[Fanfiction - The GazettE] The Passion of a Romanticist [1/1]
Title: The Passion of a Romanticist
Author: sorrowofanangel
Beta: The wonderful chinfluffhanaji (also my partner in crime hehe :3) Thank you so much sweets! I owe youuu~
Genre: Angst, Drama, Slice of Life, Romance etc.
Band(s): The GazettE
Pairing(s): Hinted Reita x Kai/ Kai x Reita, Kai x OC
WARNINGS: Strong language, depression
Rating: PG/ R
DISCLAIMER: Yes, I own them and make Kai bake me muffins all day long... >D Sadly no, since I'm writing this, they obviously own me D:
Synopsis: "Kai feels his life is at nothing more than a huge downfall. His love life is in shatters, his career going places he'd rather it didn't, his family are warped in their own self-centered lives and Kai feels he has nowhere to go. What will it take for him to figure out how to turn his life around?"
Notes: I wrote this at the beginning of Summer, when a few issues were with me and I too felt like I needed to "get away" ^^" I'm sorry for no updates; I'm currently still fighting a virus, but I hope you enjoy :3
Music: MOMENT, THE FATAL HOUR HAS COME, A FLARE, INFERIORITY COMPLEX ~ Lynch. | Take Me Away ~ Avril Lavigne | Passing By ~ Yiruma |
*
This heavy feeling hadn’t left me for days… this longing, this… need to leave everything behind.
Life was suddenly melancholy. The colours that once painted me a picture of my seemingly happy present had suddenly bound together to create something ugly and foreign. Something I no longer recognised.
I’d asked myself the same questions. I’d answered myself with the same answers. Still I land on a blank sheet of paper on the subdued thoughts of my mind, where the secret cause of my sudden depression still lies unrevealed to me.
I thought about seeing a counsellor. Perhaps even a psychiatrist. Maybe they could tell me why I’d put on weight recently, spent half of my wages on Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and spent my evenings hiding indoors with low budget rental movies.
I felt incomplete, incapable of anything. My friends told me it was just a phase. Uruha said I was too caught up in work, Ruki suggested the cause was my libido… and my current disinterest in it.
Of course I had mulled it over. I had even spent an evening in a bar alone, determined to find a girl I thought was attractive enough for me to date and, for the time being, make me happy.
I did meet one. A young, sweet twenty-something named Kasumi. Looking back, it’s funny how her name stood for mist and fog. She clouded my judgement on most things after that first night.
Though she was beautiful. Hazel hair cut into a neat bob around her chin, her dark eyes friendly pools of kindness, her smile sweet and adoring.
Ruki congratulated me. Aoi called me lucky. Reita just tutted and said nothing at all.
He had every right to. My relationship with Kasumi barely lasted the length of autumn and I ended up breaking up with her over the phone as brown maple leaves scattered around my feet. She’d called me many things; a user, a disgrace, a liar, ‘a typical man’; all of which I knew I deserved since that afternoon had only been four hours since we’d first slept together.
I was horrible, I knew that. I knew my actions had consequences, so much so that my mood had soured deeper into this wandering depth of mine and I packed a bag to stay with my Grandparents for the weekend.
I kind of hopped from one family relative to the next after that. I had hoped spending time with family would allow them to give me a pep talk and give you the advice you need, like you know most families would.
Not mine. Instead I was offered a mirror into their own shallow lives.
My grandparents weren’t the most active of people, which you could expect, only they seemed the loneliest in the world. As I busied myself reading books and sketching miniscule drawings into my leather sketchbook, I saw my Grandma run through the same routine every day. Sunday was chore day; then the afternoon was spent cooking a lavish meal for my Grandfather, who wouldn’t so much as bat an eyelid or murmur the workings of a ‘thank you’.
Saturday was no different. While I had hoped I would see my Grandma doing something a little more productive than tending to my Grandfather’s every whim, my hopefulness was short-lived. The most exciting part of her day was organising the grocery list, where she endlessly fussed over my preference of fruits; telling me I should eat this, not that, but if I did want it she could always bake the leftovers into a pie.
I had to politely refuse and insisted I’d gather my own things at the store later on. Then I watched sadly as she collected the small amount of change she had from an old honey pot inside a kitchen cupboard. For the bus fare, she had told me, even though my Grandfather had a perfectly functional car sitting in their driveway but was too busy catching up on what he’d missed on TV for him to take her out. Delicately, she even refused my offer to drive her myself, telling me that her small ten minute ride on the bus was:
“My time to pretend I’m living in another’s skin, going to entirely different places… seeing different things.”
