Tsukasa sank exhaustedly back into the soft couch. The F4 were lounging
around backstage after the concert, awaiting the inevitable radio-show
promotions and press flack they had to deal with. Really, all Tsukasa
wanted to do was to return to the hotel and collapse into bed.
Soujiro, on the other hand, was eagerly awaiting the surge of hot groupies with backstage passes. He didn't intend to go back to the hotel alone. Somewhere in the crowded club, there had to be one or two well-endowed women who would be ecstatic over the opportunity to help distract him for a few hours. Settling back into his own overstuffed chair, Soujiro licked his lips in anticipation. No one could ever replace Sara in his heart. But then again, that wasn't exactly the point of his little escapades, now was it?
Akira slouched against a convenient wall, his hands tightly gripping a rather large whiskey sour. Concerts were the only time he succumbed to Tsukasa's vice -- but after a show as emotionally draining as this one, he just had to have a little something to take the edge off.
In the far corner, the fourth member of the group, the replacement bassist, a foppish, flashily attired man, sat at a table knocking back rum shots. He was pissed off about the encore -- as evidenced by his childish tantrum on stage, and subsequent retreat. He had wanted to play a track from their upcoming album-- the first, and so far the only-- song he had helped to write. Tsukasa had had one thing to say about that particular track's emotional and artistic merits.
"It's shit."
What was worse, from the bass player's perspective, was that just now, when he thought he'd finally begun to establish his rightful place as a member of this group-- prove that he was an integral part of their new sound -- not just a cheap hire-on-- the other three had ganged up against him; refuting his assertion by taunting him with music he had never been a part of. To Him, it was nothing short of a calculated insult. But he would show them-- he had friends in the record company . . . just let those three fucked-up, arrogant bastards see . Next time their contracts came up for renewal, he'd be a part of the package-- make him an official member, or else! They wouldn't be able to mock him then! Glaring darkly at Tsukasa -- the ringleader of the three, the disgruntled bassist glowered, plotting his eventual revenge even as he drained the bottle in front of him.
The seconds ticked by, as the group's allotted "recovery time" before the inrush of people arrived, vanished into the past. Tsukasa heaved himself to his feet and began pacing in front of the door.
"You did send her tickets, didn't you?" Soujiro inquired anxiously.
"What do you think?" Tsukasa growled. At first, he'd been against the idea entirely. When they'd discussed it the previous night, he'd been of the opinion that the young doctor was just doing her job, that she deserved no special thanks. But then, long after the other had drifted off to sleep, he'd lain awake staring up at the dark, thinking. He remembered how she'd stood up to him; this little slip of a woman-- seemingly not intimidated in the slightest by his killing stare, by his silence and non-cooperation, or by his more vocally furious rage. There were few enough other people who could say the same. His friends here, they stood up to him, as had his sister -- to tell the truth, she'd more than stood up to him; she'd always given him the ass-kicking he deserved. . . And similarly, he realized that Doctor Makino had done the same -- though her ass-kicking had been purely verbal as opposed to physical. After all, he'd silently snorted; it wouldn't do for a serious psychiatrist to go around smacking people upside the head. The imagery had almost made him laugh, as he lay there in the dark. And then there was the way she'd found Rui for them. Now, he realized, she hadn't had to do any of that. She could've found him without telling them, she could have not bothered with their problems. Instead, she'd listened to them, guided them through everything; been calm and reasonable when their nerves were all jangled and frayed. . . It was more than just her job. Tsukasa almost wanted to believe this unstoppable woman -- who ploughed ahead like the energizer bunny despite her all-too-apparent physical exhaustion-- actually cared about them.
It had been painfully obvious over the course of the previous night, that she cared about Rui. She'd tried to hide it; tried to maintain her emotional distance, but Tsukasa had read something more in the flicker of her glances, and in the timbre of her voice, as the four of them discussed what to do, and filled out all the necessary paperwork. . . . It wasn't until much later that night, that Tsukasa had realized that . . .he wanted someone to show that level of concern for him. If she could strive so hard to save Rui-- a man who many would label as unsalvageable, and shrug, and walk away-- then surely, there was someone who could help Tsukasa as well? Tsukasa wanted to believe that he was not as hopeless as Rui; wanted to believe that somewhere there was true hope for him; for them all. If he had remembered how to hope, then surely, he would have designated Tsukushi as the messenger of that hope -- the carrier of light into his dark and dreary life.
