Eternal...
Chapter 1: Too late...
The room is dark as the cold breeze stirs a few papers scattered around the room. The way it looks, it's like it hasn't been lived in for a long time: old weathered mildewy newspapers piled high in a corner where the mould climbed the walls. Windows inexpertly boarded up, gaps letting in pale yellow light.
This was a poor, abandoned flat, were the dust dances lazily in the shards of light.
Everything is still, frozen as is, the only sound now and again a scratching noise in the walls. Bang!, the front door is kicked opened, and a smallish figure enters. A young boy no more than twenty-something, grasping a scrunched up paper bag in his fist. His breath was laboured as he pulled his tattered and worn coat around his thin frame, trying to keep the chill from it's biting attack. No use, the coat has seen better days, just like it's owner.
The young man heads towards the kitchen area, switching the light on as he goes towards the countertop. The kitchen was as bad as the living room, years of dirt and grime layered thick on every surface. The only noise now in the apartment was the sound of the young man's breathing, heavy and laboured, mixing with the russling sound of the paper bag.
The young man was smiling; the only time he does is when, like today, he's managed to scrape up enough money to get a quick fix.
Yesterday was his lucky day: he was at a friend's place, (they weren't real friends, just people he could get high with), and as he walked down an alleyway he could see two tall good looking men ahead. One had just stepped out of... 'is that a limo? fuck, they must be loaded'. Trying to make his old and tatty clothes look as presentable as possible, he sighs. "Worth a try..." He manged to get close enough to pick one of the men's pockets, the taller, good looking man. He was too busy arguing with the man in glasses, and while they were occupied, he casually bumped into him, slipping the wallet from him.
As he rounded the fifth corner, knowing it was safe to check the wallet, he did a little victory dance. It had a good amount of yen notes inside; it was like his Christmas and birthday came all at once.
The apartment was filled with a strangled laugh. "Birthday". When was the last time he had been happy to celebrate his birthday? Must have been ten years before... holding onto the countertop, knuckles white as he desperately tries to stop the memories breaking through the walls he'd built up. He didn't need to be reminded of his stepfather, that was thirteen years ago so move on, forget. 'Christ... will I be ever able to forget? Meh, today is a good day' he decided, humming to himself.
Grabbing the packet off the countertop, he needs to forget, distract himself, curb his mind from conjuring images of his stepfather and his filthy grabbing hands roaming all over him. His stomach churns at the thoughts, the nausea making him squeeze his eyes tight.
"I need to lose myself", commenting to the air around him. "Now... I'm talking to myself. This is the last time."
Going into the bathroom he looks at his gaunt face in the cracked mirror hanging at an angle on the bathroom wall. "I don't regret anything, but this needs to end" he mutters to himself as he makes himself comfortable on the bathroom floor, which, like the rest of the apartment, is dirty and cold, and everything has seen better days.
The young man begins to giggle to himself as he starts to lay the different items on the ground, which he collected from around his apartment. He's been an addict since he was eighteen and he has lived on the streets for six years before he had enough and needed a release. The young man had been dabbling with smack for the last two years or so (yeah, I know, pretty fucked up).
So here he is, still slightly high from the oxy he did earlier when he got around to this little bump of red rock. 'I guess that's what's goin' around Tokyo right now.' It came in a long, waxy pale blue bag in another bag of plastic. Anyways, time for the good part!
The boy was sitting, ready to hit this little bump, probably only 1/4 of the bag; not quite sure how much to use exactly out of the bag since his friend bumped him out (what a good friend!).
He knows from experience tomorrow when he wakes up the dose won't be enough to have him puking his guts out like anticipated, but between all of the oxy, a little bit of dope and being legitimately sick, he was left cold, pale, tired and a complete piece of shit for the day.
But for those moments of feeling sick is weighed against knowing the moments of pure euphoria. It was worth it all. He was confused in other people's actions, he doesn't understand why people find E more euphoric.
The smoke rose, the young man watched in a trance-like state. It curled and swirled in the air. When the substance melted he used the syring and loaded it with heroin. Tying a cloth 'round his upper arm, trying to create a vein in his one last good arm. He hesitates for a second, thinking of the irony. It wasn't lost on him, how he absolutely hated needles. The needle pricked his skin as the drug powered through his veins, and a small smile graced his handsome face.
Minute one goes by: not too much happening. Minute two: a nice little smirk appears. Minute three: he's swaying back and forth, hugging himself. By minutes eight through ten: the experience... As he lay on the bathroom floor it became more comfortable than anything he has ever felt in his life; laughing.
Laughing with an overwhelming joy. To put it metaphorically, it was as if god himself had gently cupped the man's warm and fuzzy (but comfortably numb) body and carried him up to the pearly gates of heaven to let him take a stroll.
It gave him a taste of "the good life", or the ultimate euphoria. Then, with all his might, he grasped the boy and hurled him down, crashing into this forsaken wasteland we call earth.
The man's eyes rolled back into his head as the state of euphoria swept over his body. The young man slumps against the bathtub, lost in a world of endless happiness.
