The ticking of my bedside clock drags on and echoes through my ears. Through the faint glow of my bedside lamp, now lying on its side, I watch the drops of water from the broken glass on my table falling onto the carpet; slowly, laboriously, silent but yet deafening. The sharp aching in my cheeks pulses on and off, like a dysfunctional police siren, going from red to blue, then blue to red, then from red back to blue … never-ending, eternal - mocking me…
It's the end of the world.
The apocalypse isn't even remotely like what they say - the volcanic eruptions, the sun polluting the sky, the oceans flooding every inch of ruined land. Instead the apocalypse is silence; deafening silence that drags on and on, each second mocking you with a mixture of nostalgia, melancholy, and an urge to cease to exist. Instead, the apocalypse is losing conception of time; the eternal, everlastingly monotonous awareness of meaningless everyday affairs that otherwise go by unnoticed – this clock, this glass, this pain in my cheeks, this silence.
It's the end of the world.
The sickness continues to charge through my body, contaminating my heart, crippling my organs and muscles, poisoning my mind, eating off the fibres of my soul. And yet, from the very first day it started, from the very first day I was infected, I knew there was no cure.
And still, the symptoms of my illness permeate my consciousness. Still the thousands of images flash through my mind, like an old, disowned cinema left in ruins and out of control. Still my heart tingles and aches, my stomach hollow then suddenly full. And the desperate yearning, the shameless lust – irrepressible but equally sinful – the final symptoms of my illness.
Still I think of him.
Of his ocean-blue depths that gleamed like crystals in the sun, of his flawless, untainted skin, of the warm, glowing aura of his smile that never failed to force me to surrender all defences. Of the simple-minded purity of his soul, shadowing my repulsive perversity and putting me to undeniable shame, but at the same time choking me in the bliss of simply being in his godly presence.
But it's the end of the world. And I know that not only has everything changed, but plunged into mass extermination. And here I am, no longer with the comfort of an intellectual future and possible cure to this incurable degenerate illness of the mind, no longer even with the chance of being in the presence of the cause of this illness, the object of my existence – him – ever again. Here I am, defenceless to the apocalypse, alone with this clock, this glass, this pain in my cheeks, this silence.
And here I am, suffering the consequences of being who I am, receiving the punishment for being sick, for being disgusting, for being the disgrace of humankind. For being homosexual. And even more so – for letting it show.
A tear slides down my cheek, my inner wounds beginning to shed their discharge.
It's the end of the world.
"So what do you plan to do, Hiroaki, now that you've messed up your exams and failed all our hopes for you?"
I didn't know what I had been expecting. Had I been expecting a little sympathy, a little comfort? Had I assumed that I deserved some kind of gentle consolation, empathetic understanding – fatherly love? Had I been expecting, however minimal it would be, some sign of warmth from someone who was supposedly blood-related to me; the closest relation that I was supposed to have?
I scoffed at myself for still expecting such things when it was obvious that such expectations were in vain. When it was blatant that I had destroyed myself, and deserved to be blamed for doing so.
His eyes fixed on me unwaveringly behind his thick, steely glasses, as if relentlessly stripping away layer-by-layer of what remained of my dignity and pride.
"I'm sorry, Dad."
The instant the words escaped me, I realized just how ridiculously futile they were.
I watched soundlessly as he sprang up from his seat, his expression contracting into one of indescribable fury.
"Sorry?" he exploded, his arms gesticulating out of control. "You say you're sorry? How can you even think to use such an indignant, trivial word after all the time and effort I've put into you? Huh? How can you say sorry as if it's actually going to make a difference?
"You've lost your grades and now you're losing your intelligence too!"
Seeing my lack of reaction only angered him more.
"Don't just sit there, boy! Say something! Don't you even have the initiative to try and explain yourself?"
Deep inside, I agreed with every word of his. But maybe I was fed up, sick of waiting for things that were never destined to come, tired of useless expectations and disappointment. And maybe I knew that it all didn't matter anymore anyway.
"What do you want me to say? I said I'm sorry, Dad."
It was just so funny how it only took a list of black-printed numbers, masked blandly behind some far away examination board signature, to tear my life to shreds.
"What kind of attitude is that, huh? You think you're some kind of hot shot, some kind of genius? If you were a genius, you would have passed with flying colours in a heartbeat! And you're putting on that kind of attitude – have you no shame?"
