.45
He kicked his feet up onto the dashboard, leaning back in the seat. One hand hung limply by his side, and he brought the other up to hit the button to turn on the radio. Words of his native language rode on a heavy sound as it streamed through over the waves. He removed his shades, tossing them carelessly onto the dashboard beside his feet.
It was cold outside. But inside it was warm, thanks to his expensive car with its expensive heater. He glanced at the figurine of Judy that hung from the mirror. Expensive--that fit her. She was wrapped in expensive. Her clothes and jewelry were expensive; her hair and makeup were expensive; her time was expensive. Well, not for him, of course. At least not money-wise. She was as crazy as him, and he loved her for it, but sometimes their games were more for show.
He rarely saw her anymore, anyway. She had been married to the public and the media long before she had been married to him. At first it had been hard, and he had missed her and their son dearly. But the ache died faster than he would have thought. He was surprised, and for a while he was angry with himself for it. How could he not miss his wife and son? But Judy had never had time for him, and he had never had time for her. They lived entirely separate lives, even when they were together. Michael had come of an impassioned night, rather than any planning. Not that he regretted it. He thought Judy might have in the beginning, considering she would no longer have the perfect figure, but she went through it, and he knew she loved the boy. He wanted to see them, but he didn't miss them.
He sighed as a new song came on. How long would he sit in the car, he wondered. He had work, and of course nothing would get done without his effective methods of persuasion. They were effective, if not quite ethical. But that's what he had always done--keep everyone on the other side of the gun. Whenever Shuuichi broke down over his novelist, or Hiroshi stressed over his friend and his own life, he was there with a gun in their face, telling them to get on with life. If they were going to give up, they might as well be dead. Well, they were empty threats, for the most part. He wouldn't actually shoot any of them (at least, not to kill them). It was his job to keep them going, and so that's what he did.
He had immersed himself in his job--so much so that he had almost forgotten about his other life. Until Judy called him. It had been unexpected, but not unwelcome, and they had talked of the usual things for a while. Then she became serious, and she asked if he remembered the last night they spent together.
Did he remember? Of course he remembered--the incandescent blue glow of the lights beneath the water; the way the jets bubbled around them; the way all of it faded, the way it always did, when he was inside of her, and she was so much warmer than the water or the lights around him. He hadn't remembered, however, that they hadn't bothered to use a condom.
"It would be the end of my career, Claude. I have the starring role in an upcoming movie."
"There are other movies..." He said automatically, still rather stunned by the news in general. Not so much that she was pregnant--but that she didn't plan on keeping it.
"I'm not getting any younger, darling. My agent told me I've already been passed over for several roles--my opportunities are becoming slim." She had told him firmly, though he could hear the sadness in her voice nonetheless.
"A baby is more important than a movie!" He argued, his shock fading into anger.
"Claude, it hasn't been born yet. It's not a baby yet." She reasoned, whether in hopes of convincing him or herself he wasn't sure, "We have Michael."
You have Michael, he had wanted to say, but he didn't. Though he often spoke his mind, regardless of the situation, he couldn't then. It was a situation that concerned him and Judy, and therefore was far more delicate to him than any of Bad Luck's love problems. He knew saying something like that would hurt them both.
"Claude," she continued, "I haven't told anyone but you. No one will have to know. But I've already made my decision--I just wanted to let you know. ...Claude?"
"Right." He said absently, pressing the button that severed the call.
The cell phone still lay where he had tossed it on the back seat. He had been sitting there for almost an hour, the bright green digits of the clock informed him. Another song was playing on the radio.
"Send a message to the unborn child
Keep your eyes open for a while
In a box high upon a shelf
Left for you, no one else
There's a piece of a puzzle known as life
Wrapped in guilt, sealed up tight--" He switched the station. A female vocalist sang sweetly to some poppy tune.
What if it had been a girl? A daughter.
He raised a hand to cover his eyes. Stop thinking about it, he told himself. He had to get out of the car--he had work to do. But he couldn't make himself open the door. He didn't want to face the people in there--they were his new life, those people. But his old life had collided with the new, because it had never really been old. He had never left Judy or their marriage, and he hadn't ever wanted to. But he wondered if it was the distance that kept things from falling apart. Her career was her life. His career was his life. They had each other to remind themselves of the things that would always be there, but he was getting tired of just a reminder. He wanted more.
