The Actor
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: I wrote this while listening to Alithea's music and completely
wired up on chocolate covered Espresso Beans-a college addiction that came
back to haunt me. They were a dollar off and I'd already convinced myself to
buy them any way. It had to have been Providence. *chuckle* Still, no matter
how directed I feel my life might have been at that moment-I can't deny that
these characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing them from the dusty shelves
where their creators sort of let them wallow. The lyrics are part of Catatonia's
ever inspiring collection. I owe that band a huge thank you for inspiring so
much art on my half. Now the reality of this story is completely mine-in other
words, you can blame me for the setting and the plot. That is my fault!)
Undeniably, something scary lurks about when one sits in the dark for long
enough. The thoughts become more shadowed. The daylight seems more like
shadows peeking around the normalcy of the pulled curtains.
Whatever she was smoking was already replacing the oxygen in her lungs.
Finally filling herself with something. When emptiness had been so much a part
of before.
Funny, she'd only smoked once before. And it had made her feel so sick. But
she'd already betrayed whatever had been innocent enough to feel the disgust.
The pathetic feeling that whatever had been worthwhile before was long
forgotten. And when it returned in the hours before she finally would fall
asleep, exhausted-it resurfaced as a bitter memory.
And she hated that. Hated losing the ability to sleep.
So she took one more long pull on the stinking thing that she'd bought at the
club. Feeling dizzy enough to collapse on the bed, fully dressed. Staring at the
wall. Wondering why the lights, the visions that were beginning to form inches
in front of her face were intangible. A kaleidoscope of blues and greens that
almost seemed like someone was watching her.
Shiori floundered. When her alarm went off, she couldn't remember if she had
ever closed her eyes.
Your imagination runs wild
Sitting on the fence
you call your home these days
"Can I go faster? Y'know, it is forty-five through here." Catherine shouted over
her shoulder. Rather impressed that she had the ability to draw in enough breath
to do that Juri was holding so tight.
Juri nodded, hoping that Catherine could feel the consent. She wasn't so much
afraid of being on the bike as she was riding with Catherine in control. Trowa's
sister had started their ride by gunning her way through a yellow light and all the
discomfort Juri had felt putting on the helmet had instantly evaporated. The
helmet suddenly became her security blanket.
With a maniac laugh, Catherine leaned forward, Juri's hands slipping back on
the leather jacket to hold more loosely at Catherine's waist as she leaned against
the backrest. Watching as Catherine's short curls whispered just under her own
helmet. Looking around to enjoy the passing scenery. After rehearsal that
Friday, Catherine had agreed to meet her at Juri's apartment and take a quick
ride before going out for dinner or something yet unplanned.
It had been a long week of rather extensive rehearsals and even the danger of the
open bike was a release of sorts.
When they'd managed to escape the city, Cathy turned onto a country road that
took them to a hillside overlooking the harvested fields. The distant woodland
was washed with red, brown and gold over the remaining green. Taming her
Harley, and letting it purr a moment, Catherine set her feet down and turned off
the engine.
"Wow." She said, content. "We don't have anywhere else to go for a while, do
we?" Catherine asked herself and whatever else wanted to listen. She got off
one side of the bike, as Juri regained her footing on the other. Walking down
the hill a ways, Catherine sprawled on the grass-tossing her helmet to one side.
"I'm so buzzed."
"I can still feel the Harley." Juri said, "Or else I'm hyper sensitive to the earth
rotating now."
"When I was a kid, I used to swear that I made the world move round each time
I took a step." Catherine adjusted so that her arms were crossed behind head-the
overgrowing grass folding around her. Juri curled up her knees against the
almost chilly breeze as the sun was lowering in the sky. "A bit self-centered I
guess. And I haven't grown out of it either." Catherine said with mild remorse.
"I've wanted to ask you-and I feel like such an coward, really. But how is
Sano?"
Juri answered simply, "He keeps coming to rehearsal, and he's doing well
enough with that. Our playwright, Kenshin, seems to be watching over him. It's
a new bond-but it seems to be helpful for Sano."
"I-I just can't seem to find the things to say to him." Catherine sighed, closing
her eyes from the rose colored clouds. The rich purple sky.
"It might be best to stay apart." Juri said.
"He really cared for me. I know that. Still." Catherine let her words taper off,
then she sneezed. Full and strong enough that she sat up again. Putting her
arms behind her as a brace, the jacket starting to side of her bare shoulders.
"Still." Juri repeated, as a complete thought.
Better take care, you don't ask for help
But some day you might need it
"Dumb ass," Sano slurred the obscenity over the top of his beer, "You'll sooo
regret it if ya don't let us throw a bachelor party for ya . . ." He leaned back in
his chair, his head somehow dangling to one side. Just enough alert to keep his
eyes on Spike's annoyed expression.
