CHAPTER 95

I do not own Skip Beat! Yoshiki Nakamura does.

~~Longing First requiem~~

Part 2 –

A man wearing a red cape with golden stripes on the edge picks up his phone and ring a number, pulling at his moustache as the line rings.

A greeting is finally heard as a gruff voice replies through the phone.

"Hello Seito." Lory says with a smile.

"Ah. It's you. I should have known you would call."

Lory pulls up his boots, crossing them at the ankles.

"I read your last article. You are pushing it."

A hum echoes into the phone.

"I just did my job."The damn journalist answers in a perfect example of what is fake innocence.

"I thought subtlety was a given, both in you and for the situation."Lory comments, watching his gold nails matching his outfit and wondering if he should add a layer, as he waits for the reply.

A grunt is heard at the other end of the line.

"Seito."

"I was subtle."The grump of a man says in his rough voice. Lory has a guess of what could have been the influence, that is, if he read and knew the man correctly enough.

"I think biased would be a more appropriate term to designate what you did." He says, reading back some of the lines written in that article.

An inarticulate grumble answers to him, and he hears the man mumbling something.

"Seito."Lory says again.

A pause follows and the man sighs in his ear.

"To be clear, I'm not protesting. You are serving The Cause." The president says. "But too much would be a disservice to keep the trust it is in all honesty, don't you think?"

Another grumble and a chair being dragged on the ground.

"Fine. I admit. I laid it a little thicker than planned."Seito says with a complex mix of annoyance and pride in his voice.

"What happened?"Lory asks, feeling amused at the unusual feeling he can hear from the usually placid man.

Another silence. Longer.

A groan.

"I couldn't help myself." His voice eventually let out in frigid grumpiness, daring him to question his response.

Lory just blinks at his phone.

"Come again."

Loud clangers bomb into the call and his experience permits him to recognize the sound emitted after a fist had collided hardly on a table, making whatever tableware that had been resting on it clatters harshly.

"They are too cute. It's unforgivable."

One. Two seconds. Three seconds went by.

Loud burst of cackles exploded in the whole desk room as Lory's head bumped against the backrest of his chair, holding his sides.

A grouchy humph came from his phone and it only doubled Lory's hilarity.

"You are telling m-me that- …-you, of all people – … are, affected?"He questioned between hiccups.

"My professionalism is my brand, Lory. This dangling needs to cease."He said, as serious as a peacock.

Lory wiped his eyes, humming in response as he tried to calm himself.

"And?"

"No and – … Do something. You are The Lovemon, for peanuts' sake." The man said, even grumpier while pleading for him to play Cupidon.

"Believe me or not, but I've been working on this case for years. I'm not admitting defeat yet but this one needs subtlety."

"Lory." Seito returned with insistence and Lory barely held back another giggle. He could not freaking believe his ears. That was nearly a whine just now. From the be respectable, as tough and hard to boil as boulder, seemingly cold-hearted Seito. The man that used to dissect society flaws like slicing tripes.

He returned to the call and answered seriously, however.

"They are as stubborn as mules, Seito. I cannot force them to dance to my music, no matter how much I want them to."

Seito grumbled.

"I'm not satisfied."

"I know. Me too. You shouldn't worry too much, though."

"Why?"The man gruffed and Lory distinctly heard his voice pitched out in interest. He snorted as he looked down on his desk papers. There laid many, many things.

"Because I don't think the stalemate will last much longer." He said, picking up one of the sheets with a sneaker.

"Is it wishful thinking or a promise from The Lovemon?"Came the inquiry.

"It's my experience talking and a little more."

More gruff sounds.

"How long?"

Lory laughed again, wishing he knew.

"You know I cannot reply that."

More unsatisfied noises.

" … you should have seen their faces. His expression."

Lory shook his head, smiling. Poor Seito was smitten like a fan.

"I saw your pictures."

A sigh.

"I need to go." The journalist rumbled out. "I will call back."

The line cut before Lory had the occasion to say he had been the one to call. He spent a long time laughing by himself and smirking after that, however.

§§§

Time passed and Ren called back a few times. They spoke about what the other was doing. Their jobs. Their little daily routine. Every other day he would call. And it became one of her main rejoices. Hearing that deep warm voice as he greeted her and tease her. It made not seeing him a little more bearable. Yet, it felt like he was too far, always so far from her reach. From her touch. Even when he was so close in her heart.

