Solitary Rose | chapter two of "Wrong number...." [TEGOPI FANFICTION part 2]
Title: Solitary Rose
Chapter: Chapter 2 || follow up to "Wrong Number…. "
Rating: PG?
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Yuya Tegoshi/Yamashita Tomohisa
Disclaimer: Maybe someday I will own those pretty sweet boys ^^;
Summary: What happened after Yamashita secretly confessed to Tegoshi?
One Year Later
Christmas is coming and going right before my very eyes with every single snowflake that touches the ground. Here I am again, as you can guess I am making my way down toward the park, it’s just another cold Christmas - another day among innumerous others spent by myself.
I still have my family and some friends, right - nevertheless I feel like a …what I would call it... a solitary rose. A rose? Yeah, not because I think I am pretty like one no, but because a rose can’t survive on its own for long. Its color will slowly fade with every passing day when there is no one who takes care of it. You can imagine the occasionally needed watering as the occasionally needed ‘love and warmth’, which will leave the rose slowly and agonizingly vegetate with each bud that will fall when it is too dry to survive any longer.
Solitarily dying; in front of millions of people watching.
It’s painful to see isn’t it?
Snowflakes dance around my face as I slowly walk down the crowded main street. Coloful lights are hung to the walls of the buildings and small Christmas trees decorate the shopping windows. This year I finally bought a warm, thick and furry jacket with a furry hat, which I pull over my head just now as it is getting slightly covered in white. Like always around that time of year the streets are wet and dirty from the bad weather. I watch the snow slowly drift to the ground in front of me as I keep walking toward the well known place. Somehow I don’t really want to go there this year, as always something unexpected might happen tonight, like those painful years before.
It’s actually kind of creepy that all those crazy events happened on Christmas Eve, isn’t it?
I remember the first Christmas I spent here.
I count the years passed in my head.
It was four years ago? Maybe five? Anyways it was the year before all of this happened, the year before Yamashita had confessed to me, kind of. I remember it clearly it was a wonderful day, it had been one of the most precious times in my life and now I won’t ever experience such happiness again.
Anyways, he had called me that Christmas Eve’s morning and asked me to spend the day with him. Of course I didn’t hesitate and agreed to meet him at the park around noon. Silly me wasn’t really thinking anything about it, even though we hadn’t hung out often it still didn’t occur to me why he had wanted to spend it with me. I assumed he needed some help picking out presents or something, as he always was late buying presents for his friends and family and I always teased him about it.
First we went to Harajuku; despite it was crowded as usual we had a lot of fun there. The weather was nice and sunny almost too warm for Christmas and the people kept on looking at us, which was very entertaining. And because it wasn’t snowing at all we tried to make it more Christmassy by ourselves as good as we could. We bought crêpe with baked apple and cinnamon ice cream, we went to take some Christmas purikura and we even went to karaoke, just a quick stop to sing some Christmas carols. I can’t even believe we did that! We went shopping too, he bought some presents as expected and so did I. He bought a colorful Hawaii shirt with an awful pattern, and I was making fun of it because it was winter and he bought a shirt he would not wear until summer, or maybe he would - you never know when it comes to Yamashita-kun.
When it had gotten dark outside we walked toward the park, eating takoyaki on the way before we settled ourselves on a bench, exhausted from all the running around and the fun we had. We just sat there for a while and watched the people that had gathered around the lake to play with their boats. Suddenly he pulled out a small box wrapped in dark but Christmassy papers and held it into my face.
I smiled at him as I noticed it was a Christmas present for me. Immediately I dug into my bag and pulled out the present I had prepared as well and handed him a small present wrapped in bright colorful paper. He replied with a warm smile and I watched him as he opened his present.
We laughed at the fact we had bought each other almost the same bracelet. It was silly, lovely and strange at the same time and yet I didn’t think it actually meant anything.
I can’t really tell if today is different from any other Christmas Eves I came here but it sure did feel a bit lonelier than usual. The night is dark, the people are laughing and singing, the kids are playing with their toys and even the snow is falling. Nothing had changed, everything remained the same and yet we are complaining still going in circles, not having the courage to change anything about our lives.
It’s sad really.
Today, again, exactly one year ago on Christmas Eve as I got home from my walk there was a package sitting in front of my apartment door. It was addressed to me, from Yamashita’s mother.
