Forever & Ever 4.1
Title: Forever & Ever (Miseinen Sequel)
Author: Zion Shadowlet
Beta: butterflysaga(the bitch)
Characters: Aoi, Uruha, Ruki, Reita, Kai and many OCs (Fuwa etc.)
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha and more~
Genre: Drama, Romance, Friendship, Comedy
Rating: NC17
Summary: Six years have passed since the summer at the Dazai Bright Future Retreat for Troubled Children. The boys meet in an unexpected way perhaps bound by fate in the underground world of Visual Kei. With broken hearts and promises; the boys-now young men look to regain some of what they lost by the wild and reckless pursuit of the same dream.
Previous Parts: Part 1.1 | Part 1.2 | Part 2 | Part 3
“Hey, sorry I’m calling you so late,” Aoi said, leaning against the wall. He was calling from a dirty payphone outside of a noodle restaurant. The sweet smell of the food sent pangs of longing in his empty stomach. He should have eaten at Uruha’s house but for some reason, he felt uncomfortable taking food from him even though he offered. Ruki had eaten but he was Ruki. “I just wanted to let you know that I am okay,” he said to the answering machine.
She must have been out with the other women grocery shopping or since the weather was warming up, they probably went to some garage sales to pick up random junk.
“I’ll call in a couple days. I hope you and the others are good…yeah…” he was really bad at these things. “Guess what? Um…I ran into a couple of old friends, two boys from that retreat I was sent to back when I was 17….Um…It’s been awesome. They are in bands too. Who would have thought, huh? …anyhow…I’ll call….I love you mom,” he said and hung up.
Alright, he was expected to meet up with Ruki at some restaurant at 5 pm that night after he picked up his guitar from Sakana Sakura. He was given instructions to pay some guys at the venue to send over Ruki’s drum set to Uruha’s apartment. Until then, he had about 4 hours to himself. Might as well get some food and then head onto the livehouse.
He went into the restaurant. It was one of those cheap places that had a long wrapping counter around the chef and his stove. Since the place was near a popular train station, it was crowded with all sorts of people. He sat down at the only empty stool, sandwiched by two salary men who were greedily slurping up their noodles.
“Good afternoon,” the chef said, wiping his hands on his apron and greeting him.
“Good afternoon,” he smiled and looking up at the menu, ordered something quickly. He figured that even though he seemed a bit rude, he was doing the guy a favor by getting to the point. He seemed busy.
The chef nodded and went to go prepare his food.
One of the salary men glanced at Aoi. He could tell from the corner of his eye that his presence was making him uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat and kept looking at him, thinking that he seemed inconspicuous. Aoi turned and looked at him directly. He was about Aoi’s age. He couldn’t have been more than 25. He was wearing one of those bland black and white suit ensembles that all low level business men wore. Since he wasn’t at the office, his collar was unbuttoned and his tie was loosened.
“Do you have a problem?” Aoi asked him. He was used to people treating him weird because of the way he looked, the lip piercing, the long hair, the ratty clothes.
The young salary man shook his head no enthusiastically. He was overwhelmed with embarrassment, getting caught staring at someone.
“Good,” Aoi said looking at the chef as he approached him and placed his food in front of him. Picking up his chopsticks, he started eating.
Still, the salary man kept glancing at him.
“Dude, why?” Aoi said, looking at him directly once more.
The man was mortified by the social embarrassment of the situation. Aoi could tell that his mouth had gone dry as he kept opening and closing it. “Are you…”
“Am I what?” Aoi asked, irritated.
“Are you homeless?”
Aoi narrowed his eyes at him and answered flatly “No.”
“Oh,” the salary man nodded and slowly looked back at his food.
“Why?” Aoi asked.
“It’s just…nothing,” he shook his head.
Aoi shrugged and started eating his food again.
Nervously, the young man pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket and taking a napkin wrote down something hurriedly on it. He stared at the side of Aoi’s face, apprehensive to hand him the note he wrote. Aoi, fully aware of the fact that he was staring at him, just stared forward and slurped his noodles disinterestedly. The young man stared at his mouth, the pointy tips of his upper lip, watching him suck. Building up all his courage, he handed Aoi the note.