And she didn't know how he did it but he would always find time to spend at least one hour on the phone with her. To the point she had been both worrying about his phone bill, making him switch to some network social app sometimes to spare it, and about the time she was taking from him. Thinking about the time difference was easy in theory but absorbed in her discussions with him, she tended to forget it, and she was concerned he had been lax on his sleep or pushing his breaks to talk with her. She had scolded him, inquired about it, questioned him. Despite how much she wished for those calls to continue, she would not let them impair his life balance. But he had kept reassuring her. Telling her he was fine, the he was okay, that nothing was wrong, that he slept enough. And she knew she had been persistent about it and about her worries on that subject. But no matter the repetition of her concerns, he would accept them. He would laugh sweetly at her, and reassure her.

Hell, that damn fairy playboy had even had the nerve to say a call with her was worth a little less sleep if he could hear her voice. Cursed magical words.

But still.

With time, no matter how much she still felt concerned about this, her resistance had eroded. His laughs, his reassurance and his words had dulled her worries, soothed them until only remains the softness of his voice in her phone.

She still felt egoistic to take so much of his moments sometimes but she had no bite anymore, with the blunt of her concerns removed.

But then, just five days ago, the calls had stopped. She figured he was busy. And he told her as much just two days earlier.

But she was starved.

She missed him. She missed him.

She missed his voice. She missed his laugh. She even missed his teasing.

But worse, all of this made her miss seeing him even more. Made her miss talking with him face to face. Seeing his expressions.

Made her miss having dinner with him. Made her miss seeing his smile. Made her miss the peck on her cheek when they would meet.

And lord did it make her miss the occasional hugs he would give her.

Just an affectionate friendly thing for him, she knew. Often just a greeting, she knew. Sometimes his worry nature expressing itself, she knew. Nothing more, she knew.

But God, she missed those arms. His scent. The feeling of them holding her strong and close to his heart.

She felt sick. She felt nauseous. The ache was getting vertiginous.

But she held on. She did. She held on a little longer. After those five days. She held one day more. Two days. Thrice.

Fourth days.

The fifth day came the rescheduling of the outing with her friends.

She went. She was there, with Kyle and Kayla and Jake and his new boyfriend – which she was very happy to meet – , and Mei, and even Luke. And she has never felt colder. The happy skin of a mask she had polished for years refused to stick that night. And facing a glass of alcohol she never touched while her friends danced to beating basses of hype electronic music, tears began to fall into the ochre liquid she had chosen because it made her think of what he would have taken, had he been there.

That evening, she had left a note to her friends and took her jacket.

She had reached her flat in a trance, and spent a good couple of hours sitting on the cold dark tiles of her living room, watching the ocean through the opened glass doors while she cuddled Snow to warm her numb body up. But despite the shivers of her body, she never left the spot she occupied, staring gloomily at the stars shining beautifully over the ocean. At some point, however, when her shakes stopped and tears began to dry on her cheeks, heart too numb to continue releasing sad energy out, she stood to grab something.

Her cold nude feet padded in shuddering silence but she didn't care.

She came back and sat. Her cat returned between her legs, purring like a good size machine and trying to comfort her, she was sure.

She placed her guitar near her, and with the beaten scrap-of-a-pencil left, started to write. Desperate to have some respite, some ease in this ache, this sorrow and feeling of amiss she was feeling.

The words poured out of her hands nearly too fast for her heart to process it. Struggling to get out, to be ejected and smooth the maelstrom of unfairness, pain, longing, loneliness she was feeling.

People are an ocean

& I'm drowning in them

I'm lying there,

Not standing, not living, just lurking,

In an ocean of people,

I'm lying there.

Hoping to feel something,

Hoping fun is a mindset, a thing,

Yet, why do I feel so much inside?

I see laughs, I see smiles,

I see moves, I see dancing

& I want a part of that.

I see teasing, I see flirting,

I see passion, I see fusion

I think of you.

& I want a part of that.

I see feels, I see longing in a pair of eyes,

I see people, I see couples,

I see locked hands, I see hugs

& I want a part of that.

Lying there,

Hoping to feel something,

Hoping fun is a mindset, a thing,

Why do I tear apart?

I see embraces, I see tiny pecks,

I see kisses.

&I think of you.

&I want a part of that.

My body is the ocean of water,

My heart is the Islet,

Lost in the deep blue melancholy of it.

I see smiles, I see kisses,

I see couples.

I see Love.

& I want a part of that.

