[01/16] Lifetimes
Lifetimes
November 2012
Summary
Mikado Miwa had always been - clichés and all other stereotypes taken into consideration - just an ordinary girl. Pencil pusher-slash-coffee maker in the morning, legendary fanfiction writer and blogger at night. Her stories had been, for more than ten years now, about a certain man named Sakurai Sho - idol, rapper, newscaster, godsend. She had been content writing about him, and would have been happy to continue writing about him, had he not one day pulled a pseudo-Akanishi and decided to get himself engaged. It had been a week since that fateful evening the headlines had borne that earth-shattering news. So why was he now standing outside her door in the rain, requesting a place in her life?
A/N
[21.52, 24 November 2012] I am depressed. I just realized I’ve been too dependent on Sho, and now that he’s in this possibly-lifetime relationship with Mori Izumi, I’m screwed. And so I’ll write about this sadness. Because sadness makes excellent fodder for writing.
Disclaimer
The mastermind behind this plot derives no material profit from it. While several people, places, and events exist in reality, everything that follows should be digested with a healthy dose of suspicion.
Warning
I cannot write bromance or erotica to save my life.
There is no plot to this. I am writing as I go.
Words 1,207
Lifetimes
For Arashi
Episode One
Standing in the Rain, One Misty Evening
A lifetime ago, she might have rejoiced at her finally having developed a considerable social life. She had gone to a quasi-business dinner with some of the people from her department, and it had actually been half-enjoyable until the conversation transformed from discussions about the stock market to interrogations about each other’s sex lives.
An hour down their first bottle of sake and the gathering had morphed into a goukon.
Mikado Miwa sighed as she trudged down the path to her house, clumsily fishing for her keys in her coat pocket. Winter this year was unkind, even drearier than usual now that she had 300 full square meters of prime Tokyo residential space all to herself. How dearly she missed her mother, and the way the woman would have berated her for coming home at this hour of the evening.
A plain black car was parked outside her house.
Miwa kept walking as steadily as she could, the rainwater splashing at her feet as she came closer to the wrought-iron gate of her house. It was funny - the car almost looked familiar, its plate number an easy combination that jogged her memory. She squinted as she saw someone standing next to the nondescript BMW.
As he turned, his face caught in the soft glow of the garden lamps, she felt her breath catch, her eyes widen. Her keys plopped gently as they felt into a puddle at her feet.
Face serious, he walked up to her as she relished the moment, the chance. His large black umbrella swaying slightly in the gentle drizzle, he squatted and fished her keys from the ground.
She had never expected him to have the slightest inclination for chivalry, in reality.
“Good evening. Are you Mikado Miwa?”
His eyebrows quirked as she worked to free her face from the spell, the surprise, of seeing him. “Yes. Yes, I am. How may I help you?”
“There is a favor I would like to ask of you. If it's all right, I would like to speak with you in private, and as soon as possible.” His face was blank as he peered beneath the shadow of her umbrella. “I do apologize for the late hour, but it’s an issue that’s been bothering me for quite some time now. We believe you’re the only one who can help me.”
“We?” Miwa bit her lip as she realized the dilemma she was facing. She had sworn she would be better off without him, had sworn she would have to be rid of her dependence on this man. “Please tell me how I may be able to help you.”
He gripped his umbrella tighter. “It is a sensitive topic I do not wish to share with you at a place where anyone can hear us. If it is acceptable to you, please allow me to prevail upon your hospitality, and speak with you inside your house for a few minutes.” He held her gaze, and she felt her resolve crumble. “Please.”
“If you wish for me to help you, I’m afraid I must insist that you provide me a general idea of your request.” She blinked to clear her senses, but frowned imperiously to emphasize she was serious. “I don’t just go about inviting men into my home, you see. Please tell me what you’re here for.”
He considered her quietly as they stood in the rain. In any case, Miwa realized, it was too noisy for anyone to eavesdrop on them, and it was most unwise for this man to be standing in the dark with an unknown woman her age. But she would not falter. “Please trust me, Sakurai-san.”
To her surprise, he smiled. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s precisely because I trust you that you’re the only one who can help me.”
“But we’ve never met before now-”
“Didn’t you once say you feel as though you’ve known me all your life?”
She flushed, and was grateful the darkness afforded her some dignity. “You’ve been reading my blog.”
“Yes, I have.” He cast a quick look at the empty street once, taking in the bright lampposts, the patches of shadow on the concrete. “Mikado-san, let me be honest with you. I need you to pretend to be my bride for my wedding, three months from now.”
“W-what?”
“In a word, that’s what my request from you is. I realize it’s unreasonable-”
“It’s completely unreasonable!”
“But it is essential to my happiness.” He blinked at her slowly, and she felt he was looking at her from above. She knew there were only a few inches between their two heights, so why did she feel so dwarfed by this man, his presence? “Please give me the chance to explain myself, Mikado-san.”
He paused. "I desperately need your help."
She sighed and shut her eyes as she slowly rubbed her temple. Had the alcohol perhaps caused her to conjure hallucinations? Would she ever be rid of this man, even in her head?
But when she opened her eyes, he was still there, watching her make a decision, waiting. Miwa bit her lip as she remembered the last words her mother had said to her.
“Try not to think too much of Sakurai today, dear;
You know it’s not good for you.”
She had left for work right after, and she had never come home after that.
“All right. I’ll hear you out.” Was she making a stupid decision? She was slowly making the one deal that would guarantee to break her heart. “Please step inside.”
He extended one hand, her keys on his palm. “Oh, shoot. I forgot.”
As she reached for her keys, their fingertips touched.
Vaguely she wondered if he felt it, too, the faint shock of lightning that crept up her arms, into her heart.
