~~~yeah yeah yah. The last chapter was so short because I wrote it while
bogged down in the middle of the really fucking long chapter of idiots. So
here's another for ya'll. I won't be updating anything until at least the
end of next week, since I'm going away. (No sleep for me for the next two
nights. Fuck I'm dumb.) And, I know the plot is slow. But since when did I
ever write fast-paced plot? Hell, I'm frequently tempted to write stories
based on people locked in a room. No plot, only dialogue and a state of
being. Events are so. . .irrelevant to internal state. You can be doing the
most excitingly glorious thing imaginable and still be miserable, or bored,
or angry. So fuck plot. Let's angst some more instead. Shall we?. . . ~~~
And so the days and weeks crept by. Autumn slipped drearily into winter: the city grey and dreary with the passing of the last season's bright foliage.
Tsukushi was tired; tired of the cold, tired of the grey, tired of the rain; the ever-present weight of other people's problems bearing down on her; their need harping at her. . . But it was her life, and this was her job. She had no life outside of the hospital, not really. Who had time for a life when you worked an eighty-hour work week? And even if she had had time fir a life, with whom would she have spent it? She had no friends at work, in the hospital. She never joined the other residents at a movie, or at the pub. Sure, there was her roommate Yuki, but you can only do so much with your roommate before the constant contact drives you both nuts. So really, Tsukushi had no social activities; wouldn't even know Where to begin, if someone were to say to her, "Hey, take a week off, go and have fun." What was fun, after all? What did people her age Do? She hadn't had a vacation since college, hadn't had friends since then, really. And look what that had gotten her.
Instead, she slaved, working herself to the bone; feeling everyone's pain. . . and when she couldn't take it any longer-- She'd go visit Rui and drink in his pain as well.
Was it any wonder that she so often collapsed into bed at midnight or two am, only to start awake two or three hours later from dark dreams?
And then, she'd lie in bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling, the walls that enclosed her like a safety net, and whisper her mantra, "I'm ok. I can't save them all. And that's ok. It's ok. I'm ok."
But it wasn't really.
-----
Another city, another night, another room.
Soujiro reclined amidst a tangle of discarded clothes and tangled blankets. Lazily he watched the woman-- what was her name? Linda? Lindsay? Lynn? rising and falling above him. There was nothing quite like a night of passion to quell his nightmares. Caressing hands slid up slick skin, roaming the beautiful curve of shapely hips, steadying the woman as her movements became more frenzied and erratic. Her breathing came in gasps and moans, breathy pants, as she drove herself to her own voluble climax. Soujiro, soon followed her, to his own, much quieter release, his breath escaping in a soft sigh, as he lost himself in the moment.
Soujiro didn't consider himself a philanderer and a playboy. Not really. It wasn't a game to him. He truly appreciated every woman he slept with. To him, they were all beautiful; nature's finest endeavor. None could match Sara in his memory, but each was special nonetheless. For, while Tsukasa chose to drown his memories in the numbing waves of ethanol, Soujiro chose, instead to find his oblivion in the opposite manner; that is to say, in over-stimulation. The shattering crest of orgasm driving, for one perfect, crystalline second, all memory from him. In that one eternal second of pure sensation, he could forget himself: forget that he'd loved and lost; forget that he hated his life; forget the bitterness that suffused each waking moment.
So was it any wonder that he sought out sex as often as possible? Simple physical contact was all right, when sex was unavailable. Even the casual stroke of an arm along his tensed back, or a ruffled hand through his fine hair, could help, as he focused on the physical to the exclusion of all else. It wasn't a perfect system, but it worked. Mostly. Well, it got him through the day at least.
Soujiro sighed again as he came back to himself. He was still here. Still alive. And that was victory enough.
Soujiro rolled over, as the woman, (he was pretty sure now her name was Lindsey) slid off of him and curled up among the discarded blankets. Automatically, his hand stretched out to trace a seductive line along her side.
"You can't be tired already?" he asked mischievously. A twinkle in his eyes and a stirring lower down proved that he had the stamina to continue a good while longer.
"Again?" her lips twitched up, as Soujiro moved to cover her. She'd never dare hope she'd end up in bed one day with the famous Soujiro Nishikado. Much less that he'd prove such a spectacular sexual athlete. In the course of the brief evening, she'd so far climaxed four times. Admittedly, the last one she'd had to do all the work for. . .but previously. . .. Damn! The man was one hell of a lover.
"Think you can handle it?"
"I can if you can, 'Jiro, baby." She purred, reaching up to pull him closer.
Unexpectedly, Soujiro stiffened and pulled away, his desire draining abruptly away. "On second thought, maybe That's not such a good idea." He forced a winning smile as he rolled away. "It's time for me to check on Tsukasa."
Lindsey pouted, "Surely he doesn't need a babysitter?"
