Chapter 10: Let Me Apologize to Begin With
Song: In Between by Linkin Park
note: this is long and totally too serious for this fic but had to be done :))
I have never felt so vulnerable as I feet right then, up against one of the strongest beybladers, spinning a beyblade that I haven't spun in a year, the bit chip in the center void of any shade of red. The lack of a year of training takes its toll on me within the first few minutes and I am exhausted, on my knees and breathing raggedly, Johnny's cackle ringing loudly in my ears against the bellowing of the crowd, against the blaring commentary in the background.
"Where are you." I mutter as the orange-red beyblade crashes into mine, igniting sparks and sending mine flying to the very edge of the dish. Was I imagining Dranzer a while ago? Hilary and I both heard her-
"Both the teams have made questionable decisions regarding the choice of players for the tie breaker of the finale! One one hand, we have Johnny McGregor, who's already lost to Tyson in the previous match and on the other side we have Kai Hiwatari, the captain of the Blade Breakers but who has not played -or even practiced by the looks of it- for an entire year-"
Johnny's beyblade tackles mine with a screech, hitting with an energy more than was necessary against an opponent like me and I wonder what this battle is actually about for him. I look up to see his face contorted in concentration. In the background, I can hear Hilary and Tyson's angry voices, demanding that someone put a stop to this match, yelling for me to back away.
I make to stand up and hear it again; Dranzer's cry. Only, it's not the agonizing, gut wrenching sound that has been echoing inside my mind for over a year; it's softer, almost melodious, practically happy.
It sounds nearly like a song.
"-Whoa! Look out, Johnny!" DJ Jazzman lets out a sudden cry and I look up just in time to see another set of sparks; only this time, to my utter surprise, it's my blue beyblade launching itself violently at Johnny's. I think I see a flash of red, and straighten instantly, but no sign of red in the bit chip.
"Kai is finally putting up some resistance! He's back on his feet again! Johnny's beyblade is taking a full impact of a series of furious attacks and it looks like -what was that?!"
The crowd, who was cheering so loud, suddenly stops and stares in awe. From behind me, I distinctly hear Hillary gasp loudly, the voice closer, almost as if she's standing not far by. I am immobilized by the sight; flashes of red, as if flickers of a flame burn in mid air, surrounding my beyblade, launching themselves at random in every direction. Johnny lets out an angry yell, and when he moves for offense, the flames launch themselves like arrows, all at once at his charging beyblade.
And there it is again, Dranzer's song; growing louder and louder and louder until it's all I can hear, until it has dominated all my senses. I look up at the ceiling, no sign of her. I look around at the crowd, all of them stare right back at me, but there's no Dranzer. I look behind me for the first time since I launched my beyblade and see concern etched on all faces, pure horror in one set of ruby eyes; no sign of the phoenix.
And then suddenly, all is blank.
.
It's 2 AM and he doesn't know how he ended up this way, but here he is; sitting on the floor, surrounded by days and days old empty bottles of whiskey; on the kitchen table, against the couches, on the TV stands, in the empty corner of the room, rolled under the bed- there's one in his hand and the way he's holding it loosely, it's spilling on the new carpet but he's too lost in his thoughts to care at that point.
Memories, one upon the other, echo inside his mind, as if reverberating against the inside of his skull, as if a record on repeat and no amount of alcohol can stop their racing, no pack of cigarettes can numb the pain and the loss, the pure agony that accompanies them.
He looks like he hasn't washed in weeks, he needs a proper shave, his skin hasn't seen the sun in over a month and looks deathly pale but the loss of everything he's ever worked for and every one he has ever cherished all in one go, has left him so crippled he can barely make up his mind to get up off the floor.
Sometimes, his thoughts move to a small package tucked hurriedly away in the back of a drawer in his room. It was an old reminder of his father and Kai is not sure if it even works but he's tempted to test it. One time, he had been cutting an apple and his hand had slipped -he was hardly making an effort to avoid it -and the knife had grazed his finger, blood pouring out instantly but it had hardly made him flinch; he had stared and stared until the table got too messy and he swore never to pull that trick again because it was not very effective and he didn't have the strength to clean up again.