That really had crumbled me inside. And I found I could draw nothing but empty buses on a road to nowhere on each page of my sketchbook for the rest of the afternoon. By the time she returned, my Grandfather insisted on initiating an argument over the “wrong brand of soy sauce” and I had to intervene for the sake of my own sanity as well as in my Grandmother’s defence. Come five o’ clock, all had been forgotten as they sat down to watch their favourite game show while we ate, and their overexcitement at such a minor pleasure saddened me to the core. I even found myself getting angry; this was all they had to look forward to in life and I felt something inside me splinter.
I left a day earlier than planned; taking my small, white ’09 Mitsubishi Colt and driving on a journey I hoped would lead me to nowhere. Or at least a place I could find some peace of mind in.
Regretfully, I ended up at my parents’ house in east Kobe; with as much dread filling me as the moment I had left my Grandparents’ place. Mum fussed over me and my Dad pretended like it wasn’t a big deal I’d driven all this way to see them. What made matters worse was I contracted a throat infection during my stay and so my mother insisted on suffocating me with motherly instincts. I was confined to bed rest and I soon became sick of Mum treating me like a child. I soon flinched every time she tried to hug or kiss me and she soon started to notice, which caused another family argument.
This led onto why I didn’t visit home that often anymore and why I hadn’t found a decent job yet. I couldn’t take the snide comments that came about my life one after the next and so I ended up abandoning them prematurely as well, even though my throat was still in pretty bad shape and I felt rotten on my furious drive away from the house.
I ended up returning home in the end, where I found ten messages on my answering machine. One was from a buyer interested in one of my paintings I had for sale, two were from Ruki, asking where I was, that I should really pick up the phone, that we should go out next Friday for super save cocktails at the new bar that had opened somewhere in Shibuya.
The rest were worry-sounding recordings from Reita asking if I was okay; and it was only when he mentioned it did I realise that I’d been gone for a few weeks without telling anyone.
I called the buyer and told him to pick up the painting that afternoon, which he did and I was left with a nice wad of cash in my hand three hours later. Though it failed to make me even the slightest bit happier.
I ignored Ruki’s and Reita’s messages completely.
Carelessly, I used the cash to buy myself a pair of designer jeans, boots and a new silver ring. Guilt hit me the minute I laid the shopping bags on my sofa and I looked around my apartment with my hands on my hips, chewing my bottom lip as though I were a child waiting for my parents to walk through the door and recoil at what I had done.
My consumerist outburst obviously had not helped, and I considered taking my new belongings back to the store. The more I thought about it, the more I became unsure of my fashion sense; of the way I looked, the way my hair was styled, and I noticed the minutes I spent staring into my bathroom mirror were growing longer.
The next week I visited a new hairdresser, dyed my hair a darker brown and bought a tonne of skincare products.
Of course, the least impressed was Reita,
“You do realise you’ve gone too far this time?” He lectured me, leaning against the inner side of my bathroom door as he examined all the bottles I had littering atop my sink and bathroom cabinet,
“So?” I snatched a bottle of moisturiser back from him with a pout, “Since when did any of you care what I do with my life?”
“Oh, Kai, that’s harsh.” Reita chided, “What’s been the matter with you lately, anyway? All you’ve done is sulk down here without so much as a text or a call. You never wanna go out anymore, you disappear for days on end and worry us to death -“
“- Alright, fine I get your point!” I snap, going to push past him when he grabs my shoulders harshly and I struggle against his grip,
“Don’t walk out on me when I’m only trying to help you.”
It felt like Reita was staring me down, trying to search me for a hint of a flaw, a single clue that would allow him to break me and I would open up to him, cry on his shoulder, hear the, ‘there, there, it’ll be alright soon’ whispered in my ear.
As much as I longed for that, the last person I wanted it from was him, and I ignored the compelling softness in the darkness of his eyes to shove him away, this time successfully,
“I just want you all to leave me alone.”
I hadn’t thought about what I was doing that night. I just let myself be consumed by this impenetrable bubble of rage, grabbing my car keys, wallet and my jacket before I stormed out my own apartment and left Reita alone inside, not even thinking to lock the door or ask him to leave first.