“Hm?” Aoi looked at it surprised and then glancing back at the salary man, picked up the note and read it.
“Is that too little?” the guy whispered to him, everything about his manner tense.
Aoi starred at the napkin, admiring the guy’s perfect calligraphy. He was probably a good student growing up. He probably has a good job. He probably has a dad who took him to baseball games and grandparents that he visited in the summertime, all of which would be mortified if they knew that he was writing notes to some guy in a noodle shop, offering to pay him 4,000 yen to blow him in the bathroom. He sucked at his own teeth as he considered the offer relishing in the fact that this successful young man-his opposite so to speak, who would normally be in control, stared at him anxiously, vulnerable under his mercy. He could very well throw the napkin back in his face, cuss him out and publically humiliate him in front of all these people.
Was 4,000 yen too little? Since he asked that question, he probably never tried to pick up a prostitute before. Aoi could probably get him to pay more if he wanted to.
He dragged his eyes from the note and looked at him. He wasn’t bad looking. Many women would be happy to marry him. His features were clean, he had nice skin and his boring haircut didn’t look too horrible on him.
The guy making eye contact with him looked down ashamed.
“Sure,” Aoi said. “You pay for the food too.”
He nodded quickly and pulling out some bills nervously from his wallet set the down on the counter.
***
The people who owned Sakana Sakura were surprisingly understanding. Aoi was under the impression that because of the fight, the three of them would be banned from the place and their reputation in the small, underground world of shitty Visual Kei livehouses would be tarnished. In the end, Gabriel’s general douchebagness saved them. When he told them who he was, they laughed and warmed up to him and said that they wouldn’t mind using one of their trucks to move the drum set of course, not for free. Aoi pulling out the money that he just earned from the salary man gave it to them.
“No problem,” they said and started to get things in motion.
“Either Uruha will be there or his sister,” Aoi informed them before heading out to meet Ruki.
Busy, busy, he sighed to himself as he hopped on the bus.
It finally sunk in then, that he was going to be in a band with them if things worked out. He couldn’t quite fathom it. Sure, being with Ruki was one thing but being with Uruha was something entirely different. It felt strange, the idea of it. Uruha. This guy who he used to call Ducky Baby, who he used to fantasize about, who he had become in his mind the personification of happiness. That summer so many years ago, being with his friends, being with all those counselors who looked after him, took care of him like the father he never had, and being with Uruha, whose beautiful existence was like a dream. The memory of sleeping in that room, with the sunlight trickling in from the window and Uruha throwing hollyhocks on his face came back to him.
Now, he was just a guy who he used to know and by virtue of once being friends and being in the same scene was going to form a band with him. The idea of it gave him a sudden shock as if he were suddenly hit with the gravity of reality. Don’t concentrate on it too much, Aoi, he told himself. Before he knew it, he was at his stop and Ruki was standing there waiting for him.
He quickly got off the bus.
“Heyyyaaaa,” Aoi smiled at his small friend. Ruki was wearing a ripped up old red sweater over the ugliest yellow aloha shirt Aoi had ever seen and he was wearing a dark brown beanie hat. He probably thinks himself somewhat cool looking, Aoi thought. It did seem like a psychotic arrangement that hide might do.
“Oh,” Ruki said pulling out his wallet. “How much did they ask for?”
“Ruki, you live out of a car,” Aoi said pulling out the pack of cigarettes Uruha had forced on him earlier.
“But…it was my fault and you can’t be that much better off…” he mumbled.
“Dude, don’t worry about it. No keeping tabs, okay?” Aoi smiled and lit his cigarette.
“Thank you,” Ruki smiled cutely sending warm, happy vibes through Aoi’s insides.
***
Several weeks passed. The occasional phone call, updates on the band and their progress. From what Aoi could gather, Koji had no intention of leaving Mlle.Emily+Vanilla and joining another band especially if he was going to be the odd one out of the former childhood friends.
