|Author's Note| This will have 22 chapters with less than a thousand words each, to be updated every day. Oh, and I will update Killer and Irrevocable soon. I think. I hope.
Rated T for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.
Dedicated to Black Maya. To Erika, I am so sorry for being three weeks late. I've been running out of plots for SumiKoko already, and this is the most that I could do. You're one of the few people who gave me a warm welcome when I joined AoGA, so thank you for that. Belated happy birthday and I wub you so, so much :"") To Autumn Win-dow for constantly cheering for me to finish this fic. To AoGA for continuing to inspire me. You guys are the best!
Pairing: Koko x Sumire.
To the readers, I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!
Highway 340
Chapter One
The familiar intoxicating smell of liquor drifted to my nose. On rare occasions, I would have frowned and walked away from the aroma, because I simply wasn't accustomed to an excessively abused sin product named 'alcohol'.
But this 'occasion' didn't count as rare in my book. Heck, this wasn't even a big event - it was my job. Every night the slippery bottles flawlessly glided into my hands and spun in the air. I wasn't the least bit terrified that the glass would shatter on the puke-filled floor. In nanoseconds, the bottles were back in my own hands just as they were before, and if I were lucky enough to still have a sober audience, rounds of applause made my heart drunk in pride, even just for a while.
Toss. Catch. Spin. Toss. Somehow I felt liberated as adrenaline came rushing through my veins the same way that vodka or rum swished inside the clear bottles. I was having fun, at the same time, earning an income - the best of both worlds, as others often remarked.
But up until tonight, I never realized that I was tired and frustrated. Flairtending had become more than either my hobby or occupation - little by little, it metamorphosed into this sort of kaleidoscope that made everything clearer. Not better, just clearer. It was as if my mind had been doused with wine all this time, and I'd been getting small doses of aspirin to make things seem a little less blurry.
As usual, I stepped into the bar with an overload of much-needed confidence. My sleeves were rolled up, but it was still humid inside the spacious room - blaring beats of disco music bounced off the walls; hot, sweaty bodies danced along the rhythm; people hastily 'did the deed' in the not-so-hidden corners. I'd been used to witnessing strangers drown themselves in pleasure for just one night, but now, a bit of disgust sprung from the back of my mind.
I hated how those insolent drunkards slipped their wandering hands far enough down women's backs. I hated how those women straightened their hair, glossed their lips, and batted their superbly long eyelashes in a suggestive manner. I hated how all of them could be so damn stupid - playing games of seduction, having hormonal spikes, and ending up in some remote motel, where they could perfectly hear themselves in ecstasy while nobody else could.
But I can't do anything about it. I could only toss the bottle and hope that it doesn't break while flings, playboys, and - excuse the term - prostitutes came and went with their silly temptations. Each of their faces changed every single day, and perhaps they returned to their old lives, the ones which didn't consist of parties and beer and nicotine.
Two faces never broke their record of attendance, though. One belonged to a man who looked like a successful bachelor with his crisp suit and peculiar bloodred eyes, and one was possessed by one of those girls with a ton of make-up. I never really paid attention to details, but out of the corner of my eye I saw that certain girl letting the crimson-eyed bastard run his hand through the curve of her waist, grab a handful of her hair, and kiss her forcefully.
They were both drunk, that I knew. But what I couldn't comprehend was the fact that the girl with jet-black hair and heavy make-up authorized the guy to roam her body, yet she didn't look too happy about it. To be honest, her black mascara was already running down her face, and when the bastard took her hand to lead her outside the bar, she smiled and whispered words which I easily understood.
"Okay, Natsume."
Constructive criticism is very much welcome!