Strange Glue
by Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: You'd think my goal in life were to write a fanfic for every
Catatonia song ever made . . . that's love. And I'm so close, not really. But this
little song slipped through. I didn't know how to incorporate it really . . . and
then I watched Utena. This is the second chapter for Never Too Close--a story in
my alternate reality universe combining characters from Utena, Cowboy Bebop
and Kenshin. Notice, neither the lyrics of the song or the characters are really
mine . . . I'm just advertising, see, free advertising! Yeah, that's it.)
Chapter Two
Spike Spiegel prowled between the rows of auditorium seating, kicking aside
used napkins and french fry carcasses as he passed. Watching the ground one
moment, the stage the next. His work in this scene was over, but interesting
things were taking place none-the-less.
"What are you doing back here?" Spike straightened his hunched shoulders
when he noticed the observer in the shadows.
"Tech work. What are you doing?"
"Looking for my jacket," Spike began to consciously chew on the toothpick.
He'd found a box of them in the lobby and they were a poor substitute for a
cigarette. "I put it back here somewhere. Have you seen it?"
He waited for an answer, but the pale haired man was slow to give it--pointing
farther to the right. Mikage Souji rarely spoke to anyone, let alone be helpful.
Somehow, he managed to be one of the greatest set designers available to small
independent theaters. Spike grinned lazily, and only a true artist could be so
dysfunctional. Mikage Souji fit right in.
Nodding briefly, Spike went on his way finally seeing the jacket where it had
slipped between the the back and the seat cushions. Shouldering the article of
clothing, he pulled the cigarette from his lips and let his eyes linger on the
carefully lit, gothic stage. A slender, brown haired girl wearing a sleek grey
gown was confessing her lines to the audience while other characters went about
their business in the back ground.
"I am the forgotten one. No one sees me. They think I am of no significance in
their lives . . ."
Spike shivered a little. Art could hit a little too close to home sometimes. But, he
was past that point in his life. Rays of sunshine were coming back to him. Eager
to be off, he tore himself from watching the performance and hurried through
the foyer.
Faye was lounging against the main desk, smoking rather openly. Obviously.
"How come you get to smoke and I don't?" Spike growled, goodnaturedly.
"I don't get caught." Faye said practically. "I see that you've raided my brother's
stash of toothpicks?"
"These are Sano's?" Spike waved the weary stick of wood and let his face distort
in exaggerated amazement--lips pulled back, eyebrows high. "I thought the
boss's favorite didn't have nasty habits?"
"He doesn't smoke," Faye took a deep drag on her cigarette and visibly relaxed,
letting her neck roll forward. "Has this chewing fetish I guess . . ."
"Right." Spike tossed the toothpick into the nearest garbage and waved good-
bye without saying anything further.
Stepping from the smoky-colored glass front doors, Spike took in a deep breath
of crisp late winter air. Stuffing his fists deep into his pockets he took exactly
one step forward before stopping again.
Ruka was leaning against the front of the brick building. His head pressed back
against the firm wall, his eyes closed. Still he said, "Is it time yet?"
"That's completely up to you." Spike turned slightly, but kept his distance.
"We've both got our secrets."
Ruke let his chin fall forward, his hair almost concealing his tired eyes.
Somehow, he found the time to smile, half-way. "Funny, how you can't keep
them forever."
It was strange glue that held us together
While we both came apart at the seams
"You're cold." Juri said plainly. One hand, unceremoniously testing the side of
Ruka's face.
"I've also been standing outside for a good long while," Ruka protested, pulling
his head away sharply and Juri's hand went back at the same time. Each instantly
more reluctant to have ended the contact. It had been an exhausting rehearsal.
Work tended to make them grow distant--falling into the shells of their
characters and those endless possibilities.
Consequently, that meant that Ruka holed up in his downtown flat while Juri
resumed her carpooling with the younger Sagara.
"I've got to get some shut-eye." Ruka offered tentatively.
"Sano's waiting." Juri turned her face away, then followed through to walk
away. She knew, she knew that she cared for Ruka. He'd waited for her so
patiently, until she had finally noticed and accepted his favor. Still, she always
felt as if she had to be careful with him. She was a bit terrified of the power she
seemed to have over him. She could inspire such beautiful things from him--but
sometimes she could see her actions turning him into something quite terrible.
