Sara: Hi guys! Happy Rosh Hashana!
Sky: This is the second chapter of Coming Home. Our rants will be at the end, but first we really want to thank KisunaFuji for reviewing, because it convinced us to write this chapter.
Sara: So thanks so much! We hope you enjoy this!
Disclaimer: You know the drill, don't you?
Coming Home
Chapter 2: Live Like We're Dying
I hate flying. Yes, I, the great Atobe Keigo, hate flying. I don't know if it's the sensation of the pressure dropping and my ears popping when the plane ascends and descends. I don't know if it's because of the occasional turbulence, the sense of being suffocated even when I own a private jet.
Maybe it's just the fear that I will never come down.
I took long, deep breaths as the jet rolled down the runway and launched itself into the air. I tried not to think of anything at all, nothing except for my Jiroh.
I felt guilty, of course. About everything. I had managed to neglect my boyfriend and treat him like crap for the past month all because my job had me running all over the world like a mad dog. I knew that he tried not to complain, tried to suck it up and be strong for me, but I knew that it hurt him to do so. I knew that most of the time he couldn't even go out without me because of his condition, and that he couldn't bear to look so weak in front of our friends. And I felt so guilty.
I would make it up to him on Wednesday, I decided this morning. I had made a promise that I intended to keep.
Closing my eyes, I imagined and dreamed and hoped that Wednesday would be perfect.
The plane lands. I walk down the steps onto the tarmac, saying my usual, "Be awed by ore-sama's presence!"
The forecast the day before promised beautiful weather, and I can see that it is true. I can see the sunlight reflect in the eyes of the person I love the most in the world. His eyelids are drooping, but once he spots me the warm honey-brown orbs turn alert and excited.
"Keigo!" he crows joyfully, and he nearly bowls me over in a bear hug. I laugh and wrap my arms around the shoulders that barely come to my chest.
"I'm sorry I'm quite late. Stormy seas, you know. Did you miss me?" I whisper in the small man's ear, and he nods eagerly. He really is like a child, Jiroh is. Or maybe it's that I just had to grow up too soon.
"Of course!" Laughter bubbles in my chest as Jiroh's enthusiasm begins to seep through me. But then I notice that other people are starting to stare and I straighten up immediately. A small hand takes mine, and I only just realize how much I miss that feeling of warmth.
"Can we go home now?" Jiroh asks, drawing closer to my side. I nod.
"Home sounds good."
We walk to the car, and the driver gets out to put my luggage in the back. We still haven't kissed like most couples do when they are reunited, but all our love and pain is transmitted through the silence between us.
Jiroh nuzzles closer to me, and it is surprising how perfect, how right it feels for him to be there. I begin to doze with my head on his shoulder and jolt awake when the car stops.
"Master Atobe. Master Jiroh." The chauffer opens the door for us and bows. We step out, and a furious twittering greets us.
"Ne ne, do you see that kid? Akutagawa Jiroh? Apparently he's Atobe-sama's boyfriend."
"They've been dating for four years! And Akutagawa-sama moved in with Atobe-sama last month! Don't they look so perfect together?"
"Akutagawa-sama is so cute! He's like a little boy!"
Jiroh pays no attention to the whispers that are almost all about him. Perhaps he has gotten used to the gossip as much as I have over the past few years.
We walk hand-in-hand to our suite – I have no patience for the paparazzi lurking in the elevators today – and Jiroh unlocks the door. It feels so good to be home again.
"So… you promised me you'd make it up to me today," Jiroh says in a sweet voice. He flashes a smile my way, and I can feel my heart swell in my chest.
I peck him on the cheek. "Ore-sama is going to treat you today, Jiroh," I say. "You won't have to do anything but relax and let ore-sama do all the work."
"But you're always doing work, Keigo," Jiroh complains.
"But this time I'm working for you." I bend down to kiss him on the lips this time, and it surprises me how his body immediately reacts.
His hands tangle in my hair, holding me with amazing strength for someone of his size. His lips part and our breaths mingle, and right now we're so close that we can hardly be counted as two separate beings. He breaks the kiss off, gasping for breath. I smirk and kiss the crook of his neck, since normally I am the one who pulls away first.
Suddenly, I lift him off of his feet in a bridal style sort of way. He cries out in surprise and struggles for a moment before I dump him onto a chair in the kitchen. He straightens up to find me dolled up in an apron, rummaging through the refrigerator for ingredients.
"Atobe Keigo is actually cooking?" He perks up in interest and watches me cut up vegetables and descale two fish.
"My boyfriend deserves to be treated once in a while," I shrug and begin to stir the base of a soup.
