(no subject)
Title: Café La Humedad
Pairing: ...this is awkward...I didn't mention any names so feel free to put in whoever you like, though I was thinking of Jun and Sho
Rating: PG-13 I guess
Disclaimer (?): i don't own Arashi, nor am I in any way related to then. This is all fiction.
A/N: O.O I haven't posted in a long time (and I do realise I might just be the only that cares but I still felt the need to point it out) so here's a lame excuse of a fic <3 enjoy!!!
A/N 2: As always, I started writing with something in mind and it eventually turned into something else entirely. But for arguments sake I will tell this lame excuse of a fic was born out of listening to a Tango (yes I'm Argentinian) called Café La Humedad (hence the name of the fic) by Cacho Castaña. If you wish you can listen to it here , who knows maybe you'll like it <3
Now I'll shut up and here's the fic.
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Café La Humedad
It’s not raining. Not yet at least. But it doesn’t really matter. I can feel it in the air, and it feels just like it did that day. The air so heavy it weighs me down. It crushes my lungs and makes it difficult to breathe. Not that I could take a proper breath since that day, but still, days like this one, it’s even worst. It’s just like the day he left all over again. It hurts. I hate it, and yet, it kind of makes everything clearer, everything real. Pain is great that way.
I open the door of the café and go in. The waiters all say hi, they remember me of course, who wouldn’t remember the bitter man that appears every time it rains, no fail. Strangely they never wait for an answer. Or maybe it isn’t so strange, I’ve never said hi back, and they aren’t dumb, when they know something isn’t coming they don’t wait around for it. I’m dumb. I waited. I’m still waiting. Stupid.
I sit at my usual table, right by the window, where I can see the street. I have the perfect view of the corner where the bus stops and the people get off. There’re not many people on the streets now though. Rain and all. Though it isn’t raining yet.
I can feel the waitress by my right. She’s putting down a cup of coffee and a small glass of water. She leaves right after depositing the black ashtray next to my elbow. She doesn’t say anything and I’m grateful for some drops start hitting the window, right at the height of my eyes, and I wouldn’t have been able to answer anyway. I don’t even find it myself to care whether she, or anyone, knows why I’m here and that’s why they behave that way around me. Maybe they just think I’m crazy. All I can think about now is how he used to say that when it rained it was because the clouds were crying. I asked if he meant angels. He said angels didn’t cry, didn’t feel, but clouds felt. I didn’t understand then and I still don’t. Crazy bastard.
--
The rain is stronger now and it gets more difficult to watch the bus stop, but it doesn’t stop me. My breath fogs the blue glass, my coffee lays untouched and getting colder by the minute. When I turn around to light my fourth - or is it the fifth - cigarette of the day I catch the curious look of a woman on the bar. It happens all the time, I mean I probably make for a pathetic image and curiosity is an essential part of human nature - or so he use to say - but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a bit annoying. Of course I’ve gotten great at ignoring thing. I ignore everything, it’s marvellous really. I ignore the looks of curious people; I ignore my memories of rainy days spent in the company of a warm and loving - or so I thought - body; but most of all, I ignore the fact that I’ve been waiting, put on hold for five fucking years now, and not one person that gets off that bus is him. I’m pushing thirty for fuck’s sake I can’t keep living like this. How I wish I could move on.
Up until five years ago, which is to say up until him, I didn’t even believe in love, of any kind. My family, what was left of it, was a broken mess, and so was I. My friends, well, let’s just say that calling them that was a bit of a stretch. Romance was definitely off the table. And then he came in. God, how I hate him now for it.
I was fine, but he called me broken. I said I was content and he called me empty. And he may not have been mistaken, but he had no right. No right to come into my life and change everything. No right to make me believe I was worth anything and take it all away with him one rainy day when he left. This day is just like that day. Now that I think about it, it might even be some kind of anniversary. That’s right, five years ago, to the day, the one I thought was the love of my life, the one I was supposed to spend my life with, the one that raised me from my shitty life and actually managed to give hope, left me waiting without even as much as a goodbye. And isn’t that just that the worst. I mean, people come and go, and God knows I’ve learned not to expect much of anyone, but every time someone left I at least had an idea why. He made me forget all I had learned about disappointment and mistrust and he reminded me of it in the worst way possible. He told me to wait for him. He had a surprise he said. Five years later, I’m the idiot that’s still waiting for the one that broke him in ways no one had been able to, in a way no one will ever be able to again. He used to say you can’t break something that isn’t whole to begin with. Maybe that’s why he didn’t think twice about breaking me He said it himself, I was empty. Except I wasn’t. Not after I met him. And isn’t that just sad, because now I’m empty again. Empty, broken and unable to breathe.