Some days, the loss tames down, making room for the underlying guilt to resurface and Kai isn't sure which was worse; losing it all or blaming yourself for it. He wonders what would have happened had he not felt this need to be always be number one, the dominant, the upper hand; how many losses could he have avoided? How many people could he have saved, had it not been for his arrogance, the conceited need to win at all costs? Why could he not have settled for what he got, and stopped past the certain point? What had he accomplished by breaking all there ever was to break? Yes, he defeated the unbeatable, had accomplished the never before accomplished, but was the momentary satisfaction worth the price Dranzer had to pay for it?
He hurls the half-filled bottle at the wall; the fragile glass hits the wall with a loud crash and shatters instantly, the liquid staining the light-colored carpet, the broken shards of glass reminding him of something else breaking in a similar fashion-
He punches the wooden anterior of the couch out of burning rage.
.
I let out a loud gasp, struggling for breath, back on my knees again. Tyson, who has reached the edge of the stage in the God-knows-how-long time that I was blanked out and supporting what look like mild scratches -did Dranzer attack him too?- is cursing rather colorfully. Hilary, standing just a few feet away, sports similar scratches, is looking at Johnny, yelling something I cannot hear right now.
"Are you trying to see if it's safe for you to come back?" I say under my breath, somewhat frustrated and annoyed at the turn of events. I can sense her, I can feel the warmth; it feels as if she's...poking around.
.
It takes more strength than he feel like he has to get up off the bed every morning, get to class every day, go to the doctor twice a week, fill up on the groceries every fort night, but he does it anyways; he doesn't want to, he needs to. He didn't leave to die of a drug overdose; he has to survive and he doesn't know what else to do, to actually do it.
So he pretends it isn't taking his breath slowly, living life in a house in a country that he never felt at home in because he doesn't want home, doesn't feel like he can handle the home, doesn't feel worthy of a home. He has a house. He has friends and he tells himself that it's good that they don't leave important things at his house to pick up the next day, don't feel comfortable enough to pass out drunk in the bed he never sleeps in because he doesn't deserve those special moments with anyone else.
And when they toy around with the bags hidden away under beds and drawers, spill drinks on his furniture, throw his stuff out the window, he doesn't know to act on the sense of nostalgic familiarity (it brings some sense of belonging) or the protective defense (he doesn't ever want to replace those few cherished memories with Tala or Spencer or Ian or-) so he reacts in anger, banishes them all, hides away in a safe space for a few hours and repeat.
He is plagued by the temptation to go back every single day. At times, in between making a presentation or searching something up, he finds the cursor on the monitor hovering over the "Book Flight" option and it takes everything in him to not move a muscle, wait for the temptation to pass and move along. He doesn't know why he's doing this, doesn't know why he can't just press the button and end the suffering once and for all -they'd take him back, they definitely would- he just can't.
He just cannot.
.
"You're testing me too, huh, Dranzer." I whisper when I come to again, letting out a small chuckle, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Hillary, who's moved to stand just next to Tyson, sporting a new gash across her shoulder. He's laughing! I can hear her mutter angrily to Tyson, Nothing good ever comes out of a battle he's fucking laughing in!
"I thought you'd gone for good." I mumble, barely enough strength to hold my head upright. The flames that were flickering around my beyblade are stronger, I note, angrier, more energetic. "I thought you'd finally had enough of me."
There was Dranzer's song again; louder against the colliding metal not far away, louder against Tyson and Hilary's yells, louder against the roaring crowd. It's so soothing, the next memory almost feels like a dream.
.
Sometimes, when things are calmer and the voices in his head tire enough for him to sleep, he dreams of Wyatt. At times, it's his naive, school boy self, pleading Kai for some recognition, begging for tips that would have taken just a few seconds of Kai's time but were blatantly denied and Kai's guilt reaches its peak over the next days.
On one particularly mentally draining day that he spent rearranging all his possessions to keep from sight so it doesn't kill him over and over when he accidentally glances at old pictures, Kai wakes up to gut-wrenching screams and it takes him a moment to realize that it had been the remnant of a God awful dream; he doesn't sleep right for days.
It never stopped entirely but over time, the intensity of the images, the vividness of the dreams fades away till they're nothing but flashes of the same face in different places; Wyatt, pleading. Wyatt, in awe at Kai's possessions. Wyatt, looking defeated at his denial. Wyatt, mad-eyed, laughing menacingly. Wyatt, lying in Kai's arms, eyes completely devoid of life. It's only the last image that wakes him up every time he dreams of it, gasping for the breath he doesn't feel he deserves.
