Silver and Gray
Her heels gave a few taps on the floor, in harmony with the drum beats of the song. Her eyes narrowed when she met her friend's, who had a guitar strapped to his body and his mouth pressed close to the microphone. Her gaze flitted away, sliding from the winking bassist to the energetic drummer. She couldn't hear anything beyond her friend's melodious voice and the band's catchy rhythm, but Mimi could still feel the vibrations of her phone, next to her on the worn leather sofa.
Her hand groped for it even as she shot a grin at the bassist. The lights had been dimmed to an atmospheric semi-darkness, but was she not a texting aficionado? Mimi's mouth formed the words noiselessly, half of her still listening to the band.
Taichi broke up with me.
As her friend, Yamato, sang the chorus, she made a face at her cell phone. A quick glance at her watch indicated she'd only been there for ten minutes. Joe'd only dropped her off on his way to the laboratory. Sweet Sora lived at the opposite side of the town, so there goes the walking possibility. Not that it'd ever been a possibility. She still bore some love for her new boots.
Taichi had the perfect timing. Mimi glanced up at singing Yamato from under her eyelashes, wondering.
He caught her look. Yamato turned away, his cool gaze landing on a peroxide blond girl inches away from Mimi. She lifted an eyebrow in return as her hands played with her cell phone. Oh, so he didn't care about her, did he?
She followed his gaze. The peroxide blonde was pretty, in the heavy pharmacy make-up and bottles of cheap perfume kind of way. She'd been friendly and chatty when Mimi had come in, but now that she had a better look, Mimi didn't like the way her skirt slide up her thigh when she jiggles to the music. And those fake giggles.
"So," she raised her voice to be heard above the din. "What's your name again?"
The girl gave another flurry of giggles when Yamato smiled at her. Mimi smiled tightly. "Kaoru. You're Mimi right?"
"Yup," she flicked imaginary dust off her ankle. "A friend of that guy over there."
"You mean Yamato?" her eyes widened considerably. The girl was bordering on adorableness. Mimi hated her. "He's so cute, don't you think?"
"Really?" she gave her best shot at being nonchalant. "He looks normal to me."
"Are you kidding me? That beautiful golden hair. Not to mention his dreamy, princely, fairytale-like eyes. And when he smiles! Oh," the girl sighed. Kaoru. She'd to start referring to her as that. "But then you guys are friends so of course you don't feel a thing for him."
Mimi gave Kaoru her sincerest smile. "Oh, I've had feelings for him."
The girl withdrew quickly. "Oh?"
"Yes," she gave a nod. "But he's never had feelings for girls like me."
She glanced at Kaoru and for emphasis, her gaze lingered on the other girl's hair.
"That's not true," the girl exclaimed, in unexpected relief. "You're pretty too!"
Her eyebrows furrowed. Geez, thanks for the honesty. Mimi shook it off.
"In fact," she leaned into the other girl. Her mouth twisted when she smelled the alcohol on Kaoru's breath. Mmm. Suddenly, she thirsted for beer. "He's never had feelings for any girl. As far as I know. And I've known him for a very long time."
The look on the girl's face satisfied her to no end (Kaoru. She'd to start calling her Kaoru, and not 'the girl'). When Mimi looked up with a smirk, she found Yamato watching her. His slim fingers flew over the strings of his guitar, but still his eyes fixed on her.
Shooting a pointed glare in his direction, she then cocked a smile at the bassist. He responded with a jutting of his hip and wagging of his tongue. Something glistened at the tip. Her eyes widened, and then Mimi couldn't stop grinning. He'd pierced it, just like how she'd told him to! Well, it was more like a suggestion, but... He actually did it. Her heart gave a little flutter.
He licked at his upper teeth, the round metal ball resting against his lip.
Mimi burst into laughter. Kaoru and her friends swerved around in their sofa and shushed her.
"And that is all," Yamato's voice was suddenly heard, over the crashing noise of the drums. Mimi peered at him through her fingers. He wiped beads of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, the gold of his hair shining in the brightening lights. He twisted open a mineral bottle and poured some water down his face. Swoons were audibly heard as tears of water rolled down his skin and soaked the collar of his shirt.