I just needed to get away, I had told myself. Everything was beginning to annoy me; my friends even and I knew that was the last thing I wanted to happen.
I didn’t go to my car. I actually found myself walking to the nearest bus stop and I caught a late night coach. I didn’t even look at where it was taking me, but we must have been travelling a good few hours as I woke up with the soft streams of the morning sun brushing my cheeks.
I fished my phone out of my pocket to check the time, finding a single message newly delivered to my inbox. I prayed it was just the mobile company offering me another useless deal but predictably, Reita’s name came on-screen instead.
He’d typed out his phone number, then written underneath,
“For when you need me.”
I felt hopelessness pound pathetically at the pit of my stomach and I let my eyes wander to the road below… to the tarmac gliding smoothly at my side and the road markings chasing alongside me in swift flashes of white.
I thought about all the things I had seen, the things that had annoyed me. What it was about my Grandparents’ daily routines that had angered me so. How I had felt that new clothes and a new image would change me for the better. Why I felt myself drifting away from friends and sleeping with girls I met in bars. How I could end up detesting my own parents.
I mulled over the thought that maybe my life was beginning to scare me, though I hastily tossed that idea out the window like I had my last cigarette. What I did feel though… was suffocation.
I just couldn’t understand why.
The bus ended up in a small coastal town halfway up the country. I smiled to myself the minute the tides of ocean air hit me, thinking how all this time I’d wanted to get away, here I was doing it.
I found myself a nice bench and bought an ice cream from a nearby vendor, watching the other passengers of the coach lug their suitcases out from the coach’s side storage and wheel themselves away to their hotels. I wondered if I should do the same, though came to realise the minute I looked down at the new jeans hugging my thighs that adding a pricey hotel bill to my credit card was probably not the best way to act.
I must have stayed on that same bench for a couple of hours, inhaling sea spray and listening to the sharp sounds of seagulls hovering above my head in clustered numbers. I watched the tide slowly retract from the beach and orange casts in the sky signalled the dusk was almost ready to settle.
I checked the time on my phone to find it was almost 4pm… and I had only one bar of battery left.
I sigh at my stroke of luck, though I used my instincts to ask passing locals if there was a train station nearby. Luckily it was within a fifteen minute walking distance and I trudged my way there to check for times.
It turned out I had to make about four different changes but I still had my sketchbook tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket. I figured a series of lengthy train journeys would be the perfect opportunity for me to put my pencil to well-deserved, angst-induced sketches.
I walked along the ocean front while I waited for the next train, wondering once again how I’d been caught in this webbed cocoon of unhappiness. How I’d allowed myself to sink so deep in my own depressive waters.
Most of all I wondered why my life didn’t feel like my own anymore. I remembered my family and the way I had been both shocked and repulsed by the way they ran their lives. The conclusion I came to was that I was scared my life was but a mere shadow of theirs and I would end up exactly as they were. Stuck in loveless slavery, bound by the union of matching rings only; nothing more to do than please the other with such lifeless minority. Pretty soon I’d be saving the spare change in my wallet and placing it in a jar for safekeeping in case I should need that midnight coach again.
To pretend I’m living in another’s skin, going to entirely different places… seeing different things.
I sigh heavily and divert my eyes towards the dismal clouds drifting lazily over my head.
Suddenly I knew what it was I had to do.
*
Reita called me just as I sat down on my second train of the evening. I couldn’t tell you why I answered, maybe just to reassure him that I wasn’t dead,
“Where are you?” Was the first question that was shot my way,
“I actually don’t know.” I replied honestly, “I was in Niigata but now I’m on my way to Omiya station. I think.”
I could already feel the icy cold silence of disapproval seep through the speaker,
“You know, you shouldn’t storm out of your apartment like that. I was scared you were gonna do something stupid.”
“Like what? Throw myself off a cliff?” I retort, rolling my eyes and catching the sudden, wild stare of a fifty-something businessman sat at the table seat adjacent from me,
“You know what I mean.” Reita mumbled, “You’re not doing yourself any good running away all the time.”
My eyes flickered as they chased each house that passed me by, “Actually, Rei, you’re wrong.”
He didn’t answer me and I realised as I took the phone away from my ear that my battery had died.
I sigh at the timing, but try to forget about how mad Rei would probably be the next time I saw him. Most of all I prayed he wasn’t still waiting inside my apartment the minute I arrived home. I’m not sure I had the energy for an argument.