Contrary to all outward appearance, there was more to Tsukasa than his icy silence and burning fury. There always had been, but he deemed too few worthy of witnessing that side of him -- outside of his stage performance, that is. Somehow, when he'd awoken this morning, he'd found himself wanting to apologize to the doctor for all his previous behavior. But, he had too much pride for that; he couldn't just out and say he'd been wrong. The closest he could come to such an admission, was to follow Akira's advice, and invite the woman to come see them. Early that morning, he'd slipped out of the hotel, wandering the streets until he found what he'd been looking for -- an entire stationary store full of exquisite paper. It hadn't taken him long to select just the stock he'd been looking for-- He was an artist after all, no one could deny that he had taste when he wanted to exercise it! So what if his penmanship left something to be desired? Tsukasa would have killed the first person to laugh at the contrast between his script and the paper that bore it.
The tickets had been slightly more difficult to obtain. He'd called their agent, gruffly demanding comp tickets for the show. After all, it was in their contract that they, as a group got so many per show. But the poor man, flustered, as ever by the harsh tones of Doumyouji's voice, had stammered out that since the three of them never seemed to use theirs, he'd given them all to their fourth member, for his cronies. Doumyouji had raged and fumed until his agent had practically begged for mercy; promising to do his best. An hour later, the tickets had arrived at the hotel, undoubtedly reclaimed from some unworthy bimbo. Tsukasa couldn't have cared less about the source; he just wanted Tsukushi to show up.
Perhaps subconsciously, he realized that Tsukushi was one of the few people on the planet who might truly understand heir music for what it was-- the purest expression of their souls -- their hurts, their needs, and their loves. Perhaps he wanted her to know all this; perhaps he wanted her to see just who he was inside -- beneath the frown, and the sneer, and the leaden eyes.
Perhaps and maybe cover many eventualities; but how could any of these potentialities be proven true, when he, himself, didn't know the answer?
A scuffle outside the backstage door brought Tsukasa crashing abruptly back into reality. The madhouse was about to begin. He stalked back to his spot on the couch and turned his attention to the ice-cold bottle of vodka that rested on the end table. He had promised himself that he wouldn't drink until after they'd spoken to the doctor. But that bottle was practically screaming his name. . . his hand trembled a little as he fought the craving welling up inside. He hoped the blasted woman hurried. If she was going to show, now was the time. . .
------
Tsukushi and Yuki were busy fighting their way through the seemingly impenetrable crowd of adoring groupies flocking around the backstage door. A few well placed elbows, a few accidental stomps with their heels, and Tsukushi and Yuki broke through the ranks, only to be met by a disdainful bouncer at the door. The bouncer looked the two girls up and down with a critical eye. The blonde, he thought, wasn't half bad, why he could do with a little of that action, himself-- but the brunette? Bah, too uptight. No way was she getting into the party.
"Umm. . .Hi." Tsukushi stammered at first, reacting to the man's intimidating appraisal, but it only took her about half a millisecond to recover herself. After all, she was worth ten of him, any day, "We're on the guest list." Well, she assumed they damned well better be, otherwise Mr. Doumyouji had invited her here for nothing, "Tsukushi Makino." She elaborated, as the man's gaze flickered to his clipboard. "And guest." She nodded at Yuki.
How bizarre. The bouncer flicked an eye in assent. She was in fact, on the list. Who would've thought it? He stepped aside ever-so-slightly, letting the two girls slip past into the warmly-lit, and remarkably smoke-free, room beyond.
"Doc!" Soujiro was the first to notice (and recognize) the petite woman. Enthusiastically, he jumped to his feet and wrapped the unsuspecting woman in a warm hug. Stiffening, Tsukushi extricated herself as rapidly as possible, while an unnoticing Soujiro peppered her with a volley of questions. "Did you like the show? Have you seen Rui today? What did you think, and Oh! . . Who's your friend?" after a slight lag, he noticed Yuki shyly hiding behind Tsukushi. . . "Hey. . ." He drawled, his eyes lighting up, "Haven't we met before?"
Yuki, blushed and nodded.
"Hmm. . . Starbucks?" Soujiro thought a moment, ". . . Wait, don't tell me. . Yuki?"
Yuki blushed an even deeper shade of crimson, smiling happily. If there was a heaven, she thought she'd found it. Soujiro Nishikado actually remembered her!