The young man cracks open his eyes as he feels strong arms pulling at him. Not sure, he thinks maybe his body is falling carefully to the ground, he open his eyes, trying so hard to focus on what's going on. A big man is over his limp body, shouting orders. "To whom..." the young man crocks out.
The older man clasps his chin to make him stare at him. "Akihito, can you hear me?" Closing his eyes again 'who is Akihito; was that him?' The man is slapping his face now... the young man opens his eyes but they're unable to focus again.
"Akihito! Stay with me this time... I have you now, please don't..." The older man kissed the young man's lips. They're warm and soft... was that salty water? A kiss again, he knows the man is trying to convey "love". As the older man pulls away enough, he can see tears building in the unfocused eyes; a blink, then they tumble down his cheeks. The older man wipes the tears from sharp cheek bones.
When the boy closes his eyes, his frail body starts completely to viciously convulse as his last memory is of being loved by a stranger. "Nice", the last thing he thinks before the end.
The older man pulls a handkerchief from out of his pocket. Managing to wet the cloth, he begins to clean the boy's face as best as he can. Lifting him up, cradling him tightly as if to pour in all his love, trying to carve it into the now lifeless body across his lap.
The older man's lips are on the young man's forehead, rocking in a futile movement of comfort, when the young man eyes snap open wide. Gasping for breath, his attention is now focused fully on the man craddling him in his arms.
"Ryuichi, where the hell have you been, you fucking bastard. Next time, fucking find me quicker you pervert." The young man's voice is filled with frustration more than anything else. Using the lifeless body, he reaches up to wipe the tears off the older man's face. "I'm sorry... I do love you. I am waiting for you, my Ryuichi" he breathes, giving him a smile, caressing his cheek. Ryuichi sadly smiles back.
"Akihito... I lo..." then he kisses him, these moments where his Akihito is awake and aware are precious. They kiss feverishly 'til the blond's last bit of energy is consumed.
Then Ryuichi feels the truly lifeless lips on his own. Then Akihito is gone, completely.
Ryuichi is once again alone. "Shit" was all he could say as he held the body tightly. The older man is now joined by three other men; one of them bends down to see if the boy had a pulse. There isn't any. Coughing nervously, he quietly spoke. "I am very sorry, sir, but we are too late."
The older man eyes flicker with rage. He wants to tear the world to pieces, slaughter anyone, everyone. His men have learned the hard way not to speak casually when he is like this. He has killed six men with his bare hands before in this state, it had taken six more just to sedate him.
They know not to speak around him, they have to wait for Asami to quell his wrath himself. This isn't the first time Asami Ryuichi sat cradling the body of his only love. After a few minutes of heavy silence: "Get me a blanket. Find me a clean one, we are taking him with us." One of the men moved to gather what was asked for as quickly as possible.
The man who took the pulse placed a hand on the Asami's shoulder. "Ryuichi. I am so sorry, we just couldn't find him in time. This isn't your fault." Asami looks at his oldest and closest friend with a broken smile. Even though he knows the truth, Asami appreciates the lie.
The older man held the young man body close to him. "Kei... whose fault is it then? He was so close to me, so close, and I couldn't feel him, and just by chance he bumps into me yesterday, stealing my wallet." Looking at the lifeless body he held dearly, moving his bangs from his eyes.
"We couldn't have known", the man in the glasses says, gesturing to the man laying in his friend's arms "that this was going to happen, Ryuichi."
The older man began laughing. "This is what always happens. Still, he hasn't lost any of that fire in him... nearly every time he scolds me." He chuckles to himself.
The man called Kei nods. "Yes, you know when you finally get him, he's so going to kick your ass." The older man wavered in his smile at that.
"Kei, will I find him in time? It's already been thirteen years since I found him last." It's rare for Asami to show weakness, but it's hard to hear the raw anguish in his voice.
Kei grabbed his friend and boss of many years and grips his shoulders tightly. " Yes, Ryuichi, you will. And when we do find him, I am gonna help him kick your sorry ass."
Asami stood, carrying the dead body to his car. Hopefully the Elders he had persuaded can find some clues from this body to where Akihito's reincarnated soul will be; hopefully it won't take another thirteen years to find him again.
Akihito remembers Ryuichi calling him, kissing him; he was late again. "Bastard". That is a bad habit he has acquired. Fuck. You would think he'd be able to find him by now, since he was able to persuade three of the Elders to bind him to Ryuichi's perverted soul.
It's in these moments, frozen, I feel I am alive among the dead. Why? Can't he fix my broken soul? Believe, Akihito. It's his bloody fault I'm like this. No, I know one day we will meet again and he will hopefully save me from this torment.
My aching soul only beats for only him... Before the blackness turns into a burning light, Akihito thinks 'if he's late again, I'll punch his good-looking face'.
Not again. I'm so scared, I feel as if I'm closer to the edge of the abyss. I can hear the silence; not again... Please, save me, Ryuichi.