I would have liked to be able to tell myself that my father was nothing but a spiteful, old miser who was projecting all his rage from all his past failures onto his own son, but I couldn't. Because I knew that he was right, because I saw no point in deceiving myself anymore. I saw no point in deceiving anyone anymore. It didn't matter anymore.
He paused and edged forward abruptly, as if mentally deciding on what tactics to use for his next blow.
"Or are you getting that attitude from the people you spend all your time with instead of studying?"
I looked up, his words triggering some vague flickering fire inside my heart.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
What did he mean? His words had touched upon an area that no one was allowed to trespass.
"You know perfectly well what that means. Going off to play basketball for hours after school, hanging around with that … with what's his name … that Sendoh Akira!"
He had stepped into forbidden territory.
"That's how you're failing your exams! That's how you're getting your attitude! I should have stopped you from playing basketball long ago, wasting time like that – but I tried to be lenient because I thought you could cope! Obviously, I was wrong! Look at you now! And look at your attitude! That over-inflated ego and worthless pride – you're getting it from that good-for-nothing Sendoh who thinks he's a real big shot, but in the real world, son, he's nothing!"
Ignoring or disregarding his words was no longer an option.
"Stop…" an airy whisper escaped me.
And before I knew it, I lost control.
"Stop it! Stop it!"
I watched as my father's eyes stretched wide open, revealing countless scarlet red veins darted around his jet-black irises.
"How dare you!" he screamed, his wrath vibrating through the air with the intensity of a tidal wave. "How dare you raise your voice to me? You useless child! After all I've done for you…"
I felt like I was falling down a cliff, spiralling beyond all boundaries and losing all and any inkling of control that I had spent my whole life trying to preserve.
That was what hearing his name spoken in disrespect could do to me.
That was what he could do to me.
"You can say all you want about me, but who are you to call Sendoh good-for-nothing? You have no right to say that!"
The words rolled off my tongue almost automatically, as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button on the remote control of reality.
"What is this now?" my father staggered back, utter alarm and astonishment etched across his features. "What is this? Why are you…"
I didn't give him the chance to finish his sentence.
"I'm gay, Dad, okay? I'm gay! I'm doomed for eternal damnation, Dad, I'm gay! Are you happy now?"
At that instant, I knew that everything was over.
He stood motionless, glaring into me as if trying to force me to take back my words, words that were hanging between us in deafening silence.
"You stupid boy!" he stammered. "Do you know what you're saying? Do you even understand-"
My fists clenched and I trembled as I listened to my own voice, raised in a stretched screeching sound like never before.
"-I understand fully!" I interjected, every ounce of energy escaping me in every shouted syllable. "I'm gay, Dad! I feel lust for members of the same sex! I feel disgusted at the thought of having intercourse with a woman! I'm gay! What's there to understand-"
The pain charged through me at the speed of a lightning bolt. The sound of his crisp, hard slap echoed throughout room and mercilessly attacked my ears.
"You stupid, stupid boy! How dare you?"
I didn't have enough time to react to his earth-shuddering screams before he brought his hand upon my cheek once again.
"How dare you hold your head high and raise your voice to me while you say those foul, filthy things? How dare you?"
I tried to raise myself from my position on the floor, but my body shook as I watched him step forward, limbs contracting involuntarily for fear of another blow.
"I will not allow it, do you hear me?! I will not allow my only son to engage in sexual relations with another man!! I will not allow it, do you understand? How dare you?! How…how dare you waste my efforts this way? You stupid, worthless child!!"
I stared on silently, my eyes fixed on the floor, my cheeks cold and numb, my breaths strained and choked.
"I've had enough of you, do you hear me?! I've had enough of your insolence!! I've had enough of your terrible grades, of your unbearable attitude – of your sexual orientation!! I've had enough! You can go and screw your beloved Sendoh for all I care!! I've had enough of you, you ungrateful, disgusting, worthless boy!!"
The door slammed and a few ornaments shattered, but I no longer cared.
I raised my fingers up to my face and listened to the sound of myself laughing.
It was all over.
I closed my eyes and lay on the floor in paralysis.
It was all over now.
A shadow flickered outside the door. I could barely make out the outline of a figure, broad, tall, strands of hair standing upright – a figure I dismissed as an illusion. The door creaked and in he came, features clouded with light in the darkness – something I didn't dismiss as an illusion.