"I never forget a pretty face." Soujiro grinned charmingly, and seeming to forget all about Tsukushi, pulled Yuki aside to "chat" with her in his own secluded corner.
"Sorry about that." Akira had pulled himself away from his wall to appear at Tsukushi's elbow, "guy's got a blonde complex this month."
"Err. . ." Tsukushi looked slightly flustered. She was already berating herself -- Again! For coming here tonight. And now, she had Yuki to worry about. She certainly didn't trust her around these guys-- after all, weren't musicians notorious sex-fiends? Especially a charmer like Mr. Nishikado seemed to be?
Akira must have recognized the worry that inspired her frown, as he glanced off to where Soujiro was putting the moves on a giddily babbling Yuki. "Don't worry about your friend. Soujiro will take good care of her. . . he's had years of experience, after all."
That was probably not as reassuring as he might have thought it was.
Tsukushi thought it might be to see what the hell these men wanted that couldn't be said during her working hours, so she could collect Yuki before she did something utterly stupid, and get home in time to get a reasonable night's sleep for once in her life.
"So what did you want to talk to me about?" she demanded, rather more coolly than the situation demanded.
"Well," Akira had to smile at the doctor's defensiveness, "It was actually Tsukasa who wanted to speak to you, but he's stepped out for a few minutes. Do you want anything to drink while we wait for him to return?"
Tsukushi wrinkled her nose. "No thanks. What does he want?" What she really wanted to ask was, 'What do you all want? What was the purpose in bringing me here? Why are you trying to involve me in your lives?' She didn't want that, couldn't they see? Couldn't they just stay in the neat little boxes she'd assigned for them?
Akira shrugged, "Well, we have to leave town tomorrow, he probably wants to make sure everything is set for Rui-- you know. Double-checking to make sure everything is going to be ok. -- It is going to be ok?" he finished anxiously, steering Tsukushi towards a seat on the couch. Again, Tsukushi flinched ever-so-slightly at the light pressure of Akira's hand on her back. But this was nothing compared to the whole-body recoil she evidenced as she noticed, for the first time, just who the group's bass-guitarist really was.
Akira watched, in an almost horrified kind of shock, as Tsukushi jerked, twitched, and drew herself stiffly up to her full height. Her face, which had seemed at least cautiously friendly mere seconds before, had frozen into an icily formal mask, and when she spoke, her words were crisply neutral, though underlined by a strange sort of almost defensive anger.
"I seem to have made a mistake. I thought that you were worthy of Trust. That you could help bring Rui back to himself. I think now, that I was wrong." Akira couldn't help but notice the sidelong glare she sent at the seated man at the table. "A man is known by the company he keeps." She continued, "I think I'd best be going now. Don't try to see Rui. The sooner you leave town, the better. The last thing right now that he needs is friends like you." Again Akira noticed her eyes slipping away from him to focus on the odd man out -- the only one of them, he had thought, she'd never met. But before he could protest-- tell her she'd got it all wrong, she had stalked over, collected a shocked and disappointed Yuki, and vanished out the way she came.
"What the fuck did you do to her?" Tsukasa returned from the bathroom just in time to see Tsukushi storm quietly out, dragging her protesting friend behind her.
"Me? Nothing." Akira protested, "One second she was fine, the next, she just lost it."
"Damn it man, I was totally going to score with that Yuki chick." Soujiro whined, joining the discussion.
"Oh shut up." Tsukasa fumed.
"Blondes are a dime a dozen." Akira laughed, "I don't think you're in an danger of not getting laid tonight. I have to agree with Tsukasa here, shut up and think about something other than your dick for a few minutes. Namely, why did the good doctor flip out?" He shot a significant glance towards the bass-player, who was just now staggering to his feet.
"Hey. . ." The man called querulously as he approached the group, "Why are you all looking so grim? And where's the chicks? What the fuck is wrong with this club? I need my fans!"
"Oh fuck off, Junpei." Tsukasa growled impatiently.
"Yeah," Akira looked at their fourth 'member' accusingly, "After all, it was the sight of you, apparently, that sent our earlier guests fleeing for the door."
"Well, fuck." Junpei slapped his forehead in exaggerated surprise, "I thought I recognized that girl."
Unconsciously, The other three men found themselves bristling at the reference of Tsukushi being a mere girl. Already, they saw her as far more than that.
"How do you know doctor Makino?" Tsukasa looked like he was about to grab Junpei by the collar and start shaking him.