"But man," the drummer complained. "I was on a roll."
"Of course you are," he shot his drummer a smirk, crushing the empty bottle with one hand.
"What's that supposed to mean?" The drummer rose from his seat.
Yamato turned his back to him.
The bassist, Akio if she was right, stepped down the stage and made a beeline for her. More like, he swayed his hips in her way. His skinny jean rode low on his thin waist, exposing his pierced navel and its curls of hair. Mimi didn't take her eyes off of him until Akio plopped down next to her. Instantly and to his credit, almost smoothly, his hand snaked around her shoulders.
The mingled smell of cologne, sweats and urine wafted from his body. Yucks. She scrunched up her nose and hid her mouth under her sweater.
"So," Akio drawled, fingering a strand of hair away from her face. "Do you like it?"
He gave his tongue another waggle to illustrate his point. She eyed it carefully, a gleeful shiver running up her spine. It was gross, he was gross, but she couldn't take her eyes off of it, or him.
"I hate it," she said softly. Mimi gave a yell when he leaned in with his still-wagging tongue.
"Give it a try," Akio suggested, his mouth open wide in a grin. "Taste it."
Mimi stared his piercing. It caught the lights and glinted almost merrily. The longer she looked at the metal, the more daring she felt. Plus, she'd never kissed a guy with a pierced tongue. How would that feel like? She leaned in tentatively, dropped the sweater from her hands' grasp and swallowed a gulp. She mirrored his grin. Crazy.
"Come here, you," she said even more softly. She cupped his chin with her hand and pulled his face towards her. His breaths were ragged and the smell of his cologne was especially strong on his neck. Her eyelids fluttered and the pulse in her wrist beat even louder. She was drunk, Mimi realised deliriously.
Even as she was about to take his mouth and find out for real, a shout tore her away from the bassist's hold. Something fell with a great thud, and feminine voices wailed. The couple broke away in alarm.
"You think you're so great, huh?" The drummer towered over a sprawled guy. A few blinks and she saw it was Yamato. A cut ran down his lower lip and when he raised his head, she knew the fury in those eyes.
Mimi untangled herself from Akio and rose from the sofa. Kaoru and the other girls were huddling and squealing by themselves. "Guys? What's happening?"
Yamato cut her with a searing glance. She ignored him. The drummer turned to her and he pointed directly at Yamato's face. Her friend didn't look too happy about it.
"He's a dick, that's what," the drummer said gruffly.
"What did he say this time?" she crossed her arms. "You know he doesn't really mean it, whatever he says..."
"Hey," Yamato warned softly.
"Well, I can't stand him anymore," he declared. "In fact, me and that guy over there," he cocked a glance at the languid bassist. "We've been talking."
"Oh yeah?" He said coldly. "Interesting development."
The drummer made a move as if he wanted to strike him. Mimi swung out her hands in alarm. Yamato only sat there, defiantly staring up at his drummer.
"Here's another interesting development," he spat out. "You, we don't need. I'm sorry man, but you're on your own."
It happened in a flash. She had only time to yell before Yamato's fist made contact with the drummer's face. The previously laissez-faire Akio shot up from his seat and across the room. The other girls melted into a screaming ball.
"Stop it!" she moved towards the three and pulled back a shoulder, only for her grasp to be wrenched away. "Guys!"
Red droplets splattered from Yamato's mouth as Akio pummelled fist after fist into his stomach. The drummer held back Yamato's arms, Yamato's face twisted in pain as he tried to pull away from the bassist. Mimi pulled at Akio, screaming into his ear, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.
"Yamato!" she burst into tears. "Don't hit him!"
In a split second, she glimpsed something move towards her. A loud cracking sound rent the air. Pain shot through her and blood smeared her sight. Something metallic filled her mouth. She couldn't see, someone was screaming, and then she hit the ground, face in hands.
"Oh my god," she blinked, her eyes watery with tears. "Oh god."
Silence fell onto the room, and then there was a shout and more arguments.
