The Unexpected Grace of Capture Chapter 3: Trade, a gravitation fanfic

The Unexpected Grace of Capture, Chapter Three: Trade

He was dreaming about hate. It growled from his bones, grinding all other needs to dust.

Hate.

Something having to do with bodily functions, vibrating on the edge of mayhem and wanting to destroy an entire universe just to reach some edge of satisfaction, just to know that somehow it actually existed.

Something was denying him what he wanted. Something was standing in his way. Something was right there, right in front of him, right in between what he really needed and himself. Denying him what he'd earned.

And it filled him with hate. Hate. Fuck the universe hate. Hate that lead him to decadence, hate that became beastial. Hate that was molten and swift inside his guts. Hate that destroyed all it touched.

He imagined his intestines turning into ash.

It was not enough hate to destroy an entire world.

But it was enough hate to destroy an entire soul.

And he woke up and jolted upright in bed, stood up on round feet and stumbled his way to the bathroom as quickly as possible, and threw up, getting most of the bile into the toilet bowl. But the hate didn't go away, no matter how he much he emptied his stomach. He felt the acid of it on his tongue.

As he sat there, cheek on the toilet seat, thinking not in the slightest, a tiny flash of memory occured to him, (a shriek:a thrill) and he sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

Tachi's stomach hurt from all the vomiting, his throat was sore from it as well. His head hurt from alcohol. He felt weak, and tired.

It's been weeks since he last saw the others, since he last bothered to answer the phone.

God, he missed them.

They made him feel a little bit human.

He got up, slowly, felt every ache his body had to offer, and started to make his way to the telephone. He hoped that Ma-kun would forgive him, again. It seemed so traditional by now. Tachi snaps, Ma-kun forgives. They get drunk and talk about... something. Tachi wondered if they should skip the "drunk" part.

The hardest part was the phonecall, which was surprisingly brief. The phone was answered after the third ring, Ma-kun's voice came over without a great deal of bass to it, "What?"

God damn the man who invented Caller ID.

"Uh." Instantly Tachi's brain turned into puddy. "Hi."

"...what?"

He sat there for a moment, completely unsure of how to tackle all of this. He hadn't been expecting Ma-kun to answer the phone.

"Tachi?"

"Ma-kun?"

"No, his girlfriend."

"... I... I was wondering...if...if maybe...if you wanted...."

"If I wanted what?"

Tachi sighed and slumped down into the couch, feeling for a moment that he couldn't quite do it. "Ma-kun..."

"Yeah?"

"I... 'm sorry." And he sighed. "OK?"

"You always are."

"Yeah." Tachi put his hand to his forehead a moment, smiled a bit at the ceiling. "I know."

He heard Ma-kun sigh in acceptance.

"Come over for a drink?" He offered lamely, mostly because he didn't know what the hell else to say.

"Heh." pause, "sure." Ma-kun replied, and Tachi closed his eyes.

They bid their 'see you later' and hung up. Tachi decided that he'd felt enough emotion for the day, and just sat on the couch for the next half hour, looking at the ceiling, thinking now and then that he actually didn't want another drink. He was completely drained.

He was a little relieved. He had his best friend back. More or less. It had to be him, who apologized. It had to be his own damn fault. He'd overreacted. It wasn't that Ma-kun had brought up... that boy's name... it was that Tachi had once again taken it six steps too far. That was his nature. He'd accepted that, and every day he wondered if Ma-kun and Ken-chan had also actually accepted it. Every day he wondered if he'd finally taken it too far. Every day he wondered if it was the last. Optimism was never one of his finer points.

Half an hour went by without thought and when the door buzzed Tachi jumped out of his skin for a moment. "Fuck." He dragged himself up, licked the gross roof of his mouth once, tasted the bile one more time, an entire night's worth of bacteria sitting white on his teeth. He turned and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. The buzzer sounded one more time, as he grabbed his toothbrush and examined himself in the mirror.

He looked like shit.