"How many was that?" Spike asked riling Sano enough that lifted his head for a
few seconds.
"I believe our young friend has had plenty, that he has." Kenshin shooed the
waitress around the back of Sano's chair before the boy could wave his empty
glass. Which had earned the woman serving them a number of large tips. "I
don't know if he'll appreciate having spent all of his cash here, tonight."
"We can find some girls and . . . " Sano fell forward mid-sentence, catching
himself on his forearms against the table.
"Oh, Sano," Kenshin said, amused, "I don't think Mrs. Kaoru would appreciate
that, that I don't."
"Nor Julia," Spike murmured, crossing his arms and glancing around the
International Velvet. They'd stopped by after rehearsal and spent most of the
evening talking about the wedding. Which was beginning to wear on him, even
though it was a little different hearing it from guys. Rather than Julia.
Constantly. But most of the fun had evaporated once Sano had started to fade
from tipsiness into serious lack of motor skills. And Kenshin had spent most of
his time blissfully reliving his own wedding. Which Spike was beginning to
suspect Kenshin might have enjoyed as much, if not more so than his wife.
"Women," Sano mumbled from where he'd rested his forehead against the table.
Talking into the dark wood finish. "If I could only be so lucky."
"You just haven't found the right woman yet, Sano." Spike said, "Too many
dames in the world to settle for anything less. Look at Kenshin, if not me. It's
worth finding someone you can actually spend more than a few hours with.
Someone that makes you feel like you couldn't live without them. Let me tell
you . . . otherwise . . . it's not . . . "
"Eh," Kenshin began to wave his hands frantically, a signal that Spike
obviously didn't understand. "Maybe we should talk about something else." But
a loud, broken rasp from the table startled them both. "Oh dear." Kenshin
patted the boy's near shoulder. "Sano, I should take you home now, that I
should. Kaoru will worry about us."
Kenshin pulled Sano's coat from the back of the chair and hung it over his
shoulders, giving him a moment to collect himself enough to stand. Spike
glanced between them furiously concerned, but Kenshin shook his head.
"It's the alcohol, Spike." Kenshin tried to smile reassuringly, "Right, Sano?
Spike'll want a bachelor party just you wait and see. We'll plan all the horrible
pranks while I take you home, that we shall."
"I can't wait." Spike pulled on his own coat, and walked a few steps behind
Kenshin who was more than just supporting Sano out of the Velvet.
And all the while
the leaves turn brown
Fall off the trees
and are blown around
Your feet
Heero pulled down the newspaper enough that he could examine the plate that
Trowa had set in front of him. "Thanks." He murmured, taking a few more
seconds to read through the scores and stats.
"Anything interesting?" Trowa asked, standing nearby and nursing his coffee.
He'd thought he was an early Saturday morning riser until they'd started to spend
weekends together. Heero would grow impatient for the six o'clock paper.
"Hn." Heero said, noncommittal, chewing absently on the toast. Stealing
glances as Trowa worked around the kitchen. Setting down the coffee and
putting things away. Always cleaning up other's messes. "I could of done that."
Heero said quietly.
"I don't mind." The smile was dazzlingly sincere. Heero could remember when
Trowa always fell just shy of that expression, always flickering hesitantly.
Whatever ignited that look always left him feeling overly warm.
"How the hell did I ever deserve that?" Heero said bluntly. "You're too much."
Trowa gave a light laugh, "I don't think love's ever about what one deserves,
Heero." Finished, and using the coffee again. "Besides, I like you right there
every morning. Scowling at the paper and guzzling orange juice."
Heero didn't know what to say to that. "What happens when you don't like me
drinking your orange juice?"
"I can hardly imagine that happening." Trowa looked thoughtful, watching the
floor. "But if it does happen, it's something that we'll have to work through.
Would we do that?"
"It'd be the least I could do." Heero grumbled. Realizing he must have said the
right thing as he felt suddenly warm.
there's no good pushing them away
They'll always come back,
just like the fears in your head
"What's the matter, love?" Catherine lowered her arms, feeling loose and
comfortable in the familiar setting of the Karaoke Queen dance floor with Juri
nearby. But something felt disconnected as Juri's every movement seemed
beautifully distracted. Unaware of the men and women trying to gain her
attention. "Maybe it's time for me to take a sit-down." Catherine suggested
indirectly, leading away. She at least was appreciating the looks she'd been
getting. Others were sensing her comfortableness, but not invading her space as
much as reveling in it.
She was so comfortable in fact, that she was too warm in her over shirt and
pulled it off in favor of the brightly colored tank top underneath.