Then she remembered that there had been something she wanted to ask him. She
remembered as soon as he was out of sight. As soon as Shiori waved her over.
"The rooster head said that I could give you a ride home tonight." Shiori smiled
easily enough, but Juri wondered at her sudden familiarity with Sano's
nickname.
"Is something wrong?" Juri gathered her things into her arms more comfortably.
She felt startlingly uncomfortable so close to the younger girl. And the idea of
the girl. And the memory of what she had said before.
"Oh no," Shiori shrugged, "But I think he's taking Faye up on the offer to see
which one of them can pick up a date faster tonight. My money's on Faye . . ."
She added the last bit with a queer gleam in her eye.
Juri was torn between analyzing that look and cheerfully contemplating the
sibling rivalry. She chose the latter, "Sano really doesn't have a chance, unless
Faye get's a little too deep in the alcohol. Then she's a real sour lady."
"I'll have to see that sometime." Shiori laughed. Juri tried not to categorize each
of the girl's actions, but the laugh seemed put on. Genuinely, well acted laughter.
Juri wondered where the actress gave way to the genuine woman. And she
wondered if she were just as much an actress in real life as well--and where did
the real Juri begin?
"So can I give you a ride?" Shiori's comment interrupted Juri's speculation.
"Sure." Juri followed, "Thank you."
She said your place or mine
while we've still got the time
so I played along with her schemes
"Good job, guys!" Utena sped past them collecting the scattered articles that
needed replaced in their proper homes. Juri nodded quickly, and had to wonder
how quickly the days were going past.
"What are you . . ."
"I have to . . ."
Then she and Ruka would go their separate ways. The schedule of the play was
wearing into their relationship, so they kept a respectful distance off stage. She'd
ride home with the rooster head and listen to him crow about one success or
another. More often than not, Sano had some complaint about Saitou to keep his
conversation on fire for the entire commute. Tensions were high, but Sanosuke
was getting more comfortable in his role and everyone, including Sano himself,
knew that Saitou was truly pleased with the young actor.
"Juri, sweetie, do you mind so terribly finding a ride home tonight . . . ?" Sano
smiled desperately, his eyes unusually big and puppy like. "I agreed to take Faye
to The Crooked's concert at International Velvet tonight. And there is this
waitress there who is rather attractive . . . "
Which led to her searching for Shiori. The girl often blended into the scenery
like a chameleon, better at it than their solitary technical stage designer at times.
Juri made it a point to notice Shiori at all times.
Something about the girl's innocent invisibility made Juri want to defy it--or
treasure it.
Juri found her, casually enough, studying the script.
"I really understand this character." Shiori conversed, after agreeing to take Juri
home first. "She's an interesting foil to Faye's stunning and flamboyant
character."
"It's rather didactic . . ." Juri said, monotone, mostly pretending not to be
fascinated by the girl's young observations. Wondering what it had ever felt like
to be a new actress, to discover everything for the first time.
"Do you really think so?" Shiori shifted gears and as the car sat humming softly,
she turned and studied
Juri's stern profile as it rested on curled fingers. "You'd be pretty if you weren't
so cold."
Juri didn't know if her heart or her pride were more touched. "You'd be pretty if
you weren't so cruel." She responded in turn. Without looking at Shiori, she
softened the words, "Innocently cruel."
"There isn't anything innocent about me, Juri." Shiori fingers touch Juri's near
shoulder and she let them trace down the arm-chilly like an icy breath.
Juri's attempt to calculate Shiori's intentions shut down at that point, and
inwardly short of breath, Juri unlocked the door and stepped out. Neither spoke.
But I don't have the right to be with you tonight
so please leave me alone with no savior
I will sleep safe and sound with nobody around me
"Alright, people, gather around." Saitou raised his voice to get the attention of
the entire cast which stood in various clusters scattered around the stage. "That
means you, Sagara."
The tall boy shook his carefree mop of brown hair, pointed at himself,
protesting, "I'm paying attention, you can't pin this on me."