.
"-would you look at that! What an unexpected turn of events! Why, it's none other than Kai's old bit beast, Dranzer, standing over him, attacking Johnny mercilessly! Amazing! Dranzer was said to have been disintegrated after Kai's infamous battle with Brooklyn Masefield last year -oh no!-"
If it weren't for the DJ Jazzman screaming into the microphone right next to me, I wouldn't have heard a thing. If Hilary and Tyson weren't standing so close, clutching at the end of the raised platforms right next to me, I wouldn't have heard their shocked gasps followed right after by low whispers of relief; I could barely keep my eyes open; everything is blurry around the edges and I don't understand the exhaustion when I've barely done anything of my own will.
"-what a save! Phew! That was close for Johnny McGregor! And they're both at it again; this is defying all the rules set for the tournament this year. Mr. Dickinson looks visibly upset now that there's finally a match that's actually fun to watch for everyone. As the kids these days are saying, have a drink and chill, Mr. D! "
I scour my mind for something to think of, anything aside from a naive, little school boy that my arrogance as good as killed but come up empty over and over again. A few feet from me, I can feel the energies colliding with each other and struggle to open my eyes; Dranzer is hovering over me, majestic as ever, glowing red, unscathed, no sign of all the bullshit I put her through last year. She's circling the beydish, one end of which is blown to pieces and for a moment I wonder how that happened but then decide that I don't really care. Johnny's orange beyblade is being closely chased around the entire dish by my blue one; the center still devoid of it's signature red color.
I have so many questions and but not enough strength to voice them. Just when it feels like my arms will give in, I feel a pair of hands support me, keeping me from falling and a flash of red and blue; it's Tyson.
Another set of hands, one holding my arm, one on my back as Tyson lifts me up into a sitting position; it's Hilary. I make a move to shake both of them off because fuck my pride, because we're on national television, because I don't know which is worse, being like this in front of Tyson, or Hilary, because fuck it all to hell and back -but I find that I simply can't.
Dranzer is taking too much out of me.
"He isn't even frigging doing anything!" I hear Johnny's voice from across the ring, "Get up, Hiwatari! Look, he's just lying there! That stupid bird is acting of it's own accord! How am I supposed to compete with that, Jesus-"
"No one gives two shits about your stupid battle, okay, McGregor." I am surprised to hear the spite in Hilary's voice, "Can't you see, he can barely keep his eyes open-"
"People came here for a bey battle, alright? No one wants to watch whatever pathetic show he's putting on either; forfeit the Goddamned match if you can't compete-"
"In case you're blind and stupid, Johnny, Dranzer is not under Kai's control so you can keep your ignorant ass requests to yourself, thank you very much."
"There are three more of you, just pull out your beyblades and drag him away. Just because Hiwatari can't control his stupid song bird doesn't mean we have to watch his messy, over dramatic little reunion till he can grace us with his holy attention-"
There's an ear curling crack-
"You. Pathetic. Excuse. For. A. Fucking flamingo-"
.
Not a day goes by that he doesn't think of Hilary Tachibana.
Sometimes he see's a flash of orange while passing a shop and his thoughts stray to her. He sees a girl smiling as she passes him by and his immediate response is wondering how Hilary is. What could she be doing right now? Does she think of him? Does she resent him? Has she moved on? He is so, so scared.
At night, in the hazy moments between sleep and wakefulness, he imagines she's sleeping on the futon next to his -just like she used to once. He imagines seeing her back rise, and then fall, imagines a whiff of her cherry scent as she turns to face him, fully asleep. He feels the familiar way he felt like a stranger, peeking glances at something he has no permission to peek at, and he's quick to close his eyes back again.
Just that is enough to make his heart feel hollow but never quite stop his imagination because along with the loss, comes a strange sense of a rush, an eerie longing, the feel of an after-smoke; and it's more addicting than anything he's ever known.
A few times, he's woken up with a start in the middle of the night, over dreams of a skin so familiar against his that he doesn't know to contain the euphoria or the deep sense of loss.