A bus stops at the corner. Five people come down, all running under the rain, seeking cover. I wonder how many of them find it in the arms of a lover. I wonder if he found a new lover.
I feel something at my feet. I look down to find a soaked kitty shredding my shoelace. He looks happy. He’s wet, he’s probably freezing and has nowhere to go and yet he looks so blissful. I pick him up, there’s no collar and I’m taking him home. I pay for a coffee I didn’t drink and I promise myself I’ll never come back again.
But somehow I know, next time it rains I’ll come running. I’ll sit next to the window watching the bus stop at the corner. I’ll sit in front of an untouched cup of coffee, getting colder by the minute, smoking the afternoon away. I’ll replay our time together in my mind. I’ll remember his kisses, the warmth of his body. I’ll remember every strange thing that ever came out of his beautiful mouth. And I’ll remember every promise. But most of all, I’ll remember how he broke any and all of them; how he lifted me just to make the fall harder.
But it’s not raining anymore, and I have a kitty to feed. So, for now, I can think of something else. I’m great at ignoring things that eat at me, as long as it doesn’t rain.
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OK, it's short and it probably sucks (I'm hating it right now, maybe later I'll like it again) but I do hope you enjoyed it anyway!! And now I have to go study because I have an exam at 6!! (it's 1:25 in Argentina..opf the afternoon...of the 14th)
but before I have to figure out why the heck I'm writing and posting this when I have another fic I've working on for weeks and can't seem to get anywhere. Instead I write this in one hour...I'm a mess
Pairing: ...this is awkward...I didn't mention any names so feel free to put in whoever you like, though I was thinking of Jun and Sho
Rating: PG-13 I guess
Disclaimer (?): i don't own Arashi, nor am I in any way related to then. This is all fiction.
A/N: O.O I haven't posted in a long time (and I do realise I might just be the only that cares but I still felt the need to point it out) so here's a lame excuse of a fic <3 enjoy!!!
A/N 2: As always, I started writing with something in mind and it eventually turned into something else entirely. But for arguments sake I will tell this lame excuse of a fic was born out of listening to a Tango (yes I'm Argentinian) called Café La Humedad (hence the name of the fic) by Cacho Castaña. If you wish you can listen to it here , who knows maybe you'll like it <3
Now I'll shut up and here's the fic.
-----------------------------------------------
Café La Humedad
It’s not raining. Not yet at least. But it doesn’t really matter. I can feel it in the air, and it feels just like it did that day. The air so heavy it weighs me down. It crushes my lungs and makes it difficult to breathe. Not that I could take a proper breath since that day, but still, days like this one, it’s even worst. It’s just like the day he left all over again. It hurts. I hate it, and yet, it kind of makes everything clearer, everything real. Pain is great that way.
I open the door of the café and go in. The waiters all say hi, they remember me of course, who wouldn’t remember the bitter man that appears every time it rains, no fail. Strangely they never wait for an answer. Or maybe it isn’t so strange, I’ve never said hi back, and they aren’t dumb, when they know something isn’t coming they don’t wait around for it. I’m dumb. I waited. I’m still waiting. Stupid.
I sit at my usual table, right by the window, where I can see the street. I have the perfect view of the corner where the bus stops and the people get off. There’re not many people on the streets now though. Rain and all. Though it isn’t raining yet.