Saitou ignored him. "Okay folks. Just wanted to let you know that things are
coming together fairly well. We're farther along in something things than others,
but generally better than I expected."
"When do you ever expect much?" Spike murmured in a decidedly staged
whisper. He was ignored as well.
"The sets are practical and perfect, thanks to Master Mikage," There was a
scattering of applause and a few people tried to spot the silent assistant, but he
was allusive as usual. Saitou continued, "Our leading men have made rather
incredible progress with their characters." Everyone ignored Sano's boisterous
praise of himself. "And with an unprecedented ability, our ladies have reliably
pulled through surpassing all expectations."
Juri glanced over at Shiori who accepted the praise with her hands grasped
eagerly in front of her breast. But her attention was quickly drawn away by Faye
who was just as noisy as her brother with her self-glorification. Nearby, she
appreciated Ruka who slowly shook his head, amused with it all. This speech
wasn't unfamiliar to the established cast.
"Now," Saitou's tone took a dangerously dark twist. "We have exactly three
weeks to pull this together and it's a piece of crap. Granted, most audiences don't
expect much from some rinky-dink indy theater--but we have a reputation to
build and maintain. Don't let Post Script get to your heads. That show is over
and done. Focus on the here and now. And don't let your individual
performances ruin--spoil, rather--the accomplishment of the entire piece." Then
as an after thought, Saitou added, "Anyhow, Mr. Himura thinks that Act Two
scene four could use a lot of work transitionally." Those closest to Saitou heard
the extra comment regarding where Himura could put his business. Hajime
Saitou and Kenshin Himura were reluctant allies at best--mutually needing each
other and begrudging that necessity to it's full extent.
"So let's run through that scene next. Act Two, scene four. That's Ruka, Shiori,
Faye and Sano. Big surprise, it's probably you that's upsetting Himura's
transitions . . . let's go." Saitou crossed his arms and left the stage to watch from
the front rows.
Juri sat a few seats down from the mysterious Mikage. She nodded to him
curtly, but the man simply watched the stage from behind his glasses. Juri had
an unsatisfiable urge to ask Mikage what he thought. The man seemed such a
tactical observer. Someone with whom she could compare notes.
Something more than the play had come between her and Ruka recently. She
wondered at first if it here natural deterioration--the gradual growing apart that
happens when two people respect and value each other's privacy so much, too
much. His fingers were always so cold and distant when he would touch her--
making her adopt an unwelcoming stance that clearly hurt them both. She could
sense him pulling away.
Still, they would continue to pretend.
Just then, Shiori crossed to the near corner of the stage, her head lowered. The
dress shimmering like the midnight sky. And their eyes, like muted stars--met.
When faced with my demons
I clothe them and feed them
And I smile, yes, I smile
As they're taking me over
Sanosuke, if he were feeling honest, might admit that evening wasn't his best
rehearsal. Saitou was definitely pushing for the boy to step outside of his
comfort zone when it came to emotional vulnerability--and the pushing wasn't
making him want to express submissiveness at all.
He took out the lingering frustration on one of the toothpicks from the foyer. He
shook the box and puzzled over their dwindling numbers. Had he really chewed
so many so fast? If only Saitou allowed him to have twizzlers or something . . .
Waiting for Juri, he sat on top of the relatively cleared front desk, picked up one
of the left over programs from Post Script, and reading his biography, wondered
what details he should add and what he should insist that they change.
In a flurry of movement, the small brunette actress, Shiori, burst through the
doors to the main stage--pulling along a reluctant Juri.
"You should come, girls' night out--lots of fun." Shiori loosened her grip letting
her hands slide until she was only holding Juri's fingers. "It's not like you really
have anything holding you back." She laced their fingers at which Sano let his
eyes suddenly study the ceiling. They hadn't noticed him.
But the playful moment was over and seemingly unrevealed as the rest of the
cast plowed through the foyer in their crazy hurry to go home for the day. It had
been a long evening. Faye alone saw him sitting in the grey sidelines, and she
effectively snubbed him with a raised nose in the fashion only true sibling love
can generate. Spike and Ruka walked together with equally paced steps of
unspoken communication. The former had a lazy grin on his face which made
Sanosuke suspect that something sweet had to be waiting for the lanky man that
evening. Perhaps he'd taken up a cake decorating class . . . Sano snorted at his
own joke.