It's the strongest when he lets his mind drift away and he can hardly stop it when it does. During particularly mundane lectures in class, he feels like he's back in the park again and she's sitting next to him on the staircase up the hill, and at any moment he'll turn around and look into those burning ruby-red eyes. One time when he was lying on the couch, flicking through the channels, he imagined he was back in the Dojo, and Hillary was sitting on the floor in front of him, going on and on about this and that-
It gets so strong some days, he fears he is losing it. But he knows hallucinations and these were not them; just his imagination running wild.
He lets it.
.
"I'm okay." I mutter to Tyson, and struggle to escape his rather tight grasp. I can finally fully open my eyes and do so, only to discover exactly why; the blue beyblade spinning wildly in the middle of the broken bey dish is red in the center.
Finally.
Perhaps it's the rush of the moment, perhaps my eagerness, maybe I simply want this mess to be over with so I can just fucking flop in bed and sleep the peaceful sleep deprived of me for more than a year now; for whatever reason, the next few moments happen fast.
Suddenly, I am on my feet; Dranzer and Salamalyon are shoving up against each other, you can barely hear DJ Jazzman because the crowd is making such deafening noises. Both our bit beasts, being fire elements, collisions get the entire area around the bey dish scorching hot in a matter of minutes; Hilary and Tyson have to step back to the benches.
I spend a few moments, taking it all in. This is my home; in a bey battle, up against a worthy opponent, along side Dranzer, with all my friends cheering me on. I would have given anything for this a few months ago. And yet...
Both the beyblades crash with a resounding bang, vibrating the very floor enough to put everyone standing off balance. I take one look at Johnny's smirking expression and can't hold back a chuckle of my own.
"DRANZER!"
"SALAMALYON!"
The beyblades collide in mid air, sending sparks and flames in every direction and suddenly, with another series of vibrations that shake the entire building, there is an explosion. The few minutes it takes for the smoke to settle are tense, everyone in the entire stadium seems to be holding their breath. I hardly care for the result; this was never meant to be a battle I planned to actually take part in, let alone win but if I'm going to be really honest, I feel some sort of pleasure when the announcement reveals it to be another tie; both beyblades having spun straight out of the dish at the force of the impact.
At least I didn't lose to Johnny McGregor.
"-can this get any more interesting?! Let's take a short break so the teams can decide which player to send for the tie breaker for the tie breaker, and so that the audience, too, can recover from the most mind-blowing battle that the tournament has seen this year-"
I pick Dranzer up for the first time since her return; the familiar warmth so comforting against my palm, and stare at her for a good few minutes until I have to look up at the sound of my name.
"Yo, Kai, come down quick so Hilary can hug you senseless-"
"Excuse me, Tyson, but I'm not the one having actual dreams about-"
"Blah blah blah I'mnotlistening!"
Hilary's puffs her cheek in anger and Ray gives me a "I knew it" kind of look, and Max throws a thumbs up, and Kenny is already mumbling all his theories to explain what just happened as I walk down the stairs, and Tyson -he gives me one look that says everything. I'm proud of you.
I can't help the light-hearted laugh that escapes me. I haven't felt this good in over an entire year, and for once, I finally feel like I deserve this.
14th September. 8:00 PM. In Doctor's Office.
Dranzer is in my pocket. Hilary just peeked in, met my eye for a few seconds, and turned away almost hurriedly. I called after her, move to chase her down but Dr. Ugly MoleFace makes me sit down. "Nearly dying last year wasn't enough for you. Now you'll torture yourself by chasing people around the building with all these bleeding wounds."
14th September. 8:30 PM. Still in Dr. Ugly Mole Face's Office.
Oliver and Ray are battling. Doctor done dressing my wounds and slight burns. Tala's munching on chocolate in the bed opposite me. Refuses to share. Can feel Dranzer in my pocket.
14th September. 8:45 PM. Benches.
Ray wins. We're the new Beyblade Champions. Hilary nowhere in sight. Dranzer is still here.
14th September. 9:30 PM. In Public Bus back to Dojo.
Don't give fucks about celebrating for winning such a stupid tournament. Know Hilary won't be at the Dojo. Know sleep won't come easily tonight but for once, it's out of genuine happiness. Beyblade is still red in the center.
14th September. 10:03 PM. Dojo Kitchen.
Order Pizza. Have to eat alone. No sign of Hilary, as expected. Torn between running to where I know she's hiding and giving her the space she wants.
15th September. 12:00 AM. Living Room.