He was not going to answer the door with his teeth all furry, so he put some toothpaste on the toothbrush, started to frantically brush his teeth. He could not answer the door without brushing his teeth, he just couldn't. He couldn't be seen looking as ugly as he was now. His hair was oily, he needed to brush the tangles out before he answered the door. His face was oily, he needed to wash his face. Tachi grabbed at his brush and started to yank out knots in his hair, feeling bits of hair root tear out of his scalp. When his hair was laying down nearly flat against his scalp, no tangles and shining from oil, he tossed the brush down and ran the water hot to wash his face. The buzzer went off for the fifth time, and while Tachi was washing his face, there was a prolonged silence. Tachi stopped washing his face, rubbed himself dry vigorously with the towel, and turned to run to the door, all the while thinking, "shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit." And he was positive that Ma-kun would have left by now, and he wondered what it would take to get Ma-kun to come back over to his flat and talk, and he wondered what he would do to explain why he didn't answer the door. He was inventing lies to tell Ma-kun over the phone when he reached the doorknob. He fell asleep, he was nervous and didn't answer the door.

But he opened the door and Ma-kun stood there, smile skewed.

"God, how you primp." And he walked in.

Tachi immediately straightened his spine and fell into a more familiar mode, "I don't primp."

Ma-kun flung an amused and glitter-eyed smile at him over his shoulder. "Yeah you do."

"Whatever." And he pushed his fingers through his hair, grimiced at how flaccid his locks felt to the touch -- a mess. Tachi felt he hadn't been clean in years.

Ma-kun walked around the room a bit and didn't say much, but his whole demeanor was relaxed. "You look like hell." He said.

Tachi frowned. "No, I don't."

"You look hungover."

Tachi couldn't argue with that.

But Ma-kun turned and gave him a rather nice smile, the bruises on his face mostly a memory by now, a vague discoloration you could possibly mistake for a birth defect. Tachi didn't find that very comforting. Ma-kun held out a large sack, "Brought beer."

"Oh." Tachi said simply, tried to ignore the sudden wave of hangover felt. "Cool."

Ma-kun laughed at the tone of voice he recognized. "Food too."

Not a huge improvement. "Ah."

"Eating would do you good."

"Right."

"Feeling social today, are we?"

"Heh."

"Witty too."

Tachi just didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. They both settled down in the livingroom and popped open a beer because they didn't know what else to do, and it occupied their hands for a few moments.

It took about two hours for Tachi to relax enough to forget that they had been fighting. The two of them sat on the couch. The evening went on exactly as it should have, and it took very little time before they turned on the tv and started to watch it together, neither of them talking becase there really wasn't a need to. Comfortable. They ate snackfood straight from the bag and made odd running commentary on whatever happened to be on tv. Both knew enough to avoid music tv.

"So." Ma-kun said once, in the middle of a commercial.

Tachi turned towards him. "Uh.... so?"

"So. How are you."

"Huh." Reflexive smile.

"Don't say you're good when you aren't."

"I'm good."

"Liar."

Tachi had been wanting someone to tell him he was a liar for weeks now. "No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

Tachi made another laugh noise, felt a crack on his insides that made him want to trust. "What have you been doing these past few weeks?" When all else fails, change the subject.

"Probably the same thing you've been doing."

Tachi grinned again but it wasn't a very nice grin, "Heh, I doubt it." And he turned his head away to hide the smirk.

"Tachi."

"What?"

"I haven't stopped liking girls."

Tachi lost some of the smirk and tilted his head to get a better look at Ma-kun, unsure how to take that tone of voice, needing a face to figure it out. Ma-kun looked sort of serious. A little offended. "Oh." Almost instantly, Tachi craved a cigarette. "Okay."

"Shit." Ma-kun leaned back against the couch, looked up at the ceiling. "I need a cigarette."

"So do I."

They both got up, went to the window and jerked it open, started to share a single cigarette. The two of them passed it back and forth, taking turns leaning out of the window and looking outside to the night sky, the building next door.

"Tachi," an exhale, he pulled back out of the window, handing the cigarette over to Tachi now as he spoke.

"Thanks." He took the cigarette now, leaned out the window and stuck it between his lips. Outside, the air was cold. Tachi found that he was thankfully thoughtless. He inhaled a lungful of rich smoke, exhaled again. He could see a couple fighting in the building next door, he decided to hand the cigarette off to Ma-kun, and leaned back into the hot air of his own apartment. "You finish it."