I exhale deeply and take out my leather book and pencil, ready to sketch the next hour and a half away. I let my hand guide me with each stroke, not truly thinking of anything particular to draw or the reason why. I let my subconscious take over and I was happy with that.
I filled nineteen pages in all by the time my journey was over; each a complete contrast to the next. As I flicked through each of them, examining them closely as I waited on the platform for my next train, I realised grimly that they all related to me in some form or another. The first page bore a cloud hovering low over a stream filled with, not water, but broken clocks and watches. Next, a little boy’s balloon caught in a large oak tree, from which a large mirror dangled by a strand of rope and he was left gazing into his reflection.
I snapped my book shut, and didn’t touch it until I finally arrived back in Tokyo and took the half an hour walk back to my apartment. The heavy smog of city air irritated me, as did the bellowing sounds of hundreds of car horns caught up in the angry midst of the evening rush hour.
I was grateful for the silence when I finally reached home, reaching for the spare key hidden under the doormat and unlocking the door, so weary I rest my forehead on it when I lock it shut again,
“You came back then.”
I close my eyes; this was just what I fucking needed right now,
“For fuck’s sake.” I whispered under my breath, startling when Reita’s hand presses down hard on my shoulder,
“You hung up on me.” He says sternly, and I take a moment to collect myself before turning to face him, taking my dead phone out of my jean pocket and waving it at him,
“Battery died.” I mumbled, tossing it onto the sofa past Reita’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.”
Reita’s face seemed to fall when he realised I had a plausible excuse, but I don’t think he expected an apology from me either,
“Are you okay?” He asked me softly, genuinely, and I felt part of my anger fade into the softness of his voice,
“I don’t think so.” I said sadly, shaking my head and the exhaustion and consequences of my actions today finally dropped their weight on my shoulders, “Everything’s wrong. And I’m completely messed up.”
I hated how my voice broke on that last sentence; and I hated myself for admitting it.
But what I hated even more was how Reita had offered nothing to say in return, and so he stepped forward with open arms and a sad but welcome smile.
Foolishly, I fell into them and let him hold me.
*
The next week, I was determined to make myself a changed man.
I rented out my apartment and stayed at Reita’s place while I went on the hunt for another. I returned my designer jeans, boots and the ring and got back the money from the sale of my painting, which was enough, combined with my savings, to put in a deposit for a lovely little apartment further out from the city centre. Slightly bigger and cleaner than my old place, I fell in love with it almost immediately and signed the papers the same day of the viewing. Reita helped me move in the following week and he, Aoi, Ruki and Uruha threw a surprise housewarming party for me. Ruki was also insistent on inviting a few girls he knew, but as lovely as they were, I made sure not to get involved with them. I wasn’t sure I was ready to fulfill that side of my life just yet.
I also knew I had to stitch old wounds and so I called Kasumi on her mobile. After three attempts, I only managed to reach her answering machine and so I left a heartfelt message apologising for the way I had treated her and that I hoped she could forgive me. I wished her all the happiness in the world before putting the phone down, but never heard from her again, which was perfectly fine by me. I didn’t expect her to.
I carried on painting and sketching as usual too. I secured a place in the local community park and spent hours drawing there for days at a time. After a couple of weeks, I had people coming up to me and asking for portraits and caricatures and I was earning a good sum of money in due time.
If things weren’t already looking up for me, a representative of the local art gallery came up to me one morning as I enjoyed a Starbucks coffee on my bench before I set about creating my artwork for the day. He asked to see some of my work and we met for dinner. My pieces are now in galleries across Tokyo and I couldn’t be happier. It’s only small galleries but... it’s a start.
I told my parents and the rest of my family about my success but it still didn’t seem worthy enough to gain their approval. In the past, I would have cried into a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, feeling alone and worthless as I watched cheap rented movies on my television; but Reita and the guys took me out for drinks to celebrate instead. It was then I realised it was up to me; I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life giving up what I love for the sake of my family’s approval. Funnily enough, I was just fine with that. And my friends were too.
Sadly, this did nothing to banish my depression and I often found myself feeling low and insecure. It took me a lot to overcome my humiliation and I finally went to see a doctor, who referred me to a counsellor. Week by week I improved, and by Christmas I really felt as though I had gotten my life back.
Perhaps this new found happiness of mine wouldn’t last for long, perhaps it would.
But at least now I knew for certain, I wasn’t suffocating alone anymore.