I can feel the waitress by my right. She’s putting down a cup of coffee and a small glass of water. She leaves right after depositing the black ashtray next to my elbow. She doesn’t say anything and I’m grateful for some drops start hitting the window, right at the height of my eyes, and I wouldn’t have been able to answer anyway. I don’t even find it myself to care whether she, or anyone, knows why I’m here and that’s why they behave that way around me. Maybe they just think I’m crazy. All I can think about now is how he used to say that when it rained it was because the clouds were crying. I asked if he meant angels. He said angels didn’t cry, didn’t feel, but clouds felt. I didn’t understand then and I still don’t. Crazy bastard.
--
The rain is stronger now and it gets more difficult to watch the bus stop, but it doesn’t stop me. My breath fogs the blue glass, my coffee lays untouched and getting colder by the minute. When I turn around to light my fourth - or is it the fifth - cigarette of the day I catch the curious look of a woman on the bar. It happens all the time, I mean I probably make for a pathetic image and curiosity is an essential part of human nature - or so he use to say - but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a bit annoying. Of course I’ve gotten great at ignoring thing. I ignore everything, it’s marvellous really. I ignore the looks of curious people; I ignore my memories of rainy days spent in the company of a warm and loving - or so I thought - body; but most of all, I ignore the fact that I’ve been waiting, put on hold for five fucking years now, and not one person that gets off that bus is him. I’m pushing thirty for fuck’s sake I can’t keep living like this. How I wish I could move on.
Up until five years ago, which is to say up until him, I didn’t even believe in love, of any kind. My family, what was left of it, was a broken mess, and so was I. My friends, well, let’s just say that calling them that was a bit of a stretch. Romance was definitely off the table. And then he came in. God, how I hate him now for it.
I was fine, but he called me broken. I said I was content and he called me empty. And he may not have been mistaken, but he had no right. No right to come into my life and change everything. No right to make me believe I was worth anything and take it all away with him one rainy day when he left. This day is just like that day. Now that I think about it, it might even be some kind of anniversary. That’s right, five years ago, to the day, the one I thought was the love of my life, the one I was supposed to spend my life with, the one that raised me from my shitty life and actually managed to give hope, left me waiting without even as much as a goodbye. And isn’t that just that the worst. I mean, people come and go, and God knows I’ve learned not to expect much of anyone, but every time someone left I at least had an idea why. He made me forget all I had learned about disappointment and mistrust and he reminded me of it in the worst way possible. He told me to wait for him. He had a surprise he said. Five years later, I’m the idiot that’s still waiting for the one that broke him in ways no one had been able to, in a way no one will ever be able to again. He used to say you can’t break something that isn’t whole to begin with. Maybe that’s why he didn’t think twice about breaking me He said it himself, I was empty. Except I wasn’t. Not after I met him. And isn’t that just sad, because now I’m empty again. Empty, broken and unable to breathe.
A bus stops at the corner. Five people come down, all running under the rain, seeking cover. I wonder how many of them find it in the arms of a lover. I wonder if he found a new lover.
I feel something at my feet. I look down to find a soaked kitty shredding my shoelace. He looks happy. He’s wet, he’s probably freezing and has nowhere to go and yet he looks so blissful. I pick him up, there’s no collar and I’m taking him home. I pay for a coffee I didn’t drink and I promise myself I’ll never come back again.
But somehow I know, next time it rains I’ll come running. I’ll sit next to the window watching the bus stop at the corner. I’ll sit in front of an untouched cup of coffee, getting colder by the minute, smoking the afternoon away. I’ll replay our time together in my mind. I’ll remember his kisses, the warmth of his body. I’ll remember every strange thing that ever came out of his beautiful mouth. And I’ll remember every promise. But most of all, I’ll remember how he broke any and all of them; how he lifted me just to make the fall harder.
But it’s not raining anymore, and I have a kitty to feed. So, for now, I can think of something else. I’m great at ignoring things that eat at me, as long as it doesn’t rain.
-----------------------------------------------
OK, it's short and it probably sucks (I'm hating it right now, maybe later I'll like it again) but I do hope you enjoyed it anyway!! And now I have to go study because I have an exam at 6!! (it's 1:25 in Argentina..opf the afternoon...of the 14th)
but before I have to figure out why the heck I'm writing and posting this when I have another fic I've working on for weeks and can't seem to get anywhere. Instead I write this in one hour...I'm a mess