"Don't think I want to."

Tachi tossed it out the window without a thought.

"What if it hits someone?"

"They won't know I did it," and he shrugged.

Ma-kun laughed and shook his head. "You were always more of a bastard then I was."

"In all things there is balance." And Tachi braced his back against the wall, sat down on the floor. "I'm starting to feel sick."

"I think you need to eat more."

"God, no." And he put his hand to his head. "That'll just make me throw up."

"I still think you need to eat more."

Tachi shook his head, raked his fingers through his oily hair one more time. His scalp felt raw. He'd been scratching at it for the past few days.

They both got quiet.

"...Tachi..." Ma-kun sat down on the floor, looked at Tachi with a bit of a sigh. "You know that I'm sorry."

Tachi nodded. "Yeah -- I think I'm going to hurl."

"Just relax." Ma-kun tilted his head back and his head made a little 'thunk' on the wall. "You're probably just sick from the food."

"No shit." Tachi licked his cracked lips, closed his eyes. "Starting to go away."

"Good," Ma-kun said lightly, not sounding as if he cared wether or not it actually was good or not.

They both got quiet again, but it was a less then settled quiet then before -- it was more along the lines of the denied quiet, the quiet that settles on the shoulders of those who are too afraid to speak. Tachi found that he didn't want to look at Ma-kun, that he kept looking at his livingroom, that it was prettier then it really should be for someone who made as much money as he has been these days. His livingroom still looked like someone rich and newly discovered, someone valued in today's market: leftovers from a previous success story. "I should sell this furniture."

"Bring you good money." Ma-kun nodded. "Good leather."

Tachi looked at his furniture, his stereo equipment, his pretty carpet and glossy coffeetable. "I want another drink."

"Yeah, me too."

And on it went. Some odd conversation, a bit of laxidasical talking, all emoting in moderation. Quite safe, in the short term, til they were drunk enough to not care what came out of their mouths or went into them.

"Tachi?" He lolled his head around to look at his friend.

"Eh?" Tachi didn't stop looking at the ceiling this time.

"Sorry." He meant it.

"Stop apologizing." Tachi frowned, "getting annoying."

"But, I am."

"Yeah, you said so. Once, twice, three times. Sold, to the highest bidder." He drank from his drink, enunciated an 'ah' sound to show how strong it was.

"Heh," Ma-kun crawled a little closer to Tachi, took the bottle away and drank some, did not make an 'ah' sound.

Tachi dropped his eyes down to meet Ma-kun's for the first time all evening. Ma-kun's eyes reminded Tachi of cough drops. "Huh?" Ma-kun was too close.

"What have you been doing these past two weeks?"

"Fucking all living females in the premises." Tachi paused in thought. "Most of them." He shook his head now. "Some of them." A little dead quiet. "One or two." Tachi sniffed and wiped his lips with the long sleeve of his grey shirt. They had stopped having fun.

"Tachi."

"What?" He didn't turn his head to look.

"This is such a stupid question to ask..."

"What?"

"Back then..." Ma-kun paused, to get the wording right, "Back when I tried to kiss you -"

"Shit."

"- there was a moment when you seemed like you wanted me to kiss you."

Silence.

"Or am I just crazy?"

Tachi just sat there looking forward.

"I mean..." Ma-kun pursed his lips a moment and squinted at Tachi, thought seriously about touching Tachi's leg, but didn't think he could get away with it yet, "that's just the way you were acting. Kind of. Like you weren't... cooperating, but you weren't stopping me either. That's just how you were acting. That's all. You weren't grabbing at me or anything, but you weren't pushing me away, either." Pause. "Tachi?"

Tachi closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't paying attention. There was a distinct possibility that if he ignored it, Ma-kun would feel too self-concious and stop this line of questioning.

Ma-kun sighed and leaned back again, this time they were so close their legs were touching. And they continued to sit there, for several more minutes. Outside it continued to be night, and inside there continued to be silence. Ma-kun looked down.

"I'm so drunk." Tachi said, starting to lay down the groundwork for tomorrow's lies.