"Wow dude, you mean it really was her? Tsukushi Makino! Hell, I went to college with her. What a tight-ass bitch she was, a total cold fish, if you know what I mean."
"I don't think she likes you much either," Akira interrupted dryly, before Tsukasa could do so in a more physical manner.
"Well, shit." Junpei shook his hair back, "That's gratitude for you. And after all I did for her too." He looked up, pityingly at he glaring faces of the F3, and continued, 'You poor suckers. She's got you under her spell doesn't she? Trust me, you're not her type." With these mocking word he hastily backed off, to welcome the sudden inrush of eager groupies and media personalities into the room. None of these innocents souls could read the light behind Junpei's eyes; the cold calculation f his brain as he silently completed one last thought, "If I couldn't have her, then certainly none of you sorry losers ever will. Not if I have any say in the matter."
-----------
Meanwhile, Tsukushi and Yuki were headed home, Tsukushi frowning grimly as she navigated her beat-up car through darkened streets.
"But Tsukushi!" Yuki pled softly, "I don't see why we had to leave! It was like a dream come true! I've never met anyone so handsome, and so charming before! And he really seemed to like me! . . A beautiful dream." Yuki sighed, her eyes still focused on the past -- imagining Soujiro's eyes in the twinkling of every street light and window.
"The problem with dreams, Yuki" Tsukushi replied slowly, as she steered the car to a stop outside their apartment building, "Is that eventually, you always have to wake up." She bit her lip to keep herself from burdening poor sweet Yuki with harsher words, and hastened inside, shedding her ridiculous club gear for the comfort of a scaldingly hot shower. She felt dirty now, confused and angry, and though she willed herself not to think about it; she couldn't help but wonder if she'd overreacted, perhaps a little; been too harsh on her new acquaintances. At this, she scrubbed more furiously, as if trying to remove the lingering doubts via exfoliation. It was too late now, she reasoned, and Anyway, she was sure Junpei was spinning some story -- if he'd even recognized her at all -- painting her as the criminal. After all, as she knew to her everlasting regret, he sure as hell had a way with words-- twisting them around as if reshaping reality to suit his wants, his needs. . . and some how, some way, reality always seemed to oblige him; delivering up exactly what he wanted, despite the costs to others. . ..
Tsukushi looked down wearily, refusing for the moment, to remember any more. In her distraction, she'd scrubbed herself raw, and now the scalding water was beating a painful tattoo on her flayed skin. It was definitely time for bed. Tomorrow would be another long and lonely day. . .
To be continued. . .
~~~fuck. Another chapter that failed to write itself the way I wanted it to. Whatever. The plot seems to be complexifying itself, regardless of my feelings in the matter.
Ok, I think it's time for another round of responses to my reviewers (all of who, I utterly adore, as I'm sure I've mentioned before -- were it not for you, I wouldn't bother typing any of this up. It'd just lurk in my brain, until it was erased by the changing tides of my short-term memory. ..
ANONYMOUS-- pairings? Is this a romance? I don't really have pairings at this time. Rui is a bit too self-pitying to rouse himself enough to go after Tsukushi. She obviously has a thing for him, but a) unrequited crush is a pretty useless thing, and b) it's extremely unprofessional for her, as a psychiatrist, to be pursuing a patient. She wouldn't do it.
SHEEN -- Thank you so much for your amazing reviews!!! I'm glad you like my work. (I have to admit it, though -- I'm a terrible person -- I been reading façade, but never reviewing. (I am such a lazy-ass) Please forgive me. (and update)!!!
NERD -- Sneaky references? I tend to believe I'm about as subtle as a kick to the head. Soon. . .yes soon. . . we shall learn all about Junpei and Tsukushi's shady past, in another 'triumph' of heavy-handed melodrama! Whee! I hope it's not too gloomy for you so far! Also, you too, must update purity of heart asap. Finally conflict building faster. Yay conflict!
