Youji...
Youji turned around, wondering who the hell had just called his name. Dammit, Aya better not be following me again, he thought. The man frowned at the dancing clubbers around him. The dark room, along with the green strobe lights that erratically pierced the blackness made it hard for him to see if Aya was there. The last time Aya had stalked him was supposedly 'for the good of the team'; to find out if Youji was 'fucking around' – though Aya wasn't talking about sex.
After a good look around, Youji calmed down. Aya wasn't there so he must've imagined the voice.
Heading towards the bar for a drink, Youji heard his name again.
Youji...
This time, swearing that he had heard someone, he spun around quickly.
"Anou, sumimasen!" The girl he had bumped into glared at him for nearly making her drop her liquor. Sniffing haughtily, she walked away, still glaring over her shoulder.
Youji stood on tip-toe and scanned the club. Still no one. Pressing a palm against his forehead, Youji checked if he was having a fever or something.
"Hey! Get me a brandy!" he yelled to the bartender. When the drink came, he dropped his hand from his face and took a large gulp. What the hell is the problem with me tonight? As if to prove that there was nothing wrong, Youji downed the alcohol and jumped onto the dance floor.
As if by magic, five girls suddenly appeared out of nowhere and were suddenly dancing with him. Youji grinned childishly. He liked girls. He liked breasts. He liked the way they looked in bed after...
Youji turned his head to the side, puzzled. He had thought that someone was whispering to him. Whispering in delicate thickness, in sexy undertones. All he saw was another girl dancing there.
Whoa, am I going crazy?
Youji...
Frightened now, Youji broke away from the circle of young women. He had definitely heard something this time. And he knew that if he were to turn around, he would see no one there.
Fighting through the crowd, Youji wondered if it was possibly someone from Schwarz. Fuck, no! he thought frantically. They don't know where I hang out at! They don't even know my real name! Just my code name, Balinese...
Youji burst out of the club, breathing deeply the cold night, or rather morning air. With shaking fingers, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it. Taking in a deep lungful of nicotine, Youji wondered if the drink he had been given earlier had been laced with something a far more potent than alcohol. Still, he could not stop trembling.
Youji, my darling. Shivering, in the dark...
"Fuck off! You bastard! Where are you! I'll show you a thing or two you little devil!" Spinning around in angry circles, Youji tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. But it didn't seem to be coming from anywhere. Just from his mind. He heard a soft sigh.
Maybe I am the devil.
Youji blinked. That sentence was more than unexpected. He could almost feel the pain in the words; the sadness. What the hell? he thought. My stalker? With self-loathing?
Ah, I see that you have picked up on that.
This sentence had even more of a melancholy tone entwined in the simple words.
Youji grabbed the sides of his head. I am not having a conversation with anyone! I'm alone! There's no one here!
Youji began to run, hands still clasped to his head. Just run, and run, and run, Youji. Don't stop. Don't stop.
He didn't want to hear anything anymore. He didn't want to know that he was going crazy. He didn't want to think that he was turning into Farfarello. And that bastard had killed himself a long time ago.
--------------------
Bang. Bang.
"Youji!"
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Dammit! Youji!"
Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang.
"I swear to you, if you don't get up!"
Pound, Pound, Pound.
Youji pressed his fingers to his temples. Damn, he had another headache.
BangBangBangBangBang!
"Fuck it, Youji! Get up!" Raising his head slowly, Youji replied hoarsely.
"I'm up. Just, please, stop knocking," Youji pleaded. Carefully, he swung his legs over the side of his queen-sized bed and slipped his feet into his red fuzzy slippers. Already he was shivering from the cold air.
Dammit, I forgot to put on the heater last night. As Youji tried to stand up, he fell back onto the bed heavily with his head feeling like it was being stabbed over and over and over with a dull knife. He had a major hang-over and it didn't seem like it was going to get any better.
"YOUJI!" The said person grimaced. He had to get to the door. So Ken-Ken would stop that banging. Maybe without that horrible noise, his headache would die down.
Grunting with effort, Youji managed to get vertical, though he swayed dangerously. He grasped the table beside his bed for support. After the wave of nausea passed over him, he was steadier and slowly made his way to the door.
"What?"
Ken snarled.
"What do you mean what!"
"Just answer my question, dammit."
"You have a date waiting downstairs," Ken ground out between his tight lips. "And she's been here for twenty minutes already so you better be grateful, Kudou. I've been entertaining her all that time – and it hasn't been easy. Kudou, YOU OWE ME." Glaring at Youji's mussed state, Ken walked away.
Youji groaned. He had forgotten. Last night, all he was thinking about was that voice. It was in his attempt to forget the voice that Youji ended up drinking himself unconscious. Brandy, wine, beer. Anything he could get his hands on.
Now, his date (he didn't know which one she was) was waiting for him downstairs and he looked like he had just been through hell.
Maybe I am the devil.
Youji shook his head frantically. No. I'm not going to let this happen now, he thought fiercely. NOT IN BROAD DAYLIGHT.
Shuffling his way to the bathroom, Youji took care of his bodily needs before swallowing 5 aspirins. Leaning on the porcelain sink, Youji looked at himself.
His hair was tangled. He had bags. He was extra pale. He looked fucked up. And he had just given himself a drug over-dose. He ran a hand through his hair and got it only about halfway through before the tangles prevented him from getting any further; Youji cursed at his present condition. His headache was getting worse by the minute and that girl was still waiting. And waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
Once again entering his bedroom, Youji opened his door and stumbled out. He would show her what he looked like, say he was sick, and ask her for a raincheck. Surely she would understand. He hated having people see him like this, but he owed at least that to the girl.
"...And tell Kudou that he's a baka!"
Slam.
Youji slowly closed his bedroom door. Ah, I guess I don't have to go down after all, he thought bitterly.
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