"Layers are a good idea here." Catherine chatted to fill the emptiness, as she and
Juri climbed back to their table. Cathy waving pointedly at her now empty glass
when the server glanced over with a raised brow. "Just put 'em back on before
you go outside. It's nice to have a place where you can dress down. Let go of a
few outside problems." She flavored the last word, trying to reach an
understanding with her companion. Juri was such a wonderful counselor, but
the reciprocation left Catherine wondering.
In a moment's quickness, Juri found her own shoulders loosing some of the
tension she'd stored. It didn't hurt to have a beautiful woman expressing such
concern over her, it was just a feeling she hadn't discovered very often. "I was
thinking too much." Juri shook her head slightly, "When I first came here it was
with someone I thought was . . . possibly special . . . for me. I think I missed my
chance that first time."
"Aha," Catherine rested her head over her bent wrists, "You do have a tragic
memory haunting you."
"She was forward and open," Juri smiled wistfully, "And I wasn't ready. I
wasn't free."
Catherine waited patiently, deliberating over her beverage. Tasting it, and
watching gently for Juri's story to continue. Realizing that it was possible Juri
hadn't been this open before.
Juri surrendered her gaze to the door as it opened, her eyes widening a bit. First
surprised, then relieved. "Well, look who's stopping by."
The moment lost, Catherine stood eagerly, waving like a maniac over the
railing. "Hey, Trowa! Over here."
"Nice do." Trowa almost smirked, catching with the side of his hand one of the
curls that had fell free from where Catherine had clipped them up.
"I like it, and you guys don't look so bad yourself." She recognized the proud
glow Trowa radiated over the full emerald green of his shirt and immediately
attributed it to the forever black and leather man standing awkwardly just
behind. "Heero, I'd heard you were back around. Isn't that the necklace I gave
you?"
"Yeah," Heero reached automatically for the silver padlock, which hung from
the chain of links. It was one of many shimmering pieces on his person. "It's
good to see you, Cathy."
"Yeah, right," Catherine teased, pausing as they took their seats, Trowa next to
her and Heero sitting just across the round table.
"We wanted a different scene, and remembered you had mentioned this place."
Trowa looked around. "No one's singing?"
"It's early for that still," Juri commented, leaning back in her chair, relaxing
with her drink cupped to her lips. "Not that we can ever persuade, Ms. Bloom to
sing."
Catherine scowled playfully, "I have other talents."
Heero's lips twitched, "Funny, I can think of more things you can't do . . ." His
tone adopting a surprising a new touch of affectionate sarcasm.
"Yuy, I'd like to see you drag your butt up there." Catherine said, testing the
waters. Trying not to smile, as much as she found to disapprove about Heero,
she had missed their almost sibling like banter.
"I'll volunteer to do any of the groping with Heero tonight," Trowa lifting his
arms so that there was room for his glass.
"We have a singer." Heero nodded toward the stage, which he could see best as
he was facing the floor. After a casual glance, Catherine turned back to see him
shrug, "Guess that means I'm off the hook."
"Think again, my boy." Catherine smirked, "The night is young."
Life, ain't what like it used to be
Life, ain't what like it used to be
"New memories." Catherine mused, "It must all be about new memories." She
was sitting sideways in her seat, after watching her brother and Heero relax to
sway between the dancers into a slower song. Trowa and Juri'd managed a
fairly decent rendition of "Love Shack" amidst the jovial laughter of the entire
establishment a while before. After which, Juri had once again fallen back to
the table and Heero had reclaimed Trowa's person greedily.
"New memories are priceless," Juri agreed. But the Catherine felt that the
feelings that had been hinted at before were simply lingering in the deeper
corners of Juri's heart.
"Sweetie, you carry guilt almost as heavily as I do." Catherine whispered. "I
thought all this was about moving forward."
Juri knew better than to resist Catherine's abundant offers, but images continued
to gnaw her consciousness. She understood as Catherine pulled on her netting
and over shirt that it was the appropriate time to leave. The boys were obviously
fine as long as they were together.
The sister moon greeted them as they stepped out into the evening.
"I wish I were more of a poet, like Trowa." Catherine confessed, as she let Juri
open the passenger door for her but resisted getting in. "There's something
about the night that I feel akin to."
"It's welcoming and frightening." Juri said, seemingly understanding.
"Ha." Catherine balanced between the car and the open door. "Trowa *and*
you, my dear. There's just something about you both that seems to sew me back
together. For that I thank you." Catherine closed the distance and chastely
kissed Juri. Barely touching, near the corner of her lips.
"And why I can't ever seem to make things easier for you?"
So sit on your hands, rattle on your tongue
It's a shaking head and sit back on your chair
No good wishing it away, but move it all on
Right back to haunt you
"I think they've gone." Trowa examined the table, a bit baffled by the obvious.