The three of them, Ruki, Aoi and Uruha only got to meet up once since the last time. And during that get-together, they mostly talked about the visual kei scene in Tokyo, who they saw, what their experiences were like.
Homeless, Ruki was bouncing from house to house. He stayed with Uruha for a couple of days and then feeling like a burden, he crashed at someone else’s. Aoi wanted to offer him a place to stay but currently, he was living with Nagano and his girlfriend, a real uptight bitch who would have bitten all three of their heads off if they let some strange boy sleep on their couch.
From a payphone inside of some crummy old Laundromat Aoi called Uruha’s house wondering if there was any updates he should know about.
“Hello?” Uruha’s answered.
“Hey,” Aoi held the dirty receiver lazily against his ear. “Any news?”
“About members? No. I have a show tonight though. Oh…” Uruha said suddenly realizing something.
“Yeah?”
“Next Friday, we are going to be playing at Club Radio and they need another act.”
“Are you suggesting my band play there?”
“Do you have a show?”
“Nah. I’ll ask Koji. Might be nice to see you again too,” Aoi said casually. When Uruha went quiet on the other line, the thought occurred to him that he must have interpreted the words as something more intimate than he intended.
“Okay,” Uruha said, realizing that Aoi didn’t mean it in any special way.
Aoi sighed to himself. These sort of awkward instances happened often with them. Just fight through it, he said to himself.
“How are you?” Uruha asked, his tone much softer and sweeter now.
“Good,” Aoi answered blankly. “You?”
With a strangely sad tone, Uruha replied “Okay.”
Aoi feeling guilty about answering him like that said “Hey, we should get together tomorrow or something. Are you busy?”
“Get together?”
“Yeah, play guitar and stuff.”
“Sure. At my place?”
“I’m good with that.”
“Okay. Come by whenever. I’ll be here.”
“Great. Well, I’m starving so I should go… I’ll see you tomorrow,” Aoi said dying to hang up. Speaking with Uruha over the phone was always difficult. It was hard to speak to him in person and with even less to go by, one was often met with awkward pauses and silences and ambiguous sentences that were difficult to decipher.
“Goodbye,” Uruha said reluctantly.
Hanging up, Aoi took a deep sigh. He looked out the window, his hands jammed in his pockets. Outside, it was a cold and rainy day in late March, something stuck in between winter and spring. Aoi tried to see the charm in it but it just irritated him. He wanted it to be warm out already-that or go back to winter, at least that way he knew what to expect and he would be satisfied with at least knowing that he didn’t have to wait in anticipation for summer. He would be able to rely on the fact that it would always be cold.
He glanced at the clock. Might as well get something to eat. What he said over the phone was a lie but the recognition that it was never even crossed his mind. He just said what he needed to say. He had gotten so used to lying that it was engrained in his nature.
He stepped out into the cold and started down the street, hoping to stumble upon some cheap place to eat.
The short phone call ran through his head. The flow of it constantly stopping at that awkward pause. “Might be nice to see you again” met with silence. Aoi had used the word “might” but it didn’t ring that way to Uruha’s ears and Aoi knew it. He knew that for those several seconds when he was misunderstanding him that they were brought back to that old intimacy of theirs. He could sense the tenseness in the airwaves shared through the phone line and it was so strong, it felt that for a moment, they were in a room together alone.
Aoi let his thoughts wander. He remembered the last night they had been together and all the promises he made. He had meant them then but now, as a man, he looked back and realized that it was all just words. Things don’t happen how you think they will when you are kid. Those memories of being out in the warm summer sun filled him with a sweet feeling of nostalgia. He thought of the time he stole that poor bastard Kawai’s bike and rode off with Uruha. He laughed at it. God, Aoi you were one awesome little shit, he said to himself.
But it was all things in the past. Times were different now. He was different. Uruha, with his small gestures; leaning against him when he was drunk that one night, taking his words the wrong way, filled him with an incomprehensible anger. Leave it be, Aoi wanted to say. And every time Uruha alluded to it, alluded to wanting to be with him, he became infuriated.
