One Song Glory: part two
24 May 2000
Van Donovan
trowa@trowa.com
---------------------
Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned today [May 24th, '00] while
his mother is/was dying of cancer. I'm in an incredibly depressed mood and I suddenly have
so much more for this story. Please, learn something from it.
--------
"What?" Youji's knuckles were white as he clutched the chair.
The doctor didn't give him the reprieve he needed to let the information sink in.
"I've already gotten the results back from the T-Cell count test I took when we found out
you tested positive." Youji didn't hear anything he was saying. "Your count is at 650.
Normally it's between 800 and 1,300. Your sickness resulted from this low blood count.
We've got some treatments already prepared for you, and as soon as we get the results of the
Viral load test we can get your drug regimens out." The doctor looked to Aya, because he
could tell by Youji's glassy-eyed expression the other wasn't hearing anything he was
saying. He continued: "We have several on-staff guidance councilors to help you through
this. You're not going to die. Not for a long time."
Youji looked at him at that, blinking to refocus his eyes. "What? No one-year-to-
live bullshit?" He released the chair's armrest and looked away.
"HIV isn't deadly. It only kills when it evolves into AIDS. That may not happen
for another ten or fifteen years."
"Fifteen years is a 'long time'!?" Youji shouted, snapping his head back, glaring at
him. "There's some mistake. Look, check your tests again."
But the doctor just shook his head. Deep down, Youji knew it was true. Oh, how he
knew it was true. How many women had he made love to unprotected? How many of them could
have been HIV carriers? That was the thrill of riding on the edge, wasn't it?
You're going to -die-.
"No." He softly moaned, shaking his head miserably. He didn't feel Aya's hand when
the other reached out to touch him.
"You're not alone," the doctor said, having had to deal with patients in denial
like this before. "We have many treatments."
"But no cure."
"That's true, but this is just a wake up call. Like I said, you may not contract
AIDS for another decade, and we're on the brink of discovering a cure. It could very well
happen before you--"
"I don't need to hear this." Youji growled and stood up, cutting the doctor off.
Aya stood too, a silent partner to over shadow and watch everything as a mute. It was as if
he had clairvoyance and could already see what would occur in the future.
------
"H.I. fucking-V." Youji hissed, draining down another sharp brandy. Aya sat beside
him on a bar stool, violet eyes shaded by crimson hair, holding his own brandy that he'd
barely touched. "It seems fitting though, doesn't it?" he rhetorically asked, looking at
Aya. He wasn't drunk yet, he'd only had two shots, but he was messed up regardless. "I
wonder who it was," he said, talking to hear himself. They'd not talked since the
hospital. Aya had just known to take Youji to the nearest bar and let him smoke and drink.
He wouldn't stop the man. Not this time.
"God," he said miserably shaking his head, then softly whispered: "I wonder how
many I've infected." Haunted jade eyes looked up at Aya from a tangle of golden hair.
The redhead felt his heart cinched and he swallowed tightly, looking back at him.
He wanted to comfort Youji, but he wasn't sure how. Empathy was not something he could do.
Sympathy . . . ? What difference would it make whether he knew or not? Youji didn't -want-
sympathy. "'Ten years', he said." Youji quoted with a snort. "Did you know that's the
-longest- they expect me to hold out for? Ten to fifteen years. It's more likely to be
five. And it -could- be months. Did you know that? Shit."
Of course he knew that.
"Look, I don't want to get drunk tonight. Let's get out of here." Youji grunted,
getting to his feet. Aya silently paid and walked back to the car with Youji. They rode
with the red-jeep's top down, their hair blowing in the late-afternoon wind. Aya didn't mind
the other lighting up in his car. There were so many exceptions he could make for the older
man today.
"Do you think Ken and Omi will . . . ?"
"No. They'll be supportive. Everyone will be."
"That's right." Youji dejectedly breathed, extending his hand to let the raging
wind blow over it. "Everyone will treat me delicately."
"Don't tell them."
"Hmm?" Youji glanced over and caught Aya's eyes for a moment before the other went
back to watching the road. "I suppose I could . . . but, wouldn't you tell them?"
Aya was silent for a long time before softly saying: "No, I wouldn't."