"We were rather preoccupied," Heero said simply, fingers filling his pockets
and looking side to side as if on watch. Uncertain what he was watching for.
Especially since everything he needed always seemed to be wherever Trowa
was.
And it had been nice to see Juri again. And Catherine.
"You're sister is just a cute as ever." Heero said the word cute only in
connection with Catherine. Before he'd realized the preference he held between
the siblings, he had his share of fun times with Catherine. Including the lock he
still wore upon occasion. The lock she'd declared in high school was meant to
bond him to their family forever. Whatever charms she'd intended seriously or
not so seriously had certainly worked their magic over him. It was those
friendships that he felt irreversibly tied to when he had no other family of his
own.
"Are you going to take that table or not, Barton?"
Heero recognized the voice before he turned back the direction he wasn't
looking to see a frowning Nichol looming toward them. Heero felt a backward
debt to Nichol for betraying the depth of the emotion that seemed to tie Trowa
and himself together. At the same time, he wasn't amused with the unbridled
disgust that was always being directed toward his lover. No matter how easily
Trowa shrugged it off.
"You again, Nichol?" Heero growled in his most normal way, "As often as I see
you, I'd swear you were following my boyfriend."
"Please," Nichol's nose crinkled, "I've never seen you hear before. Why would I
expect you to be here tonight?"
"We're just leaving, don't worry." Trowa said lightly, still amazing Heero with
his easy manner.
"I wasn't going to worry about it." Scoffed Nichol, before he could say more. A
perplexed voice interrupted.
"Find a table yet?"
Her arm raised, her finger tracing, almost caressing his opposite ear. Shiori
blinked in a rather dazed manner at the other two, almost as if she couldn't place
them for that moment. "What are you doing here?" She asked.
Heero answered, when Trowa seemed unable to, "We've already done this and
we're moving on. Take the table." Reaching for the taller man's near arm,
Heero lightly led Trowa toward the stairs.
"What the heck?" Trowa muttered when he found a moment to collect those
words.
Heero felt it was his turn to point out the obvious, "Wasn't that Juri's friend?"
"Yeah," Trowa said thoughtfully, "I thought I'd talked to Dorothy about this?
Damn, no wonder Juri's been closed up."
Heero didn't find it too difficult to distract Trowa's concerns for the time being.
But he couldn't help but acknowledge that Nichol didn't take lovers or protégées.
He played the game, and in that game you were either an equal or a plaything.
Shiori had to be taking on that challenge. Trying to earn her place. Building her
worth in the game.
And when he was with Trowa, held by him, Heero understood quite well that
real love wasn't something that you deserved.
And all the while the leaves turn brown
Fall off the trees and are blown around
Your feet
there's no good pushing them away
They'll always come back,
come right back to haunt you
A bit dazed by the sunlight still, Dorothy adjusted to the still dark of the poorly
lit Road Rage foyer. She'd been enjoying her solitude, but the call of the theater
drew her back for the beginning of the new week. Feeling refreshed and ready
to begin again.
In the moments before she saw him too clearly, she almost suspected that Trowa
had managed to come to rehearsal early for once. But his shoulders never
seemed to fall into the friendly, submissive slouch. He stood rigid and
expectant. Although, familiarly at home.
"You seem to belong here," Dorothy stepped in just a bit further before
stopping. Taking off her gloves with deliberation. "And yet, I haven't had the
pleasure. I'm Dorothy Catalonia."
"I'm sure the pleasure is mine," The stranger smiled with welcome, "I have been
away for some time, but this theater was my home for a great many years. I take
it you've come from the Glass House. I do believe I saw one of your shows . . .
'Part of the Furniture' it was called."
Dorothy laughed lyrically with the memory, "A fine show, when the House had
a director with vision."
"The Lady, yes," The stranger nodded, his hair falling forward in waves making
him rule it back again. "And I hear this show is coming along well."
"Indeed," Dorothy said, feeling her prestige coming into the foreground to meet
the elegant sophistication the man offered her. She hadn't met someone with
such class and gentility in some time. "Although, we're half way through
rehearsing at this point."
The man's expression adopted an almost distant affection while he held his own
thoughts in check beyond Dorothy's perception. He seemed as if someone who
had reached a point where he would only put his most noble intentions forward.
It fascinated her incredibly.
"Who might you be?" Dorothy asked of him, one of the few moments of
vulnerable she allowed.
"I'm so sorry, Miss Catalonia," He returned from the absent thoughts and smiled
with friendly warmness, "I'm Ruka Tsuchiya."