Things were so different now. They were void of their wonder, void of the innocence of youth. The fact was that Aoi loved the person he used to be, he loved what him and Uruha used to be and he didn’t want to destroy it. He wanted to keep it inside of him and protect it from the rest of the world, from reality, from the ugliness of the present. He wanted the memory to stay as it was inside of him. Bittersweet and beautiful.
“Hey! Aoi? Is that you?” A man called from behind of him.
Aoi pretended not to hear.
“Shiroyama? Right?” the man said once more.
Hearing him address him by that name, he turned around. Very few people knew his surname.
The man who called out to him was wearing a pink bandana over his head and a jean jacket with a leather vest. His swollen muscles could be seen bulging out from underneath his clothes. Mr. Kawai. Holy shit, it’s Mr. Kawai.
“Aoi?” Kawai said going up to him. “I can’t believe it!” he patted him on the shoulder.
“Hey,” Aoi smiled. “Long time no see.”
“Right,” he chuckled. “You’ve gotten taller.”
Several seconds later, Mr. Johnson and another young man came out of a store. Mr. Johnson for the most part looked the same. He was wearing a matching light blue running suit. The person he was with must have been related to him in some way. He had to be around Aoi’s age. He was several inches shorter than Mr. Johnson and a about several shades lighter than him.
They were exchanging words in English about something Mr. Johnson had bought. It looked like a bottle of pain killers.
“Yo, Johnson,” Kawai said calling out to him. “Do you remember Aoi?”
The two of them approached him.
“AOI!!! Of course!” Mr. Johnson smiled, revealing a long row of perfectly white and straight teeth. “How could I forget? You nearly gave me a heart attack on several occasions!” he laughed.
Aoi just stood there a bit uncomfortable, shifting his weight from side to side.
“Um…” the young man said. “My uncle is a bit rude,” he smiled, his teeth just as perfect. “My name is D’marcus. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he bowed. Aoi was shocked. His Japanese was nearly perfect.
“Aoi,” he bowed as well and not because he was polite like this guy but because it would be too awkward not to.
“Oh,” Kawai rubbed the back of his neck and laughed embarrassedly. “Sorry not to introduce you two. D’marcus is Mr. Johnson’s nephew. He’s been living with him for a while since he was about 16 or something so the boy speaks great Japanese, right?”
Aoi nodded. “Impressive,” he said with smile.
“My boy is studying Japanese architecture at the University!” Johnson said, throwing a thick arm around D’marcus’ shoulders. The young man forced an uncomfortable smile.
“Oh fuck!” Kawai suddenly spat out. “I totally fucking forgot!” he laughed.
Aoi shocked, nearly jumped back.
“WHAT?!” Johnson leaned in excitedly, pulling his poor nephew down with him.
“Last night, I went out to get something to eat and I ran into one of your friends,” he said looking at Aoi.
“One of my friends?” Aoi said, slowly, making sure he heard him right. “Ruki or Uruha?”
“No…um, the one with the cute giggle and the dimple,” Kawai said.
D’marcus let a snort at Kawai’s seemingly gay observations.
“Kai?” Aoi asked. He could feel his heart racing with excitement.
“Yeah! Kai! That’s right. What an impressive kid. I always liked him,” Kawai folded his massive arms. Between him and Mr. Johnson, D’marcus and Aoi seemed like small peanuts, of course the former was several inches taller than Aoi and pretty well built in comparison.
“You just ran into him?” Aoi pressed.
“No. He was the chef there!” he nodded happily.
“Seriously?”
“Why would I lie?”
“What restaurant?” Aoi asked. He was questioning like a cop.
“Um…some place actually not too far from here.” He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to remember the name. “I’ll tell you what, I can’t remember what it was called but I can show you it. Besides, it’s almost lunch time. Maybe I can try to convince him to give me a discount,” he laughed.
“Sounds great,” Aoi nodded. “Let’s go right now.”
Mr. Johnson shrugged. D’marcus with no choice in the matter just stood there waiting to be dragged along.