I had found a way to breathe.
*
Author: sorrowofanangel
Beta: The wonderful chinfluffhanaji (also my partner in crime hehe :3) Thank you so much sweets! I owe youuu~
Genre: Angst, Drama, Slice of Life, Romance etc.
Band(s): The GazettE
Pairing(s): Hinted Reita x Kai/ Kai x Reita, Kai x OC
WARNINGS: Strong language, depression
Rating: PG/ R
DISCLAIMER: Yes, I own them and make Kai bake me muffins all day long... >D Sadly no, since I'm writing this, they obviously own me D:
Synopsis: "Kai feels his life is at nothing more than a huge downfall. His love life is in shatters, his career going places he'd rather it didn't, his family are warped in their own self-centered lives and Kai feels he has nowhere to go. What will it take for him to figure out how to turn his life around?"
Notes: I wrote this at the beginning of Summer, when a few issues were with me and I too felt like I needed to "get away" ^^" I'm sorry for no updates; I'm currently still fighting a virus, but I hope you enjoy :3
Music: MOMENT, THE FATAL HOUR HAS COME, A FLARE, INFERIORITY COMPLEX ~ Lynch. | Take Me Away ~ Avril Lavigne | Passing By ~ Yiruma |
*
This heavy feeling hadn’t left me for days… this longing, this… need to leave everything behind.
Life was suddenly melancholy. The colours that once painted me a picture of my seemingly happy present had suddenly bound together to create something ugly and foreign. Something I no longer recognised.
I’d asked myself the same questions. I’d answered myself with the same answers. Still I land on a blank sheet of paper on the subdued thoughts of my mind, where the secret cause of my sudden depression still lies unrevealed to me.
I thought about seeing a counsellor. Perhaps even a psychiatrist. Maybe they could tell me why I’d put on weight recently, spent half of my wages on Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and spent my evenings hiding indoors with low budget rental movies.
I felt incomplete, incapable of anything. My friends told me it was just a phase. Uruha said I was too caught up in work, Ruki suggested the cause was my libido… and my current disinterest in it.
Of course I had mulled it over. I had even spent an evening in a bar alone, determined to find a girl I thought was attractive enough for me to date and, for the time being, make me happy.
I did meet one. A young, sweet twenty-something named Kasumi. Looking back, it’s funny how her name stood for mist and fog. She clouded my judgement on most things after that first night.
Though she was beautiful. Hazel hair cut into a neat bob around her chin, her dark eyes friendly pools of kindness, her smile sweet and adoring.
Ruki congratulated me. Aoi called me lucky. Reita just tutted and said nothing at all.
He had every right to. My relationship with Kasumi barely lasted the length of autumn and I ended up breaking up with her over the phone as brown maple leaves scattered around my feet. She’d called me many things; a user, a disgrace, a liar, ‘a typical man’; all of which I knew I deserved since that afternoon had only been four hours since we’d first slept together.
I was horrible, I knew that. I knew my actions had consequences, so much so that my mood had soured deeper into this wandering depth of mine and I packed a bag to stay with my Grandparents for the weekend.
I kind of hopped from one family relative to the next after that. I had hoped spending time with family would allow them to give me a pep talk and give you the advice you need, like you know most families would.
Not mine. Instead I was offered a mirror into their own shallow lives.
My grandparents weren’t the most active of people, which you could expect, only they seemed the loneliest in the world. As I busied myself reading books and sketching miniscule drawings into my leather sketchbook, I saw my Grandma run through the same routine every day. Sunday was chore day; then the afternoon was spent cooking a lavish meal for my Grandfather, who wouldn’t so much as bat an eyelid or murmur the workings of a ‘thank you’.
Saturday was no different. While I had hoped I would see my Grandma doing something a little more productive than tending to my Grandfather’s every whim, my hopefulness was short-lived. The most exciting part of her day was organising the grocery list, where she endlessly fussed over my preference of fruits; telling me I should eat this, not that, but if I did want it she could always bake the leftovers into a pie.
I had to politely refuse and insisted I’d gather my own things at the store later on. Then I watched sadly as she collected the small amount of change she had from an old honey pot inside a kitchen cupboard. For the bus fare, she had told me, even though my Grandfather had a perfectly functional car sitting in their driveway but was too busy catching up on what he’d missed on TV for him to take her out. Delicately, she even refused my offer to drive her myself, telling me that her small ten minute ride on the bus was:
“My time to pretend I’m living in another’s skin, going to entirely different places… seeing different things.”