Life, ain't what like it used to be
Life, ain't what like it used to be
Life, ain't what like it used to be
Life, ain't what like it used to be
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: I wrote this while listening to Alithea's music and completely
wired up on chocolate covered Espresso Beans-a college addiction that came
back to haunt me. They were a dollar off and I'd already convinced myself to
buy them any way. It had to have been Providence. *chuckle* Still, no matter
how directed I feel my life might have been at that moment-I can't deny that
these characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing them from the dusty shelves
where their creators sort of let them wallow. The lyrics are part of Catatonia's
ever inspiring collection. I owe that band a huge thank you for inspiring so
much art on my half. Now the reality of this story is completely mine-in other
words, you can blame me for the setting and the plot. That is my fault!)
Undeniably, something scary lurks about when one sits in the dark for long
enough. The thoughts become more shadowed. The daylight seems more like
shadows peeking around the normalcy of the pulled curtains.
Whatever she was smoking was already replacing the oxygen in her lungs.
Finally filling herself with something. When emptiness had been so much a part
of before.
Funny, she'd only smoked once before. And it had made her feel so sick. But
she'd already betrayed whatever had been innocent enough to feel the disgust.
The pathetic feeling that whatever had been worthwhile before was long
forgotten. And when it returned in the hours before she finally would fall
asleep, exhausted-it resurfaced as a bitter memory.
And she hated that. Hated losing the ability to sleep.
So she took one more long pull on the stinking thing that she'd bought at the
club. Feeling dizzy enough to collapse on the bed, fully dressed. Staring at the
wall. Wondering why the lights, the visions that were beginning to form inches
in front of her face were intangible. A kaleidoscope of blues and greens that
almost seemed like someone was watching her.
Shiori floundered. When her alarm went off, she couldn't remember if she had
ever closed her eyes.
Your imagination runs wild
Sitting on the fence
you call your home these days
"Can I go faster? Y'know, it is forty-five through here." Catherine shouted over
her shoulder. Rather impressed that she had the ability to draw in enough breath
to do that Juri was holding so tight.
Juri nodded, hoping that Catherine could feel the consent. She wasn't so much
afraid of being on the bike as she was riding with Catherine in control. Trowa's
sister had started their ride by gunning her way through a yellow light and all the
discomfort Juri had felt putting on the helmet had instantly evaporated. The
helmet suddenly became her security blanket.
With a maniac laugh, Catherine leaned forward, Juri's hands slipping back on
the leather jacket to hold more loosely at Catherine's waist as she leaned against
the backrest. Watching as Catherine's short curls whispered just under her own
helmet. Looking around to enjoy the passing scenery. After rehearsal that
Friday, Catherine had agreed to meet her at Juri's apartment and take a quick
ride before going out for dinner or something yet unplanned.
It had been a long week of rather extensive rehearsals and even the danger of the
open bike was a release of sorts.
When they'd managed to escape the city, Cathy turned onto a country road that
took them to a hillside overlooking the harvested fields. The distant woodland
was washed with red, brown and gold over the remaining green. Taming her
Harley, and letting it purr a moment, Catherine set her feet down and turned off
the engine.
"Wow." She said, content. "We don't have anywhere else to go for a while, do
we?" Catherine asked herself and whatever else wanted to listen. She got off
one side of the bike, as Juri regained her footing on the other. Walking down
the hill a ways, Catherine sprawled on the grass-tossing her helmet to one side.
"I'm so buzzed."
"I can still feel the Harley." Juri said, "Or else I'm hyper sensitive to the earth
rotating now."
"When I was a kid, I used to swear that I made the world move round each time
I took a step." Catherine adjusted so that her arms were crossed behind head-the
overgrowing grass folding around her. Juri curled up her knees against the
almost chilly breeze as the sun was lowering in the sky. "A bit self-centered I
guess. And I haven't grown out of it either." Catherine said with mild remorse.
"I've wanted to ask you-and I feel like such an coward, really. But how is
Sano?"
Juri answered simply, "He keeps coming to rehearsal, and he's doing well
enough with that. Our playwright, Kenshin, seems to be watching over him. It's
a new bond-but it seems to be helpful for Sano."
"I-I just can't seem to find the things to say to him." Catherine sighed, closing
her eyes from the rose colored clouds. The rich purple sky.
"It might be best to stay apart." Juri said.
"He really cared for me. I know that. Still." Catherine let her words taper off,
then she sneezed. Full and strong enough that she sat up again. Putting her
arms behind her as a brace, the jacket starting to side of her bare shoulders.
"Still." Juri repeated, as a complete thought.
Better take care, you don't ask for help
But some day you might need it
"Dumb ass," Sano slurred the obscenity over the top of his beer, "You'll sooo
regret it if ya don't let us throw a bachelor party for ya . . ." He leaned back in
his chair, his head somehow dangling to one side. Just enough alert to keep his
eyes on Spike's annoyed expression.
