Baka!
Sho could feel his breath hot and stale filling the fluffy kingdom of blankets he'd made for himself. He was hiding, and he knew it, and he didn't give a shit. Shoko had started working the details for his stateside tour; two concert halls had already signed on given his prior releases alone. Four more were waiting on standby to analyze the success of his next release. The Red Rocks in Colorado Springs had sent him an offer without solicitation, cover letter full of excitement over celebrating the "increasing diversity apparent in the Rocky Mountain music scene."
The first set date was a month away.
30 days.
Not long enough to justify going home. Not short enough to bear. He burrowed farther into his blanket cave. Maybe he could go home. Maybe he could just hop on a plane tonight, fly straight across the ocean, land at Narita and show up at his door unannounced, like a wild man, forcing his way inside and demanding to be heard.
A sharp rapping knock sounded throughout his room. Just like that - he'd knock just like that. Unabashed disturbance of whatever was going on inside, his fist forcing its way through conversations and thoughts and blaring television shows with a solid one-two-three punch to the door. The sound escalated, louder and faster, echoing aggravatedly into his cocoon. He sat up with a start. The knock was real. Sho flung the blankets off and hurriedly tried to pat down his hair, licking his palm in desperation to add some measure of sealant to the restyle. Hopeless. The knocker performed a banging crescendo, then fell silent.
Sho stood still, examining himself in the mirror. He was still in his pajamas despite the hour being past noon. One bruise slid out beneath his white tee-shirt; his shoulder automatically hitched to reposition the hem. The caller had left by now. He should just go back to bed. Or maybe do a Live since he was up. He could shower and go sit on the porch, tell the people stories about his day - or at least stories about yesterday. One of the days he'd left the room.
"Sho?"
His name. It was like a shot in the arm, snaring his attention away from scripting the unscripted Live. The person was still out there.
"Answer the door, baka."
"Kyoko?" His heart tripped, pulsing erratically for a moment as he stared at the closed door. She shouldn't be here. He looked over his shoulder compulsively. He knew the room was empty. He knew the bed was empty. And yet- she shouldn't be here. "You need to leave."
"Fuwa Shotaro, open the door."
He strode to the windows, throwing open the blinds and scanning the parking lot below. No signs. "I can't - you need to leave. Please, just trust me." He heard his voice hitch and grimaced, taking his disdain for himself out on the drapes as he ripped them closed again, plunging the room back into semidarkness.
"Your mother sent me." Her voice was threatening now. She was getting angry, but he couldn't let her stay. She had to go. "And I'm not leaving until I can tell her what on earth is wrong with her precious only child." Sho rubbed his hands on his face. He didn't have a choice. He would keep her in the hallway. It could work- he'd let her see him, give her a story for his mom, and then close her back out. She'd leave then and be safe.
His hand hesitated still, hovering just above the doorknob. Something inside him was singing a siren song, calling him back to bed, away from the confrontation opening the door to such a shiny person would be. His fingers folded back in on themselves. She was remarkable. He'd thrown such a pile of garbage at her for years; ignoring her tears, blaming all of his problems on her, letting her be subjected to bullying and worse for the dubious honor of being his friend. He'd made each of her problems worse by trying to solve them without any care for her - forcing himself on her, thinking opening her to hate was the quickest way to link her life to his. Maybe it had grown into some kind of twisted affection, but the start had been a pure desire to control. He liked the way she made him feel important, and did whatever it took to keep her eyes on him.
He felt like he was going to vomit. He was no better than Reino- striking out at someone's weaknesses to keep them alone and dependent. Confusing obsession with affection. Using his strength to pin her, hit her, force her to kiss him. He deserved exactly what was happening to him.
"Go home, Kyoko."