That really had crumbled me inside. And I found I could draw nothing but empty buses on a road to nowhere on each page of my sketchbook for the rest of the afternoon. By the time she returned, my Grandfather insisted on initiating an argument over the “wrong brand of soy sauce” and I had to intervene for the sake of my own sanity as well as in my Grandmother’s defence. Come five o’ clock, all had been forgotten as they sat down to watch their favourite game show while we ate, and their overexcitement at such a minor pleasure saddened me to the core. I even found myself getting angry; this was all they had to look forward to in life and I felt something inside me splinter.
I left a day earlier than planned; taking my small, white ’09 Mitsubishi Colt and driving on a journey I hoped would lead me to nowhere. Or at least a place I could find some peace of mind in.
Regretfully, I ended up at my parents’ house in east Kobe; with as much dread filling me as the moment I had left my Grandparents’ place. Mum fussed over me and my Dad pretended like it wasn’t a big deal I’d driven all this way to see them. What made matters worse was I contracted a throat infection during my stay and so my mother insisted on suffocating me with motherly instincts. I was confined to bed rest and I soon became sick of Mum treating me like a child. I soon flinched every time she tried to hug or kiss me and she soon started to notice, which caused another family argument.
This led onto why I didn’t visit home that often anymore and why I hadn’t found a decent job yet. I couldn’t take the snide comments that came about my life one after the next and so I ended up abandoning them prematurely as well, even though my throat was still in pretty bad shape and I felt rotten on my furious drive away from the house.
I ended up returning home in the end, where I found ten messages on my answering machine. One was from a buyer interested in one of my paintings I had for sale, two were from Ruki, asking where I was, that I should really pick up the phone, that we should go out next Friday for super save cocktails at the new bar that had opened somewhere in Shibuya.
The rest were worry-sounding recordings from Reita asking if I was okay; and it was only when he mentioned it did I realise that I’d been gone for a few weeks without telling anyone.
I called the buyer and told him to pick up the painting that afternoon, which he did and I was left with a nice wad of cash in my hand three hours later. Though it failed to make me even the slightest bit happier.
I ignored Ruki’s and Reita’s messages completely.
Carelessly, I used the cash to buy myself a pair of designer jeans, boots and a new silver ring. Guilt hit me the minute I laid the shopping bags on my sofa and I looked around my apartment with my hands on my hips, chewing my bottom lip as though I were a child waiting for my parents to walk through the door and recoil at what I had done.
My consumerist outburst obviously had not helped, and I considered taking my new belongings back to the store. The more I thought about it, the more I became unsure of my fashion sense; of the way I looked, the way my hair was styled, and I noticed the minutes I spent staring into my bathroom mirror were growing longer.
The next week I visited a new hairdresser, dyed my hair a darker brown and bought a tonne of skincare products.
Of course, the least impressed was Reita,
“You do realise you’ve gone too far this time?” He lectured me, leaning against the inner side of my bathroom door as he examined all the bottles I had littering atop my sink and bathroom cabinet,
“So?” I snatched a bottle of moisturiser back from him with a pout, “Since when did any of you care what I do with my life?”
“Oh, Kai, that’s harsh.” Reita chided, “What’s been the matter with you lately, anyway? All you’ve done is sulk down here without so much as a text or a call. You never wanna go out anymore, you disappear for days on end and worry us to death -“
“- Alright, fine I get your point!” I snap, going to push past him when he grabs my shoulders harshly and I struggle against his grip,
“Don’t walk out on me when I’m only trying to help you.”
It felt like Reita was staring me down, trying to search me for a hint of a flaw, a single clue that would allow him to break me and I would open up to him, cry on his shoulder, hear the, ‘there, there, it’ll be alright soon’ whispered in my ear.
As much as I longed for that, the last person I wanted it from was him, and I ignored the compelling softness in the darkness of his eyes to shove him away, this time successfully,
“I just want you all to leave me alone.”
I hadn’t thought about what I was doing that night. I just let myself be consumed by this impenetrable bubble of rage, grabbing my car keys, wallet and my jacket before I stormed out my own apartment and left Reita alone inside, not even thinking to lock the door or ask him to leave first.
I just needed to get away, I had told myself. Everything was beginning to annoy me; my friends even and I knew that was the last thing I wanted to happen.