"Aw fuck, what do I care?" he unbuckled and stuck his head out the window. Aya
missed what exactly he screamed to the blur of buildings as he whizzed past, but he was
pretty sure it was "I've got HIV! Whooooooo!" He knew the moods Youji was phasing in and
out of too well. He got the urge to see his sister. He wondered how she was doing without
him. He hated himself for leaving her in Tokyo alone, but he couldn't face her again. Not
after killing in her name. Just knowing she was alive and awake and all right was enough
for him. He was just an assassin now. He was just AYA.
"You know," Youji said after a period of silence. Aya glanced at him. The other's
cigarette was barely a stub now. Youji kept his eyes on the road, staring into the vacant
highway before them. "I think I'll miss sex the most."
Aya found himself grinning.
"Find that funny, do you Aya? You probably don't even know what sex is." he looked
out the window and then eyed his cigarette distantly and flicked it out the window. "Just
wait and see how you feel if you get HIV." he muttered. He hadn't meant to sound bitter,
but of course he was. Aya's smile dropped instantly and he kept to his stoic guise.
-----
Youji should have won an award for his act with Omi and Ken; he did decide to tell
the two. He took their silent dumbfounded stares and the sorrow in their eyes and turned
it around on them, joking about, saying how he just had to go out and find some HIV infected
ladies to flirt with. Then he made off with fake convulsing and flung himself on the
kitchen floor as he mock-died. Ken had joined in, humming the funeral march and Omi had
played too, dramatically dropping to his knees and delicately laying the table center
flower-piece on Youji's 'dead' body. Everyone was smiling and joking by the time Youji
finished with them. Aya sat in quiet contribute as the sole audience.
But now the oldest man's door was shut against the rest of the world after the stage
play. There was no loud blare of music. There was no hum or whistle while he readied him-
self to go out. It was like Youji was already dead.
Softly, Aya knocked on his door. He waited several minutes, knowing the other
wouldn't open it, but after standing there feeling useless a few moments more, Youji opened
it. He hadn't expected anyone to still be there, and so his swollen red eyes and streaked
cheeks were bared completely to the redhead who stood right in front of him.
Youji had been crying.
He went into Youji's room silently and uninvited, shutting the door behind him. He
turned and looked back to Youji, who just stood there like a shell of the man he was. Aya's
heart went out to him. He left the door and went to Youji, embracing him tightly. Youji
stood rigid for the first second but then he began to melt. His hands hesitantly reached
up and rested on Aya's back. The touch moved into a grasp and Youji bent at the neck, his
hands clutching Aya's shirt, his face contorting in silent crying. He gasped and then a
sob rolled from him. He shook, burying his face into Aya's neck, clinging to the redhead
and letting himself go, letting Aya hold him and carry his burden for him.
Youji had gone from the state of denial, to the state of acceptance in just one
day. Aya found the blonde was stronger than he thought he would be.
Youji had accepted that he was going to die.
-----
He stayed with the blonde well into the night, letting the other cry until he
couldn't stand anymore. Then he'd lead him to his bed and sat him down. He hadn't wanted
to leave Youji unattended if the other didn't want to be alone, but . . .
"Thanks." came the dry hoarse voice from the ailed. Aya looked up, his eyes glad
he had helped the other, but no smile graced his lips. Youji laid back on his pillow
endlessly exhausted and tired. He was ever grateful for Aya. The other had been there to
support him during the testing and hear the results with him, but he'd never shied away at
the idea of the disease. He'd just let him cry on his shoulder for an hour like a baby, or
some silly school girl, but he knew Aya didn't think anything less of him. Aya didn't think
less of him, or question him. He was just there, and he was so supportive.
He would have gone mad trying to do this alone.
"I couldn't do this without you. I really mean that," Youji said again, trying to
relax. He felt so heavy. There were so many burdens on his shoulders.
Aya nodded a little, aware Youji couldn't see the motion. "You needed it."
"Aa. It's like you know exactly how I'll feel."
Aya hesitated and then looked to Youji's silent stereo, focusing on the holes in the
speaker. "I do," he quietly replied.
"Eh?" Youji asked, opening one eye and looking at Aya. The redhead's gaze was off
him finally, focused on something he couldn't see from his vantage point. "How could you
-possibly- know how I woul--" he dropped off his sentence, his other eye opening. "Aya?"
"Aa," it was an affirmative.
Youji sat bolt upright in his bed, eyes wide. Aya felt his heart thudding in his
chest as Youji caught on.
"You . . . you're . . ." Youji couldn't bring himself to say the rest.
Aya lifted his head back up and looked at the man on the bed.
His eyes alone confirmed Youji's every suspicion.