It was a huge shock as you can imagine, I was scared to open it at first but then after emptying a bottle of wine and eating some pasta left over’s from the day before, I ripped it open. It was a big package actually, brimmed with letters - all addressed to ‘Tegoshi Yuya’.
Apparently he had written those letters over the years but never had sent any of them. His mother attached a note, saying I should not worry and everything was still fine with Yamashita-kun. I wondered why she had sent me those letters, you know after all those years and especially since he decided not to send any of them. I hurried to call her, I wanted to know if everything really was fine with him and of course she calmly explained that he was fine, just had to get rid of those letters.
That was “nice” of him. It angered me, a lot.
She then explained he had sent them her, to take care of them. He couldn’t bring himself to throw them out but neither to send them to me. Watching her son she thought it would be the best if I had them after all and decide what to do with them.
I thought, yes it is getting better and better. Why would I want letters that the sender didn’t want me to have?
I don’t.
Therefore, I never opened one of them. Never read more than the address, my first very own address which changed over the years a couple of times though. I placed them somewhere in the far back of my closet, covered the box with clothes I didn’t wear anymore.
I would not read them, not as long as he didn’t want me to have them in the first place.
After a short while I get up, it’s still snowing and the darkness around me feels uninviting. It’s not too cold this year but still not very comfortable outside. I can see the lake, still frozen ever since it first started to snow two weeks ago; we had a lot of snow this year already.
A family close by underneath a colorful decorated tree is singing "Deck the Halls" but it doesn’t feel like Christmas at all.
I remember when you were here and all the fun that we had and the snow was coming down just like now. We watched it fall down, and all the people around, just like I do right now, but it’s not the same.
I shook my head at the sight of all those happy people and start walking home again; I don’t really feel like hanging out here any longer tonight. I quicken my pace, I’m neither hungry nor thirsty, I just want to reach my lonely apartment and go to sleep.
Thinking about the letters again tonight makes me kind of wonder now though. Maybe I should have a peak after all? It can not really hurt much more as it already does, can it?
The whole way until I reach my place I keep thinking about whether to open them or not. I almost run up the stairs like I can’t wait to finally reach my door, which I kind of can’t.
Once inside I storm into the bedroom and open my closet, pulling out the box of letters as I plop down on the cold floor.
I hesitate.
I am torn between throwing them out for good and opening them. I pick out one letter, the one at the bottom. I look at it carefully, turning it around in my hands - it looks very old.
I know it had been my fault, I know I was a stubborn person and oh so full of myself. I know I can’t ever change and no I can’t go back in time. I’ve been talking aloud with my head in the clouds, saying it’s a long time gone - without you. Maybe it doesn’t really matter anymore, to you, you must have moved on and I was happy to hear from your mother that you could make your dream come true and become a brilliant, as expected, dancer in California within the last year. Ever since it had become your passion I prayed for you - it’s wonderful you could achieve your goal, as always.
It made me want to be strong again too, do what I think is right and live.
But I wonder if I can, I still doubt a lot and maybe won’t ever be able to forgive myself.
I keep telling myself that it had been one year ever since the last letter so he must have been doing pretty well now. As I watched the letter I keep reminding myself that it would not affect anyone or anything if I just read it and maybe it could clear my mind.
I open it, slowly but I open it.
I read it.
Its dated way back, 2007-02-08.
As I keep reading one letter after the other tears keep falling and I feel as if someone strangles me from behind. It’s so hard to breath, reading those lines - most very simply but touching.
One after the other I feel worse, I feel bad for reading them but I can’t stop and I keep reading until the very last letter.
Tears can’t flow anymore; I feel dried out and too tired to cry now. I never felt like this before, there are too many emotions and thoughts running wild in my mind that I don’t remember how many hours have I been sitting here before I slowly pass out on the floor.
The Morning After Christmas Eve
I feel dizzy as I get up from the hard ground, I don’t remember when I fell asleep and if I actually slept longer than an hour - I definitely don’t feel like I have.
I don’t worry about my clothes or hair or anything, I just need some coffee right now. My head hurts and spins in circles as I get up and look next to where I lay. There is a huge pile of opened letters and suddenly it hits me hard, I remember it now.
I read all of those letters, and suddenly it hurts again.