"I wish." Soujiro shook his head in mock regret, "Gotta make sure he isn't burning down the place, or killing someone." He bent down and bestowed an apologetic kiss on the confused girl, before starting the annoying task of finding his clothes and redressing.
"Oh." She was obviously disappointed. But what the hell. No one was allowed to call him 'Jiro. No one except the F4, when they forgot. . . And Sara. It was too much like cheating to sleep with a woman who called him 'Jiro. So he'd never done it. Never would. It was irrelevant that he'd cheated on Sara regularly when she was still alive. He was a musician, and a man; a sucker for pouted lips and supple curves, long legs and the adoration of his fans. How could he refuse? How could he disappoint them. He enjoyed it, and they enjoyed it. But it was only sex. The only one he'd ever Loved was Sara.
His Sara. Who'd called him 'Jiro.
His Sara, who was saving herself for marriage.
Who'd never joined herself with Soujiro.
And who now never would.
What was this chick's disappointment, compared with that?
Soujiro grinned apologetically anyway, "Sorry, babe. You know how friends are." There was no sense in being rude, just because of his hang-ups. Even if every instinct in his body was screaming at him to get the hell out of there and back with Tsukasa. Back with someone who understood.
"Yeah. And musicians." She smiled tiredly back up at him, "I suppose there's no point in asking you to call next time you're in town?"
Soujiro snorted softly, and grinned self-deprecatingly, "Nope! But it's nothing personal. It'd be too much like settling down." Such a liar he was. But she laughed, and he left, and that was that.
---------
Another room, same city, same night.
Soujiro wearily flung himself through the door and across the untouched bed.
"Have you been in here all night?"
"What do you think?"
"Judging by the state of that bottle. . . You damned well better have been."
"Fuck off." Tsukasa snarled, turning his attention away from the laptop he'd been staring at, to face the man sprawled on His bed. "And get the fuck off my bed. Yours is over there."
"Akira's going to be gone all night." Soujiro pouted
"Then I'm taking the other bed."
"Asshole." Soujiro clutched a pillow to his chest, as if seeking a security Tsukasa wouldn't give him.
"Why didn't you stay with that girl then? She seemed to like you well enough at the bar. And where Is Akira anyway?"
"Oh well, you know." Soujiro shrugged and brushed off Tsukasa's first question, "You know that actress, She was in that movie. . .umm . .it won an Oscar for like, best lighting or something. . . in her forties. . . hot. . ."
". . .Married." It wasn't a question.
"Well, yeah. . . Anyway. She lives around here. Husband's out of town. On location in like Bulgaria, or something. So she called Akira when she saw we had a show here. . ."
"I still have no idea who you're talking about."
"Like it matters. But he'll be gone all night. So you're stuck with me." Soujiro sighed and stood up restlessly. "What are you working on?" He moved to peer over Tsukasa's shoulder at the glowing screen of the laptop.
"Nothing." Tsukasa tensed defensively, and snapped the computer shut.
"Hmm? " Soujiro leaned on Tsukasa's shoulder and tried to pry the computer open. "Lemme see. .. Porn? Answering fanmail? Online dating?"
"None of your damned business!"
"Sure it is." Soujiro teased, "Do you know how much it cost to use internet in this place? And who minds the bills? Me. So 'fess up, what are you wasting our dough on?"
"Fuck off."
"Already did that, this evening, thanks." Soujiro continued, "Did I really see a real-estate ad before you shut it off? What are you doing looking at real-estate?"
Tsukasa twisted around to give Soujiro a narrow, measuring glare. "You really want to know?"
"Yes."
Tsukasa turned around again, gulped down an unhealthy amount of whiskey from the half-empty bottle at his elbow, and started the computer back up. "I bought a house." He muttered flatly, as if discussing the weather or something equally inane.
"Bought? As in paid money for? Signed a contract for?" Soujiro was ion the verge of hysterics, mentally calculating how much money the group had earned this year, how much they had saved, and how much they'd spent maintaining their lifestyle and image. "What the hell? How could you do that without consulting us? What were you thinking?"
"Shut up."
"I won't! Tsukasa, you've got to be kidding me! Have you even seen the place? Where is it? I mean. . what the fuck, man? Why would you do that?"
"Shut the fuck up, Soujiro!" Tsukasa roared. "We can afford it ten times over, and you know it! We need a place. The Tour's almost over -- we need some place to go home to. Someplace. . ."
"But. . ."
". . .Near Rui." Tsukasa finished.
"We could rent! Besides, we're supposed to go to Cali to work on a new album!"
Tsukasa shook his head, "No."
"No?"
Tsukasa took another long pull at his drink, and handed Soujiro the bottle. "You're going to need this."
"Huh?"
"Drink it."
Soujiro frowned, but obeyed the command in Tsukasa's voice.
". . . I received this email this evening. We have a problem."