Coats were slipped into, Shiori gave Juri a last questioning look before stepping
aside to converse with Spike and Ruka. Ruke ran his fingers through his hair,
but it fell forward again, hiding all but his careful smile.
"I'm out of here." Spike shrugged them off, and slipped out letting a swirl of
crisp air tease everyone's noses.
Juri, interestingly enough, never turned to see Sano sitting there. He wondered
why, what else did she not want to see. She would be waiting at the car.
Moving to go at last, Sano was distracted by pretty Utena who whirled up to
Shiori with kind scolding about the state of the props room. "Never, never prop
the door open after hours!" And, "Come! Come, let me show you where we put
the key for emergencies during performance night."
Sano walked over to the front door, opening it just enough that his lips curled
tight around the toothpick, reacting to the cold night. He turned back on last
time, letting the still inside air warm him one last time. Still standing in the
middle of the room, looking a bit lost, stood the quiet actor. Sano took the wood
splinter from his mouth, "G'night, Ruka."
"Good night." Ruka answered, blinking awake from a dream that might have
fused his spirit to that one moment. The rooster head narrow his eyes with
bewildered amusement then close the door behind him.
And if I cannot sleep
For the secrets I keep
It's the price I'm willing to meet
Oh the end of the night
Never comes too quickly for me
"Come! Come, let me show you where we put the key for emergencies during
performance night."
It had been something like that. So suddenly remembered, and almost as quickly
gone. But the effect was powerful.
He remembered. Remembered almost everything. About the girl. About the girl
who had come to drama club just one night. One night to help with the
costumes--or something meaningless and trivial.
The girl who had kept Juri's picture in her locket.
to be continued . . .
I should have stopped writing this a long time ago--I'm having fun, still if you
sensed any continuity errors--or if you think the plot should maybe, perhaps,
consider actually going somewhere . . . let me know. Yeah, homage to Alithea.
by Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: You'd think my goal in life were to write a fanfic for every
Catatonia song ever made . . . that's love. And I'm so close, not really. But this
little song slipped through. I didn't know how to incorporate it really . . . and
then I watched Utena. This is the second chapter for Never Too Close--a story in
my alternate reality universe combining characters from Utena, Cowboy Bebop
and Kenshin. Notice, neither the lyrics of the song or the characters are really
mine . . . I'm just advertising, see, free advertising! Yeah, that's it.)
Chapter Two
Spike Spiegel prowled between the rows of auditorium seating, kicking aside
used napkins and french fry carcasses as he passed. Watching the ground one
moment, the stage the next. His work in this scene was over, but interesting
things were taking place none-the-less.
"What are you doing back here?" Spike straightened his hunched shoulders
when he noticed the observer in the shadows.
"Tech work. What are you doing?"
"Looking for my jacket," Spike began to consciously chew on the toothpick.
He'd found a box of them in the lobby and they were a poor substitute for a
cigarette. "I put it back here somewhere. Have you seen it?"
He waited for an answer, but the pale haired man was slow to give it--pointing
farther to the right. Mikage Souji rarely spoke to anyone, let alone be helpful.
Somehow, he managed to be one of the greatest set designers available to small
independent theaters. Spike grinned lazily, and only a true artist could be so
dysfunctional. Mikage Souji fit right in.
Nodding briefly, Spike went on his way finally seeing the jacket where it had
slipped between the the back and the seat cushions. Shouldering the article of
clothing, he pulled the cigarette from his lips and let his eyes linger on the
carefully lit, gothic stage. A slender, brown haired girl wearing a sleek grey
gown was confessing her lines to the audience while other characters went about
their business in the back ground.
"I am the forgotten one. No one sees me. They think I am of no significance in
their lives . . ."
Spike shivered a little. Art could hit a little too close to home sometimes. But, he
was past that point in his life. Rays of sunshine were coming back to him. Eager
to be off, he tore himself from watching the performance and hurried through
the foyer.