A big, painful tear escapes, making its way down my cheek; I take a deep breath and head into the kitchen and fill the kettle with water.
In his last letter he said he was sorry. He said he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He said he knew that he hurt a lot of people with his actions and he won’t ever forgive himself for everything.
Taking out a small red cup I sit down at the table and pour the hot water over my cheap instant coffee. The aromatic smell calms me down for a moment and I carefully take the cup to my lips.
He said maybe it wasn’t the best decision he had made but it seemed to have worked out. He said he is sometimes happy now but had been happier even during the times that were the most painful times - when he was with me.
I can’t keep the tears from piling up again as I remember the letters, especially the last one, and slowly but surely I start to cry.
He said he was sorry, again and again.
More tears keep falling and my chest starts to ache, a lot, making it hard to breathe properly.
He said he worried a lot about me and that he was writing to know that I was doing fine, but he was too scared to send any of the letters off. He was too scared to actually know what I was doing.
He didn’t send the letters and said he would never send them because it would not change a thing.
He said that he wished he could change a thing though, everything. He wrote what he would want to do right now, take me shopping at the boulevard, show me the loveliest places and take me to diner to Santa Monica. He talked about the delicious sushi they had and the pasta and said I would love it. Afterwards, he said, he would ride the rollercoaster with me at the Pier, again. The town was decorated in wonderful bright lights at night which reminded him a little bit of Tokyo. He talked about the time we went there with NEWS for the calendar shooting in 2006 and how much he missed those times. He also wrote that would bring me to Disney Land in Anaheim, to the ‘brilliant’ Flamingo in Las Vegas and of course the Soccer matches at the Stables Center in Los Angeles, which is just 5 minutes from where he lives.
He said if he had the chance again he would never let me go.
He said, even though he did let me go he still would never stop loving me - although he has to stop writing to eventually move on.
He said there is nothing I could do that would stop him from thinking about me though, and he would give everything to see my face once again.
The last line that he wrote was ‘…maybe I shouldn’t have left.’
Tears keep falling down and it feels like they won’t ever stop again.
That stupid idiot.
I get up and walk into the bathroom, dazed and confused as I am washing my face with cold water I look into the mirror.
Can someone like him really forgive me? Could he really love me as much as I love him? After all these years? Years of pain? Years of nothing but events you want to forget?
I thought he had forgotten about me, at last. But I can’t say that I am not feeling funny - happy? - that he hasn’t.
I slowly step into the shower, maybe some more cold water will help to clear my mind. I let the water run down my back and as I wash my hair the clear water mixes with my tears which keep on coming.
I dry myself off and jump into fresh clothes, just something I can get a hold of right now. I don’t care what it is and if it matches with my shoes or coat or anything. I grab my keys and wallet, checking for my ID’s and passport.
Yes, I’m making my way to California; I’ll be making my way to you and I can’t even help what’s going wrong in my mind, but now I’ll be breaking the door to your heart down, so you know what I need to do. No I can’t go back in time but it would be wrong to waste even more, now all I can do is try and make things right.
I rush out the door and down the stairs, I catch the first taxi I see and tell the driver to take me to the airport. I don’t care when the next plane will leave and how long I have to wait I just have to take the next possible flight to L.A.
I know I have been stupid and wasted a lot of time but when I think about it one thing is clear, I just can’t spend another day about to, and I can’t walk another mile without you. Now you are so far away and even though love is overrated, I have to change something in my life or I might perish and won’t see another morning rise.
And if I ever get to California I’m not really sure what I’ll do, ‘cause I can’t even help what’s going on in my mind right now.
This long road isn’t getting any shorter fighting like this but I’ll be there when the morning comes and I would spill my blood, I’d die for you, I’d pray for you until the end.
YES, I will die for you,
I will pray for you
And now I will fight for you
Until the end.
[the end.?.]
Uh, like I said I over exaggerated a lot but it just came over me like that. I never wanted to write something like this, too angsty for words xD but doesn’t everyone feel like it sometimes? And the good thing about stories is that you can still decide the ending.
If you liked it please let me know ^^
You can also say if you want to read more, have an actual ending (good or bad?) and I’ll make a sequel. I actually know what I want to write, I sure do want to have a sequel cause TegoPi in California is haunting me^^
If you did not like it please let me know too ^^
I don’t need to write it down, ne? =P I just keep it to myself then XD
Chapter: Chapter 2 || follow up to "Wrong Number…. "
Rating: PG?