"Koshino?" he breathed hesitantly, in tones as gentle and deep as a flowing stream.
I said nothing.
"Are you okay? What's going on?"
He crouched down. I looked away from the worry that was written all over his face, a part of me desperately grateful that he had come to rescue me, another part of me wishing helplessly that he would go away before my world collapsed onto him.
I felt my heart melting as he continued.
"I saw the door downstairs wide open and no one answered when I called… what happened?"
I looked into his gleaming eyes and wished my whole existence was consumed in drowning in them.
He gasped.
"Koshino…your face…" he trailed off.
"It's nothing." I replied immediately, averting my gaze.
"What…" his voice shook in platonic concern. "what happened?"
I stared blankly into the distance.
"How were your results for the entrance exams?" I asked.
"Eh?" he blinked, caught off guard by my unexpected question.
But then he smiled. A sheepish smile, but a smile nonetheless – a smile that never failed to warm up my heart and almost made me believe that things would be all right again.
"The usual…" he tilted his head to one side. "…not so good…but a few universities are accepting me on the basis of basketball, which is a relief."
When he laughed, a strange ache struck me right in the centre of my heart.
"Why d'you ask?" he didn't take his eyes off me.
"I failed three." I answered in monotone.
A tense silence crept over us as he stared at me, his eyes unblinking in disbelief. Guilt swept over me with the realization that I was putting him in a blatantly awkward position.
"Koshino…"
"My Dad walked out."
He hesitated once again, and I wondered if my eyes gave away my fervent yearning to spring forward and hold him close.
"Your face…" he paused, eyebrows quivering in anxiety. "..did he…"
"He insulted you. He blamed you and called you good-for-nothing."
I didn't know what I was doing, but somehow … it all didn't matter anymore.
"He can call me all he wants, but he has no right to criticize you. No one has the right to criticize you."
I could hear him breathing. My sense of reality was beginning to slip gradually away.
"Koshino…" I closed my eyes to the melodic rhythm of his voice. "it doesn't matter what he said about me… it doesn't matter what people say about me… what matters is what he said about you."
The fact that he didn't understand still saddened me, even though I was aware of it from the very beginning.
"It matters to me, Sendoh."
He would never know how much it mattered to me.
I watched as he moved closer to me, and for a moment eternal, I knew bliss.
His eyes remained fixed on my face, and I didn't dare look up. Being under his gaze felt divine, but knowing it felt divine was hell.
"Koshino…are you hurt?"
I couldn't find the words to speak. He focused on me nonetheless, ever-patient, ever-trusting, ever-angelic.
"I'd better go and get you some ice."
He stood up on his feet hastily and headed for the door. Staring absently at his back, I spoke without awareness.
"He found out." I said.
He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around, his features revealing complete ignorance regarding what I was referring to.
"Found out what?" he responded gently.
"He found out about me." Strands of moist hair fell untamed over my eyes. "The truth about me."
"The truth…?" I could see the questions in his eyes.
Seeing his unsuspecting innocence made me want to cry and smile at the same time.
"He found out. Everything. How sick I am. How incurably sick I am."
"Koshino…"
"Stupid. So stupid. I should never have opened my mouth. Never. Not when I knew that no one could ever find out. Stupid. So stupid."
Everything was slipping away …
He sat down next to me and frowned.
"Koshino, what are you talking about? You're not sick –"
Was that sympathy in his voice? I didn't bother to think about the answer to that question.
"I am sick, Sendoh. Sicker than you can imagine. I can feel it in my veins every second that I'm awake. It even haunts me in my dreams. I'm sick. And there's no cure for it. I'm losing it."
And sure I was. Yet he still had no idea. I didn't know whether to feel glad or exhausted.
An aura of immense solemnity surrounded him.
"Listen to me, Koshino."
When he reached forward and positioned his hands on my shoulders, I felt as if I might suffocate. Subconsciously I wished I would.
"You're not sick." he asserted firmly. "You're perfectly healthy. You're not sick. Okay, so you messed up. Once. For the first time. Everyone messes up! It's not your fault! It's normal – everyone does it! Your Dad doesn't understand that. But you have to. You're not sick, Koshino."
I shook my head weakly and let out a soft sigh.
"You don't understand."
I had never expected him to understand.
He stared at me silently, facial expression deepening in determination.