Author: Zion Shadowlet
Beta: butterflysaga(the bitch)
Characters: Aoi, Uruha, Ruki, Reita, Kai and many OCs (Fuwa etc.)
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha and more~
Genre: Drama, Romance, Friendship, Comedy
Rating: NC17
Summary: Six years have passed since the summer at the Dazai Bright Future Retreat for Troubled Children. The boys meet in an unexpected way perhaps bound by fate in the underground world of Visual Kei. With broken hearts and promises; the boys-now young men look to regain some of what they lost by the wild and reckless pursuit of the same dream.
Previous Parts: Part 1.1 | Part 1.2 | Part 2 | Part 3
“Hey, sorry I’m calling you so late,” Aoi said, leaning against the wall. He was calling from a dirty payphone outside of a noodle restaurant. The sweet smell of the food sent pangs of longing in his empty stomach. He should have eaten at Uruha’s house but for some reason, he felt uncomfortable taking food from him even though he offered. Ruki had eaten but he was Ruki. “I just wanted to let you know that I am okay,” he said to the answering machine.
She must have been out with the other women grocery shopping or since the weather was warming up, they probably went to some garage sales to pick up random junk.
“I’ll call in a couple days. I hope you and the others are good…yeah…” he was really bad at these things. “Guess what? Um…I ran into a couple of old friends, two boys from that retreat I was sent to back when I was 17….Um…It’s been awesome. They are in bands too. Who would have thought, huh? …anyhow…I’ll call….I love you mom,” he said and hung up.
Alright, he was expected to meet up with Ruki at some restaurant at 5 pm that night after he picked up his guitar from Sakana Sakura. He was given instructions to pay some guys at the venue to send over Ruki’s drum set to Uruha’s apartment. Until then, he had about 4 hours to himself. Might as well get some food and then head onto the livehouse.
He went into the restaurant. It was one of those cheap places that had a long wrapping counter around the chef and his stove. Since the place was near a popular train station, it was crowded with all sorts of people. He sat down at the only empty stool, sandwiched by two salary men who were greedily slurping up their noodles.
“Good afternoon,” the chef said, wiping his hands on his apron and greeting him.
“Good afternoon,” he smiled and looking up at the menu, ordered something quickly. He figured that even though he seemed a bit rude, he was doing the guy a favor by getting to the point. He seemed busy.
The chef nodded and went to go prepare his food.
One of the salary men glanced at Aoi. He could tell from the corner of his eye that his presence was making him uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat and kept looking at him, thinking that he seemed inconspicuous. Aoi turned and looked at him directly. He was about Aoi’s age. He couldn’t have been more than 25. He was wearing one of those bland black and white suit ensembles that all low level business men wore. Since he wasn’t at the office, his collar was unbuttoned and his tie was loosened.
“Do you have a problem?” Aoi asked him. He was used to people treating him weird because of the way he looked, the lip piercing, the long hair, the ratty clothes.
The young salary man shook his head no enthusiastically. He was overwhelmed with embarrassment, getting caught staring at someone.
“Good,” Aoi said looking at the chef as he approached him and placed his food in front of him. Picking up his chopsticks, he started eating.
Still, the salary man kept glancing at him.
“Dude, why?” Aoi said, looking at him directly once more.
The man was mortified by the social embarrassment of the situation. Aoi could tell that his mouth had gone dry as he kept opening and closing it. “Are you…”
“Am I what?” Aoi asked, irritated.
“Are you homeless?”
Aoi narrowed his eyes at him and answered flatly “No.”
“Oh,” the salary man nodded and slowly looked back at his food.
“Why?” Aoi asked.
“It’s just…nothing,” he shook his head.
Aoi shrugged and started eating his food again.
Nervously, the young man pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket and taking a napkin wrote down something hurriedly on it. He stared at the side of Aoi’s face, apprehensive to hand him the note he wrote. Aoi, fully aware of the fact that he was staring at him, just stared forward and slurped his noodles disinterestedly. The young man stared at his mouth, the pointy tips of his upper lip, watching him suck. Building up all his courage, he handed Aoi the note.