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Yuya Tegoshi/Yamashita Tomohisa
Disclaimer: Maybe someday I will own those pretty sweet boys ^^;
Summary: What happened after Yamashita secretly confessed to Tegoshi?
One Year Later
Christmas is coming and going right before my very eyes with every single snowflake that touches the ground. Here I am again, as you can guess I am making my way down toward the park, it’s just another cold Christmas - another day among innumerous others spent by myself.
I still have my family and some friends, right - nevertheless I feel like a …what I would call it... a solitary rose. A rose? Yeah, not because I think I am pretty like one no, but because a rose can’t survive on its own for long. Its color will slowly fade with every passing day when there is no one who takes care of it. You can imagine the occasionally needed watering as the occasionally needed ‘love and warmth’, which will leave the rose slowly and agonizingly vegetate with each bud that will fall when it is too dry to survive any longer.
Solitarily dying; in front of millions of people watching.
It’s painful to see isn’t it?
Snowflakes dance around my face as I slowly walk down the crowded main street. Coloful lights are hung to the walls of the buildings and small Christmas trees decorate the shopping windows. This year I finally bought a warm, thick and furry jacket with a furry hat, which I pull over my head just now as it is getting slightly covered in white. Like always around that time of year the streets are wet and dirty from the bad weather. I watch the snow slowly drift to the ground in front of me as I keep walking toward the well known place. Somehow I don’t really want to go there this year, as always something unexpected might happen tonight, like those painful years before.
It’s actually kind of creepy that all those crazy events happened on Christmas Eve, isn’t it?
I remember the first Christmas I spent here.
I count the years passed in my head.
It was four years ago? Maybe five? Anyways it was the year before all of this happened, the year before Yamashita had confessed to me, kind of. I remember it clearly it was a wonderful day, it had been one of the most precious times in my life and now I won’t ever experience such happiness again.
Anyways, he had called me that Christmas Eve’s morning and asked me to spend the day with him. Of course I didn’t hesitate and agreed to meet him at the park around noon. Silly me wasn’t really thinking anything about it, even though we hadn’t hung out often it still didn’t occur to me why he had wanted to spend it with me. I assumed he needed some help picking out presents or something, as he always was late buying presents for his friends and family and I always teased him about it.
First we went to Harajuku; despite it was crowded as usual we had a lot of fun there. The weather was nice and sunny almost too warm for Christmas and the people kept on looking at us, which was very entertaining. And because it wasn’t snowing at all we tried to make it more Christmassy by ourselves as good as we could. We bought crêpe with baked apple and cinnamon ice cream, we went to take some Christmas purikura and we even went to karaoke, just a quick stop to sing some Christmas carols. I can’t even believe we did that! We went shopping too, he bought some presents as expected and so did I. He bought a colorful Hawaii shirt with an awful pattern, and I was making fun of it because it was winter and he bought a shirt he would not wear until summer, or maybe he would - you never know when it comes to Yamashita-kun.
When it had gotten dark outside we walked toward the park, eating takoyaki on the way before we settled ourselves on a bench, exhausted from all the running around and the fun we had. We just sat there for a while and watched the people that had gathered around the lake to play with their boats. Suddenly he pulled out a small box wrapped in dark but Christmassy papers and held it into my face.
I smiled at him as I noticed it was a Christmas present for me. Immediately I dug into my bag and pulled out the present I had prepared as well and handed him a small present wrapped in bright colorful paper. He replied with a warm smile and I watched him as he opened his present.
We laughed at the fact we had bought each other almost the same bracelet. It was silly, lovely and strange at the same time and yet I didn’t think it actually meant anything.
I can’t really tell if today is different from any other Christmas Eves I came here but it sure did feel a bit lonelier than usual. The night is dark, the people are laughing and singing, the kids are playing with their toys and even the snow is falling. Nothing had changed, everything remained the same and yet we are complaining still going in circles, not having the courage to change anything about our lives.
It’s sad really.
Today, again, exactly one year ago on Christmas Eve as I got home from my walk there was a package sitting in front of my apartment door. It was addressed to me, from Yamashita’s mother.