--end part two--
24 May 2000
Van Donovan
trowa@trowa.com
---------------------
Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned today [May 24th, '00] while
his mother is/was dying of cancer. I'm in an incredibly depressed mood and I suddenly have
so much more for this story. Please, learn something from it.
--------
"What?" Youji's knuckles were white as he clutched the chair.
The doctor didn't give him the reprieve he needed to let the information sink in.
"I've already gotten the results back from the T-Cell count test I took when we found out
you tested positive." Youji didn't hear anything he was saying. "Your count is at 650.
Normally it's between 800 and 1,300. Your sickness resulted from this low blood count.
We've got some treatments already prepared for you, and as soon as we get the results of the
Viral load test we can get your drug regimens out." The doctor looked to Aya, because he
could tell by Youji's glassy-eyed expression the other wasn't hearing anything he was
saying. He continued: "We have several on-staff guidance councilors to help you through
this. You're not going to die. Not for a long time."
Youji looked at him at that, blinking to refocus his eyes. "What? No one-year-to-
live bullshit?" He released the chair's armrest and looked away.
"HIV isn't deadly. It only kills when it evolves into AIDS. That may not happen
for another ten or fifteen years."
"Fifteen years is a 'long time'!?" Youji shouted, snapping his head back, glaring at
him. "There's some mistake. Look, check your tests again."
But the doctor just shook his head. Deep down, Youji knew it was true. Oh, how he
knew it was true. How many women had he made love to unprotected? How many of them could
have been HIV carriers? That was the thrill of riding on the edge, wasn't it?
You're going to -die-.
"No." He softly moaned, shaking his head miserably. He didn't feel Aya's hand when
the other reached out to touch him.
"You're not alone," the doctor said, having had to deal with patients in denial
like this before. "We have many treatments."
"But no cure."
"That's true, but this is just a wake up call. Like I said, you may not contract
AIDS for another decade, and we're on the brink of discovering a cure. It could very well
happen before you--"
"I don't need to hear this." Youji growled and stood up, cutting the doctor off.
Aya stood too, a silent partner to over shadow and watch everything as a mute. It was as if
he had clairvoyance and could already see what would occur in the future.
------
"H.I. fucking-V." Youji hissed, draining down another sharp brandy. Aya sat beside
him on a bar stool, violet eyes shaded by crimson hair, holding his own brandy that he'd
barely touched. "It seems fitting though, doesn't it?" he rhetorically asked, looking at
Aya. He wasn't drunk yet, he'd only had two shots, but he was messed up regardless. "I
wonder who it was," he said, talking to hear himself. They'd not talked since the
hospital. Aya had just known to take Youji to the nearest bar and let him smoke and drink.
He wouldn't stop the man. Not this time.
"God," he said miserably shaking his head, then softly whispered: "I wonder how
many I've infected." Haunted jade eyes looked up at Aya from a tangle of golden hair.
The redhead felt his heart cinched and he swallowed tightly, looking back at him.
He wanted to comfort Youji, but he wasn't sure how. Empathy was not something he could do.
Sympathy . . . ? What difference would it make whether he knew or not? Youji didn't -want-
sympathy. "'Ten years', he said." Youji quoted with a snort. "Did you know that's the
-longest- they expect me to hold out for? Ten to fifteen years. It's more likely to be
five. And it -could- be months. Did you know that? Shit."
Of course he knew that.
"Look, I don't want to get drunk tonight. Let's get out of here." Youji grunted,
getting to his feet. Aya silently paid and walked back to the car with Youji. They rode
with the red-jeep's top down, their hair blowing in the late-afternoon wind. Aya didn't mind
the other lighting up in his car. There were so many exceptions he could make for the older
man today.
"Do you think Ken and Omi will . . . ?"
"No. They'll be supportive. Everyone will be."
"That's right." Youji dejectedly breathed, extending his hand to let the raging
wind blow over it. "Everyone will treat me delicately."
"Don't tell them."
"Hmm?" Youji glanced over and caught Aya's eyes for a moment before the other went
back to watching the road. "I suppose I could . . . but, wouldn't you tell them?"
Aya was silent for a long time before softly saying: "No, I wouldn't."