"No, you aren't." Ma-kun answered back. "You haven't had near enough to drink to be drunk. Not with your alcohol tolerance." And then as an after thought, "I'm not either, really. Just a little."

They both became awkward now.

"Tachi."

"What?" He demanded back at Ma-kun. "What this time?"

"Are you really OK." A tone of voice that finally suggested that he would tolerate no more bullshit.

And Tachi started to laugh softly. "No, no I'm not. Feel better now?"

"No, not really. I was hoping I'd be wrong for once."

Tachi laughed dryly and looked down at the tile.

And they both sat, because what else is there to do? And the silence became more bleak, the furniture seeming to be more like tall fences then anything else. Ma-kun wondered if this is how the flat felt, when Tachi was here alone. A little cell, just for its living contents: a social outcast with nothing left to live for. Tachi owned this furniture to look good for magazines. He loved the image. He loved the rock and roll of it all. Italian leather was meaningless to him if it wasn't plastered on an 8x10 glossy. His good looks were meaningless without a byline. Ma-kun wondered if it was ever music for Tachi. And then, as if thinking the exact same thoughts, Tachi started to speak, his voice sort of scratched and tight, squeezing through emotion tensed muscles.

"I just can't believe I lost it all." Tachi whispered, unable to look up, unable to aknowledge that he'd just said it outloud. "It was so... right there. So close. God, I could smell it. I could taste it." He closed his eyes, felt tears come frighteningly close. "God." And he shook his head. "God....I.... heh..." And he felt the first of the hot tears squeeze out and slide down his cheeks. "I fucked up so bad. So, so, so, fucking, bad."

No shit. "Yeah, you did." Ma-kun nodded.

Tachi blinked and looked up at Ma-kun. "I lost it all." Tachi said, as if he hadn't heard. "All of it."

And then they got contemplative again.

But instead of feeling for Tachi, Ma-kun felt himself get annoyed. "Do you think ASK was only your dream, Tachi? You were the only one at rehersals? You, wrote all the music. Played the instruments. Fucking fought over all the contracts before each and every single gig since we started? You, just you, Tachi? Why not just name the band after yourself? Why be a band at all? Go solo. Fuck Ken and I. Who are we? Just a guitarist. Just a fucking musical genius. It's all.about.you."

Tachi dropped his eyes and looked down. If guilt were Ma-kun's goal, Tachi felt it in tides. He took in some breath, said what he knew he was supposed to say. "I fucked up." And his voice lacked any real depth. "I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up." And with each statement, his voice lost even more depth. And he shrugged, feeling dizzy and swinging back and forth from nihilism to anguish. "What do I have to say?"

"'Sorry.' Say you're god damn sorry, Tachi."

Tachi looked up at Ma-kun, whose eyes had turned into chipped ice. Tachi wiped some tears away from his face with his fist, looked down and sighed hard. He looked back up at Ma-kun. "I'm --" god damn sorry, "....sorry." And he looked down again. His feet were barefoot, and for a moment he didn't look away from the slightly irregular shape of his little toenail, but it kept on blurring. "I am, you know." And he sniffed looking down. "I'm sorry I took," and he choked up a bit, "I'm sorry I took you and Ken-chan down with me. I'm so fucking sorry." And he laughed and covered his face. "OK?" And he felt himself start to double over, too much of the emotion coming out all at once, "I'm fucking sorry!!" And his fist hit the floor once, hard, at the end of the line, before he convulsed into himself. He roared outloud, and started to laugh, and put his arms around himself a moment to hold himself together. And he shut his eyes and felt grief.

Ma-kun just sat there looking at Tachi, awkward. He hadn't meant to say any of this. He'd gotten angrier then he thought he would get. He'd made a pass at Tachi when he thought he'd be good. He got drunk when he said he would have no beer. And now, Tachi was tearing himself apart in front of him. Ma-kun sat there clueless as to what to do next.

"Ma-kun?" Tachi's voice was softer, slightly more in control.

"Hn?" He answered gently back.

"I fucking hate him." Tachi whispered softly in return.

"'Him'?" He asked back, dreading the reply.