"Then help me understand." he said. "Let me help you, Koshino."
The anguish that latched onto my heart at that very second was unbearable. I pushed him away and glared into the floor.
"Back away, Sendoh. Please. Now. Before you find out the truth too."
Fear ran through my nerves like an addictive drug. Suddenly I was willing to do anything to conceal everything that was inside me, to blindfold him from the cruel, disgusting, perverted truth of what was supposed to be our 'friendship'.
"Koshino…" I heard him whisper, unmoving.
The silence enveloped us once again, his undying persistence drenching my desperation and eating at my self-control.
"Let me help you."
In my dazed state, his words almost sounded like pleas.
His hand drifted upon on my shoulder once again, and I knew then that reality really was slipping away. Life was slipping away.
And nothing mattered anymore.
It was all over.
"You just don't get it, do you…" I could barely suppress the apocalyptic vibrations in my voice, warning me that the end was near.
And yet, I still did it. I knew the implications as clearly as glass, but I still did it.
The instant he broke away from the kiss and scuttled hurriedly back against the wall, I broke into the hottest tears I had ever shed in my life.
I could see his fingers trembling violently as he leaned forward after what seemed an eternity.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Koshino…I…I had no idea…" he choked, still in a perpetual state of shock.
He reached out and I slapped his hand away, hopelessly hiding my eyes.
"Don't touch me!" I yelled. "I don't need your sympathy! I don't need your pity!"
I just need you to love me.
Is that too much to ask?
"Just…" my voice began to dissipate. "…go away…"
"Koshino…" he sputtered ruefully. "I…"
I tried to fight back my sobs.
"Go. Please."
"I… I'm sorry…"
"Don't say sorry."
Sympathy was written all over his face, and instantaneously I was reminded that our relationship was forever condemned to being either a friendship, or nothing at all.
"Just go. Just leave me alone."
He remained still, as if at a complete loss of what to do. And I hated myself for making him feel that way. It was as if I had thrown myself into the thorns and pulled him in with me.
When I said the words, I knew perfectly well how he would respond. And it was precisely because I knew that I said them.
I had known right from the very start.
"It's simple."
I stopped to take a deep breath and blink away the tears that were gathering in my eyes.
"If you see me as a friend, go. If you see me as more than that, stay."
For a fleeting moment in time, I would give anything in the world to hear him lie and say that he loved me.
But that moment, like all in existence, didn't last long.
"Koshino…" I heard him say. "you're a dear, dear friend to me…"
I wanted to scream and kneel and curse at whatever holy being that existed for mocking me in this way. I wanted to stop holding back all the pain that was inside me, to let all the tears gush from my eyes until I could cry no more, until I broke and withered away.
But I listened to his words in motionless silence.
"I didn't…" he continued, apologizing for something that wasn't his fault. "I didn't know…"
"You don't have to say anything. Just go."
"I…I'm sorry…"
I looked at him one last time and shook my head.
"You never need to be sorry, Sendoh. Never. Now go."
My vision spins. Lifelessly, I contemplate the fact that this might well be the closest feeling to death that there is.
It's the end of the world.
I wonder what will remain of my life. Without his smile, without my grades, without a possible cure for my illness…
My hand sweeps the glass off the table and I watch it fall to the floor, shattering right before me into a million little pieces, just as my life and my heart have been shattered deep inside my soul.
It's the end of the world.
But life goes on. This clock ticks, this pain pulses through me, this silence continues to consume me.
And still… my inner wounds shed their discharge. Still I lie here, lost and broken, sick and destitute, shedding tears as I wait endlessly for the remaining hope inside me to extinguish and die out.
It's the end of the world.
But yet… life goes on.
This is the apocalypse.
End
Notes: My first SenKosh/KoshSen… *smiles*
I put a great deal of effort into trying to make Koshino sound intellectual, because I think of him as quite an intelligent guy… ^_~ My interpretation of that was that intelligent people often think too much and so make everything more angsty…
I think out of all the one-shots I've done, this has by far the most dialogue…which is why it's so rushed in the middle _~" I gotta work on expressing the dialogue more naturally…
Dedicated to sLL-san, who asked for a SenKosh… ^.~ *laughs*
Also for all people who feel like it's the end of the world at some times in their lives… just to let you know that you're not alone… *winks*
~Lanie~
8/2/2003