Blasting music in my ears,

Strangers by the thousands,

Friends by my sides,

Some would say that's the name of fun.

Yet, I wanna cry,

I wanna scream,

Let Me Out.

Lying there,

Hoping to feel something,

Hoping fun is a mindset, a thing,

Why does everything taste like loneliness without you?

I see the nightmare,

I see the impossibility.

Let Me out.

I see them but I don't see you

& I think of you

& I want a part of that.

Too much joy, too much crowd,

Let me out.

I don't wanna see.

& I think of you

& I want a part of that.

All that I can see,

Is that I cannot see you.

& I think of you.

I want a part of you.

(I want a part of that by the author.)

When the dawn poked out its glowing blurry ray, sprinkling the sea with the colours of life and another day, the song was done and she had her phone in hand. No hesitation, not even thoughts.

That morning, she was the one to call him.

It rang. Once.

Twice.

But the line picked up before ringing could pursue.

"Kyoko?" His voice echoed through her phone and after ten days without hearing him she nearly audibly breathed out her contentment. "You okay? It's pretty early over there, right?" There was a short pause as he calculated. "It's barely 9 p.m. here so it must be just 5 a.m. there, right?"

She cleared her throat and laughed awkwardly.

"Haha, Hi. Yes, I'm okay. I'm just-huh – … I guess I was kinda missing you," She explained softly, her voice a little rough after staying up all night and crying, "and well, I was not in too good of a mind space, I guess, maybe".

There was a prolonged silence after her words.

"I'm sorry. Am bothering you?" She questioned when she heard he didn't reply. She shouldn't have called, really. She just missed him so much, she lost against her heart this time.

"You are never. I just returned home. What happened? Can I do something?" His voice was urgent yet so deeply soothing. Pressing her to explain but in all soft angles.

She cleared her throat again.

"Ha. Nothing really. Just-ugh – … – Can we talk for a little?"She asked so low she wasn't sure he caught it.

"… All the night if you want."He replied with such a tenderness her tears ran down again, and she had to chuckle to hide her locked up emotion.

"Thank you."

They talked meaningless things for hours, joking, laughing; even acting up some lines through the phone. And she felt better she had had in ten days.

She didn't feel lifeless. Not anymore.

Not when she could hear his voice.

And as her feet caressed the sand when she walked on the long band of beach stretching in the horizon, swallowed sometimes by ocean waves, sometimes spreading in more immensity, her mind would think back to those endless hours of talk on that day. How he retold her about his days in more details than he usually would. How he distracted her with silly details and made her laughs until she had even forgotten she had been sad. And as days passed away from him, her mind would remind herself of all of this, like a token of tenderness. Selflessly given and warming her heart with his deep warm voice. Memories that nurtured her imagination. Made her picture what it would have been to have him tell her all this by her side, with her in his arms. Laughing together. It made her laugh and it made her cry, but the embrace he was, was too sweet to bite this time. No matter the cruelty hiding just besides the corner. Her heart just could not bother with it, wrapped in his words, silent accepting comfort and silliness.

§§§

He lied in his bed. Restless. Sheets a tangled mess. At the bottom of that gargantuan bed. Too hot. Too clinging. Too messy. He must have kicked them down in his raving slumber.

He was sprawled on the mattress, weariness and perspiration waffling around him, like a gluing fog. One more night. His fingers shake as he compulsively made them rub his face, grab his hair. He had cut the line with her seven hours ago. Managed to sleep three hours and a half after that. Then woke up like he had just hung back.

The mind, the body and the soul just as wrecked as when they had said goodbye.

She had left to the States four weeks, one day and roughly sixteen hours ago.

He could hear her voice. Regularly. He called. As much as he could between work and her schedule. And in the limits of what would not bother her.

Screw that. That was a lie. He had thrown the whole giving-her-space-while-she-is-away to the trash, he just couldn't. He tried. And tried. And failed miserably. Each time.

As long as she was okay with it. That was all that mattered. And she had been.

He had been calling her on a regular one call out of two days since she left. Except the last ten days that execrably went by like crawling agony.

What was she doing right now?

He felt sick.

Giving himself pep talks, telling himself, commanding himself to take it easy, to just work and not be too curious, not be too invasive.

But it was like climbing a mountain barefoot while slipping down and down the more you climb. The more he tried, the less healthy it was becoming.

So he stopped. Somewhat.

He adopted a new credo.

'As long as she is okay with it.'

