** I know how strange it must seem for me to post a new fic, then take it down after a couple days without warning, and then put it back like nothing happened. First of all, I want to thank the three kind reviewers who left such awesome encouragement. I'm only sorry I feel like this piece won't be good enough for people to read. My creative writing skills cannot compare with a lot of other writers out there, and to be honest I'm sort of intimidated. It's one thing to have good spelling and grammar but quite another to spin a captivating story – I know I tend to be a perfectionist, which is the reason why most of my fics don't even make it this far to be posted online, and I'm also overly sensitive to other people's opinions. OK, this is getting too long of an author's note so I'll just end it here and promise to work more on chapter 2 when I find the chance.
Cat's Cradle
ONE
I'm gonna kill him. First I'm gonna shred that hideous Versace shirt and revel in the sound of his agony, then I'm gonna take those damned sunglasses and pop out the lenses one at a time then snap 'em in front of his face. Then I'll --
"Oi, Hidaka. Look lively over there, will ya? She's coming your way."
Youji flicked his eyes meaningfully to the left without breaking smiles with the pretty young blonde whom he was currently…well, previously engaging in conversation with. Now, apparently, they'd found out all they wanted to know about the other and were moving on.
Forewarned, Ken purposely looked away from the approaching bundle of curves, leaning on the balcony, pretending to be morbidly fascinated with the goings-on down below on the club's swarming first floor. His head ached, his mouth was dry, and his right butt-cheek was sore from being pinched all night long by hungry waitresses. Youji was seriously going to have to answer for this four-hour torturefest he was putting him through. What a night. He raised his drink. What a complete waste of --
"There you are, cutie! I've been lookin' for you!"
He spilled. Shoot. Wrenching his head around, he screwed on a decent facial expression. "Actually, uh, I was just leaving…um…"
"You can't fool me." The girl -- what was her name? Taki? Maki? -- scrunched her face into what he supposed was an enticing smile, although it was hard to tell what with the dimness, moving lights, and heavy makeup on her face messing up his vision. "Come on and dance with me! Look at everyone else. They're dancin'!"
"Um, I'm sorry..."
"Aww, but I wanna dance! This is my favorite song!" She tugged on his arm like a petulant child. When he gently but firmly withdrew it she latched onto the other one. "Dance with me, Ken-kuuuun!"
The grating screech of her voice must have snapped the restraints on his temper because suddenly he heard himself shout. "Leave me alone!"
Instantly, the girl let go.
Horrified at his outburst, Ken stuttered a rather incoherent apology, hearing his runaway tongue explain how he was here entirely against his will because some friend tricked him into a night out on the town. 'Just dinner and a show' took an evil turn sometime during dessert when that so-called friend suggested some bar hopping, and he found himself stuck in the very first joint they set foot in, unable to leave because the car wasn't his to take and he had no money left for a cab.
She listened in silence while he 'ahh-ed' and 'umm-ed' to fill in the awkward stillness. Whether or not she followed his convoluted stream of consciousness he couldn't tell. Her smoky black eyes flitted downwards, blinking rapidly, as she made some high-pitched sniffling noise and mumbled something about him being mean to girls. When he made no response, she repeated the last line a little louder. Several curious heads turned in their direction.
Arrrrrrrrgh.
"Allrightcomeon." Tossing down the rest of his drink, he grabbed her hand and marched towards the dance floor to meet his doom.
Youji would pay.
~~~
"Ken-kun! There you are, cutie…I've been lookin' for you…" She shimmied her way towards him.
He shook his head. There were plenty of places to run if she came any closer. He could jump off the balcony if he wanted. "Stop…"
"But I wanna dance." Without warning, she shape-shifted into an enormous pair of eyes and an inflated pink mouth. It puckered up juicily.
Feeling behind him, he somehow had run into a wall. Wall? What the hell… At the same time he noticed there was no more balcony either; in fact, it was all black except for the giant glowing eyes and that terrifying pair of lips that was going to touch him any second now.
"I've been lookin' for you…"
There was no escaping it. He screwed his eyes shut and opened his mouth to let out a truly terrified --
Rrrring rrrring. Rrrring rrrring.
His eyes flew open, and his morning-fogged brain was dimly aware of a persistent ringing from outside the room. His first thought was: what time is it? A quick glance at the digital alarm clock said 9:47. That would mean he'd gotten a wonderful three and a half-hours of sleep after crashing into bed. Which sort of explained why he was still wearing yesterday's clothes. He wrinkled his nose and sniffed. Cigarettes and alcohol, and some terrible perfume mixed with body odor. Shit, what a fucking stinking mess.
It took a few more moments to register the nature of that ringing sound. The phone!
Cursing himself for not replacing the broken answering machine sooner, he staggered out of bed, gracefully kicked the tangled mass of sheets back onto the mattress, and got to the kitchen ready to rip apart whoever was calling at such an ungodly Saturday morning hour.
"Hidaka here," he growled low.
There was a pause. "Good morning, Ken-kun, this is Aya-chan," said a sweet voice.
Aya… He replied good morning feeling sheepish, but something was going on here that he obviously wasn't remembering. Why was Aya calling him now?
As if she could hear his confusion, she cleared her throat delicately and prompted, "The exhibition began at 9:30. Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I'm OK… What's up?" Then it was as if his train of thought slammed into the brick wall called Memory. "Oh my God, your exhibition! I'm sorry, I completely -- rrrgh!" He dropkicked himself mentally as the voice on the other line asked worriedly, "Are you sure everything's all right? Do you need me to come over?"
"No no!" he gasped. "Is it too late? Did I miss anything important?"
"My piece isn't up yet, but I think in another fifteen minutes, maybe…"
"OK, OK, I'll be there, I promised. Um, give me…" He stopped. 'Give me fifteen minutes' sounded stupid so instead he coughed and apologized one more time before hanging up. Then Ken Hidaka performed a truly amazing feat of speed, skill, and desperation.