"How many was that?" Spike asked riling Sano enough that lifted his head for a
few seconds.
"I believe our young friend has had plenty, that he has." Kenshin shooed the
waitress around the back of Sano's chair before the boy could wave his empty
glass. Which had earned the woman serving them a number of large tips. "I
don't know if he'll appreciate having spent all of his cash here, tonight."
"We can find some girls and . . . " Sano fell forward mid-sentence, catching
himself on his forearms against the table.
"Oh, Sano," Kenshin said, amused, "I don't think Mrs. Kaoru would appreciate
that, that I don't."
"Nor Julia," Spike murmured, crossing his arms and glancing around the
International Velvet. They'd stopped by after rehearsal and spent most of the
evening talking about the wedding. Which was beginning to wear on him, even
though it was a little different hearing it from guys. Rather than Julia.
Constantly. But most of the fun had evaporated once Sano had started to fade
from tipsiness into serious lack of motor skills. And Kenshin had spent most of
his time blissfully reliving his own wedding. Which Spike was beginning to
suspect Kenshin might have enjoyed as much, if not more so than his wife.
"Women," Sano mumbled from where he'd rested his forehead against the table.
Talking into the dark wood finish. "If I could only be so lucky."
"You just haven't found the right woman yet, Sano." Spike said, "Too many
dames in the world to settle for anything less. Look at Kenshin, if not me. It's
worth finding someone you can actually spend more than a few hours with.
Someone that makes you feel like you couldn't live without them. Let me tell
you . . . otherwise . . . it's not . . . "
"Eh," Kenshin began to wave his hands frantically, a signal that Spike
obviously didn't understand. "Maybe we should talk about something else." But
a loud, broken rasp from the table startled them both. "Oh dear." Kenshin
patted the boy's near shoulder. "Sano, I should take you home now, that I
should. Kaoru will worry about us."
Kenshin pulled Sano's coat from the back of the chair and hung it over his
shoulders, giving him a moment to collect himself enough to stand. Spike
glanced between them furiously concerned, but Kenshin shook his head.
"It's the alcohol, Spike." Kenshin tried to smile reassuringly, "Right, Sano?
Spike'll want a bachelor party just you wait and see. We'll plan all the horrible
pranks while I take you home, that we shall."
"I can't wait." Spike pulled on his own coat, and walked a few steps behind
Kenshin who was more than just supporting Sano out of the Velvet.
And all the while
the leaves turn brown
Fall off the trees
and are blown around
Your feet
Heero pulled down the newspaper enough that he could examine the plate that
Trowa had set in front of him. "Thanks." He murmured, taking a few more
seconds to read through the scores and stats.
"Anything interesting?" Trowa asked, standing nearby and nursing his coffee.
He'd thought he was an early Saturday morning riser until they'd started to spend
weekends together. Heero would grow impatient for the six o'clock paper.
"Hn." Heero said, noncommittal, chewing absently on the toast. Stealing
glances as Trowa worked around the kitchen. Setting down the coffee and
putting things away. Always cleaning up other's messes. "I could of done that."
Heero said quietly.
"I don't mind." The smile was dazzlingly sincere. Heero could remember when
Trowa always fell just shy of that expression, always flickering hesitantly.
Whatever ignited that look always left him feeling overly warm.
"How the hell did I ever deserve that?" Heero said bluntly. "You're too much."
Trowa gave a light laugh, "I don't think love's ever about what one deserves,
Heero." Finished, and using the coffee again. "Besides, I like you right there
every morning. Scowling at the paper and guzzling orange juice."
Heero didn't know what to say to that. "What happens when you don't like me
drinking your orange juice?"
"I can hardly imagine that happening." Trowa looked thoughtful, watching the
floor. "But if it does happen, it's something that we'll have to work through.
Would we do that?"
"It'd be the least I could do." Heero grumbled. Realizing he must have said the
right thing as he felt suddenly warm.
there's no good pushing them away
They'll always come back,
just like the fears in your head
"What's the matter, love?" Catherine lowered her arms, feeling loose and
comfortable in the familiar setting of the Karaoke Queen dance floor with Juri
nearby. But something felt disconnected as Juri's every movement seemed
beautifully distracted. Unaware of the men and women trying to gain her
attention. "Maybe it's time for me to take a sit-down." Catherine suggested
indirectly, leading away. She at least was appreciating the looks she'd been
getting. Others were sensing her comfortableness, but not invading her space as
much as reveling in it.
She was so comfortable in fact, that she was too warm in her over shirt and
pulled it off in favor of the brightly colored tank top underneath.