Everyone is back but too tired to speak and instantly goes to sleep without even brushing teeth. One word: eww. Bit chip still not empty.
15th September. 10:00 AM. Kitchen.
Had peaceful sleep. Wake up to find Dranzer still there. No Hilary at breakfast. Have rice balls and orange juice.
15th September. 2:00 PM. Dojo Porch.
Can still feel Dranzer's warmth. Tyson still snoring. Would make mood even better if I spill orange juice on him but decide not to. Even try to bury the temptation to text and call Hilary up and demand she talk to me right fucking now and possibly even make out again.
15th September. 9:00 PM. In Hilary's Room.
Things about Hilary Tachibana that I know
She cares for me. I know she cares. Why would she wait up for me when I'm late, drive me around to doctors and drug stores willingly (although she makes a lot of fuss but she doesn't say no), tell me to not kill myself when I step into the same place where I almost killed myself last year, stay right by my side through the entire suicide attempt, come to check on me when it's all over, punch Johnny McGregor in the jaw for insulting me on international TV- she cares she cares she cares goddamnit.
She cannot stop resenting me for leaving.
She looks really pretty in that orange dress of hers
Note: how long is she going to avoid me for. What if she decides that she never wants talk to me again. Are things ever going to be the same with the both of us. I've never heard silence quite this loud.
16th September. 10:00 AM. At a coffee shop near my house.
According to Mariam
Dranzer contacted the person with whom I shared the strongest bond (Hilary) when she couldn't reach out for me
Mariam isn't sure, but she assumes that the reason Dranzer couldn't contact me directly was because I had given up on her/had assumed she was gone for good.
Makes a lot of sense because I started hearing Dranzer when I considered Hilary hadn't gone loco and started hallucinating and maybe actually had heard Dranzer.
I'm stupid to not have figured out what's wrong with Hilary yet. ("How am I supposed to know?" I had demanded rather bitterly, "She won't talk to me.")
I should think before I go around putting my mouth on Hilary's because she's trying to cope with me on her own pace and it's best to let her (I really thought all the coping was done after what she did to my jaw as a welcome gift but apparently not)
It's unbelievable how me and Hilary can literally make out but still not talk to each other. (I am painfully aware)
16th September. 8:45 PM. A conversation between Max and I.
"Why do you think Hilary's avoiding you?"
I shrug as if I don't care but of course I do.
"I haven't seen her all week except yesterday at the match. The way she was stopping you from battling I'd have thought she's over the grudge."
I only shuffle in my seat on the floor. Max is frowning.
"You both really need to talk."
Repeating Mariam's words, I say, "She clearly wants some space. I'm not going to force her."
"You think so?" His fingers cup his chin, as if he's deep in thought, "Because I don't think so. Hilary doesn't drag things on if she can help it. Unless she's, I dunno, nervous or scared of them happening."
"So, like I said; she doesn't want to talk to me."
"No, I meant maybe she wants to talk but doesn't know what to say. So maybe you should initiate the conversation yourself."
"I've never known her to have issues with assertion. You're reading too much into it, Max." Almost jokingly, I add, "She's a big girl."
But he just crosses his arm, unsmiling, and goes, "Not when it comes to you, Kai."
I remember Max mentioning how Hilary wouldn't stop crying when I left, I remember how she was struggling for her very breath when she was crying all over Tyson that day, and I honestly don't know what to say.
I find Hilary exactly where I expected her to be; sitting in a small corner of the empty room that is my kitchen, munching on her favorite chocolate ice cream with her laptop open. She looks just the way she looked when she showed up for the finale two days ago; like she's spent the the days before crying her eyes out, and when she speaks, her voice is proof.
"I needed some space and I didn't know where else to go." She gets up hurriedly, doesn't meet my eye as she grabs her things off the floor and shoves them inside her bag. I want to tell her to stop but I'm staring at the mess that she is so up close now, and no sound escapes me.
It's only when she starts walking out that I move to shut the door behind me, signaling for her to stay, telling her without words that I'm here and if she wants to say something, now's the moment.
For the first time in more than a week, she finally looks at me in the eye. They're red brimmed, swollen and there are huge purple bags underneath them. Her hair knotted up in a messy bun, ice cream stains on her skirt-I don't know what goes on in her mind in the few minutes we take each other in, but suddenly, her hands are in my hair, and her body pressed is against mine, our lips lock almost furiously. The moment is so wild, and strange, and unexpected and goddamned exciting that I don't know what to do except respond with an equal vigor.