As long as she didn't mind him around, pestering her, he would allow himself the pester.

He had fully expected her to crack and scold him at some point or just plainly putting her foot down at some point. He had even counted on it to manage to grab back at his sanity, to put back some lines up for him. To help him settle back in ol'-good a-little-too-close friend.

Because he knew, deep down. He knew this time it wouldn't work. If she wasn't the one to shut him down, to put back some distance… He wouldn't be able to do it. Not after the ski trip. Not after fearing – … He just couldn't anymore. A third of the time he thought of her, he just worried if she was okay, still. Other times he was just curious, nearly anxiously curious, to be part of what she lived away. To not have the distance grows again. Wanting to know what she did, what she thought, with whom she was. Needed to know.

Then, there was the crucial lack of senses. He couldn't see her. Couldn't hug her. The only feeling still fed was his hearing, with their calls.

Yet, he knew. Without the trip. Without everything that happened there, he might still have been able to put a lid, if only a little more. To a more reasonable degree, maybe?

But the proximity with her on that trip but most of all, the terror he had had… It was like it had rasped raw every single emotion he already had for her.

The desire to see her, the desire to protect her… The one to hold, heaven hell, to hold her close, ever. The desire to kiss, to touch her.

The hunger for her laughs.

The fondness, the love.

Less honourable ones too.

The one to possess her. To drive her nuts. To apply his hands, his lips on every parcel of her skin she would let him.

It was scorching him.

Stroking a new insanity. An inability to control. No.

An urge to throw every cent of control, to throw the world, rationality, good sense and whatever more, all away. And to just do what his feelings longed for.

So, yes, he had needed her to be the one to step back, to tell him he was too much. Because even if he knew, he was less and less able to hold back. To refrain his feelings, to contain his impulsions, to silence his words. He knew but his heart didn't care anymore.

But what he had expected to happen, resigned himself to what she would do, it didn't come. It hadn't happened. Something had been strange. Something had changed. Sometimes that was the thought he had.

He called her every two days, and she didn't mind. She had been the one to propose to resume a call if they had to cut it short sometimes more often than not. She made time to stay talking with him. He knew. Because he heard it. She said she pushed a job she could either have done at that moment or next day, and decided to take the next day slot. Even if it had made her schedule tighter. He had known. Because he had asked what next day would be like before, in that conversation.

She stayed hours talking with him when he called and if he had the time. Which he started to plan when he realized she did not mind. She even made it switch to non-paying calls on some apps, worried for his bills. She had proposed more and more to be the one to call, to even things.

And then, his work had become tighter. By usualness of how hectic it could be, really. But it had also been his fault.

But with how overbooked it turned out, he suddenly hadn't had the time to speak with her. Each day, he barely slept a couple of hours and was going on an 18 hours of work. He knew it would happen before it started, and he warned her but he hadn't expected the backlash.

Ren felt like a junkie. As if he was on drugs on usual but had been without it for too long, and was having hallucinations because of the withdrawal.

Until now, with last night. When that thing happened, a far more shocking thing. The call of last night.

She called him. Granted it wasn't she hadn't ever been the one to call. But it was most often on a reschedule of one of his calls, or when they were planning when they could talk to each other again.

Not like that. Not without talking about it. Not after days unable to talk. Not on her own incentive. Her own initiative.

But she called.

A rarity, an unexpected but pleasant surprise.

And yet, there was more.

Oh, he knew very well he was doing the very thing he should not do at the moment. That he had stepped on another slippery slope.

But she had had to say that.

She called to seek comfort from him. Which was already way enough to flatter his feelings, knowing she had friends over there but chose to call him.

And then, she said she missed him.

He knew it was not in that way. He knew it was not in that way. He knew.

His heart did not care one bit.

It was singing. It was hoping.

To have finally made a dent. That the slightest opportunity might exist. Even if it was to still take years.

Even if he knew, it might be nothing of significance.

It was still singing.

Driving him even more nuts he was already.

This wouldn't do.

§§§

End of chapter.

PS: Hello everyone. Yes, it is me again. Fast to come back for once. I hope you are all healthy and happy. Sorry if that chapter is a little shorter than the others. But at least you must wait less for it. You should pay attention to the titles i will use a little more. Because it might sometimes give some cues. Only sometimes. But who knows, you might pick on something. Enjoy.

More is coming, do not worry.

I hope you will all love it.

Kisses,

Mimagfan,

AUTHOR OUT.