Title: Blank sheets
Author: Mika Kashii Haine
Band: The Gazette (for now)
Pairing: Reita x Ruki (one sided), Ruki x Kai (more to come)
Rating: PG15
Genre: Angst
Chapters: 1/?
Warning: Language, un-betaed
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone at all. No matter whom they are or where they are.
Summary: Conclusions were easily made in the honey blonde's imaginative mind.
Comments: This whole chapter I wrote in the bathroom (laughs). I went into my aniki's basement apartment, sat down on the bathroom floor and started writing. Sat there for some hours or so. And this is what came out of it. Why the bathroom? Well, I feel the most creative in there (raises an eyebrow), it's weird, I know, but it's almost scary how creative I can be in there, lol. Comment please

In a country with a language he did not know, with people who felt the same confusion considering his mother tongue. Somehow, by himself and with help from pieces of paper, a pencil and his bad drawing technique, he had found a nice little hotel not too far from the beach of the island.

First day of his journey for something close to a new start and cleaned inside had been spent in confusion and headaches as he desperately tried to find a place to stay.

***

"I'm sorry.....

I.. Sorry.

I am just so…

Sorry. Really. I am. Sorry.

Sorry… Sorry…

Please forgive me..

Reita"

In reality, he wanted to, tried to, put down something else on the paper than hundreds of 'sorry'. Something, anything, that would make the other understand. Put him a little at ease. Knowing nothing was wrong. He was okay. Needing a break. But would be back. Someday soon he'd be back. Maybe not tomorrow or the day after. Probably not in a weeks time. But doubtfully the blonde would be able to push guilt to the back of his head for much more than a month. Even if the pain wasn't gone. Wounds not healed. Reita would come back with his fakest smile. Laugh the forced joy. Pretend its all okay. Doing a dam good job fooling them all. Like always.

So much else the bassist could have written. But 'sorry' was all that came to mind. His heart wanted to write down assuring words. But it wouldn't be written. Pen pressed to paper. Brutally scribbling all his hands allowed him to. Sorry. Pen against paper, forcefully almost tearing the fragile paper. Where the signature name of his childhood friend were signed. Tear stains were evident.

All the things Reita wanted to get across. Conveying his reasons. Uruha couldn't know. Not understanding. A single thing. Confusing. Shocking. Conclusions were easily made in the honey blonde's imaginative mind.

"He wouldn't... For sure... he'd never.."

Suicide. That's the words playing around inside of the younger man's head. Disbelief written over his face. Not able to put Reita's name in the same sentence with neither words like 'suicide' or 'suicidal'.

Grabbing his phone. Shoving his feet hurriedly into worn-out sneakers. Out the door. Not bothering to lock it, or even close it. The tall man flew down the stairs and up the road. Hurriedly. Running. To the apartment of his childhood friend, former classmate, best friend and band mate. This apartment where, except for his own, he always felt the most welcome, comfortable in.

Different cases of suicide scenarios playing in his mind. Tears started trailing down cheeks as the sadness of his own thoughts consumed him.

***

Walking down the road outside of his temporarily new home. A slight pain in his heart started to eat more of him. Bite by bite, pain grew, sorrow washed over him. Walking down the same road he'd walked now for an hour or more. On his own two feet. Up, down, and up again.

The pain was growing to the point where it was unbearable. Actually. Music streaming into his ear from his iPod was barely reaching him as he tried so hard to persuade himself not to cry. All the begging didn't help. Obviously. For the first tear already ran down his cheek.

First of the tears to fall, hurts the worst of all.

Now tears escaped his eyes with no intention of stopping. At least not for a while. Blurring his already hazy vision. Trapped in the walls he created. His head a cage he don't want to, and can't even if he wanted to, escape.

"Looking for something I've never seen
Alone and I'm in between"

Trust me by The Fray played as he broke down on hands and knees. Gasping, crying, dripping spit. Rain washed over the blonde. Like the rain tried to purify this bassist of hurt and pain. Shedding tears along with the pain trailing down pale cheeks of a blonde crying to forget. Escape, if you like.

***

Reaching the door. Banging on it. Desperate. Shouting. Crying. Cursing. Seconds passes. Then a few minutes. Figuring the door would not swing open any time soon. Remembering the spare key he had gotten in case of emergency. For the second time that morning he ran once more. Worry creeping in on him. Settling deeply inside.

***

Drenched by Heaven's tears. Filled with Hell's pain. Running back down the street until he once again reached the hotel he resided in. Not turning around and walking back up. Like he had done all afternoon. Rather storming in to escape the furious weather outside. And elderly lady shot him a worried glance. Not saying anything for understanding wasn't possible. Looking at his face. Frowning slightly. For once, Reita was glad it rained. Dripping water from blonde locks mingling together with tears from his eyes. Unable to tell the two apart.

Heading for the elevator. Reita used his last strength to press a quick smile on his lips as he nodded at her. Acknowledging her presence by the little and gentle motion. Glad the elevator was already there. Pressing 5 and doors closed. Alone. Once again.

***

Fourth try. Uruha finally managed to put the key in the lock with his shaky nervous fingers. Turning. A soft 'click' as heard. Body uncontrollably shook and sweaty hands grabbed the handle, pushing it open.

Rays of light from the shining sun of this beautiful morning were the only source of light. Filtering through the windows. Casting light upon the mess of this quiet apartment. A stuffy silence of discomfort. Anger and depression of the owners rejection still lingering on the walls.

Hesitating, slow steps inched the man forward. Into the chaotic mess mirroring the head of the man who created it. But, unfortunately, a man's mind were not like a room. One could easily tidy a room. One could simply mess it up. Or throw it all away. A room was easily manipulated. Something less difficult to handle and deal with than the thoughts and feelings a person could harbour. If only we were all like a room.

Under his shoes, cracking sound of shattered glass didn't register in his head. Which was more than busy working on top speed to find out what happened in here. From one room to another. No trace left of the other, no sign in the mess. Only silence slapping his face. Letting out a sigh. Happy that he hadn't been greeted with a messy suicide, or a clean one, or any at all. Though, he still wandered around, concern printed on his features. Finding nothing whatsoever that would tell him about the others whereabouts. Anything to ease the worry.

A soft melody broke the heavy silence. Breaking off the train of thoughts. Spinning around, trying to locate the whereabouts of the device that produced the music. Soon grabbing it from under a picture frame. Flipping it open to see who called. Ruki's name blinked on the screen. Answering it. His message short before he hung up.

"Reita's place. Now. Get the others too. Hurry!"

Scratching the back of his head. Rubbing his swollen eyes. With the sleeve of his shirt he wiped his face. Picked up the picture frame. Removing, carefully, the shattered glass. Beneath it all were a young and smiling Gazette.

***

Door to his room shut close. Making sure it was locked. Removing his clothes on the way to the bathroom. Piece by piece, clothes got scattered everywhere. Lying down in the tub. Letting hot water flow to fill it. Drown his body in heat. Breaking down again. His tears fell freely. Not even bothering to try to fight for control. All energy sucked out. Letting himself go. For a moment. For now. This outlet of emotions stored inside. For too long. Suppressed too hard. Denied too much.

To start over again. It's necessary to cry out all that has to be let go of. Like want. Need. Longing. Jealousy. Love...

Yes, the handsome blonde were going to start with something simple like this. Cry, suffer, and get on with his life. Bitterness might never leave. Affection linger. Yet we all need to at some point let go of what we can't have.