And I don't know how but we end up on the floor with me pinned underneath her, with her hands pulling on my collar, her hair tickling my neck as she bends down to kiss me over and over and over. And in between every kiss, she mumbles the same words. I missed you. She says. I missed you so, so much.
And even if she left any room for me to squeeze in a word, the overwhelming emotions render me speechless. So I wrap an arm around her waist, and pull her near. I missed you, too. I tangle my fingers in her already messy hair to make it easier for us to kiss. I love you.
And I hope she can tell what I'm trying to say, the way she always used to.
.
"How did you do it?" She croaks when we're half way between her nails digging painfully into my back and a series of red marks on her collar bone. She's pressed against the wall with both my hands wondering parts of her that I know she's refused to other people and repeats when I don't answer, "How could you even think of leaving everything behind forever? Did nothing matter to you?"
Did I not matter to you? hangs in the air, unsaid yet heard loud and clear. I have to close my eyes, afraid she would see the shame and guilt burning as wildly as the lust in her crimson orbs.
"I'm here." I find my voice for the first time that night, "I didn't leave forever."
"But you planned to!" She's seething. "You left with full intentions of never returning again! How easy it is for you to just up and go, as if there's nothing here worth staying for."
I sigh, move from atop her to sit right next to her against the wall, still pressed to her side because fuck if a few kisses can make up for an entire year of no contact. She listens attentively when I start to tell her it wasn't easy for me and that I regretted it every second of every single day. And when I'm telling her that being around everyone after losing Dranzer only made me hyper aware of my fuck ups and the pain was too much that I didn't know what else to do but go away, her fist clenches so hard in anger that it almost looks like she'll get up and storm out.
I can see the hurt in her eyes at some of my words, but she is quiet. I feel her tense up against me but all she says in the end is that she understands. And there's a small sense of guilt as I watch her hang on to my every word in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips and bare shoulders revealing the red marks that she hasn't covered yet-I do not deserve this unfaltering loyalty but I am so selfish when it comes to her that I'll take it without any remorse.
.
When I tell her I thought about her every day, she takes a deep breath and looks away. She talks about Tyson not eating for days after I left, of Max not saying a word, of Kenny locking himself up but falls into an awkward silence when I ask her, "What about you?" I don't want to pressure her but with every word I'm saying to steer the conversation a particular way, I can feel her unease; she's biting her lips, starts clenching her fists in her lap too tightly, her words come out muffled, devoid of the warmth that she was finally starting to show over the past hour; her guard is up, and I don't think I've hated myself for leaving more than I do in that moment because it's so fucking strange to see her be this protective of herself around me.
It's four in the morning and maybe it's the sleeplessness but both of our patience is running thin. She's snapping, defensive. I'm frustrated because I want her to end the fucking agony and tell me what is going to become of us now.
"For fucks sake, Hilary." I finally snap when she refuses to answer another one of my questions, "Stop being so childish and talk to me. I want to make this work but I need you to tell me you want it too."
She sounds defensive when she says, "It's not that simple, okay? You were gone for a year and I understand-" She presses when I almost cut her off, "-why you did it but there are consequences and I'm not Tyson or Max or Ray or Kenny, I was-" She stops, her voice drops, almost sad. "We weren't just friends, Kai. I wanted more from you."
And I am silent because this is the first time either of us has said something akin to we were more than friends out loud, in admission. I wonder for a fleeting moment where we would be if I had the courage to say these words last year, had stayed just long enough to say them, meant them and put in some efforts into them-
"So did I." I finally say. "I still do." I want to add Do you? but I can already tell by the way she's looking away, refusing to meet my eye, exactly what her answer is going to be. A strange feeling creeps up inside of me, a bitter sort of remorse.
"Is it McGregor." I question without a question and she looks surprised enough to look up, if not at the tone of my voice, then at the sudden name that I brought in out of nowhere. "Finally found a replacement, did you."