“Hm?” Aoi looked at it surprised and then glancing back at the salary man, picked up the note and read it.
“Is that too little?” the guy whispered to him, everything about his manner tense.
Aoi starred at the napkin, admiring the guy’s perfect calligraphy. He was probably a good student growing up. He probably has a good job. He probably has a dad who took him to baseball games and grandparents that he visited in the summertime, all of which would be mortified if they knew that he was writing notes to some guy in a noodle shop, offering to pay him 4,000 yen to blow him in the bathroom. He sucked at his own teeth as he considered the offer relishing in the fact that this successful young man-his opposite so to speak, who would normally be in control, stared at him anxiously, vulnerable under his mercy. He could very well throw the napkin back in his face, cuss him out and publically humiliate him in front of all these people.
Was 4,000 yen too little? Since he asked that question, he probably never tried to pick up a prostitute before. Aoi could probably get him to pay more if he wanted to.
He dragged his eyes from the note and looked at him. He wasn’t bad looking. Many women would be happy to marry him. His features were clean, he had nice skin and his boring haircut didn’t look too horrible on him.
The guy making eye contact with him looked down ashamed.
“Sure,” Aoi said. “You pay for the food too.”
He nodded quickly and pulling out some bills nervously from his wallet set the down on the counter.
***
The people who owned Sakana Sakura were surprisingly understanding. Aoi was under the impression that because of the fight, the three of them would be banned from the place and their reputation in the small, underground world of shitty Visual Kei livehouses would be tarnished. In the end, Gabriel’s general douchebagness saved them. When he told them who he was, they laughed and warmed up to him and said that they wouldn’t mind using one of their trucks to move the drum set of course, not for free. Aoi pulling out the money that he just earned from the salary man gave it to them.
“No problem,” they said and started to get things in motion.
“Either Uruha will be there or his sister,” Aoi informed them before heading out to meet Ruki.
Busy, busy, he sighed to himself as he hopped on the bus.
It finally sunk in then, that he was going to be in a band with them if things worked out. He couldn’t quite fathom it. Sure, being with Ruki was one thing but being with Uruha was something entirely different. It felt strange, the idea of it. Uruha. This guy who he used to call Ducky Baby, who he used to fantasize about, who he had become in his mind the personification of happiness. That summer so many years ago, being with his friends, being with all those counselors who looked after him, took care of him like the father he never had, and being with Uruha, whose beautiful existence was like a dream. The memory of sleeping in that room, with the sunlight trickling in from the window and Uruha throwing hollyhocks on his face came back to him.
Now, he was just a guy who he used to know and by virtue of once being friends and being in the same scene was going to form a band with him. The idea of it gave him a sudden shock as if he were suddenly hit with the gravity of reality. Don’t concentrate on it too much, Aoi, he told himself. Before he knew it, he was at his stop and Ruki was standing there waiting for him.
He quickly got off the bus.
“Heyyyaaaa,” Aoi smiled at his small friend. Ruki was wearing a ripped up old red sweater over the ugliest yellow aloha shirt Aoi had ever seen and he was wearing a dark brown beanie hat. He probably thinks himself somewhat cool looking, Aoi thought. It did seem like a psychotic arrangement that hide might do.
“Oh,” Ruki said pulling out his wallet. “How much did they ask for?”
“Ruki, you live out of a car,” Aoi said pulling out the pack of cigarettes Uruha had forced on him earlier.
“But…it was my fault and you can’t be that much better off…” he mumbled.
“Dude, don’t worry about it. No keeping tabs, okay?” Aoi smiled and lit his cigarette.
“Thank you,” Ruki smiled cutely sending warm, happy vibes through Aoi’s insides.
***
Several weeks passed. The occasional phone call, updates on the band and their progress. From what Aoi could gather, Koji had no intention of leaving Mlle.Emily+Vanilla and joining another band especially if he was going to be the odd one out of the former childhood friends.
