The Object (of solution)
This place is a mess, she thought sleepily as she gazed at the neat, tidy placements of the décor. That was, figuratively speaking though, of course.
A mess was how one perceived it.
Hatori's life was cluttered at the moment, misplaced and unruly, but his condo was clean, perfectly decorated and symmetrical where he wanted it, so therefore his place was, very much indeed, a mess. She felt she could help him out. She had the time on her hands; time that could easily be spent throwing his valuables on the floor. But Saki figured that might give him an excuse to kick her to the curb. And to be quite honest, she liked the condo. Even if she did hate it.
I'm tired, she thought as she rubbed her eyes. Her body, though, never granted her sleep the whole time she had managed to stay curled on that bed. Perhaps I need to find a new position. Then I might fall asleep. That was more than unlikely for her, but she continued to hold out some hope.
Her socks, having forsaken themselves during the toss in the bed, left her feet bare and frigid against the desolate tile floor. Skin slapped against glass, smacking with precision the more distance she put between herself and Hatori's room.
The kitchen. That was her destination. Though she sincerely doubted Hatori carried anything edible within the condo, she figured there was no hurt in looking at the very least. With her stomach feeling emptier than the condo itself, it seemed worth the effort.
As she reached the area, her hand skimmed thoughtfully across the bar-like counter's surface. It was smooth, cold and casting her image along the black marble. Just you and I, she ran a finger down the side of her reflection's cheek before willfully turning her attention to the upper cabinets.
This time, her eyes narrowed. This time she was determined, more than ever, to peel open those sky-high cabinet doors and reap the rewards. Saki looked around for a stool, but in her mind, she knew there were none.
Tall men need no feeble stools.
This was a job requesting back-up; time to call in the tippy-toes.
She gripped the counter before her with one hand, while readying her feet by standing on her toes.
Pushing off, Saki barely nicked the glossy cabinet handle before plummeting back down to the floor, feet smacking brilliantly against hard surface. It took her a moment to recover from gravity, but the lapse was quick and within minutes she was hopping back on wobbly toes, stretching her arm for supportive momentum. And it worked. For two seconds.
This case reminded her of the principle: In order to gain a little, something of equal value has to be lost; whereas momentum and height had been acquired, equilibrium and reaction had been lost.
With the added force, Saki's feet momentarily left the ground and when she fell back, her step and balance were on opposite footing thus causing her body to tumble to the ground. Instinctively reaching out to break her fall, Saki landed harshly on her hands, huffing when her body hit the floor. It hurt, as expected, but not so much to where she couldn't just shake off the pain and stand up; which is exactly what she intended to do until the pain in her right hand sharpened from pushing off the ground.
Satiating her curiosity on her hand's status, she flipped up her palm and examined the bandages. Her eyes widened.
Hm. This can't be good.
Blood. It was only a tiny amount, but the singular fact that blood was coming from her hand probably wasn't the greatest of signs. Though removing the bandage wouldn't be one of her brighter ideas either. The bandage was protecting her hand at this point, what was the use in removing it even if there was blood spouting from her palm?
Shaking it off, Saki decidedly left the bandage where it lay: on her hand and currently helping soak up blood.
When she was finally able to get up, settle and peer in to the cabinet, all the effort appeared hardly worth it. In the cupboard was a singular box of cereal, a practical brand, one of those generic kinds that spoke of how healthy it was and the benefits you could gain from eating it; which, internally, caused her mood to sour a bit. Saki liked anything generally full of flavor, whether it be sweet or tart she enjoyed that uncompromising distinction between this and that.
Looking toward the refrigerator, Saki imagined she would open the door and find month-old milk inside. But Hatori was too sensible. Even if he didn't eat either cereal or drink milk, he'd be fastidious enough to make sure both were within the sell-by dates. Saki could even see him throwing out whatever he had, the minute it marked the sell-by date's time.
Piqued, she crossed the kitchen in a few steps and opened the refrigerator door. With the popping sound of interrupted suction, the whooshing sound of opening and the drawl of cold air fastening itself around her feet, Saki discovered the fresh jug of milk sitting idly by a couple of water bottles. She also noted he kept his bread in the fridge, a few condiments and deli meat stored in separate bins. Long, thin cradles upon the door revealed energy drinks by the dozen lining the wall.
Her brow rose. Doctors shouldn't be drinking energy drinks. Doesn't he know better? She thought obtrusively grabbing one of the cans and popping it open. Either way, what's good for the goose is good for the gander she supposed. At least, that's what she'd tell him if he happened to argue her usage of his own choice of beverage.
A quick swig from the can was all she needed to blanch at the individual can. It was bitter, overwhelmingly bitter; as if over-indulging in the sense of bitterness would immediately clear up all thoughts of sleep and root you to awaken for the rest of the day. For a minute, she didn't doubt its properties. But as the bitter-taste faded on her tongue, so did the aware-tendency.
Hm. I can see why he has so many.