To be continued.
~~Ok, I'm off to see how many near-death experiences I can accrue in the next five days. (my favorite activity!) Sorry the chapter's short, and the ending's vague. I'm too tired to write the entire scene, so I'm going to leave you hanging. Oh I'm such a bitch. If I don't die this week, you'll get the next chapter next Friday? Saturday? fiik~~
And so the days and weeks crept by. Autumn slipped drearily into winter: the city grey and dreary with the passing of the last season's bright foliage.
Tsukushi was tired; tired of the cold, tired of the grey, tired of the rain; the ever-present weight of other people's problems bearing down on her; their need harping at her. . . But it was her life, and this was her job. She had no life outside of the hospital, not really. Who had time for a life when you worked an eighty-hour work week? And even if she had had time fir a life, with whom would she have spent it? She had no friends at work, in the hospital. She never joined the other residents at a movie, or at the pub. Sure, there was her roommate Yuki, but you can only do so much with your roommate before the constant contact drives you both nuts. So really, Tsukushi had no social activities; wouldn't even know Where to begin, if someone were to say to her, "Hey, take a week off, go and have fun." What was fun, after all? What did people her age Do? She hadn't had a vacation since college, hadn't had friends since then, really. And look what that had gotten her.
Instead, she slaved, working herself to the bone; feeling everyone's pain. . . and when she couldn't take it any longer-- She'd go visit Rui and drink in his pain as well.
Was it any wonder that she so often collapsed into bed at midnight or two am, only to start awake two or three hours later from dark dreams?
And then, she'd lie in bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling, the walls that enclosed her like a safety net, and whisper her mantra, "I'm ok. I can't save them all. And that's ok. It's ok. I'm ok."
But it wasn't really.
-----
Another city, another night, another room.
Soujiro reclined amidst a tangle of discarded clothes and tangled blankets. Lazily he watched the woman-- what was her name? Linda? Lindsay? Lynn? rising and falling above him. There was nothing quite like a night of passion to quell his nightmares. Caressing hands slid up slick skin, roaming the beautiful curve of shapely hips, steadying the woman as her movements became more frenzied and erratic. Her breathing came in gasps and moans, breathy pants, as she drove herself to her own voluble climax. Soujiro, soon followed her, to his own, much quieter release, his breath escaping in a soft sigh, as he lost himself in the moment.
Soujiro didn't consider himself a philanderer and a playboy. Not really. It wasn't a game to him. He truly appreciated every woman he slept with. To him, they were all beautiful; nature's finest endeavor. None could match Sara in his memory, but each was special nonetheless. For, while Tsukasa chose to drown his memories in the numbing waves of ethanol, Soujiro chose, instead to find his oblivion in the opposite manner; that is to say, in over-stimulation. The shattering crest of orgasm driving, for one perfect, crystalline second, all memory from him. In that one eternal second of pure sensation, he could forget himself: forget that he'd loved and lost; forget that he hated his life; forget the bitterness that suffused each waking moment.
So was it any wonder that he sought out sex as often as possible? Simple physical contact was all right, when sex was unavailable. Even the casual stroke of an arm along his tensed back, or a ruffled hand through his fine hair, could help, as he focused on the physical to the exclusion of all else. It wasn't a perfect system, but it worked. Mostly. Well, it got him through the day at least.
Soujiro sighed again as he came back to himself. He was still here. Still alive. And that was victory enough.
Soujiro rolled over, as the woman, (he was pretty sure now her name was Lindsey) slid off of him and curled up among the discarded blankets. Automatically, his hand stretched out to trace a seductive line along her side.
"You can't be tired already?" he asked mischievously. A twinkle in his eyes and a stirring lower down proved that he had the stamina to continue a good while longer.
"Again?" her lips twitched up, as Soujiro moved to cover her. She'd never dare hope she'd end up in bed one day with the famous Soujiro Nishikado. Much less that he'd prove such a spectacular sexual athlete. In the course of the brief evening, she'd so far climaxed four times. Admittedly, the last one she'd had to do all the work for. . .but previously. . .. Damn! The man was one hell of a lover.
"Think you can handle it?"
"I can if you can, 'Jiro, baby." She purred, reaching up to pull him closer.
Unexpectedly, Soujiro stiffened and pulled away, his desire draining abruptly away. "On second thought, maybe That's not such a good idea." He forced a winning smile as he rolled away. "It's time for me to check on Tsukasa."
Lindsey pouted, "Surely he doesn't need a babysitter?"
"I wish." Soujiro shook his head in mock regret, "Gotta make sure he isn't burning down the place, or killing someone." He bent down and bestowed an apologetic kiss on the confused girl, before starting the annoying task of finding his clothes and redressing.