The three of them, Ruki, Aoi and Uruha only got to meet up once since the last time. And during that get-together, they mostly talked about the visual kei scene in Tokyo, who they saw, what their experiences were like.
Homeless, Ruki was bouncing from house to house. He stayed with Uruha for a couple of days and then feeling like a burden, he crashed at someone else’s. Aoi wanted to offer him a place to stay but currently, he was living with Nagano and his girlfriend, a real uptight bitch who would have bitten all three of their heads off if they let some strange boy sleep on their couch.
From a payphone inside of some crummy old Laundromat Aoi called Uruha’s house wondering if there was any updates he should know about.
“Hello?” Uruha’s answered.
“Hey,” Aoi held the dirty receiver lazily against his ear. “Any news?”
“About members? No. I have a show tonight though. Oh…” Uruha said suddenly realizing something.
“Yeah?”
“Next Friday, we are going to be playing at Club Radio and they need another act.”
“Are you suggesting my band play there?”
“Do you have a show?”
“Nah. I’ll ask Koji. Might be nice to see you again too,” Aoi said casually. When Uruha went quiet on the other line, the thought occurred to him that he must have interpreted the words as something more intimate than he intended.
“Okay,” Uruha said, realizing that Aoi didn’t mean it in any special way.
Aoi sighed to himself. These sort of awkward instances happened often with them. Just fight through it, he said to himself.
“How are you?” Uruha asked, his tone much softer and sweeter now.
“Good,” Aoi answered blankly. “You?”
With a strangely sad tone, Uruha replied “Okay.”
Aoi feeling guilty about answering him like that said “Hey, we should get together tomorrow or something. Are you busy?”
“Get together?”
“Yeah, play guitar and stuff.”
“Sure. At my place?”
“I’m good with that.”
“Okay. Come by whenever. I’ll be here.”
“Great. Well, I’m starving so I should go… I’ll see you tomorrow,” Aoi said dying to hang up. Speaking with Uruha over the phone was always difficult. It was hard to speak to him in person and with even less to go by, one was often met with awkward pauses and silences and ambiguous sentences that were difficult to decipher.
“Goodbye,” Uruha said reluctantly.
Hanging up, Aoi took a deep sigh. He looked out the window, his hands jammed in his pockets. Outside, it was a cold and rainy day in late March, something stuck in between winter and spring. Aoi tried to see the charm in it but it just irritated him. He wanted it to be warm out already-that or go back to winter, at least that way he knew what to expect and he would be satisfied with at least knowing that he didn’t have to wait in anticipation for summer. He would be able to rely on the fact that it would always be cold.
He glanced at the clock. Might as well get something to eat. What he said over the phone was a lie but the recognition that it was never even crossed his mind. He just said what he needed to say. He had gotten so used to lying that it was engrained in his nature.
He stepped out into the cold and started down the street, hoping to stumble upon some cheap place to eat.
The short phone call ran through his head. The flow of it constantly stopping at that awkward pause. “Might be nice to see you again” met with silence. Aoi had used the word “might” but it didn’t ring that way to Uruha’s ears and Aoi knew it. He knew that for those several seconds when he was misunderstanding him that they were brought back to that old intimacy of theirs. He could sense the tenseness in the airwaves shared through the phone line and it was so strong, it felt that for a moment, they were in a room together alone.
Aoi let his thoughts wander. He remembered the last night they had been together and all the promises he made. He had meant them then but now, as a man, he looked back and realized that it was all just words. Things don’t happen how you think they will when you are kid. Those memories of being out in the warm summer sun filled him with a sweet feeling of nostalgia. He thought of the time he stole that poor bastard Kawai’s bike and rode off with Uruha. He laughed at it. God, Aoi you were one awesome little shit, he said to himself.
But it was all things in the past. Times were different now. He was different. Uruha, with his small gestures; leaning against him when he was drunk that one night, taking his words the wrong way, filled him with an incomprehensible anger. Leave it be, Aoi wanted to say. And every time Uruha alluded to it, alluded to wanting to be with him, he became infuriated.