He wondered if Michael would recognize him now. When had he seen him last? What grade would he be in now? He couldn't get the years straight, it had been so long. His job was too important to leave, though. He had made attachments, unexpectedly. But all the people he worked with had grown on him. He respected Touma, with his enigmatic smile and his double-edged words. Shuuichi kept him on his toes, and Hiroshi kept him from straying too far from the ground. Fujisaki had kept him from losing his job several times. Sakano, well, Sakano had grown on him especially. He could sympathize with the man--he did work just as hard as him, though he kept his cool about it, usually. Still Sakano remained something of a mystery to him--who was he really? Did he have another life, as K did? Where did he live? Did he have a family there? Did he have time for them?
Guilt dug its claws into his heart. He would have never been around. Just like Michael, his daughter (he had set on thinking of her as a daughter) would have grown up too quickly, without ever knowing her father. He would have remained at NG. He wondered if he would have even tried to make things work. He realized that he probably wouldn't have. His career was his life, after all. He wouldn't be able to leave it; he couldn't just quit. He didn't want to quit. What life would he have if he did? Judy had her movies, had her adoring fans; Michael had his own life, he was sure, with his own friends. He had grown up without a father for this long, why should he need one now? His daughter...would never be. There were no more chances. It was this life or none.
What ever happened to the young man's heart
Swallowed by pain as he slowly fell apart
He felt the metal against his side, warmed by his body heat. It was smooth to touch, and fit easily in his hand as he pulled if from his holster. He carried it around to keep the others in line. To keep them going. If they couldn't keep going, they might as well be dead, right?
He raised the gun to his face, staring down the barrel into the darkness. It was dark outside, too. How long had he been sitting there? He couldn't see the clock anymore, his vision was solely concentrated on the gun held just before his eyes. He cocked it and pressed the tip against his forehead, sliding it down to rest in between his eyes.
And I'm staring down the barrell of a .45
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrell of a .45
Was he doing this? It seemed surreal. He wasn't the type to become so desperate; to succumb to weakness. He wasn't really thinking. He was in pain, he knew, and he was confused. Who was he now? Was he still Claude? Or had he completely become K? And could he ever return to his old life? Would things ever be the same? He didn't want to see Judy anymore. The thought of her turned his stomach, even though he knew he still loved her. But she loved Claude--did she love K too? Would she have kept the baby, had it been Claude's baby and not K's?
He swallowed as the thought rang loudly through his mind. Rang as loudly and clearly as a gunshot, and his eyes clenched shut involuntarily.
There was a sound, someone knocking at his window. He opened his mouth, and the breath poured free of his lungs. He opened his eyes, his vision blurred. The knock came again, followed by a muffled voice.
His hands trembled as he lowered the gun, hitting the safety before sliding it back into its holster. He glanced at the tinted window, wiping his eyes in order to clearly see Sakano, who was standing outside his door with a confused expression, straining futilely to look past the dark tint of the windows.
He rolled down the window, taking a deep breath of cold air. It was raining, and the droplets were cold and real against his face.
"K-san!" Sakano exclaimed, relieved, "Everyone was wondering why you weren't at work! Is everything alright?" K leaned over and opened the passengers side.
"Get in." He instructed.
"Ah, n-no that's ok! I have to catch the train and--"
"It's raining, ne? Get in, I can drive you home." He turned away, straightening in his seat as he turned the key in the ignition. Sakano scrambled to the other side, ducking in. What was he doing? He didn't want to be around anyone else. Maybe he did--he couldn't tell what he wanted anymore.
"I'm sorry that I'm wet, but thank you very much for driving me! You really don't have to, I can just take the train if it's too much trouble!" Sakano rattled on, bowing his head every so often.
"No problem." He replied, giving the other man the best smile he could manage--but it was strained and he knew it. So did Sakano.
"K-san?" He asked, his brows drawing together in concern.
"No." He said, turning his attention to driving.
"No?"
"No, everything isn't alright." He confessed, sliding his shades back over his eyes. Sakano wrung his hands nervously, obviously unsure of how to reply.
"What happened?" He asked tentatively after a moment.
"Do you have any children, Sakano-san?" He asked with a wide smile that belied the tightness of his throat, glancing at his co-worker out of the corner of his eye. Sakano shook his head.
"Ah, no, I live alone. Oh, turn here." K turned. They drove in relative silence, Sakano occasionally pointing out directions, until they arrived at his home.
"Nice house." K commented, somewhat surprised. He hadn't expected the other man could afford something like that.
"Thanks. I've worked a long time for it." Sakano replied, staring at the house somewhat distantly.
"You're still young. Don't you want more than a house?" K asked.