Dinner is on the table in about an hour. Jiroh is suspicious at first – understandable, of course, since he has never seen me even touch a stove before. It amuses me as he takes a cautious first bite of fried fish. His eyes widen as he adorably pries a fishbone from between his teeth.
"This is good," he says in astonishment. I merely grin smugly in reply.
After dinner and washing dishes like all cutesy television couples do, Jiroh wraps his arms around my neck and leans against my shoulder sleepily.
"Thank you, Keigo," he murmurs indistinctly, and I press him closer to my chest. It's strange how I become so different around him, like my mask of power and arrogance is totally stripped from me under his innocent gaze.
"I'm not done yet," I respond. I lift his face up to meet mine, and his eyes are curious, his head tilted to the side. "I'm sorry, Jiroh. For everything."
And I lean down to claim his lips again.
"Master Atobe… Master Atobe, we've arrived."
A soft voice woke me up from my sweet dream, and I glared at the culprit. A steward stood with his hand almost touching my shoulder, and he recoiled when I looked like I wanted to bite it off.
"The next time you wake ore-sama up like that," I said dangerously, venom dripping from my tone, "ore-sama is going to personally gut you and feed you to the fishes."
./. .\.
Monday evening and Tuesday morning passed in a blur of papers and meetings and clueless secretaries. I can't even remember what I talked about half the time, just that I was exhausted and I wanted to go home and I was going to strangle Itsuki when I had the chance.
I sighed as I took the floor again. What did I need to talk about again? I panicked. I glanced down at my notes and began to sound like I knew everything about our business model, when really my mind was a haze of nothing but Jiroh.
I was relieved when the meeting was let out for a break – thank goodness, I thought. I pulled on the collar of my dress shirt as I went outside, already pressing the keys of my mobile. I had already called Jiroh earlier that day, but I just wanted to hear his voice. What time would it be in Japan? I thought. Nine-thirty? Ten? Some time around there.
Something droned above me, much too loud in my ears. It sounded like a plane, but what plane would come that close to the ground in the middle of the city…?
A sound unlike anything I've ever heard reached my ears, and I had the urge to cringe into the ground it was so loud. It was like the screeching of metal and the groan of steel...
… and a cloud of white billowed through the city…
I looked up and saw the Twin Towers, smoke pouring out of the North Tower. Flames licked the side of the building, and a jarring hole had been punched through the metal.
There are people in that building! I thought frantically once my mind cleared of its stupor. Ootori! Shishido! Kabaji!
My friends, my extended family… they might die if they stay in there.
I walked into the thick white fog against the crowd, barely paying attention as people ran into me and yelled in English. My phone was long forgotten.
There were already policemen and firemen collecting around the building, telling everyone that it was okay, it was all right, they could all go back to their desks and continue working. When one particularly irritable man in a blue uniform spotted me, he nearly shoved me into the ground. Me, Atobe Keigo. Who did he think he was?
"I'm sorry sir," he said dully. "My orders are to not anyone into the building."
"Excuse me," I huffed in an important tone. "My name is Keigo Atobe, and I'm the CEO of the Atobe Corporation. I have the authority to enter this building at any time, especially when my colleagues are inside. And whose idiotic orders are to keep people out but the workers in? If you hadn't noticed, a passenger plane just crashed into the World Trade Center, and if you don't do anything now, people will die and blood will be on your hands."
"Um… um…" the man stuttered as I towered over him. No one pushed ore-sama around. No one.
"Let these people out. Now."
"Y-yes Mr. Atobe sir!"
He scuttled away to recite the orders to his fellow policemen, and I pushed my way into the building. Men in blue uniforms were scattered around the lobby, shouting and creating utter chaos. Knowing that the elevator would shut down in an emergency, I took the stairs three at a time until I reached the fifteenth floor – one of the benefits of being an ex tennis player is that you develop amazing stamina.
"Ootori! Shishido! Kabaji!"
"Atobe?"
There was a profuse amount of smoke in the air, and I had to pull my shirt over my face. Already my suit began to stick to my skin in the uncomfortable heat.
"Shishido!" I called in relief. "Is that you?"
"Yes," came the equally relieved reply. "We're locked in the conference room, but Ootori's fainted and Kabaji is trying to break the door down!"
I ran to a door on my right and pulled on the handle – only to pull back again, as it felt as though my hand had been submerged in fire. Putting the back of my hand to the door, I tried to think quickly just like my father would have told me to. How could you break a door whose hinges were melted in place?
It was getting hard to breathe, and suddenly I knew why Ootori had fainted.
"Kabaji!" I roared over the din of the flames in the floors above us. I snapped my fingers, and knew that my loyal friend would hear it.