Someone fell beside her and an arm wrapped around her shoulders. Oh god, something was drumming in her temples. Pain needled at the area around her face and when she tried to take her hands away, they were overflowing with blood. Nausea hit her hard when she took in the smell. Her body fell forward, her eyes screwed shut in pain. Tears swam down her cheeks.
"Mimi," Yamato's voice was urgent. "Mimi."
"Shut up," she gasped.
"Let's go, get up, we'll get something for you."
"Get away from me," she elbowed him away. There was a light thud, but then he was back at her side.
"Come with me," his grip on her arm was strong. She was forced to stand and one of her hands was slung over his shoulders. "Stay away."
"Hey, man," someone was saying. "We're cool, okay?"
"Shut up," Mimi mumbled. Their voices were aggravating her headache. Her hands were wet with mingled blood and tears. Pissed off didn't even begin to describe what she was feeling.
"I'm sorry, Meems," another voice was saying. "It was an accident, I swear."
And then she heard Yamato. "Touch her again and I'll give you an accident."
"Hey, hey," Akio answered nervously. "She knows it's an accident! I'd never hurt her!"
"Shut up," they said in unison. With that, he carried her out of the room. They shuffled down the corridor mostly in silence, but for their ragged breaths.
She leaned most of her weight on his shoulders and let Yamato hold her. Face in hand, she nestled against the soft strands of his hair. It smelled good, like fruits. Why does he always smell good? Sometimes all she wanted to do was cuddle up to him and take in his scent. Mimi breathed in deeply. Passion fruits.
And then she realised what that meant. "What brand of shampoo do you use?"
He gave a shrug. "Not sure."
"Is it the same as the red-and-silver slim bottle with the flower cap on a shelf in my bathroom?"
Even if she couldn't see his face, Mimi knew he was grinning.
"Yeah?" he said. And then, "I think Takeru got me something like that."
"Liar," she murmured into his ear. "Admit it."
"Admit?" he said politely. "What?"
"You like it."
Yamato stopped and held open a door for her. Nightfall stretched into the horizon, broken only by the splashes of numerous street lights and glimmers of cars' headlights. A few cars were scattered throughout the parking lot and a lone motorcycle was parked at the furthest end. Coldness bit painfully into her skin. The ground and trees were thick with leftover snow. Mimi wrapped her arms around herself, shivering for warmth. A strong wind almost knocked her sideways, but Yamato caught her in time. Snow crunched under their boots and Mimi nuzzled even closer to Yamato, desiring more of his warmth.
"I still hate you," she managed to mumble as they shuffled across the lot.
"Why?" he sounded hurt. "I didn't punch you. Do you hate him?"
"You started the fight," she accused.
"Mimi," they halted. She shivered visibly as Yamato stood away from her. "They kicked me out of my own band. Some sympathy would be welcome."
Her throat felt dry and parched. Mimi started to sniff. After a few moments of silence, she finally found something to say. "I think I've a broken nose. Some sympathy would be welcome."
"Hey," he held up his hands. "Look who's taking you to the hospital."
She groaned loudly. "No."
"You need a doctor," he said sternly.
"I don't need needles."
"You've a broken nose."
"I'm okay. See?" she winced as she took her hands away. The droplets of blood on her hand dripped into a red puddle on the snow. It sickened them both. "Fine."
"Fine." He made to move towards her. She shuffled away.
"Just," she blurted out. "Keep quiet."
Yamato fixed her a cold look. She felt ridiculous. She'd always been the one to run her mouth. He went ahead while she followed him slowly. The lapels of his black coat flapped in the wind and she struggled slightly to stay upright.
When they arrived at his motorcycle, Mimi decided to make things difficult for him. She spoke up when Yamato revved the engine.
"Is it wise?" she motioned at the vehicle.
He examined it coolly, cradling a helmet in his lap. "Have you ever fallen off?"
"No," she crossed her arms. "But I've never had my nose broken before."
To her surprise, Yamato chuckled a few times. "So if your nose falls off, so will the rest of you?"
Mimi tried to curb her smile, without success. "I feel nauseous. I may not have the best balance. I could fall off the motorcycle."