"I guess. But nothing my job can give me." Sakano shrugged, then flushed. "I-I mean, w-well, thank you very much for driving me home, K-san!" He bowed again, reaching for the door handle when K stopped him. He pulled the man gently back down into his seat.
"K-san?" Sakano blinked, confused. K reached down and lifted the gun again, and Sakano paled. He turned it around so that it was facing him, and then held it out to Sakano, who just stared at him.
"Take it." He said.
"W-why?"
"So I don't do anything stupid." He replied with a tense smile. Sakano's eyes widened in alarm.
"K-san! W-what--"
"Take it, ne?" Sakano took it with unsteady hands, as though the object would burn him. He looked at it for a long moment, then opened his briefcase and set it inside. He shut the case, then raised his head to K.
"You look tired, K-san." He said quietly, chewing on his lower lip, "You're not yourself today." K nodded, not bothering to reply.
"Um...I don't know what's wrong, but..." Sakano continued, averting his eyes, "I work with you, and I see how you are always watching out for everyone else. So...um...I don't know what I can do but...um...I-I'll watch out for you!"
K was taken aback.
"You are busy yourself, Sakano-san." He said, both surprised and vaguely amused at the blush that colored Sakano's cheeks.
"You just gave me more than enough reason to worry about you, K-san!" He cried, his eyes slightly panicked.
"Yeah, I guess I did." He laughed. He wasn't sure where it came from, or why he had, but he was past the point of trying to figure things out. He kicked his feet back up onto the dashboard and leaned over, falling against Sakano, who tensed. But only for a moment, and K closed his eyes as he felt the other man relax.
"K-san...you don't have to answer me but..." Sakano began quietly.
"I don't know." He replied without opening his eyes, "Maybe I'm just falling apart."
"W-well...if a person is too well together...they're pretty ignorant, aren't they?"
"Hm, Sakano-kun, haven't you ever heard the phrase 'ignorance is bliss'?" He asked, then wondered if they even had the saying in Japanese.
"How can you be happy if you don't know what's going on? Wouldn't that just make you lost?" K could practically hear Sakano's frown as he tried to make sense of the expression.
"Ignorance is being lost? Not as poetic, but sure. Lost works better." He nodded.
"So...ah...are you lost, K-san?" Sakano asked.
"I guess I am." He responded. But it was a little better now. This was solid, comforting. This was his current life--whether it was true or false; whether he was Claude or K or both or neither--it didn't matter so long as it felt real. Then at least it was something definite, something he could figure out later if he really needed to.
"You won't...ah...y-you know..."
"I don't think so, no." K replied, and Sakano sighed in relief.
"I-It's strange, to see you so open and honest, but I'm glad."
"I'm not sure who I am anymore. If I'm open and honest, maybe you can tell me."
"I don't really know what you mean...anymore? People don't just become other people. Even if you assume a different identity, it's just how other people see you, isn't it?"
"You sound like you're talking from experience." He said, wanting the man to keep talking. Sakano was usually quiet, when he wasn't panicking or apologizing over something or other. But what he had told K was what he had needed to hear. He had been confused, and he wanted some confirmation that he was still himself, no matter what name he went by, or what job he dedicated himself to, or what country he lived in.
"Well, at work I am too busy working to really get to know anyone. I-I've never been able to talk so openly with someone before, like this." Sakano admitted, "So maybe I am talking from experience, sort of. Just because I only show Shachou and the others one side of myself doesn't mean that there aren't other sides, or that they aren't all me."
K nodded. He said nothing, but he was greatly reassured by the other man's words. He saw the clock out of the corner of his eye--it was late, and he didn't want to move, but he wasn't about to keep Sakano locked in his car.
"Thanks." He said. The word felt worthless, unable to express the depth of his gratitude, but he said no more, reaching out to unlock the door. Sakano, however, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back into the position he had just left, his back leaning against Sakano's side, his head resting on the other man's shoulder. He glanced up at Sakano, who reached down and removed his shades, placing them on the dashboard.
"I'd rather not let you leave just yet, considering..." He explained, blushing. K wasn't one to apologize, and so he didn't.
"Good. I don't want to go yet, considering." He replied, closing his eyes again. He wondered if Sakano had ever missed a day of work in his life. Probably not. Good time to start, he decided. He wanted to know the rest of Sakano--maybe it would help him to discover the rest of himself.
Send away for a priceless gift
One not subtle, one not on the list
Send away for a perfect world
One not simply so absurd
In these times of doing what you're told
Keep these feelings, no one knows
End.