"Layers are a good idea here." Catherine chatted to fill the emptiness, as she and
Juri climbed back to their table. Cathy waving pointedly at her now empty glass
when the server glanced over with a raised brow. "Just put 'em back on before
you go outside. It's nice to have a place where you can dress down. Let go of a
few outside problems." She flavored the last word, trying to reach an
understanding with her companion. Juri was such a wonderful counselor, but
the reciprocation left Catherine wondering.
In a moment's quickness, Juri found her own shoulders loosing some of the
tension she'd stored. It didn't hurt to have a beautiful woman expressing such
concern over her, it was just a feeling she hadn't discovered very often. "I was
thinking too much." Juri shook her head slightly, "When I first came here it was
with someone I thought was . . . possibly special . . . for me. I think I missed my
chance that first time."
"Aha," Catherine rested her head over her bent wrists, "You do have a tragic
memory haunting you."
"She was forward and open," Juri smiled wistfully, "And I wasn't ready. I
wasn't free."
Catherine waited patiently, deliberating over her beverage. Tasting it, and
watching gently for Juri's story to continue. Realizing that it was possible Juri
hadn't been this open before.
Juri surrendered her gaze to the door as it opened, her eyes widening a bit. First
surprised, then relieved. "Well, look who's stopping by."
The moment lost, Catherine stood eagerly, waving like a maniac over the
railing. "Hey, Trowa! Over here."
"Nice do." Trowa almost smirked, catching with the side of his hand one of the
curls that had fell free from where Catherine had clipped them up.
"I like it, and you guys don't look so bad yourself." She recognized the proud
glow Trowa radiated over the full emerald green of his shirt and immediately
attributed it to the forever black and leather man standing awkwardly just
behind. "Heero, I'd heard you were back around. Isn't that the necklace I gave
you?"
"Yeah," Heero reached automatically for the silver padlock, which hung from
the chain of links. It was one of many shimmering pieces on his person. "It's
good to see you, Cathy."
"Yeah, right," Catherine teased, pausing as they took their seats, Trowa next to
her and Heero sitting just across the round table.
"We wanted a different scene, and remembered you had mentioned this place."
Trowa looked around. "No one's singing?"
"It's early for that still," Juri commented, leaning back in her chair, relaxing
with her drink cupped to her lips. "Not that we can ever persuade, Ms. Bloom to
sing."
Catherine scowled playfully, "I have other talents."
Heero's lips twitched, "Funny, I can think of more things you can't do . . ." His
tone adopting a surprising a new touch of affectionate sarcasm.
"Yuy, I'd like to see you drag your butt up there." Catherine said, testing the
waters. Trying not to smile, as much as she found to disapprove about Heero,
she had missed their almost sibling like banter.
"I'll volunteer to do any of the groping with Heero tonight," Trowa lifting his
arms so that there was room for his glass.
"We have a singer." Heero nodded toward the stage, which he could see best as
he was facing the floor. After a casual glance, Catherine turned back to see him
shrug, "Guess that means I'm off the hook."
"Think again, my boy." Catherine smirked, "The night is young."
Life, ain't what like it used to be
Life, ain't what like it used to be
"New memories." Catherine mused, "It must all be about new memories." She
was sitting sideways in her seat, after watching her brother and Heero relax to
sway between the dancers into a slower song. Trowa and Juri'd managed a
fairly decent rendition of "Love Shack" amidst the jovial laughter of the entire
establishment a while before. After which, Juri had once again fallen back to
the table and Heero had reclaimed Trowa's person greedily.
"New memories are priceless," Juri agreed. But the Catherine felt that the
feelings that had been hinted at before were simply lingering in the deeper
corners of Juri's heart.
"Sweetie, you carry guilt almost as heavily as I do." Catherine whispered. "I
thought all this was about moving forward."
Juri knew better than to resist Catherine's abundant offers, but images continued
to gnaw her consciousness. She understood as Catherine pulled on her netting
and over shirt that it was the appropriate time to leave. The boys were obviously
fine as long as they were together.
The sister moon greeted them as they stepped out into the evening.
"I wish I were more of a poet, like Trowa." Catherine confessed, as she let Juri
open the passenger door for her but resisted getting in. "There's something
about the night that I feel akin to."
"It's welcoming and frightening." Juri said, seemingly understanding.
"Ha." Catherine balanced between the car and the open door. "Trowa *and*
you, my dear. There's just something about you both that seems to sew me back
together. For that I thank you." Catherine closed the distance and chastely
kissed Juri. Barely touching, near the corner of her lips.
"And why I can't ever seem to make things easier for you?"
So sit on your hands, rattle on your tongue
It's a shaking head and sit back on your chair
No good wishing it away, but move it all on
Right back to haunt you
"I think they've gone." Trowa examined the table, a bit baffled by the obvious.