Faye was lounging against the main desk, smoking rather openly. Obviously.
"How come you get to smoke and I don't?" Spike growled, goodnaturedly.
"I don't get caught." Faye said practically. "I see that you've raided my brother's
stash of toothpicks?"
"These are Sano's?" Spike waved the weary stick of wood and let his face distort
in exaggerated amazement--lips pulled back, eyebrows high. "I thought the
boss's favorite didn't have nasty habits?"
"He doesn't smoke," Faye took a deep drag on her cigarette and visibly relaxed,
letting her neck roll forward. "Has this chewing fetish I guess . . ."
"Right." Spike tossed the toothpick into the nearest garbage and waved good-
bye without saying anything further.
Stepping from the smoky-colored glass front doors, Spike took in a deep breath
of crisp late winter air. Stuffing his fists deep into his pockets he took exactly
one step forward before stopping again.
Ruka was leaning against the front of the brick building. His head pressed back
against the firm wall, his eyes closed. Still he said, "Is it time yet?"
"That's completely up to you." Spike turned slightly, but kept his distance.
"We've both got our secrets."
Ruke let his chin fall forward, his hair almost concealing his tired eyes.
Somehow, he found the time to smile, half-way. "Funny, how you can't keep
them forever."
It was strange glue that held us together
While we both came apart at the seams
"You're cold." Juri said plainly. One hand, unceremoniously testing the side of
Ruka's face.
"I've also been standing outside for a good long while," Ruka protested, pulling
his head away sharply and Juri's hand went back at the same time. Each instantly
more reluctant to have ended the contact. It had been an exhausting rehearsal.
Work tended to make them grow distant--falling into the shells of their
characters and those endless possibilities.
Consequently, that meant that Ruka holed up in his downtown flat while Juri
resumed her carpooling with the younger Sagara.
"I've got to get some shut-eye." Ruka offered tentatively.
"Sano's waiting." Juri turned her face away, then followed through to walk
away. She knew, she knew that she cared for Ruka. He'd waited for her so
patiently, until she had finally noticed and accepted his favor. Still, she always
felt as if she had to be careful with him. She was a bit terrified of the power she
seemed to have over him. She could inspire such beautiful things from him--but
sometimes she could see her actions turning him into something quite terrible.
Then she remembered that there had been something she wanted to ask him. She
remembered as soon as he was out of sight. As soon as Shiori waved her over.
"The rooster head said that I could give you a ride home tonight." Shiori smiled
easily enough, but Juri wondered at her sudden familiarity with Sano's
nickname.
"Is something wrong?" Juri gathered her things into her arms more comfortably.
She felt startlingly uncomfortable so close to the younger girl. And the idea of
the girl. And the memory of what she had said before.
"Oh no," Shiori shrugged, "But I think he's taking Faye up on the offer to see
which one of them can pick up a date faster tonight. My money's on Faye . . ."
She added the last bit with a queer gleam in her eye.
Juri was torn between analyzing that look and cheerfully contemplating the
sibling rivalry. She chose the latter, "Sano really doesn't have a chance, unless
Faye get's a little too deep in the alcohol. Then she's a real sour lady."
"I'll have to see that sometime." Shiori laughed. Juri tried not to categorize each
of the girl's actions, but the laugh seemed put on. Genuinely, well acted laughter.
Juri wondered where the actress gave way to the genuine woman. And she
wondered if she were just as much an actress in real life as well--and where did
the real Juri begin?
"So can I give you a ride?" Shiori's comment interrupted Juri's speculation.
"Sure." Juri followed, "Thank you."
She said your place or mine
while we've still got the time
so I played along with her schemes
"Good job, guys!" Utena sped past them collecting the scattered articles that
needed replaced in their proper homes. Juri nodded quickly, and had to wonder
how quickly the days were going past.
"What are you . . ."
"I have to . . ."
Then she and Ruka would go their separate ways. The schedule of the play was
wearing into their relationship, so they kept a respectful distance off stage. She'd
ride home with the rooster head and listen to him crow about one success or
another. More often than not, Sano had some complaint about Saitou to keep his
conversation on fire for the entire commute. Tensions were high, but Sanosuke
was getting more comfortable in his role and everyone, including Sano himself,
knew that Saitou was truly pleased with the young actor.