"Five bucks you'd be doing that on purpose," he said dryly.
"Why would I?"
"Just to prove a point."
She cocked an eyebrow. "Which one?"
"All of your ridiculous ones."
The cold was deep into her skin, through the threads of her sweater, but that didn't stop Mimi from whirling around and marching away.
"Hey," he called out lazily. "That nose needs medical attention!"
"Never mind," she answered angrily. "I've been thinking about a nose job anyway!"
He said something but she didn't catch it. But she could guess. He'd nothing nice to say about her after all. Cold air rushing against her cheeks and through her hair, she walked briskly away from him. Her hand fumbled in her jeans' pocket, searching, looking. Where on earth was her cell phone?
She swerved around and found Yamato still sitting on his motorcycle. She sniffed loudly. He really didn't care about her, did he? She may have a bloody nose but he'd still flirt with another blonde. Stupid, stupid Mimi. She shouldn't have bothered to come to his rehearsal. At least her nose would have been blood-free and bone-intact.
He caught her glare and held up the helmet. "Offer's still on the table."
She ignored it and tried her friendliest voice. "Do you have my cell phone?"
"Why?" His eyebrow flared up, and then he sneered. "Too lazy to go in and ask for Akio?"
Her breath hitched. So his name really was Akio. "No, but thanks for reminding me I still have a friend."
"Oh, I bet he's more than just a friend."
Akio and his wagging pierced tongue flashed across her mind. She fought off a shiver, which she wasn't sure was caused by cold or embarrassment. "He's a friend," she insisted, feeling childish.
"He just broke your nose," he shot.
"It was an accident," she said curtly.
"Oh yeah? Tell that to your mirror."
It struck deep. Damn it, does she really look that bad? She cried out, "No one asked you to punch your drummer."
That got him. Yamato's gaze dropped to the ground. His hands were fisted, she noticed. Suddenly Mimi felt sorry for him. True, she was the one with the broken nose, but he was the one who'd been practising his butt off for his band. He'd sounded so enthusiastic (in Yamato's own languid way) on the phone, when he'd persuaded her to come tonight. And she'd eagerly agreed, even though she'd to beg Joe for a ride, and cancelled a karaoke session with her high school friends. Joe had sighed and her friends had complained, but then Yamato had smiled when she'd showed up. She'd felt like it was worth all the hassle, you know?
"You know," she started to speak, desperate to fill the growing silence. "If I annoy you so much, why did you ask me to come?"
He flexed a hand over his hair impatiently. "I asked everyone."
Her mouth fell close. Oh. She hadn't known. "Why... why aren't they here?"
"Taichi... had a thing," he shrugged with incredible ease. If Taichi had missed one of her things, she'd have threatened him with a silent treatment. "Takeru has a basketball practice. The rest, I'm not sure."
Mimi's gaze dropped to her boots. They sparkled prettily when they hit the lights, which was why she'd bought them yesterday. Suddenly she didn't like the snowflake glitters on the underside of the boots anymore. They seemed so... childish. "Could you... take me to the hospital?"
"You sure?" His voice was crisp with sarcasm.
"Yeah," she said absently. "I need to make an appointment with a surgeon."
Mimi met his cocked eyebrows with a quick grin. "Relax. I can't pay for plastic surgery with my credit card. Right?"
They both knew the last question was serious. He, however, only answered by handing her a helmet. It was black as night and a sliver of the moon were reflected in its pale sheen. She examined it critically, turning it this way and that in her hands. A sticker of a pale wolf ran down its side and its yellow eyes seemed to be glaring at her. Mimi made a face.
"Sorry," Yamato said wryly. "No pink helmets."
She put it on and straddled the seat. "If people see me with this and think I'm a gangster, you're in for something painful."
"If you fall," he said. "Maybe your head won't crack."
"I hope so," she answered. "I don't want to share heaven with you."
"I don't think god likes you that much."
"I don't think god likes you at all."
"Let's just hope we end up in different parts of the afterlife," he suggested. "Then we don't have to see each other again. Happy?"