"We were rather preoccupied," Heero said simply, fingers filling his pockets
and looking side to side as if on watch. Uncertain what he was watching for.
Especially since everything he needed always seemed to be wherever Trowa
was.
And it had been nice to see Juri again. And Catherine.
"You're sister is just a cute as ever." Heero said the word cute only in
connection with Catherine. Before he'd realized the preference he held between
the siblings, he had his share of fun times with Catherine. Including the lock he
still wore upon occasion. The lock she'd declared in high school was meant to
bond him to their family forever. Whatever charms she'd intended seriously or
not so seriously had certainly worked their magic over him. It was those
friendships that he felt irreversibly tied to when he had no other family of his
own.
"Are you going to take that table or not, Barton?"
Heero recognized the voice before he turned back the direction he wasn't
looking to see a frowning Nichol looming toward them. Heero felt a backward
debt to Nichol for betraying the depth of the emotion that seemed to tie Trowa
and himself together. At the same time, he wasn't amused with the unbridled
disgust that was always being directed toward his lover. No matter how easily
Trowa shrugged it off.
"You again, Nichol?" Heero growled in his most normal way, "As often as I see
you, I'd swear you were following my boyfriend."
"Please," Nichol's nose crinkled, "I've never seen you hear before. Why would I
expect you to be here tonight?"
"We're just leaving, don't worry." Trowa said lightly, still amazing Heero with
his easy manner.
"I wasn't going to worry about it." Scoffed Nichol, before he could say more. A
perplexed voice interrupted.
"Find a table yet?"
Her arm raised, her finger tracing, almost caressing his opposite ear. Shiori
blinked in a rather dazed manner at the other two, almost as if she couldn't place
them for that moment. "What are you doing here?" She asked.
Heero answered, when Trowa seemed unable to, "We've already done this and
we're moving on. Take the table." Reaching for the taller man's near arm,
Heero lightly led Trowa toward the stairs.
"What the heck?" Trowa muttered when he found a moment to collect those
words.
Heero felt it was his turn to point out the obvious, "Wasn't that Juri's friend?"
"Yeah," Trowa said thoughtfully, "I thought I'd talked to Dorothy about this?
Damn, no wonder Juri's been closed up."
Heero didn't find it too difficult to distract Trowa's concerns for the time being.
But he couldn't help but acknowledge that Nichol didn't take lovers or protégées.
He played the game, and in that game you were either an equal or a plaything.
Shiori had to be taking on that challenge. Trying to earn her place. Building her
worth in the game.
And when he was with Trowa, held by him, Heero understood quite well that
real love wasn't something that you deserved.
And all the while the leaves turn brown
Fall off the trees and are blown around
Your feet
there's no good pushing them away
They'll always come back,
come right back to haunt you
A bit dazed by the sunlight still, Dorothy adjusted to the still dark of the poorly
lit Road Rage foyer. She'd been enjoying her solitude, but the call of the theater
drew her back for the beginning of the new week. Feeling refreshed and ready
to begin again.
In the moments before she saw him too clearly, she almost suspected that Trowa
had managed to come to rehearsal early for once. But his shoulders never
seemed to fall into the friendly, submissive slouch. He stood rigid and
expectant. Although, familiarly at home.
"You seem to belong here," Dorothy stepped in just a bit further before
stopping. Taking off her gloves with deliberation. "And yet, I haven't had the
pleasure. I'm Dorothy Catalonia."
"I'm sure the pleasure is mine," The stranger smiled with welcome, "I have been
away for some time, but this theater was my home for a great many years. I take
it you've come from the Glass House. I do believe I saw one of your shows . . .
'Part of the Furniture' it was called."
Dorothy laughed lyrically with the memory, "A fine show, when the House had
a director with vision."
"The Lady, yes," The stranger nodded, his hair falling forward in waves making
him rule it back again. "And I hear this show is coming along well."
"Indeed," Dorothy said, feeling her prestige coming into the foreground to meet
the elegant sophistication the man offered her. She hadn't met someone with
such class and gentility in some time. "Although, we're half way through
rehearsing at this point."
The man's expression adopted an almost distant affection while he held his own
thoughts in check beyond Dorothy's perception. He seemed as if someone who
had reached a point where he would only put his most noble intentions forward.
It fascinated her incredibly.
"Who might you be?" Dorothy asked of him, one of the few moments of
vulnerable she allowed.
"I'm so sorry, Miss Catalonia," He returned from the absent thoughts and smiled
with friendly warmness, "I'm Ruka Tsuchiya."
Life, ain't what like it used to be
Life, ain't what like it used to be
Life, ain't what like it used to be
Life, ain't what like it used to be