Damnit, my wrist is killing me, I'm gonna have to lump everyone else together, so: kithkin, yan, piglet, shopps, joshniki, toinks, fresh8, and anyone else I may have inadvertently left out -- thank you all so much for your support. This fic is a hell of a lot more fun to write than my other ones! So I'm glad you're all enjoying it. : ) : )
Anyway, I have to go update idiots. Bah, what a pain, so next chapter of this might be a while -- and, I also have to let ya'll in on a little secret-- I been poking at the decayed corpse that is 'shift in the wind' recently -- with a little luck -- and a new burst of energy on my part -- I may even manage to resurrect it by september. Oh joy. ~cm~~~
Soujiro, on the other hand, was eagerly awaiting the surge of hot groupies with backstage passes. He didn't intend to go back to the hotel alone. Somewhere in the crowded club, there had to be one or two well-endowed women who would be ecstatic over the opportunity to help distract him for a few hours. Settling back into his own overstuffed chair, Soujiro licked his lips in anticipation. No one could ever replace Sara in his heart. But then again, that wasn't exactly the point of his little escapades, now was it?
Akira slouched against a convenient wall, his hands tightly gripping a rather large whiskey sour. Concerts were the only time he succumbed to Tsukasa's vice -- but after a show as emotionally draining as this one, he just had to have a little something to take the edge off.
In the far corner, the fourth member of the group, the replacement bassist, a foppish, flashily attired man, sat at a table knocking back rum shots. He was pissed off about the encore -- as evidenced by his childish tantrum on stage, and subsequent retreat. He had wanted to play a track from their upcoming album-- the first, and so far the only-- song he had helped to write. Tsukasa had had one thing to say about that particular track's emotional and artistic merits.
"It's shit."
What was worse, from the bass player's perspective, was that just now, when he thought he'd finally begun to establish his rightful place as a member of this group-- prove that he was an integral part of their new sound -- not just a cheap hire-on-- the other three had ganged up against him; refuting his assertion by taunting him with music he had never been a part of. To Him, it was nothing short of a calculated insult. But he would show them-- he had friends in the record company . . . just let those three fucked-up, arrogant bastards see . Next time their contracts came up for renewal, he'd be a part of the package-- make him an official member, or else! They wouldn't be able to mock him then! Glaring darkly at Tsukasa -- the ringleader of the three, the disgruntled bassist glowered, plotting his eventual revenge even as he drained the bottle in front of him.
The seconds ticked by, as the group's allotted "recovery time" before the inrush of people arrived, vanished into the past. Tsukasa heaved himself to his feet and began pacing in front of the door.
"You did send her tickets, didn't you?" Soujiro inquired anxiously.
"What do you think?" Tsukasa growled. At first, he'd been against the idea entirely. When they'd discussed it the previous night, he'd been of the opinion that the young doctor was just doing her job, that she deserved no special thanks. But then, long after the other had drifted off to sleep, he'd lain awake staring up at the dark, thinking. He remembered how she'd stood up to him; this little slip of a woman-- seemingly not intimidated in the slightest by his killing stare, by his silence and non-cooperation, or by his more vocally furious rage. There were few enough other people who could say the same. His friends here, they stood up to him, as had his sister -- to tell the truth, she'd more than stood up to him; she'd always given him the ass-kicking he deserved. . . And similarly, he realized that Doctor Makino had done the same -- though her ass-kicking had been purely verbal as opposed to physical. After all, he'd silently snorted; it wouldn't do for a serious psychiatrist to go around smacking people upside the head. The imagery had almost made him laugh, as he lay there in the dark. And then there was the way she'd found Rui for them. Now, he realized, she hadn't had to do any of that. She could've found him without telling them, she could have not bothered with their problems. Instead, she'd listened to them, guided them through everything; been calm and reasonable when their nerves were all jangled and frayed. . . It was more than just her job. Tsukasa almost wanted to believe this unstoppable woman -- who ploughed ahead like the energizer bunny despite her all-too-apparent physical exhaustion-- actually cared about them.
It had been painfully obvious over the course of the previous night, that she cared about Rui. She'd tried to hide it; tried to maintain her emotional distance, but Tsukasa had read something more in the flicker of her glances, and in the timbre of her voice, as the four of them discussed what to do, and filled out all the necessary paperwork. . . . It wasn't until much later that night, that Tsukasa had realized that . . .he wanted someone to show that level of concern for him. If she could strive so hard to save Rui-- a man who many would label as unsalvageable, and shrug, and walk away-- then surely, there was someone who could help Tsukasa as well? Tsukasa wanted to believe that he was not as hopeless as Rui; wanted to believe that somewhere there was true hope for him; for them all. If he had remembered how to hope, then surely, he would have designated Tsukushi as the messenger of that hope -- the carrier of light into his dark and dreary life.