A/N
Has anyone seen The Decoy Bride? [23.05, 24 November 2012]
November 2012
Summary
Mikado Miwa had always been - clichés and all other stereotypes taken into consideration - just an ordinary girl. Pencil pusher-slash-coffee maker in the morning, legendary fanfiction writer and blogger at night. Her stories had been, for more than ten years now, about a certain man named Sakurai Sho - idol, rapper, newscaster, godsend. She had been content writing about him, and would have been happy to continue writing about him, had he not one day pulled a pseudo-Akanishi and decided to get himself engaged. It had been a week since that fateful evening the headlines had borne that earth-shattering news. So why was he now standing outside her door in the rain, requesting a place in her life?
A/N
[21.52, 24 November 2012] I am depressed. I just realized I’ve been too dependent on Sho, and now that he’s in this possibly-lifetime relationship with Mori Izumi, I’m screwed. And so I’ll write about this sadness. Because sadness makes excellent fodder for writing.
Disclaimer
The mastermind behind this plot derives no material profit from it. While several people, places, and events exist in reality, everything that follows should be digested with a healthy dose of suspicion.
Warning
I cannot write bromance or erotica to save my life.
There is no plot to this. I am writing as I go.
Words 1,207
Lifetimes
For Arashi
Episode One
Standing in the Rain, One Misty Evening
A lifetime ago, she might have rejoiced at her finally having developed a considerable social life. She had gone to a quasi-business dinner with some of the people from her department, and it had actually been half-enjoyable until the conversation transformed from discussions about the stock market to interrogations about each other’s sex lives.
An hour down their first bottle of sake and the gathering had morphed into a goukon.
Mikado Miwa sighed as she trudged down the path to her house, clumsily fishing for her keys in her coat pocket. Winter this year was unkind, even drearier than usual now that she had 300 full square meters of prime Tokyo residential space all to herself. How dearly she missed her mother, and the way the woman would have berated her for coming home at this hour of the evening.
A plain black car was parked outside her house.
Miwa kept walking as steadily as she could, the rainwater splashing at her feet as she came closer to the wrought-iron gate of her house. It was funny - the car almost looked familiar, its plate number an easy combination that jogged her memory. She squinted as she saw someone standing next to the nondescript BMW.
As he turned, his face caught in the soft glow of the garden lamps, she felt her breath catch, her eyes widen. Her keys plopped gently as they felt into a puddle at her feet.
Face serious, he walked up to her as she relished the moment, the chance. His large black umbrella swaying slightly in the gentle drizzle, he squatted and fished her keys from the ground.
She had never expected him to have the slightest inclination for chivalry, in reality.
“Good evening. Are you Mikado Miwa?”
His eyebrows quirked as she worked to free her face from the spell, the surprise, of seeing him. “Yes. Yes, I am. How may I help you?”
“There is a favor I would like to ask of you. If it's all right, I would like to speak with you in private, and as soon as possible.” His face was blank as he peered beneath the shadow of her umbrella. “I do apologize for the late hour, but it’s an issue that’s been bothering me for quite some time now. We believe you’re the only one who can help me.”
“We?” Miwa bit her lip as she realized the dilemma she was facing. She had sworn she would be better off without him, had sworn she would have to be rid of her dependence on this man. “Please tell me how I may be able to help you.”
He gripped his umbrella tighter. “It is a sensitive topic I do not wish to share with you at a place where anyone can hear us. If it is acceptable to you, please allow me to prevail upon your hospitality, and speak with you inside your house for a few minutes.” He held her gaze, and she felt her resolve crumble. “Please.”
“If you wish for me to help you, I’m afraid I must insist that you provide me a general idea of your request.” She blinked to clear her senses, but frowned imperiously to emphasize she was serious. “I don’t just go about inviting men into my home, you see. Please tell me what you’re here for.”
He considered her quietly as they stood in the rain. In any case, Miwa realized, it was too noisy for anyone to eavesdrop on them, and it was most unwise for this man to be standing in the dark with an unknown woman her age. But she would not falter. “Please trust me, Sakurai-san.”
To her surprise, he smiled. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s precisely because I trust you that you’re the only one who can help me.”
“But we’ve never met before now-”
“Didn’t you once say you feel as though you’ve known me all your life?”
She flushed, and was grateful the darkness afforded her some dignity. “You’ve been reading my blog.”
“Yes, I have.” He cast a quick look at the empty street once, taking in the bright lampposts, the patches of shadow on the concrete. “Mikado-san, let me be honest with you. I need you to pretend to be my bride for my wedding, three months from now.”
“W-what?”
“In a word, that’s what my request from you is. I realize it’s unreasonable-”
“It’s completely unreasonable!”
“But it is essential to my happiness.” He blinked at her slowly, and she felt he was looking at her from above. She knew there were only a few inches between their two heights, so why did she feel so dwarfed by this man, his presence? “Please give me the chance to explain myself, Mikado-san.”
He paused. "I desperately need your help."
She sighed and shut her eyes as she slowly rubbed her temple. Had the alcohol perhaps caused her to conjure hallucinations? Would she ever be rid of this man, even in her head?
But when she opened her eyes, he was still there, watching her make a decision, waiting. Miwa bit her lip as she remembered the last words her mother had said to her.
“Try not to think too much of Sakurai today, dear;
You know it’s not good for you.”
She had left for work right after, and she had never come home after that.
“All right. I’ll hear you out.” Was she making a stupid decision? She was slowly making the one deal that would guarantee to break her heart. “Please step inside.”
He extended one hand, her keys on his palm. “Oh, shoot. I forgot.”
As she reached for her keys, their fingertips touched.
Vaguely she wondered if he felt it, too, the faint shock of lightning that crept up her arms, into her heart.
A/N
Has anyone seen The Decoy Bride? [23.05, 24 November 2012]