With the noise of wrenching metal and splintering wood, the door was blasted off of its hinges, Kabaji plummeting in the hallway. He blinked piously for a few seconds, and went back inside the room to retrieve an unconscious Ootori and a faint Shishido.
"Go!" I cried. "Go, Kabaji, and take Shishido with you! I'll take care of Ootori!"
"Usu."
But Shishido wouldn't have it.
"What the hell are you doing, Atobe?" he roared. The crashing, the screaming, kept growing louder and louder so we had to shout to hear each other. "Save yourself, I'll help him!"
I shook my head, supporting the unconscious man and throwing him over my shoulder. I staggered under the dead weight, but I had carried heavier things before. Kabaji, ever loyal to his master, grabbed Shishido by the arm and dragged him out of the room, the latter shouting half-uttered protests in the process.
I grunted in exertion as I tried – tried being the key word – to carry Ootori out of the room. My Lord, he was heavy! Perhaps not playing tennis since high school did that to you.
Someone in a tweed suit whipped past me and through the window just then. I couldn't do anything, couldn't even blink. Just watch in horror as the man fell to his death.
"What are you waiting for?" a voice cried angrily behind me. "Jump!"
I whipped around and glanced back at the tear-stained face of a businessman named Smith or Johnson or something like that. He was trembling head to foot and his suit was covered in ash.
"So, what are you waiting for?" Smith or Johnson or whatever repeated in a hysterical voice.
"I'm not jumping!" I replied. When he made to push past me, I held him back with some difficulty – Ootori's head was still lolling on my shoulder, after all.
"No! Let – me – go – !"
Instead, I towed him by the arm behind me while Ootori slowly roused. I set him on his feet, since my back was almost to the breaking point, and he stumbled around before regaining his balance.
"Atobe!" he started. Then he saw Smith/Johnson/whatever and pinned his other arm to his side to make my life a bit easier. The man stopped struggling then, so Ootori and I half-carried him to the stairwell.
And then we met a wall of fire.
The heat was oppressive. Immense. I already began to sweat copiously under three layers of clothing, and my throat felt rubbed and raw.
"This way!" I cried, pointing in the opposite direction, where hopefully the staircase wasn't blocked by flames. We tripped over to the stairs, holding our breaths against the smoke that threatened to suffocate us. Oh gosh, the staircase wasn't blocked!
Something exploded behind us. Red filled my vision. Tears streamed down my face and into my shirt…
And I breathed in fresh air. We all took a long, deep breath and it tasted as sweet as ambrosia. The smell of smoke and dust assaulted my nostrils, and I realized how close Death had just come to claiming me for his own.
Shishido and Kabaji reached us first. Then Smith/Johnson's wife. Then the police and fire squad.
It was a moment that would last forever. The moment we escaped from Death.
./. .\.
I watched the Twin Towers fall, both the North and the South. It was almost as if the entire city held its breath as a cloud of white engulfed anyone who was in a certain radius. The police had kept me at the scene, so my Armani suit was immediately covered in a powdery white.
All I wanted to do was go home.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Atobe," a policeman said audaciously. "No planes are leaving the city at this time!"
Ugh!
"Kabaji!" I called over a sea of heads.
"Usu…" came the response just behind my shoulder. I whirled around and faced my loyal friend, my tone immediately becoming authoritative and Atobe-ish.
"I want you to take us to my private jet, Kabaji, and get us out of the city!" I ordered.
"Usu!"
./. .\.
Not two hours later, I was already aboard my private jet, my luggage in the above compartment and one of the stewardesses serving me champagne and caviar, which I rudely declined. I looked over to Ootori and Shishido, who were sleeping on each other's shoulders with soft eyes. My two best associates had decided to start dating after they graduated high school and, like Jiroh and I, they've been inseparable ever since.
Jiroh…
I closed my heavy eyelids and felt an overwhelming amount of emotion wash over me, nearly suffocating me. Jiroh, my best friend, my lover, the person who I had ignored almost completely for the past month. He never complained, never said a word, because he loved me too much, he trusted me too much.
He could never fight me.
"Ne, Keigo, what do you have in mind here?" Jiroh asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes and bouncing his racket on his knees. He looks happy on the tennis courts as he stares into my eyes, surveying. I try to tear my gaze from those warm brown irises, and I know that if he just looks at me like he is now I will give him everything. Anything.
"I just want to play a friendly match with you, Jiroh," I answer vaguely, turning around. I can feel anger and irritation surge through my body, surprising me. Where had all that emotion come from? Over the past year, Jiroh's disease had gone haywire, making him tired all the time. We couldn't do anything anymore, especially because of my work and his sleeping habits… I want to lie up next to him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear like we used to, but now that seems impossible.