Contrary to all outward appearance, there was more to Tsukasa than his icy silence and burning fury. There always had been, but he deemed too few worthy of witnessing that side of him -- outside of his stage performance, that is. Somehow, when he'd awoken this morning, he'd found himself wanting to apologize to the doctor for all his previous behavior. But, he had too much pride for that; he couldn't just out and say he'd been wrong. The closest he could come to such an admission, was to follow Akira's advice, and invite the woman to come see them. Early that morning, he'd slipped out of the hotel, wandering the streets until he found what he'd been looking for -- an entire stationary store full of exquisite paper. It hadn't taken him long to select just the stock he'd been looking for-- He was an artist after all, no one could deny that he had taste when he wanted to exercise it! So what if his penmanship left something to be desired? Tsukasa would have killed the first person to laugh at the contrast between his script and the paper that bore it.
The tickets had been slightly more difficult to obtain. He'd called their agent, gruffly demanding comp tickets for the show. After all, it was in their contract that they, as a group got so many per show. But the poor man, flustered, as ever by the harsh tones of Doumyouji's voice, had stammered out that since the three of them never seemed to use theirs, he'd given them all to their fourth member, for his cronies. Doumyouji had raged and fumed until his agent had practically begged for mercy; promising to do his best. An hour later, the tickets had arrived at the hotel, undoubtedly reclaimed from some unworthy bimbo. Tsukasa couldn't have cared less about the source; he just wanted Tsukushi to show up.
Perhaps subconsciously, he realized that Tsukushi was one of the few people on the planet who might truly understand heir music for what it was-- the purest expression of their souls -- their hurts, their needs, and their loves. Perhaps he wanted her to know all this; perhaps he wanted her to see just who he was inside -- beneath the frown, and the sneer, and the leaden eyes.
Perhaps and maybe cover many eventualities; but how could any of these potentialities be proven true, when he, himself, didn't know the answer?
A scuffle outside the backstage door brought Tsukasa crashing abruptly back into reality. The madhouse was about to begin. He stalked back to his spot on the couch and turned his attention to the ice-cold bottle of vodka that rested on the end table. He had promised himself that he wouldn't drink until after they'd spoken to the doctor. But that bottle was practically screaming his name. . . his hand trembled a little as he fought the craving welling up inside. He hoped the blasted woman hurried. If she was going to show, now was the time. . .
------
Tsukushi and Yuki were busy fighting their way through the seemingly impenetrable crowd of adoring groupies flocking around the backstage door. A few well placed elbows, a few accidental stomps with their heels, and Tsukushi and Yuki broke through the ranks, only to be met by a disdainful bouncer at the door. The bouncer looked the two girls up and down with a critical eye. The blonde, he thought, wasn't half bad, why he could do with a little of that action, himself-- but the brunette? Bah, too uptight. No way was she getting into the party.
"Umm. . .Hi." Tsukushi stammered at first, reacting to the man's intimidating appraisal, but it only took her about half a millisecond to recover herself. After all, she was worth ten of him, any day, "We're on the guest list." Well, she assumed they damned well better be, otherwise Mr. Doumyouji had invited her here for nothing, "Tsukushi Makino." She elaborated, as the man's gaze flickered to his clipboard. "And guest." She nodded at Yuki.
How bizarre. The bouncer flicked an eye in assent. She was in fact, on the list. Who would've thought it? He stepped aside ever-so-slightly, letting the two girls slip past into the warmly-lit, and remarkably smoke-free, room beyond.
"Doc!" Soujiro was the first to notice (and recognize) the petite woman. Enthusiastically, he jumped to his feet and wrapped the unsuspecting woman in a warm hug. Stiffening, Tsukushi extricated herself as rapidly as possible, while an unnoticing Soujiro peppered her with a volley of questions. "Did you like the show? Have you seen Rui today? What did you think, and Oh! . . Who's your friend?" after a slight lag, he noticed Yuki shyly hiding behind Tsukushi. . . "Hey. . ." He drawled, his eyes lighting up, "Haven't we met before?"
Yuki, blushed and nodded.
"Hmm. . . Starbucks?" Soujiro thought a moment, ". . . Wait, don't tell me. . Yuki?"
Yuki blushed an even deeper shade of crimson, smiling happily. If there was a heaven, she thought she'd found it. Soujiro Nishikado actually remembered her!
"I never forget a pretty face." Soujiro grinned charmingly, and seeming to forget all about Tsukushi, pulled Yuki aside to "chat" with her in his own secluded corner.