"Juri, sweetie, do you mind so terribly finding a ride home tonight . . . ?" Sano
smiled desperately, his eyes unusually big and puppy like. "I agreed to take Faye
to The Crooked's concert at International Velvet tonight. And there is this
waitress there who is rather attractive . . . "
Which led to her searching for Shiori. The girl often blended into the scenery
like a chameleon, better at it than their solitary technical stage designer at times.
Juri made it a point to notice Shiori at all times.
Something about the girl's innocent invisibility made Juri want to defy it--or
treasure it.
Juri found her, casually enough, studying the script.
"I really understand this character." Shiori conversed, after agreeing to take Juri
home first. "She's an interesting foil to Faye's stunning and flamboyant
character."
"It's rather didactic . . ." Juri said, monotone, mostly pretending not to be
fascinated by the girl's young observations. Wondering what it had ever felt like
to be a new actress, to discover everything for the first time.
"Do you really think so?" Shiori shifted gears and as the car sat humming softly,
she turned and studied
Juri's stern profile as it rested on curled fingers. "You'd be pretty if you weren't
so cold."
Juri didn't know if her heart or her pride were more touched. "You'd be pretty if
you weren't so cruel." She responded in turn. Without looking at Shiori, she
softened the words, "Innocently cruel."
"There isn't anything innocent about me, Juri." Shiori fingers touch Juri's near
shoulder and she let them trace down the arm-chilly like an icy breath.
Juri's attempt to calculate Shiori's intentions shut down at that point, and
inwardly short of breath, Juri unlocked the door and stepped out. Neither spoke.
But I don't have the right to be with you tonight
so please leave me alone with no savior
I will sleep safe and sound with nobody around me
"Alright, people, gather around." Saitou raised his voice to get the attention of
the entire cast which stood in various clusters scattered around the stage. "That
means you, Sagara."
The tall boy shook his carefree mop of brown hair, pointed at himself,
protesting, "I'm paying attention, you can't pin this on me."
Saitou ignored him. "Okay folks. Just wanted to let you know that things are
coming together fairly well. We're farther along in something things than others,
but generally better than I expected."
"When do you ever expect much?" Spike murmured in a decidedly staged
whisper. He was ignored as well.
"The sets are practical and perfect, thanks to Master Mikage," There was a
scattering of applause and a few people tried to spot the silent assistant, but he
was allusive as usual. Saitou continued, "Our leading men have made rather
incredible progress with their characters." Everyone ignored Sano's boisterous
praise of himself. "And with an unprecedented ability, our ladies have reliably
pulled through surpassing all expectations."
Juri glanced over at Shiori who accepted the praise with her hands grasped
eagerly in front of her breast. But her attention was quickly drawn away by Faye
who was just as noisy as her brother with her self-glorification. Nearby, she
appreciated Ruka who slowly shook his head, amused with it all. This speech
wasn't unfamiliar to the established cast.
"Now," Saitou's tone took a dangerously dark twist. "We have exactly three
weeks to pull this together and it's a piece of crap. Granted, most audiences don't
expect much from some rinky-dink indy theater--but we have a reputation to
build and maintain. Don't let Post Script get to your heads. That show is over
and done. Focus on the here and now. And don't let your individual
performances ruin--spoil, rather--the accomplishment of the entire piece." Then
as an after thought, Saitou added, "Anyhow, Mr. Himura thinks that Act Two
scene four could use a lot of work transitionally." Those closest to Saitou heard
the extra comment regarding where Himura could put his business. Hajime
Saitou and Kenshin Himura were reluctant allies at best--mutually needing each
other and begrudging that necessity to it's full extent.
"So let's run through that scene next. Act Two, scene four. That's Ruka, Shiori,
Faye and Sano. Big surprise, it's probably you that's upsetting Himura's
transitions . . . let's go." Saitou crossed his arms and left the stage to watch from
the front rows.
Juri sat a few seats down from the mysterious Mikage. She nodded to him
curtly, but the man simply watched the stage from behind his glasses. Juri had
an unsatisfiable urge to ask Mikage what he thought. The man seemed such a
tactical observer. Someone with whom she could compare notes.