Probably trying one and never desiring another terrible taste for no added benefit, Hatori simply left the cans in his fridge to rot until that pending sell-by date came. Saki picked up her own can of disinterest and lovingly poured it down the sink, silently hoping the compound couldn't eat away at the pipes. She didn't want to have to resort to calling P. O. N. U. For if their name was any testament to their over-all work ethic then she was pretty sure they'd get here and never leave.
Saki yawned and left the can on the counter, but only because she couldn't figure out where Hatori would hide a trash bin and she was feeling too lazy to go digging around for it. Another thing she was feeling too lazy to go digging for was to keep good on her promise of finding something that screamed Hatori. Sure, she wanted to find it. But she didn't want to look for it. There's a difference.
Suddenly the phone rang, Saki's head whipping to the table by the couch where she had overlooked a cordless phone being there earlier. In the condo, the ring echoed alarmingly loud in her ear and when the phone fell into a brief silence, the echoes only seemed that much louder.
Steadily pacing toward the ringing object, Saki examined the green glowing panel on the phone and hoped the contact actually flashed a name; not something undesirable like 'Unknown'. If the name hadn't wanted to be discovered, the buyer would have gotten a regular phone without caller ID.
But the name was as clear as day on the panel, announcing in bold black lettering just who it was calling the condo.
Saki ignored the flashing contact and walked back to the kitchen. Before her foot crossed the threshold, the phone beeped and a voice came through the speaker. Apparently this phone didn't only have caller ID, but an answering machine as well.
"Saki…it's me." Hatori's voice filed brilliantly through the speakers. Unconsciously Saki relaxed her shoulders, swaying gently against the counter. "Stupid of me to say because I'm sure by now you're well aware of whose calling. I wanted to check up on you to see how you were doing…" he paused seeming to lack a better reason of which to say he was really calling for.
Rolling her eyes, Saki walked back to the phone and sat next to it. I'm waiting, she thought a bit crossly.
"…that is…to say…" he sighed "I…hope you're feeling well. I'll be there in the morning when I've-" She hurriedly pressed the phone on and, as quick as the first reaction, pressed a button to turn it off.
Ridiculous. She didn't have time to waste on meaningless words of frivolous actions. He wasn't on his way back, so what? What did that matter? What did that do? Nothing. This…is pointless, she grabbed her coat, slipped on her shoes and began filing out the door. But she forgot her socks. It seemed inconsequential, yet she couldn't get her brain to wrap around exiting until her socks were on her feet.
With half a mind, she shuffled back in to Hatori's room and searched for the socks. Which quickly turned in to a hunt. Socks didn't have legs of their own, it wasn't as though they could just get up and hide themselves, so where in the heck could they be laying? She dipped below the bed to look underneath, but even dust bunnies didn't sneak under there. Then she tried to reach under a dresser only to reveal nothing. When she stood up to look around the floor, something small and black caught her eye.
Sticking out from between the mattress and box-spring were both of her socks, clinging to the middle division by their toes. Deftly, she yanked them from the seam. Socks in hand (both, she counted), Saki's nose scrunched as something else fell out from between the two solid mats. It was soft looking, much like her socks, but it filled out more. The color was tan and again she couldn't help except to think practical.
Saki tugged the smashed fabric out of its cavity, slightly in-taking air on a gasp when she realized what the object was. She smiled.
Suddenly, leaving didn't seem like the best option. Bringing the article to her chest, Saki walked out of the room to sit on the couch and study it a bit more closely.
The tan was more of a golden yellow in the light. Not a practical color at all for such a stern man. She chuckled a bit at the small black bead representing the thing's eye; there was another in a similar fashion on the opposite side. At the end of the snout there was a line of fabric representing a small smile on the inanimate objects face. Cute, but she was pretty sure these creatures had no means of smiling. Much like Hatori.
Clutching the soft fabric and bringing it to her cheek, Saki grimaced. It reminded her…too much of home. Of Megumi.
He wasn't a boy that often held toys or needed anything besides the necessities, but there was this one stuffed animal that he just couldn't let go of. It was a dragon, albeit a cute one, not one of those scary looking, intimidating dragons they saw at parades and festivals. Nonetheless it reminded her of this plush that she was holding now. Her bottom lip wobbled.
She missed him, she realized. There were nights she could go on without using him as a crutch, but by the next day or so, she'd need him by her side, need him to comfort her mind and allow her body sleep. This was one of those nights. One of the nights where he'd go to his friend's and she had to suck it up and face another long night then day. One of the nights where she sat up staring at the television, watching his favorite anime, but never really getting in to the plot herself, just watching and waiting. Hoping maybe that the familiarity of the sounds he created when home would help ease her mind.
Hoping, waiting, watching, but never receiving. And as much as she wanted Megumi, she didn't want him either. She wanted to rely on herself for once even if it was failing miserably. She wanted to become her own strong source to pull from. But somehow she knew that was impossible. So she wanted the next best thing: a stronger source than Megumi. She wanted…
Saki blinked. A tear slid silently down her cheek, hidden by the tuft of hair covering her face as realization slowly manifested itself in her mind.
…she wanted Hatori.