The paper crumpled in his hand and he tossed it in the general direction of the trash can where it's numerous brethren littered the floor. His other hand followed a familiar path through his hair and rested at the nape of his neck where an angry red patch was developing from the constant abuse. He couldn't say it. He couldn't write it, sing it, sign it, he just couldn't let it escape. She'd run. She'd run just like she had from every other emotional advance he'd made. Or worse, she'd implode. Again. Every second she remained oblivious was one more paper-thin shred of his soul fluttering away on a cold gust of air. But every time that look of horror marred her face he remembered why it was so important she stayed that way. He couldn't deal with being the cause of that expression.
An insistent buzz in his back pocket snapped him out of his reverie. A foolish wave of hope coursed through him just to leave a gnawing emptiness in it's wake. He barely glanced at the name before answering.
"Yes, Yashiro?"
"Ren, what is going on? I've been trying to call you for hours!"
Thinking back, he vaguely remembered his phone going off shortly after he'd begun trying to write his letter.
"Ah, sorry Yashiro. I've been a little…preoccupied."
The now grave tone of his manager's voice made Ren chuckle lightly to himself.
"Is something troubling you? I'd like to think you could tell me; if not as your manager, then as your friend."
"It's nothing I can't handle. I appreciate the offer though." Ren said lightly, not wanting to hurt the only man he could truly call a friend.
Yashiro sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "The world is simply too heavy for one man to carry. Try to allow other people to help you bear the burden sometimes, okay?"
"This burden is mine and mine alone. Goodnight, Yashiro."
"So many are Ren. Goodnight."
He shut the phone with a snap and glanced ruefully at the scattered papers surrounding his trash can. Heaving a sigh of his own he got up and began collecting his fruitless attempts at self-expression. He tossed them in the fire and watched the flames consume them the same way the words he couldn't write down were consuming him whole.
His phone buzzed again, but this time the name on the caller ID made him hesitate. The combined earlier feeling of hope and despair swept in as he flipped the phone open and put it by his ear.
"I'm sorry for calling so late Tsuruga-san…"
"Don't think about it." He said quickly, interrupting her apology. "What can I do for you Mogami-san?"
Even over the phone he could tell she was fidgeting.
"I'm just very nervous. And talking to you always calms me down." She said quietly, completely unaware of the havoc she was wreaking on the other end of the line.
His heart was doing back-flips and his trachea was firmly knotted between his Adam's apple and collarbone. She'd said the same thing to him countless times before, but his reaction was always the same. Overwhelming joy at the thought of her needing or wanting him for anything and crushing despair when he realized that every time she said it their current state sunk a little bit further into the cement. Sempai and kohai. Co-workers. Tentative friends. Words that were the bane of his existence and his only life link.
"Tsuruga-san?"
"Yes Mogami-san. I'm still here. And you have no need to be nervous. You were born to do this role."
The following pause was deafening.
"Thank you Tsuruga-san," she whispered. "I'll hang up so you can get back to what you were doing. I'm very so…"
"You never bother me Mogami-san." He said warmly. "Get some rest."
"Goodnight Tsuruga-san."
"Goodnight Mogami-san."
The moment Call Ended flashed across the screen he began walking toward the liquor cabinet. He needed to do something to keep his hands busy, anything to keep him from hitting Call Back and spilling his guts to her.
Daybreak found him sprawled across the couch, an empty bottle of bourbon laying beside an equally empty glass. The bright morning sun assaulted his tired eyes as he registered the time. Yashiro would be here for him soon. Better not to let him see this.
So...first song fic! This is just the beginning of a series. I'm writing one for each song off of Maroon 5's album Hands All Over. It's outrageously appropriate for the Skip Beat! storyline; I couldn't help myself.
Disclaimer: I do not own: Skip Beat!, any of it's characters, or the song it was named after.
Please review!