"So what if it it is?" She spits out, and I know for sure now that it isn't, "What's wrong with Johnny? What, you're going to ask me to put my life on hold waiting for you to-"
But I cut her off with a mirthless laugh, not caring to hear more and my voice is scathing even to my own ears. "You've known McGregor for only a month. You punched him in front of the entire world because he insulted me. You can't even let him touch you the way you let me." The venom in my next words is deliberate, "He's just some guy and he means absolutely nothing to you. And I could give two shits about you playing with him but stop fucking lying to yourself, Hilary."
And I can tell I've crossed the line because there's a flash of hurt in her eyes, before it's replaced by the unadulterated rage that I know her so well for, and she's off the floor in an instant, grabbing her bag from the middle of the room.
I don't fail to note how ironic it is when I call out, "Don't run from me." And resort to following her, grabbing her by the arm just before she reaches the exit to turn her around. The force with which she pushes me away leaves me staggering backwards.
"How dare you-" She breathes out every word the way she does when she's absolutely infuriated, "You want more from me after-" She's shaking her head, bag dangling from her arm, seething, "All you ever had to give was leaving! How dare you ask so much of me so fucking shamelessly-"
Because I feel entitled to you, I realize, hating myself for it but feeling no sense of guilt. Because everything you've had to give has always been given to me and now you say you won't, you can't, you don't want to and it makes me fucking angry to see you even try to move on from me-
"So, what, you're going to hate me now?" I am leering at her, mocking, before I can stop myself, "Punch me then wait up for me when I'm late? Date drunk maniacs then kiss me in parking lots?" She's clenching her jaw and I should stop because I can see that I'm hurting her but I don't, "It's been a month since I came back and here you are, in my house, and we've just made out and you're talking to me because you can't even push me away so stop pretending, Hilary."
Something about her expression tells me she was fully aware of everything I've just said before I did so I don't understand why there are angry tears in her eyes, or why she pushes me again, "I've never pretended to love you and I'm not pretending to be hurt either!" And her next words hold so much pain that it makes me cringe, "I love you. And I'm angry and I blame you so much sometimes that I fucking loathe you and I'm pushing you away because it hurts to be around you and I still love you."
I'd imagined her saying those three words a ten thousand times but somehow hanging between the lines of stay and go at the crack of dawn with her voice that bitter was never one of them. But it's something, and I'm willing to sift through all the anger and the hurt to get to it.
"Look, we can make this work, just-" I say, starting to feel a little guilty, but she cuts me off with a scoff and a dramatic roll of her eyes.
"You're toxic." She spits out, frustrated than ever, "You're taking everything and giving it back to me in mangled, broken pieces. And you have the guts to stand in front of me today and ask me to not date anybody else, to ask me for more. How dare you-"
And as I look at Hilary, an arm wrapped protectively around her chest, her shirt still slipping off her shoulder, note the way she's angled towards the exit as if ready to bolt any moment and for one painful second I think that the kindest thing I can do for her is leave and never bother her again. Because this gorgeous woman who feels things too wild than her tiny body can possibly contain deserves more than mangled notions of someday or maybe's and impulsive decisions that leave her behind. And if I toyed with her trust when I left to battle Tyson, broke it when I joined BEGA, then I absolutely shattered it into a million pieces when I left the country and her life forever.
Because I'm so toxic to her, I'm a fucking poison.
But I am so selfish that that feeling doesn't last. And her loss feels too near, burning like dynamites in my veins and the very thought of leaving even this room feels like a gaping hole in my chest so all that comes out is a, "Don't ask me to leave."
"I'm sure there's no need for me to ask." Her voice is so venomous that I know she wants her words to hurt and they do, "I just have to wait."
"Hilary." I don't want to fight her anymore so I reach out for her hand but she takes a step backwards as if by instinct and already it feels like she's gone. "I'm sorry that I hurt you so bad." I press when she scoffs again, "And that I keep doing it over and over again, but I want to try- Hils, listen to me-"
Because she's turned her back on me like I've done so many times, and her hand is already on the doorknob when my pleading voice makes her stop, turn around and yell out a,"Every goddamned thing has to be about you. What about me, Kai? What. About. Me." Her eyes are no longer wet; they seem hollower and darker than I've seen them in all the years that I've known her and my chest tightens at the sight, "I wait up for you and punch people for you and kiss you -I get it. I'm a pathetic little sap-"
"That's not what I-"
"-And it's not all that surprising even to you because you're so fucking sure that I care. Because I've never give you any reason to doubt my feelings for you." Her voice is condescending when she continues, "So where's my surety, huh? Where the fuck is my quota of unconditional presence being fulfilled? What the fuck do I get for giving everything to you aside from constant notions of leaving over and over and over and me never being enough for you to stay-"
"Cut it out, Hilary." I retort before I can stop myself because I'm annoyed and I lower my voice a bit when she glares, "Leaving was necessity, not desire. You mattered to me more than anyone else, I thought that was always clear."