"Sorry about that." Akira had pulled himself away from his wall to appear at Tsukushi's elbow, "guy's got a blonde complex this month."
"Err. . ." Tsukushi looked slightly flustered. She was already berating herself -- Again! For coming here tonight. And now, she had Yuki to worry about. She certainly didn't trust her around these guys-- after all, weren't musicians notorious sex-fiends? Especially a charmer like Mr. Nishikado seemed to be?
Akira must have recognized the worry that inspired her frown, as he glanced off to where Soujiro was putting the moves on a giddily babbling Yuki. "Don't worry about your friend. Soujiro will take good care of her. . . he's had years of experience, after all."
That was probably not as reassuring as he might have thought it was.
Tsukushi thought it might be to see what the hell these men wanted that couldn't be said during her working hours, so she could collect Yuki before she did something utterly stupid, and get home in time to get a reasonable night's sleep for once in her life.
"So what did you want to talk to me about?" she demanded, rather more coolly than the situation demanded.
"Well," Akira had to smile at the doctor's defensiveness, "It was actually Tsukasa who wanted to speak to you, but he's stepped out for a few minutes. Do you want anything to drink while we wait for him to return?"
Tsukushi wrinkled her nose. "No thanks. What does he want?" What she really wanted to ask was, 'What do you all want? What was the purpose in bringing me here? Why are you trying to involve me in your lives?' She didn't want that, couldn't they see? Couldn't they just stay in the neat little boxes she'd assigned for them?
Akira shrugged, "Well, we have to leave town tomorrow, he probably wants to make sure everything is set for Rui-- you know. Double-checking to make sure everything is going to be ok. -- It is going to be ok?" he finished anxiously, steering Tsukushi towards a seat on the couch. Again, Tsukushi flinched ever-so-slightly at the light pressure of Akira's hand on her back. But this was nothing compared to the whole-body recoil she evidenced as she noticed, for the first time, just who the group's bass-guitarist really was.
Akira watched, in an almost horrified kind of shock, as Tsukushi jerked, twitched, and drew herself stiffly up to her full height. Her face, which had seemed at least cautiously friendly mere seconds before, had frozen into an icily formal mask, and when she spoke, her words were crisply neutral, though underlined by a strange sort of almost defensive anger.
"I seem to have made a mistake. I thought that you were worthy of Trust. That you could help bring Rui back to himself. I think now, that I was wrong." Akira couldn't help but notice the sidelong glare she sent at the seated man at the table. "A man is known by the company he keeps." She continued, "I think I'd best be going now. Don't try to see Rui. The sooner you leave town, the better. The last thing right now that he needs is friends like you." Again Akira noticed her eyes slipping away from him to focus on the odd man out -- the only one of them, he had thought, she'd never met. But before he could protest-- tell her she'd got it all wrong, she had stalked over, collected a shocked and disappointed Yuki, and vanished out the way she came.
"What the fuck did you do to her?" Tsukasa returned from the bathroom just in time to see Tsukushi storm quietly out, dragging her protesting friend behind her.
"Me? Nothing." Akira protested, "One second she was fine, the next, she just lost it."
"Damn it man, I was totally going to score with that Yuki chick." Soujiro whined, joining the discussion.
"Oh shut up." Tsukasa fumed.
"Blondes are a dime a dozen." Akira laughed, "I don't think you're in an danger of not getting laid tonight. I have to agree with Tsukasa here, shut up and think about something other than your dick for a few minutes. Namely, why did the good doctor flip out?" He shot a significant glance towards the bass-player, who was just now staggering to his feet.
"Hey. . ." The man called querulously as he approached the group, "Why are you all looking so grim? And where's the chicks? What the fuck is wrong with this club? I need my fans!"
"Oh fuck off, Junpei." Tsukasa growled impatiently.
"Yeah," Akira looked at their fourth 'member' accusingly, "After all, it was the sight of you, apparently, that sent our earlier guests fleeing for the door."
"Well, fuck." Junpei slapped his forehead in exaggerated surprise, "I thought I recognized that girl."
Unconsciously, The other three men found themselves bristling at the reference of Tsukushi being a mere girl. Already, they saw her as far more than that.
"How do you know doctor Makino?" Tsukasa looked like he was about to grab Junpei by the collar and start shaking him.
"Wow dude, you mean it really was her? Tsukushi Makino! Hell, I went to college with her. What a tight-ass bitch she was, a total cold fish, if you know what I mean."