It was a huge shock as you can imagine, I was scared to open it at first but then after emptying a bottle of wine and eating some pasta left over’s from the day before, I ripped it open. It was a big package actually, brimmed with letters - all addressed to ‘Tegoshi Yuya’.
Apparently he had written those letters over the years but never had sent any of them. His mother attached a note, saying I should not worry and everything was still fine with Yamashita-kun. I wondered why she had sent me those letters, you know after all those years and especially since he decided not to send any of them. I hurried to call her, I wanted to know if everything really was fine with him and of course she calmly explained that he was fine, just had to get rid of those letters.
That was “nice” of him. It angered me, a lot.
She then explained he had sent them her, to take care of them. He couldn’t bring himself to throw them out but neither to send them to me. Watching her son she thought it would be the best if I had them after all and decide what to do with them.
I thought, yes it is getting better and better. Why would I want letters that the sender didn’t want me to have?
I don’t.
Therefore, I never opened one of them. Never read more than the address, my first very own address which changed over the years a couple of times though. I placed them somewhere in the far back of my closet, covered the box with clothes I didn’t wear anymore.
I would not read them, not as long as he didn’t want me to have them in the first place.
After a short while I get up, it’s still snowing and the darkness around me feels uninviting. It’s not too cold this year but still not very comfortable outside. I can see the lake, still frozen ever since it first started to snow two weeks ago; we had a lot of snow this year already.
A family close by underneath a colorful decorated tree is singing "Deck the Halls" but it doesn’t feel like Christmas at all.
I remember when you were here and all the fun that we had and the snow was coming down just like now. We watched it fall down, and all the people around, just like I do right now, but it’s not the same.
I shook my head at the sight of all those happy people and start walking home again; I don’t really feel like hanging out here any longer tonight. I quicken my pace, I’m neither hungry nor thirsty, I just want to reach my lonely apartment and go to sleep.
Thinking about the letters again tonight makes me kind of wonder now though. Maybe I should have a peak after all? It can not really hurt much more as it already does, can it?
The whole way until I reach my place I keep thinking about whether to open them or not. I almost run up the stairs like I can’t wait to finally reach my door, which I kind of can’t.
Once inside I storm into the bedroom and open my closet, pulling out the box of letters as I plop down on the cold floor.
I hesitate.
I am torn between throwing them out for good and opening them. I pick out one letter, the one at the bottom. I look at it carefully, turning it around in my hands - it looks very old.
I know it had been my fault, I know I was a stubborn person and oh so full of myself. I know I can’t ever change and no I can’t go back in time. I’ve been talking aloud with my head in the clouds, saying it’s a long time gone - without you. Maybe it doesn’t really matter anymore, to you, you must have moved on and I was happy to hear from your mother that you could make your dream come true and become a brilliant, as expected, dancer in California within the last year. Ever since it had become your passion I prayed for you - it’s wonderful you could achieve your goal, as always.
It made me want to be strong again too, do what I think is right and live.
But I wonder if I can, I still doubt a lot and maybe won’t ever be able to forgive myself.
I keep telling myself that it had been one year ever since the last letter so he must have been doing pretty well now. As I watched the letter I keep reminding myself that it would not affect anyone or anything if I just read it and maybe it could clear my mind.
I open it, slowly but I open it.
I read it.
Its dated way back, 2007-02-08.
As I keep reading one letter after the other tears keep falling and I feel as if someone strangles me from behind. It’s so hard to breath, reading those lines - most very simply but touching.
One after the other I feel worse, I feel bad for reading them but I can’t stop and I keep reading until the very last letter.
Tears can’t flow anymore; I feel dried out and too tired to cry now. I never felt like this before, there are too many emotions and thoughts running wild in my mind that I don’t remember how many hours have I been sitting here before I slowly pass out on the floor.
The Morning After Christmas Eve
I feel dizzy as I get up from the hard ground, I don’t remember when I fell asleep and if I actually slept longer than an hour - I definitely don’t feel like I have.
I don’t worry about my clothes or hair or anything, I just need some coffee right now. My head hurts and spins in circles as I get up and look next to where I lay. There is a huge pile of opened letters and suddenly it hits me hard, I remember it now.
I read all of those letters, and suddenly it hurts again.
A big, painful tear escapes, making its way down my cheek; I take a deep breath and head into the kitchen and fill the kettle with water.