"Keigo?" I hear behind me. I sigh and turn around.
"Yes, Jiroh?"
The small man grins and waves at me with his racket. "Nothing, Keigo," he says brightly. "I love you."
The words wrench at my heart, and I suddenly feel like I want to cry. Instead, I toss the ball high in the air and hit a serve.
"Out!" Jiroh calls. I growl and serve again. My shots are powerful and angry, and Jiroh can feel it even across the other side of the net. After I win the point, he looks at me in bewilderment.
"Keigo…?"
I ignore him and take my spot on the baseline. "Fifteen-love!" I shout so he can hear. I take the next three points easily, and call the score: "One-love!"
"Keigo!"
"Just play, Jiroh!" I retort. "Play, and win against me!"
He grips the ball tightly in his hand, his fingers not even long enough to clasp the thing all the way, and he serves and makes a service dash.
I pound the ball to his right side, and if it isn't for his soft wrists, I could have broken his hands.
"Keigo!" he cries out, whimpering in pain. Oh, how the noise infuriates me! How could I fall in love with such a softie?
"Play, Jiroh!" I cry in rage. "Fight, goddammit! Win!"
"I can't!"
I want to leap over the net and shake his frail body, because if he keeps telling himself that he can't, how will he ever succeed? How many times has my father told me the same thing!
He serves again and runs to the net. Silly boy! With the way I'm hitting my shots, I will break his wrists! And what a waste that would be for the tennis world.
"Keigo, stop it!" Jiroh cries out again, and I can see the sparkle of tears on his thin face. How did it get so thin? I wonder. How long ago had he last eaten a full meal?
"No!" I roar, and I take the next four games and three points from him without a second thought.
Another serve. Another service dash. He takes my powerful forehand full-force with his beanpole wrist, and the ball soars high above my head.
"Be awed by ore-sama's prowess!" I shout out of habit. It surprises me how long I had gone without saying my favourite phrase. It has been a long time since I last played tennis.
I smash the ball, aiming for Jiroh's wrist. Even though I can hear something crack, I don't hesitate as the ball comes up to me again and I smash it into the corner.
"Game and match, 6-0," I whisper, mostly to myself, as I land lightly on my feet. With a tinge of horror threatening in my chest, I take in the sight before me.
Jiroh falls to the ground in a small heap, shaking with silent sobs. My shoulders slump and I breathe hard through my nose, and I can't even move to comfort him.
After what seems like an eternity, I toddle over to take his shoulders gently in my hands. He flinches away, and I can't blame him. I would not be surprised if runs away screaming, "Monster!" For that's what I am. I hurt him.
"Jiroh…"
His wrist is red and swollen, and I tenderly massage it between my fingers. More tears leak out of his closed eyes and he presses his lips into a tight line, but he doesn't utter a single sound.
The entire walk home, I don't say sorry. I really want to, though. I want to tell him that I'm sorry I hurt him, I'm sorry I have been hurting him, I'm sorry that I can't say sorry for hurting him.
He knows.
./. .\.
When I arrived home, I saw my curly-haired angel curled up into a ball on the sofa. One of the servants, whose name eludes me, came up to me like he was seeing a ghost.
"Master Atobe!" he gaped as he took in my stark-white hair and clothing. For all he knew, I could have been a ghost. But I only had eyes for Jiroh.
I reached down to touch his shoulder, and I took his right hand in mine. I kneaded the pliable wrist with my fingers, guilt uncomfortably blocking my throat. He took no notice, didn't even stir, and I could see his face was streaked with dried tears.
"Jiroh…" I whispered, desperate to rouse him.
His head snaps up at this, and his bloodshot eyes looked into mine. They were wide with fear, disbelief, hope. I smiled at him and took him into my arms, hoping that every single emotion I felt for him was conveyed in this one hug. It was quiet for a long time, and all I could think about was how warm his body was against mine, how perfectly our arms fit together, and how grateful I was that I was still alive.
"I'm home, Jiroh," I murmured into his soft curls, pressing him tighter to my body. "I'm home."
Sara: This chapter is all over the place! And it might not be all that realistic. Sorry! It was the best I could do though, school is totally dominating my life at the moment! ^^'
Sky: Hopefully we'll have a third and last chapter up... soon.
Sara: Like two or three weeks soon? ^^' Gomenasai for the long wait, we'll make sure it's a good chapter for you all :3 And also... happy early birthday Atobe Keigo! xx One day I hope that Jiroh will bake you a huge birthday cake and, and...
Sky: I suppose you don't want to finish that thought. Anyways... review please! It'll make us write all that much faster :)