"Don't even think about hiding your K-Pop-wannabe self in there, Shotaro, I have a mission to complete and you are not keeping me from getting my delicious hot dog because I had to stand here in this empty hallway waiting for you to open the door just so I can prove to your mother that you haven't lost your mind or gone insane with the stress of it all and that she doesn't need to hire the yakuza to forcibly abduct you and drag you home to soak in the springs because by God, Fuwa, I will camp out here until-"
He flung the door open, narrowly missing her nose, his eyes blazing. "Do you think I want to listen to you rant all day? Damn it, Kyoko, sometimes I'm trying to help you- I know I suck at it, and I know I pick the most god-awful ways to do it, but for so long I've only been trying to help you!" He was yelling, flinging it all at her again. Why was he only able to tear her down? He turned away, cringing at himself. He needed the door shut again.
"Sho-" she started, her voice soft. "Sho, stop." Her hand touched his shoulder and he flinched, stepping away from her. He could see part of her face reflected in the hall mirror, a look full of confusion and worry, half her mouth twisted in dismay.
"Go home, Kyoko, please. I'm fine."
"You clearly don't understand the meaning of that word."
"I said go home!" He roared, turning and smacking away her hand, his anger thrust at her like a weapon. "F the hell off! I'm done with this patronizing- tell my mom whatever you want, tell her I've lost my mind, I don't care! She can try and rip me back home, I'll tear the place down around her head!" He could hear his words fragmenting the space around them, lancing out to carve wounds he never wanted her to bear.
He expected to see anger or fear on her face, but instead all he saw was calm. She was studying him, her hand hanging in the air where he'd flung it.
"What is wrong?" She asked, the words laid out before him slowly, her eyes trying to penetrate his mask. "What is going on?" A sudden light dawned in her eyes. "This is about the girl- the one you called about- what happened? Is she in New York?"
Her questions came too fast; he blinked, shaking his head like he could clear away the noise. "Girl? No, what- not- no. Just no." He gave up, letting the door slide out of his grip and stepping back into his room. She caught the door and followed him, as he knew she would. Having someone so full of life in this room felt almost like a violation, like she was stretching the space beyond what it would bear. He sat on the edge of the bed and let his hands hang between his legs, waiting for her to interrogate him.
She sat on the ground in front of him, leaning forward to peer up under his bangs, her face disturbingly close.
"Not girl trouble, then. Drugs?"
He rolled his eyes at her, turning his face away. She followed his movement, shifting to kneel beside the bed, her elbows braced on the mattress as she peered at him.
"Work? Are you slacking off again? Is there a new Beagles coming in to prey on your laziness?"
The name hit him like a cat o'nine tails, ripping open his wounds. He stood abruptly, walking to the window, gripping the closed drapes in his hands.
Kyoko clucked in triumph, shifting again to sit on the bed. "Work it is. I don't know who it is pushing your buttons this time, but I thought you were done being a coward about it." She was so strong and full of passion. He could hear her conviction in her voice, that never-ending drive to be more that filled her. She stood, crossing her arms as she faced him. He should turn and confront her, but if he met her eyes he didn't think he could keep the floodgates shut.
"I don't have anything to do here, then. You'll either figure out your own voice and shut them up or sink below and then prove you were never able to be my competition in the first place." She spat the words at him, the increasing venom in her tone forcing him to turn and acknowledge her.
Kyoko's eyes were flint and sparks, daring him to start the fire and stop dreaming about it. She stared at him, and he could feel himself being slowly pulled apart, weighed, and found wanting. But there was something in the line of her mouth that held him up- something hinting that she knew he could be more. That she wanted him to be more. He stood straighter.
It wasn't enough to turn the wounds into burning words for his songs.
He needed to turn them into weapons and burn down Reino.
"Call me a coward and I'll-" he started, but she cut him off before he could finish.
"What? Hit me?" The words felt poisonous but the way she looked at him when she said it was pure tease. Like a sister taunting her brother to chase her through the woods, yelling challenges as they darted through the trees.
"I'll prove you wrong," he said, crossing his own arms over his chest and leaning back against the window. She nodded at him, picking her bag back up and turning to leave, a final parry tossed over her shoulder.
"Good. Because you're still my prey, and I don't hunt carrion."