"Oh." She was obviously disappointed. But what the hell. No one was allowed to call him 'Jiro. No one except the F4, when they forgot. . . And Sara. It was too much like cheating to sleep with a woman who called him 'Jiro. So he'd never done it. Never would. It was irrelevant that he'd cheated on Sara regularly when she was still alive. He was a musician, and a man; a sucker for pouted lips and supple curves, long legs and the adoration of his fans. How could he refuse? How could he disappoint them. He enjoyed it, and they enjoyed it. But it was only sex. The only one he'd ever Loved was Sara.
His Sara. Who'd called him 'Jiro.
His Sara, who was saving herself for marriage.
Who'd never joined herself with Soujiro.
And who now never would.
What was this chick's disappointment, compared with that?
Soujiro grinned apologetically anyway, "Sorry, babe. You know how friends are." There was no sense in being rude, just because of his hang-ups. Even if every instinct in his body was screaming at him to get the hell out of there and back with Tsukasa. Back with someone who understood.
"Yeah. And musicians." She smiled tiredly back up at him, "I suppose there's no point in asking you to call next time you're in town?"
Soujiro snorted softly, and grinned self-deprecatingly, "Nope! But it's nothing personal. It'd be too much like settling down." Such a liar he was. But she laughed, and he left, and that was that.
---------
Another room, same city, same night.
Soujiro wearily flung himself through the door and across the untouched bed.
"Have you been in here all night?"
"What do you think?"
"Judging by the state of that bottle. . . You damned well better have been."
"Fuck off." Tsukasa snarled, turning his attention away from the laptop he'd been staring at, to face the man sprawled on His bed. "And get the fuck off my bed. Yours is over there."
"Akira's going to be gone all night." Soujiro pouted
"Then I'm taking the other bed."
"Asshole." Soujiro clutched a pillow to his chest, as if seeking a security Tsukasa wouldn't give him.
"Why didn't you stay with that girl then? She seemed to like you well enough at the bar. And where Is Akira anyway?"
"Oh well, you know." Soujiro shrugged and brushed off Tsukasa's first question, "You know that actress, She was in that movie. . .umm . .it won an Oscar for like, best lighting or something. . . in her forties. . . hot. . ."
". . .Married." It wasn't a question.
"Well, yeah. . . Anyway. She lives around here. Husband's out of town. On location in like Bulgaria, or something. So she called Akira when she saw we had a show here. . ."
"I still have no idea who you're talking about."
"Like it matters. But he'll be gone all night. So you're stuck with me." Soujiro sighed and stood up restlessly. "What are you working on?" He moved to peer over Tsukasa's shoulder at the glowing screen of the laptop.
"Nothing." Tsukasa tensed defensively, and snapped the computer shut.
"Hmm? " Soujiro leaned on Tsukasa's shoulder and tried to pry the computer open. "Lemme see. .. Porn? Answering fanmail? Online dating?"
"None of your damned business!"
"Sure it is." Soujiro teased, "Do you know how much it cost to use internet in this place? And who minds the bills? Me. So 'fess up, what are you wasting our dough on?"
"Fuck off."
"Already did that, this evening, thanks." Soujiro continued, "Did I really see a real-estate ad before you shut it off? What are you doing looking at real-estate?"
Tsukasa twisted around to give Soujiro a narrow, measuring glare. "You really want to know?"
"Yes."
Tsukasa turned around again, gulped down an unhealthy amount of whiskey from the half-empty bottle at his elbow, and started the computer back up. "I bought a house." He muttered flatly, as if discussing the weather or something equally inane.
"Bought? As in paid money for? Signed a contract for?" Soujiro was ion the verge of hysterics, mentally calculating how much money the group had earned this year, how much they had saved, and how much they'd spent maintaining their lifestyle and image. "What the hell? How could you do that without consulting us? What were you thinking?"
"Shut up."
"I won't! Tsukasa, you've got to be kidding me! Have you even seen the place? Where is it? I mean. . what the fuck, man? Why would you do that?"
"Shut the fuck up, Soujiro!" Tsukasa roared. "We can afford it ten times over, and you know it! We need a place. The Tour's almost over -- we need some place to go home to. Someplace. . ."
"But. . ."
". . .Near Rui." Tsukasa finished.
"We could rent! Besides, we're supposed to go to Cali to work on a new album!"
Tsukasa shook his head, "No."
"No?"
Tsukasa took another long pull at his drink, and handed Soujiro the bottle. "You're going to need this."
"Huh?"
"Drink it."
Soujiro frowned, but obeyed the command in Tsukasa's voice.
". . . I received this email this evening. We have a problem."
To be continued.
~~Ok, I'm off to see how many near-death experiences I can accrue in the next five days. (my favorite activity!) Sorry the chapter's short, and the ending's vague. I'm too tired to write the entire scene, so I'm going to leave you hanging. Oh I'm such a bitch. If I don't die this week, you'll get the next chapter next Friday? Saturday? fiik~~