SPICA - prologue.
Title: Spica.
Pairing: Tegoshi x Masuda, Yamapi x Ryo.
Rating: PG-13.
Note : This was originally part of chapter one, but it felt better to separate them.
Summary:
He'd run away, change his name, even change his face if he had to.
Call him a coward if you must.
It was his fault, it was his fault. Drilled into his mind like metal into wood, the words echoed, repeating over and over again until they became a part of him. Burnt into the back of his eyelids, written in blood onto his memories.
Like a broken video recorder the memories looped as he laid there on that sterile bed, with needles in his arm and tubes taped to his throat. Start, stop. Rewind.
The lights grew as he opened his eyes, their radiance blinding. Why would there be lights in a place like this? Their glow seemed oddly ironic for the situation he was in. He had always thought endings entailed darkness.
He could hear the laughter in his head - familiar sounds from familiar voices. But sounds are not permanent. They are not like the ink of tattoos on skin, the rich tones of red wine seeping into cold marble. Sounds, like emotions, are fleeting. Sometimes they go, fade away.
Sometimes they stay in your heart, embroidered through some sort of magic that translates senses into tangible patterns.
Too hard to unstitch even if they're soaked, red and dripping.
You can only cut them away.
**********************************
They’d kept him in the hospital for a week. He had not suffered any injuries apart from a fractured arm and a mild concussion, but they wanted him in for observation. Masuda would lie there as the doctors and nurses poked and proded at him, testing his reflexes, asking questions to see if he'd gotten any psychological conditions. Sometimes they would use flashlights and shine them directly at his eyes, and Masuda hated that test the most. He'd panic and try to runaway everytime they tried.
His left forearm was put into a plain white cast, hard and solid so that the bone would set right. It was sturdy and effective, but the itchiness bugged him now and then. He'd missed the funeral and burial while he was admitted, but he knew he would not have gone anyway. He couldn't possibly go.
His sister had visited a couple of times. She had told him about the guy who hit them, the same one who had gotten away. They'd been classified as a Hit and Run case. When Masuda was being discharged she had offered to come and pick him up but he'd shook his head and said no, told her that he wanted to stay away from cars for awhile, that'd he'd walk home. His sister smiled with tears in her eyes and told him that he would be okay, that it wasn't his fault, that they’d catch the bastard who did this to their family.
That night, Masuda dug out the biggest backpack he could find and packed in as much clothes as he could. He grabbed his bank book and identification documents, phone and a spare pair of shoes. He walked past their family room, staring wistfully at the photographs hanging on the wall. Taking one off its hook, he threw it hard against the ground and brushed away the shards of glass, picking up the happy picture. Tucking it gently into the folds of his wallet, he stepped out of his family home for one last time and stuck a note for his sister on the door. Masuda locked up the place and slid the spare key under the doormat.
Then he took a bus to the station and got on the last train headed west, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, forgetting everything that has happened this past week.
Just for awhile.
--------------------------------------------------
a/n. It's not as angsty as it seems, i promise. XD Next part will definitely be longer!.(and happier).
NTS: edit.
Pairing: Tegoshi x Masuda, Yamapi x Ryo.
Rating: PG-13.
Note : This was originally part of chapter one, but it felt better to separate them.
Summary:
He'd run away, change his name, even change his face if he had to.
Call him a coward if you must.
It was his fault, it was his fault. Drilled into his mind like metal into wood, the words echoed, repeating over and over again until they became a part of him. Burnt into the back of his eyelids, written in blood onto his memories.
Like a broken video recorder the memories looped as he laid there on that sterile bed, with needles in his arm and tubes taped to his throat. Start, stop. Rewind.
The lights grew as he opened his eyes, their radiance blinding. Why would there be lights in a place like this? Their glow seemed oddly ironic for the situation he was in. He had always thought endings entailed darkness.
He could hear the laughter in his head - familiar sounds from familiar voices. But sounds are not permanent. They are not like the ink of tattoos on skin, the rich tones of red wine seeping into cold marble. Sounds, like emotions, are fleeting. Sometimes they go, fade away.
Sometimes they stay in your heart, embroidered through some sort of magic that translates senses into tangible patterns.
Too hard to unstitch even if they're soaked, red and dripping.
You can only cut them away.
**********************************
They’d kept him in the hospital for a week. He had not suffered any injuries apart from a fractured arm and a mild concussion, but they wanted him in for observation. Masuda would lie there as the doctors and nurses poked and proded at him, testing his reflexes, asking questions to see if he'd gotten any psychological conditions. Sometimes they would use flashlights and shine them directly at his eyes, and Masuda hated that test the most. He'd panic and try to runaway everytime they tried.
His left forearm was put into a plain white cast, hard and solid so that the bone would set right. It was sturdy and effective, but the itchiness bugged him now and then. He'd missed the funeral and burial while he was admitted, but he knew he would not have gone anyway. He couldn't possibly go.
His sister had visited a couple of times. She had told him about the guy who hit them, the same one who had gotten away. They'd been classified as a Hit and Run case. When Masuda was being discharged she had offered to come and pick him up but he'd shook his head and said no, told her that he wanted to stay away from cars for awhile, that'd he'd walk home. His sister smiled with tears in her eyes and told him that he would be okay, that it wasn't his fault, that they’d catch the bastard who did this to their family.
That night, Masuda dug out the biggest backpack he could find and packed in as much clothes as he could. He grabbed his bank book and identification documents, phone and a spare pair of shoes. He walked past their family room, staring wistfully at the photographs hanging on the wall. Taking one off its hook, he threw it hard against the ground and brushed away the shards of glass, picking up the happy picture. Tucking it gently into the folds of his wallet, he stepped out of his family home for one last time and stuck a note for his sister on the door. Masuda locked up the place and slid the spare key under the doormat.
Then he took a bus to the station and got on the last train headed west, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, forgetting everything that has happened this past week.
Just for awhile.
--------------------------------------------------
a/n. It's not as angsty as it seems, i promise. XD Next part will definitely be longer!.(and happier).
NTS: edit.