I didn’t go to my car. I actually found myself walking to the nearest bus stop and I caught a late night coach. I didn’t even look at where it was taking me, but we must have been travelling a good few hours as I woke up with the soft streams of the morning sun brushing my cheeks.
I fished my phone out of my pocket to check the time, finding a single message newly delivered to my inbox. I prayed it was just the mobile company offering me another useless deal but predictably, Reita’s name came on-screen instead.
He’d typed out his phone number, then written underneath,
“For when you need me.”
I felt hopelessness pound pathetically at the pit of my stomach and I let my eyes wander to the road below… to the tarmac gliding smoothly at my side and the road markings chasing alongside me in swift flashes of white.
I thought about all the things I had seen, the things that had annoyed me. What it was about my Grandparents’ daily routines that had angered me so. How I had felt that new clothes and a new image would change me for the better. Why I felt myself drifting away from friends and sleeping with girls I met in bars. How I could end up detesting my own parents.
I mulled over the thought that maybe my life was beginning to scare me, though I hastily tossed that idea out the window like I had my last cigarette. What I did feel though… was suffocation.
I just couldn’t understand why.
The bus ended up in a small coastal town halfway up the country. I smiled to myself the minute the tides of ocean air hit me, thinking how all this time I’d wanted to get away, here I was doing it.
I found myself a nice bench and bought an ice cream from a nearby vendor, watching the other passengers of the coach lug their suitcases out from the coach’s side storage and wheel themselves away to their hotels. I wondered if I should do the same, though came to realise the minute I looked down at the new jeans hugging my thighs that adding a pricey hotel bill to my credit card was probably not the best way to act.
I must have stayed on that same bench for a couple of hours, inhaling sea spray and listening to the sharp sounds of seagulls hovering above my head in clustered numbers. I watched the tide slowly retract from the beach and orange casts in the sky signalled the dusk was almost ready to settle.
I checked the time on my phone to find it was almost 4pm… and I had only one bar of battery left.
I sigh at my stroke of luck, though I used my instincts to ask passing locals if there was a train station nearby. Luckily it was within a fifteen minute walking distance and I trudged my way there to check for times.
It turned out I had to make about four different changes but I still had my sketchbook tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket. I figured a series of lengthy train journeys would be the perfect opportunity for me to put my pencil to well-deserved, angst-induced sketches.
I walked along the ocean front while I waited for the next train, wondering once again how I’d been caught in this webbed cocoon of unhappiness. How I’d allowed myself to sink so deep in my own depressive waters.
Most of all I wondered why my life didn’t feel like my own anymore. I remembered my family and the way I had been both shocked and repulsed by the way they ran their lives. The conclusion I came to was that I was scared my life was but a mere shadow of theirs and I would end up exactly as they were. Stuck in loveless slavery, bound by the union of matching rings only; nothing more to do than please the other with such lifeless minority. Pretty soon I’d be saving the spare change in my wallet and placing it in a jar for safekeeping in case I should need that midnight coach again.
To pretend I’m living in another’s skin, going to entirely different places… seeing different things.
I sigh heavily and divert my eyes towards the dismal clouds drifting lazily over my head.
Suddenly I knew what it was I had to do.
*
Reita called me just as I sat down on my second train of the evening. I couldn’t tell you why I answered, maybe just to reassure him that I wasn’t dead,
“Where are you?” Was the first question that was shot my way,
“I actually don’t know.” I replied honestly, “I was in Niigata but now I’m on my way to Omiya station. I think.”
I could already feel the icy cold silence of disapproval seep through the speaker,
“You know, you shouldn’t storm out of your apartment like that. I was scared you were gonna do something stupid.”
“Like what? Throw myself off a cliff?” I retort, rolling my eyes and catching the sudden, wild stare of a fifty-something businessman sat at the table seat adjacent from me,
“You know what I mean.” Reita mumbled, “You’re not doing yourself any good running away all the time.”
My eyes flickered as they chased each house that passed me by, “Actually, Rei, you’re wrong.”
He didn’t answer me and I realised as I took the phone away from my ear that my battery had died.
I sigh at the timing, but try to forget about how mad Rei would probably be the next time I saw him. Most of all I prayed he wasn’t still waiting inside my apartment the minute I arrived home. I’m not sure I had the energy for an argument.