"I'll be happier if you'd just drive," she tried to rearrange her position and her hands gripped the sides of the leather seat tightly. She had very good chances of falling off the bike, but at least she'd fall without holding onto his waist. Part of her, a very deep part of her, knew this was all just too dumb for words, but her heart still burned with anger for the boy in front of her. She was damned if she'd reach out and grab his waist like some female admirer of his.
And Yamato did. The bike slid off the lot slowly, but before she could throw in a crack at his speed, he went off at a violent speed. Wind tore through her hair and it became difficult to keep her eyes and mouth open. She found her body slipping off the seat involuntarily and quickly conceded defeat by wrapping both of her arms around his waist. Mimi pressed her face to the nape of his neck and shut her eyes, prayers and curses falling from her mouth quickly and incoherently.
There were brief stops, at junctions and traffic lights, where she had enough time to breathe slowly and foolishly check if the helmet was still on her head. Yamato kept silent, his posture relaxed even when she had a death grip on his sides. But too soon, they were off again and shamelessly, she resumed the position she was beginning to think of as a kangaroo's cub in a kangaroo's pouch. There was too little moment to think about pride when you were unsure whether you sincerely were going to fall off a motorcycle.
When the bike finally slowed to a halt, she lurched forward onto his back. Her nausea had returned and a sick feeling dwelled in the bottom of her tummy. Her sight wavered when she cracked her eyes open, then sharpened, and she saw the pale lights falling on the white ground from the lighted squares of windows. Mimi raised her eyes and registered the most relevant part of the flickering sign above the white columns: HOSPITAL.
"Yamato," she tried to say, and ended up mumbling the words. "Hey. There's a hospital here. I can see it."
His back moved, and she began to slide away, but he caught her wrist and held her upright. His mouth was moving and then she saw the cell phone pressed to his ear. The cotton threads of his black glove tickled her bare skin.
"Let me go," she struggled feebly against his grasp. "There's a doctor in there."
Yamato said something, something she couldn't catch, so she gave up and nuzzled on his back. Her cheek skimmed down his coat and finding a comfortable place, pressed her face to it and closed her eyes. Her heartbeat stopped skyrocketing and her breathing slowed to a normal pace. She inhaled deeply the fresh, clean detergent scent of the cloth and felt, strangely, at home. That's what a high speed hell-ride does to people, she marvelled absently. They could stay like this forever. It'd be nice.
When he started to move, Mimi opened her eyes. He still held her wrist as he gently helped her off his motorcycle. Even in the dark, lit only by the lights from the windows and the streets, she could see the concern in his brilliant blue eyes. Shame dug its claws deep into her heart and she didn't resist when Yamato unclipped her helmet for her.
She tried a joke. "How's my hair?"
He gave a shrug and slung her left arm over his shoulder. They moved towards the entrance, disturbed only by her unsteady steps and his attempts to make it as comfortable as possible for her. She was about to tell him to turn off the gentleman mode because she was dying for the hands of a doctor when the automatic glass door slid open for them.
She was unceremoniously dumped in one of the plastic chairs while he went off to deal with the paperwork. Her eyes slid shut and she fell into a quick sleep. When she woke up, Yamato was nowhere to be seen and a nurse kindly told her he'd taken off.
"Jerk," Mimi was now coherent enough to almost scream. "Horrible, horrible jerk."
"I'm sorry, dear," the nurse looked on. "If there's anything I could get you..."
"A knife," she declared. "Or a scalpel. Can you perform physical mutilation with a scalpel? That crazy cannibal in the old movies did. Maybe a laser would be better."
"The doctor will be with you soon," the nurse said impassively and moved away.
"Is circumcision legal in Japan?" she shouted after the nurse. Mimi leaned back with a huff. Sometimes she surprised herself with what she knew. But there was an article about in the latest teen magazine and what to do if your boyfriend has had circumcision. It'd fascinated her.
Hi! I wrote this a long time ago and then I gave a few stabs at the second chapter, but none of them bleeds just the right amount, so I let this one dwell in the darkest, wettest and smelliest depths of my Mac. That said, I'm not sure if I'd give it another go, but here's hoping posting this would help.
Thank you for reading this and I hope you review. :)