supposedly.
Still, he knew about what she could do and had somehow gotten her here. She wasn't about to doubt that-- those were facts, after all.
"Got a page of me in that little black book of yours?" she asked, suddenly looking up to realize how he had slumped up against the wall, eyes rolling into the back of her head.
Whoops. Maybe she should have told him the endorphin effect healing had ahead of time. Ah, well. Too late now.
"No," he groaned out, closing his eyes and sliding down to sit on the floor, Claire moving with him.
He was so damn tall in comparison to her.
"It'll end after this is over, you know that, right? I'll have to send you back."
"I know." So much for getting to be herself somewhere. Well, at least there had been a few moments of (somewhat contented) confusion.
That's when something else clicked in her head, and she frowned at him. "You're not lying. You really do know me. That's the only way you could have possibly known that I would react that way if you tried to just walk out on me."
"Kekeke."
"Fine. You win. I should have known."
"But you not knowing suits my motives much better."
He grinned when she pulled her hand back, looking quite a bit disgusted with herself as well as this situation she'd gotten herself into no thanks to a certain amount of foolish naivety that she, more than likely, would hold onto for a long while; at least as long as she remained aware of how much her father meant to her, and vice versa.
Who knew what the future would hold.
"I don't want to go home."
"You don't have a choice. They'll be missing you if you don't come back within a little bit.
"I don't care."
"Keke, reckless and as blonde as I expected."
She really wanted to punch that smug expression off his face, glowering at him in wake of all this.
"Fine. But I'm not leaving without a thank you."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, thanks," he said, waving it off with a disinterested look on his face-- that was, until she leaned in to kiss him somewhat quickly, lingering a bit and pulling back with a huge grin on her face, leaving him looking both horrified and disgusted.
Getting up, it was her turn to look smarmy, holding her hands up before clasping them together behind her back. "Didn't touch you~" she said, walking backwards and disappearing into the ether again, the book spiting her back out in the school library as if nothing had transpired at all, no proof of the fact anywhere to be seen as she heard the lunch bell ring, packing up her things and making her way to her next class.
Hiruma Youichi, on the other hand, felt rather disheveled and one-upped.
Still. Even if she'd won, he didn't have a broken arm anymore.
Smiling, he leaned back against the wall of the closet, feeling a certain amount of gratified happiness in the wake of all this.
She'd won this time.
ETA: Have arrived 13.5 hours later than expected in Frankfurt. Keep hurting self on accident. Bad things keep happening. I don't know, maybe I deserve it.
Anyway, best thing so far seems too be the hotel, which is really fucking nice. Right now I can hardly keep my eyes open, but I still have certain responsibilities to tend to. I'm still so fucking upset with myself and so panicked and jklajgklf. Mom is cranky, my sister is sick and has been nothing but rude to me so far, and I have an angry girlfriend (with reason).
Now to see if I can fix it before I pass out from exhaustion after having been up for 30+ hours.
Oh, and this is friends-locked for obvious reasons. Obviously. Bah, I hate this already. I want to go home. When I fight with either my mom or my girl the whole world is off and nothing works anymore. Fuck. I can't even text. Homesick and already so fucking sick of travel. With my luck these last few days it's a miracle one of the three (3) planes didn't just crash. Fucking hell. I just just expect to fail my visa interview, huh?
Meh.