"It was till you left the way you did."
This was the moment, I tell myself as I look at her defeated demeanor. Tell her you're in love with her. That your heart ached for every part of her every second she was away. That the thought of her with anyone feels like you can't breathe. And you left when you were lost but you came back to her to find yourself. That you're here to stay even if she wants to leave.
But all that comes out after much jaw clenching is a desperate, almost pleading, "Let me make it up to you."
Something about that makes her un-clench her fists, her scowl falters and there's a flicker of curiosity when she says, "How?" and then, when she looks at my expression, realizing that I don't know the answer any better than her, scoffs and says, "You're shit at this, Hiwatari."
I know.
"Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."
I can tell she's weighing the prospect in her head, looking directly at me as if judging. She stands there, hand still on the doorknob, with her eyebrows knit together in deep thought for what feels like hours and when she finally speaks, she sounds so exhausted, "You're asking me for another chance." Her ruby eyes stare me down, "After everything, you're still asking that much of me."
My voice is almost quiet when I say, "I'll try not to flee the state again."
She smiles despite how soon it is to joke about this -god how much I missed that smile- and it feels a little light already. She looks paler in the dim kitchen lights, and I wonder how well she's been sleeping in a house with no furniture for a week-
"I want to make this work, too." She finally says, equally as quiet as I'd been, and sounds serious against my rather loud sigh of relief when she continues, "But you're going to have to really work for it, Kai. And I'll need a little time because..."
She doesn't need to finish because I already understand. She needs time to heal, and judge if she can trust me with herself all over again. She's not giving everything to me, she's not promising things will go back to the way they were before, and she's not saying we'll be together...
...but she's not asking me to leave and she wants to try and she's compromising as she always does (because she loves me) even though I deserve squat of it and that's something and I'll take it.
"Okay." Is all I say, my voice sounding relieved even to my own ears. Hilary seems to be observing me and whatever she see's on my face makes her smile -oh, God how I missed that smile -and I want nothing more right then, than to pull her in my arms again, but I quickly bury the impulse because she's hurting and she wants to take it slow and with a newfound understanding, I realize how making out with her on the kitchen floor, kissing her in parking lots, hugging her out of the blue, is bringing out innate feelings when she's clearly been trying to bury them for so long-
And my chest feels sort of heavy because I know what that's like and my heart aches at the thought of her feeling a pain akin to mine, for reasons similar to mine, being perpetuated by none other than me, but it's bittersweet because it's okay because I'm here, and I'll wait for as long as it takes, and I'll fight as hard as I possibly can.
Not because I'd be damned if I fuck it up with her again but because she deserves everything and more.
author's note:
trying to be someone else was harder than it seemed...things I wanna say to you get lost before they come...trying to regain your trust was harder than it seemed. and somehow I got caught up in between, between my pride and my promise. la la la.
a. I thought the entire dranzer theory was weird? but this is an anime about spinning tops with creatures trapped in them handed over to like, 10 year olds, so whatever, you know? I get to be weird with the theories if not anything else.
b. this was long but it's about the peak of the fic and it's ALMOST about to end. so stay tuned :))) (i'm so sad I enjoyed writing this so much)
c. on another note, not to scare anyone or anything but a confession about this fic: TyKa is totally a legit thing that is lowkey going on in the background lmao did y'all notice? who noticed? there have been hints scattered all over. I'm sozz.
d. Moonlight Serenity, thank you for the compliments that mean a lot coming from you! HUGS.
e. I AM ACTUALLY GOING TO CONTINUE WTML? ARE Y'ALL HEARING? ~MIGHT~ post the next chapter next week since it just needs some finishing touches etc. But, ya, I'll explain everything in the author's note in WTML thought I'd mention here either way.
f. check out my new KaiHil anthology series called State of Grace because this is what I do start anthologies and multichapters and never end or conclude them.
e. drop a review! share your thoughts! feed my ego :)))))
~dbn