"I don't think she likes you much either," Akira interrupted dryly, before Tsukasa could do so in a more physical manner.
"Well, shit." Junpei shook his hair back, "That's gratitude for you. And after all I did for her too." He looked up, pityingly at he glaring faces of the F3, and continued, 'You poor suckers. She's got you under her spell doesn't she? Trust me, you're not her type." With these mocking word he hastily backed off, to welcome the sudden inrush of eager groupies and media personalities into the room. None of these innocents souls could read the light behind Junpei's eyes; the cold calculation f his brain as he silently completed one last thought, "If I couldn't have her, then certainly none of you sorry losers ever will. Not if I have any say in the matter."
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Meanwhile, Tsukushi and Yuki were headed home, Tsukushi frowning grimly as she navigated her beat-up car through darkened streets.
"But Tsukushi!" Yuki pled softly, "I don't see why we had to leave! It was like a dream come true! I've never met anyone so handsome, and so charming before! And he really seemed to like me! . . A beautiful dream." Yuki sighed, her eyes still focused on the past -- imagining Soujiro's eyes in the twinkling of every street light and window.
"The problem with dreams, Yuki" Tsukushi replied slowly, as she steered the car to a stop outside their apartment building, "Is that eventually, you always have to wake up." She bit her lip to keep herself from burdening poor sweet Yuki with harsher words, and hastened inside, shedding her ridiculous club gear for the comfort of a scaldingly hot shower. She felt dirty now, confused and angry, and though she willed herself not to think about it; she couldn't help but wonder if she'd overreacted, perhaps a little; been too harsh on her new acquaintances. At this, she scrubbed more furiously, as if trying to remove the lingering doubts via exfoliation. It was too late now, she reasoned, and Anyway, she was sure Junpei was spinning some story -- if he'd even recognized her at all -- painting her as the criminal. After all, as she knew to her everlasting regret, he sure as hell had a way with words-- twisting them around as if reshaping reality to suit his wants, his needs. . . and some how, some way, reality always seemed to oblige him; delivering up exactly what he wanted, despite the costs to others. . ..
Tsukushi looked down wearily, refusing for the moment, to remember any more. In her distraction, she'd scrubbed herself raw, and now the scalding water was beating a painful tattoo on her flayed skin. It was definitely time for bed. Tomorrow would be another long and lonely day. . .
To be continued. . .
~~~fuck. Another chapter that failed to write itself the way I wanted it to. Whatever. The plot seems to be complexifying itself, regardless of my feelings in the matter.
Ok, I think it's time for another round of responses to my reviewers (all of who, I utterly adore, as I'm sure I've mentioned before -- were it not for you, I wouldn't bother typing any of this up. It'd just lurk in my brain, until it was erased by the changing tides of my short-term memory. ..
ANONYMOUS-- pairings? Is this a romance? I don't really have pairings at this time. Rui is a bit too self-pitying to rouse himself enough to go after Tsukushi. She obviously has a thing for him, but a) unrequited crush is a pretty useless thing, and b) it's extremely unprofessional for her, as a psychiatrist, to be pursuing a patient. She wouldn't do it.
SHEEN -- Thank you so much for your amazing reviews!!! I'm glad you like my work. (I have to admit it, though -- I'm a terrible person -- I been reading façade, but never reviewing. (I am such a lazy-ass) Please forgive me. (and update)!!!
NERD -- Sneaky references? I tend to believe I'm about as subtle as a kick to the head. Soon. . .yes soon. . . we shall learn all about Junpei and Tsukushi's shady past, in another 'triumph' of heavy-handed melodrama! Whee! I hope it's not too gloomy for you so far! Also, you too, must update purity of heart asap. Finally conflict building faster. Yay conflict!
Damnit, my wrist is killing me, I'm gonna have to lump everyone else together, so: kithkin, yan, piglet, shopps, joshniki, toinks, fresh8, and anyone else I may have inadvertently left out -- thank you all so much for your support. This fic is a hell of a lot more fun to write than my other ones! So I'm glad you're all enjoying it. : ) : )
Anyway, I have to go update idiots. Bah, what a pain, so next chapter of this might be a while -- and, I also have to let ya'll in on a little secret-- I been poking at the decayed corpse that is 'shift in the wind' recently -- with a little luck -- and a new burst of energy on my part -- I may even manage to resurrect it by september. Oh joy. ~cm~~~