"Aw fuck, what do I care?" he unbuckled and stuck his head out the window. Aya
missed what exactly he screamed to the blur of buildings as he whizzed past, but he was
pretty sure it was "I've got HIV! Whooooooo!" He knew the moods Youji was phasing in and
out of too well. He got the urge to see his sister. He wondered how she was doing without
him. He hated himself for leaving her in Tokyo alone, but he couldn't face her again. Not
after killing in her name. Just knowing she was alive and awake and all right was enough
for him. He was just an assassin now. He was just AYA.
"You know," Youji said after a period of silence. Aya glanced at him. The other's
cigarette was barely a stub now. Youji kept his eyes on the road, staring into the vacant
highway before them. "I think I'll miss sex the most."
Aya found himself grinning.
"Find that funny, do you Aya? You probably don't even know what sex is." he looked
out the window and then eyed his cigarette distantly and flicked it out the window. "Just
wait and see how you feel if you get HIV." he muttered. He hadn't meant to sound bitter,
but of course he was. Aya's smile dropped instantly and he kept to his stoic guise.
-----
Youji should have won an award for his act with Omi and Ken; he did decide to tell
the two. He took their silent dumbfounded stares and the sorrow in their eyes and turned
it around on them, joking about, saying how he just had to go out and find some HIV infected
ladies to flirt with. Then he made off with fake convulsing and flung himself on the
kitchen floor as he mock-died. Ken had joined in, humming the funeral march and Omi had
played too, dramatically dropping to his knees and delicately laying the table center
flower-piece on Youji's 'dead' body. Everyone was smiling and joking by the time Youji
finished with them. Aya sat in quiet contribute as the sole audience.
But now the oldest man's door was shut against the rest of the world after the stage
play. There was no loud blare of music. There was no hum or whistle while he readied him-
self to go out. It was like Youji was already dead.
Softly, Aya knocked on his door. He waited several minutes, knowing the other
wouldn't open it, but after standing there feeling useless a few moments more, Youji opened
it. He hadn't expected anyone to still be there, and so his swollen red eyes and streaked
cheeks were bared completely to the redhead who stood right in front of him.
Youji had been crying.
He went into Youji's room silently and uninvited, shutting the door behind him. He
turned and looked back to Youji, who just stood there like a shell of the man he was. Aya's
heart went out to him. He left the door and went to Youji, embracing him tightly. Youji
stood rigid for the first second but then he began to melt. His hands hesitantly reached
up and rested on Aya's back. The touch moved into a grasp and Youji bent at the neck, his
hands clutching Aya's shirt, his face contorting in silent crying. He gasped and then a
sob rolled from him. He shook, burying his face into Aya's neck, clinging to the redhead
and letting himself go, letting Aya hold him and carry his burden for him.
Youji had gone from the state of denial, to the state of acceptance in just one
day. Aya found the blonde was stronger than he thought he would be.
Youji had accepted that he was going to die.
-----
He stayed with the blonde well into the night, letting the other cry until he
couldn't stand anymore. Then he'd lead him to his bed and sat him down. He hadn't wanted
to leave Youji unattended if the other didn't want to be alone, but . . .
"Thanks." came the dry hoarse voice from the ailed. Aya looked up, his eyes glad
he had helped the other, but no smile graced his lips. Youji laid back on his pillow
endlessly exhausted and tired. He was ever grateful for Aya. The other had been there to
support him during the testing and hear the results with him, but he'd never shied away at
the idea of the disease. He'd just let him cry on his shoulder for an hour like a baby, or
some silly school girl, but he knew Aya didn't think anything less of him. Aya didn't think
less of him, or question him. He was just there, and he was so supportive.
He would have gone mad trying to do this alone.
"I couldn't do this without you. I really mean that," Youji said again, trying to
relax. He felt so heavy. There were so many burdens on his shoulders.
Aya nodded a little, aware Youji couldn't see the motion. "You needed it."
"Aa. It's like you know exactly how I'll feel."
Aya hesitated and then looked to Youji's silent stereo, focusing on the holes in the
speaker. "I do," he quietly replied.
"Eh?" Youji asked, opening one eye and looking at Aya. The redhead's gaze was off
him finally, focused on something he couldn't see from his vantage point. "How could you
-possibly- know how I woul--" he dropped off his sentence, his other eye opening. "Aya?"
"Aa," it was an affirmative.
Youji sat bolt upright in his bed, eyes wide. Aya felt his heart thudding in his
chest as Youji caught on.
"You . . . you're . . ." Youji couldn't bring himself to say the rest.
Aya lifted his head back up and looked at the man on the bed.
His eyes alone confirmed Youji's every suspicion.
--end part two--