Things were so different now. They were void of their wonder, void of the innocence of youth. The fact was that Aoi loved the person he used to be, he loved what him and Uruha used to be and he didn’t want to destroy it. He wanted to keep it inside of him and protect it from the rest of the world, from reality, from the ugliness of the present. He wanted the memory to stay as it was inside of him. Bittersweet and beautiful.
“Hey! Aoi? Is that you?” A man called from behind of him.
Aoi pretended not to hear.
“Shiroyama? Right?” the man said once more.
Hearing him address him by that name, he turned around. Very few people knew his surname.
The man who called out to him was wearing a pink bandana over his head and a jean jacket with a leather vest. His swollen muscles could be seen bulging out from underneath his clothes. Mr. Kawai. Holy shit, it’s Mr. Kawai.
“Aoi?” Kawai said going up to him. “I can’t believe it!” he patted him on the shoulder.
“Hey,” Aoi smiled. “Long time no see.”
“Right,” he chuckled. “You’ve gotten taller.”
Several seconds later, Mr. Johnson and another young man came out of a store. Mr. Johnson for the most part looked the same. He was wearing a matching light blue running suit. The person he was with must have been related to him in some way. He had to be around Aoi’s age. He was several inches shorter than Mr. Johnson and a about several shades lighter than him.
They were exchanging words in English about something Mr. Johnson had bought. It looked like a bottle of pain killers.
“Yo, Johnson,” Kawai said calling out to him. “Do you remember Aoi?”
The two of them approached him.
“AOI!!! Of course!” Mr. Johnson smiled, revealing a long row of perfectly white and straight teeth. “How could I forget? You nearly gave me a heart attack on several occasions!” he laughed.
Aoi just stood there a bit uncomfortable, shifting his weight from side to side.
“Um…” the young man said. “My uncle is a bit rude,” he smiled, his teeth just as perfect. “My name is D’marcus. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he bowed. Aoi was shocked. His Japanese was nearly perfect.
“Aoi,” he bowed as well and not because he was polite like this guy but because it would be too awkward not to.
“Oh,” Kawai rubbed the back of his neck and laughed embarrassedly. “Sorry not to introduce you two. D’marcus is Mr. Johnson’s nephew. He’s been living with him for a while since he was about 16 or something so the boy speaks great Japanese, right?”
Aoi nodded. “Impressive,” he said with smile.
“My boy is studying Japanese architecture at the University!” Johnson said, throwing a thick arm around D’marcus’ shoulders. The young man forced an uncomfortable smile.
“Oh fuck!” Kawai suddenly spat out. “I totally fucking forgot!” he laughed.
Aoi shocked, nearly jumped back.
“WHAT?!” Johnson leaned in excitedly, pulling his poor nephew down with him.
“Last night, I went out to get something to eat and I ran into one of your friends,” he said looking at Aoi.
“One of my friends?” Aoi said, slowly, making sure he heard him right. “Ruki or Uruha?”
“No…um, the one with the cute giggle and the dimple,” Kawai said.
D’marcus let a snort at Kawai’s seemingly gay observations.
“Kai?” Aoi asked. He could feel his heart racing with excitement.
“Yeah! Kai! That’s right. What an impressive kid. I always liked him,” Kawai folded his massive arms. Between him and Mr. Johnson, D’marcus and Aoi seemed like small peanuts, of course the former was several inches taller than Aoi and pretty well built in comparison.
“You just ran into him?” Aoi pressed.
“No. He was the chef there!” he nodded happily.
“Seriously?”
“Why would I lie?”
“What restaurant?” Aoi asked. He was questioning like a cop.
“Um…some place actually not too far from here.” He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to remember the name. “I’ll tell you what, I can’t remember what it was called but I can show you it. Besides, it’s almost lunch time. Maybe I can try to convince him to give me a discount,” he laughed.
“Sounds great,” Aoi nodded. “Let’s go right now.”
Mr. Johnson shrugged. D’marcus with no choice in the matter just stood there waiting to be dragged along.