Something more than the play had come between her and Ruka recently. She
wondered at first if it here natural deterioration--the gradual growing apart that
happens when two people respect and value each other's privacy so much, too
much. His fingers were always so cold and distant when he would touch her--
making her adopt an unwelcoming stance that clearly hurt them both. She could
sense him pulling away.
Still, they would continue to pretend.
Just then, Shiori crossed to the near corner of the stage, her head lowered. The
dress shimmering like the midnight sky. And their eyes, like muted stars--met.
When faced with my demons
I clothe them and feed them
And I smile, yes, I smile
As they're taking me over
Sanosuke, if he were feeling honest, might admit that evening wasn't his best
rehearsal. Saitou was definitely pushing for the boy to step outside of his
comfort zone when it came to emotional vulnerability--and the pushing wasn't
making him want to express submissiveness at all.
He took out the lingering frustration on one of the toothpicks from the foyer. He
shook the box and puzzled over their dwindling numbers. Had he really chewed
so many so fast? If only Saitou allowed him to have twizzlers or something . . .
Waiting for Juri, he sat on top of the relatively cleared front desk, picked up one
of the left over programs from Post Script, and reading his biography, wondered
what details he should add and what he should insist that they change.
In a flurry of movement, the small brunette actress, Shiori, burst through the
doors to the main stage--pulling along a reluctant Juri.
"You should come, girls' night out--lots of fun." Shiori loosened her grip letting
her hands slide until she was only holding Juri's fingers. "It's not like you really
have anything holding you back." She laced their fingers at which Sano let his
eyes suddenly study the ceiling. They hadn't noticed him.
But the playful moment was over and seemingly unrevealed as the rest of the
cast plowed through the foyer in their crazy hurry to go home for the day. It had
been a long evening. Faye alone saw him sitting in the grey sidelines, and she
effectively snubbed him with a raised nose in the fashion only true sibling love
can generate. Spike and Ruka walked together with equally paced steps of
unspoken communication. The former had a lazy grin on his face which made
Sanosuke suspect that something sweet had to be waiting for the lanky man that
evening. Perhaps he'd taken up a cake decorating class . . . Sano snorted at his
own joke.
Coats were slipped into, Shiori gave Juri a last questioning look before stepping
aside to converse with Spike and Ruka. Ruke ran his fingers through his hair,
but it fell forward again, hiding all but his careful smile.
"I'm out of here." Spike shrugged them off, and slipped out letting a swirl of
crisp air tease everyone's noses.
Juri, interestingly enough, never turned to see Sano sitting there. He wondered
why, what else did she not want to see. She would be waiting at the car.
Moving to go at last, Sano was distracted by pretty Utena who whirled up to
Shiori with kind scolding about the state of the props room. "Never, never prop
the door open after hours!" And, "Come! Come, let me show you where we put
the key for emergencies during performance night."
Sano walked over to the front door, opening it just enough that his lips curled
tight around the toothpick, reacting to the cold night. He turned back on last
time, letting the still inside air warm him one last time. Still standing in the
middle of the room, looking a bit lost, stood the quiet actor. Sano took the wood
splinter from his mouth, "G'night, Ruka."
"Good night." Ruka answered, blinking awake from a dream that might have
fused his spirit to that one moment. The rooster head narrow his eyes with
bewildered amusement then close the door behind him.
And if I cannot sleep
For the secrets I keep
It's the price I'm willing to meet
Oh the end of the night
Never comes too quickly for me
"Come! Come, let me show you where we put the key for emergencies during
performance night."
It had been something like that. So suddenly remembered, and almost as quickly
gone. But the effect was powerful.
He remembered. Remembered almost everything. About the girl. About the girl
who had come to drama club just one night. One night to help with the
costumes--or something meaningless and trivial.
The girl who had kept Juri's picture in her locket.
to be continued . . .
I should have stopped writing this a long time ago--I'm having fun, still if you
sensed any continuity errors--or if you think the plot should maybe, perhaps,
consider actually going somewhere . . . let me know. Yeah, homage to Alithea.