In his last letter he said he was sorry. He said he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He said he knew that he hurt a lot of people with his actions and he won’t ever forgive himself for everything.
Taking out a small red cup I sit down at the table and pour the hot water over my cheap instant coffee. The aromatic smell calms me down for a moment and I carefully take the cup to my lips.
He said maybe it wasn’t the best decision he had made but it seemed to have worked out. He said he is sometimes happy now but had been happier even during the times that were the most painful times - when he was with me.
I can’t keep the tears from piling up again as I remember the letters, especially the last one, and slowly but surely I start to cry.
He said he was sorry, again and again.
More tears keep falling and my chest starts to ache, a lot, making it hard to breathe properly.
He said he worried a lot about me and that he was writing to know that I was doing fine, but he was too scared to send any of the letters off. He was too scared to actually know what I was doing.
He didn’t send the letters and said he would never send them because it would not change a thing.
He said that he wished he could change a thing though, everything. He wrote what he would want to do right now, take me shopping at the boulevard, show me the loveliest places and take me to diner to Santa Monica. He talked about the delicious sushi they had and the pasta and said I would love it. Afterwards, he said, he would ride the rollercoaster with me at the Pier, again. The town was decorated in wonderful bright lights at night which reminded him a little bit of Tokyo. He talked about the time we went there with NEWS for the calendar shooting in 2006 and how much he missed those times. He also wrote that would bring me to Disney Land in Anaheim, to the ‘brilliant’ Flamingo in Las Vegas and of course the Soccer matches at the Stables Center in Los Angeles, which is just 5 minutes from where he lives.
He said if he had the chance again he would never let me go.
He said, even though he did let me go he still would never stop loving me - although he has to stop writing to eventually move on.
He said there is nothing I could do that would stop him from thinking about me though, and he would give everything to see my face once again.
The last line that he wrote was ‘…maybe I shouldn’t have left.’
Tears keep falling down and it feels like they won’t ever stop again.
That stupid idiot.
I get up and walk into the bathroom, dazed and confused as I am washing my face with cold water I look into the mirror.
Can someone like him really forgive me? Could he really love me as much as I love him? After all these years? Years of pain? Years of nothing but events you want to forget?
I thought he had forgotten about me, at last. But I can’t say that I am not feeling funny - happy? - that he hasn’t.
I slowly step into the shower, maybe some more cold water will help to clear my mind. I let the water run down my back and as I wash my hair the clear water mixes with my tears which keep on coming.
I dry myself off and jump into fresh clothes, just something I can get a hold of right now. I don’t care what it is and if it matches with my shoes or coat or anything. I grab my keys and wallet, checking for my ID’s and passport.
Yes, I’m making my way to California; I’ll be making my way to you and I can’t even help what’s going wrong in my mind, but now I’ll be breaking the door to your heart down, so you know what I need to do. No I can’t go back in time but it would be wrong to waste even more, now all I can do is try and make things right.
I rush out the door and down the stairs, I catch the first taxi I see and tell the driver to take me to the airport. I don’t care when the next plane will leave and how long I have to wait I just have to take the next possible flight to L.A.
I know I have been stupid and wasted a lot of time but when I think about it one thing is clear, I just can’t spend another day about to, and I can’t walk another mile without you. Now you are so far away and even though love is overrated, I have to change something in my life or I might perish and won’t see another morning rise.
And if I ever get to California I’m not really sure what I’ll do, ‘cause I can’t even help what’s going on in my mind right now.
This long road isn’t getting any shorter fighting like this but I’ll be there when the morning comes and I would spill my blood, I’d die for you, I’d pray for you until the end.
YES, I will die for you,
I will pray for you
And now I will fight for you
Until the end.
[the end.?.]
Uh, like I said I over exaggerated a lot but it just came over me like that. I never wanted to write something like this, too angsty for words xD but doesn’t everyone feel like it sometimes? And the good thing about stories is that you can still decide the ending.
If you liked it please let me know ^^
You can also say if you want to read more, have an actual ending (good or bad?) and I’ll make a sequel. I actually know what I want to write, I sure do want to have a sequel cause TegoPi in California is haunting me^^
If you did not like it please let me know too ^^
I don’t need to write it down, ne? =P I just keep it to myself then XD