I exhale deeply and take out my leather book and pencil, ready to sketch the next hour and a half away. I let my hand guide me with each stroke, not truly thinking of anything particular to draw or the reason why. I let my subconscious take over and I was happy with that.
I filled nineteen pages in all by the time my journey was over; each a complete contrast to the next. As I flicked through each of them, examining them closely as I waited on the platform for my next train, I realised grimly that they all related to me in some form or another. The first page bore a cloud hovering low over a stream filled with, not water, but broken clocks and watches. Next, a little boy’s balloon caught in a large oak tree, from which a large mirror dangled by a strand of rope and he was left gazing into his reflection.
I snapped my book shut, and didn’t touch it until I finally arrived back in Tokyo and took the half an hour walk back to my apartment. The heavy smog of city air irritated me, as did the bellowing sounds of hundreds of car horns caught up in the angry midst of the evening rush hour.
I was grateful for the silence when I finally reached home, reaching for the spare key hidden under the doormat and unlocking the door, so weary I rest my forehead on it when I lock it shut again,
“You came back then.”
I close my eyes; this was just what I fucking needed right now,
“For fuck’s sake.” I whispered under my breath, startling when Reita’s hand presses down hard on my shoulder,
“You hung up on me.” He says sternly, and I take a moment to collect myself before turning to face him, taking my dead phone out of my jean pocket and waving it at him,
“Battery died.” I mumbled, tossing it onto the sofa past Reita’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.”
Reita’s face seemed to fall when he realised I had a plausible excuse, but I don’t think he expected an apology from me either,
“Are you okay?” He asked me softly, genuinely, and I felt part of my anger fade into the softness of his voice,
“I don’t think so.” I said sadly, shaking my head and the exhaustion and consequences of my actions today finally dropped their weight on my shoulders, “Everything’s wrong. And I’m completely messed up.”
I hated how my voice broke on that last sentence; and I hated myself for admitting it.
But what I hated even more was how Reita had offered nothing to say in return, and so he stepped forward with open arms and a sad but welcome smile.
Foolishly, I fell into them and let him hold me.
*
The next week, I was determined to make myself a changed man.
I rented out my apartment and stayed at Reita’s place while I went on the hunt for another. I returned my designer jeans, boots and the ring and got back the money from the sale of my painting, which was enough, combined with my savings, to put in a deposit for a lovely little apartment further out from the city centre. Slightly bigger and cleaner than my old place, I fell in love with it almost immediately and signed the papers the same day of the viewing. Reita helped me move in the following week and he, Aoi, Ruki and Uruha threw a surprise housewarming party for me. Ruki was also insistent on inviting a few girls he knew, but as lovely as they were, I made sure not to get involved with them. I wasn’t sure I was ready to fulfill that side of my life just yet.
I also knew I had to stitch old wounds and so I called Kasumi on her mobile. After three attempts, I only managed to reach her answering machine and so I left a heartfelt message apologising for the way I had treated her and that I hoped she could forgive me. I wished her all the happiness in the world before putting the phone down, but never heard from her again, which was perfectly fine by me. I didn’t expect her to.
I carried on painting and sketching as usual too. I secured a place in the local community park and spent hours drawing there for days at a time. After a couple of weeks, I had people coming up to me and asking for portraits and caricatures and I was earning a good sum of money in due time.
If things weren’t already looking up for me, a representative of the local art gallery came up to me one morning as I enjoyed a Starbucks coffee on my bench before I set about creating my artwork for the day. He asked to see some of my work and we met for dinner. My pieces are now in galleries across Tokyo and I couldn’t be happier. It’s only small galleries but... it’s a start.
I told my parents and the rest of my family about my success but it still didn’t seem worthy enough to gain their approval. In the past, I would have cried into a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, feeling alone and worthless as I watched cheap rented movies on my television; but Reita and the guys took me out for drinks to celebrate instead. It was then I realised it was up to me; I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life giving up what I love for the sake of my family’s approval. Funnily enough, I was just fine with that. And my friends were too.
Sadly, this did nothing to banish my depression and I often found myself feeling low and insecure. It took me a lot to overcome my humiliation and I finally went to see a doctor, who referred me to a counsellor. Week by week I improved, and by Christmas I really felt as though I had gotten my life back.
Perhaps this new found happiness of mine wouldn’t last for long, perhaps it would.
But at least now I knew for certain, I wasn’t suffocating alone anymore.
I had found a way to breathe.
*