"Him." Tachi hissed sharply back. "I fucking hate him." And Tachi made hard fists into his own sweater. "I....hate, him." And he was shaking now, his voice was thin and far away. "I'd do it all over again. Twice. I'd do it. If I thought for one, god-damn moment, that I could take anything away from him." And he was crying still, but the tears came down his face unnoticed as he stared forwards. His hands twisted the fabric of each sweater arm. "I'd do it over and over and over again."

"Tachi."

"Just to hurt him."

"Tachi, stop."

"Just to make him bleed like how I am now." And he shook his head. "I would." But the last part sounded like grief again. "I would." And all the tension left him suddenly, and he slumped back against the wall. They both got quiet. Ma-kun just looked at Tachi, speechless.

"God, Tachi..."

"Ma-kun." Tachi whispered back at him. "I'm a monster," as if it were some type of revelation to him. "A monster." And he laughed once, shortly. "I'm, sorry." And a smile spasmed across his face. "Really. About you and Ken." And he looked up at Ma-kun now, really focusing on his face. Ma-kun looked different now. He looked almost anguished, entrenched in pity. Tachi hated pity, he dropped his eyes again. When Ma-kun put his arm around him, he wanted to jerk away. But it felt good, and it meant that Ma-kun, at least, wasn't going to go away in the next ten minutes.

Ma-kun rested his forehead on the curve of Tachi's neck, and sighed against Tachi's ear. "You're so fucked up."

That took Tachi by surprise. And without meaning to he burst into laughter, and covered his face again. "Yeah," He laughed looked at Ma-kun one more time. "I am."

Ma-kun touched his cheek too gently touched his forehead to Tachi's. "Wanna know something really, really fucked up?"

"What?" And Tachi couldn't help but smile.

"After you told us,"

"Yeah?"

"After you told us what you and those guys did to Shindou." And Ma-kun laughed softly, closed his eyes. "I was, of course, horrified. But you know what my very first thought was when you told us?"

"What?" And Tachi kept his eyes on Ma-kun, who didn't answer for a long time. "What? Tell me."

"My first thought... wasn't about Shindou. I should have thought about his health, his safety. I should have thought about my own god damn safety, right? You," And Ma-kun laughed once to make it pointed, "-you, had gone fucking insane."

"Still am."

"Shut up. You had gone insane. And you had raped Shindou, taken pictures, blackmailed a famous writer, and were standing in front of us about to do .... who knows what? .. and my first thought..."

"... come on, tell me." Tachi's voice almost made it sound like a challange, who has the most fucked up confession to make?

Ma-kun leaned in close and lost his humor for a moment, took on an expression of wry humor again. "My first thought? 'Oh, thank god. He likes men.'"

Utterly ridiculous. Out of place. Horrifying.

They both burst into laughter, just slightly hysterical. Ma-kun was laughing himself back to light again, Tachi was crying himself down to dark. And when they stopped laughing, Ma-kun felt extremely relieved. Tachi felt extremely dead. Too much. The world is too much. It takes too much, it changes too much. He defines his life by exactly one thing and now he doesn't have it anymore. A total lack of focus had invaded his life. Utterly groundless, always tumbling downwards, always turning circles. Why bother to move forward when there is no end to hell.

"That's awful." Tachi said softly. And dipped his chin down. Ma-kun was wearing a nice shirt. Tan. He liked it when Ma-kun wore tan.

And he closed his eyes and cried. Hard crying, deep crying, empty crying -- the sort of crying that an entire month's worth of binge drinking hadn't managed to tap into. It was such a solid ache. Pieces of his insides just missing, leaving a shell that just sat there and ached. God, the emptiness of it all. A whole world had been lost. And he couldn't even blame fate. He couldn't blame anyone but himself. He'd done it to himself. He'd taken the knife and cut his own throat out. This was a world lost because he was an insane fucker that no one liked or cared for or needed or even wanted on a whim and here he was crying on his best friend's shoulder and he couldn't stop. Ever. This was a forever kind of pain. This was a forever kind of pain. It was hard to listen to what Ma-kun was saying. It was hard to focus on the words of comfort. He didn't hear any of the meaning. All he felt was shame, that he was actually crying. All he felt was ache. Too fucking stupid, all of it.

Ma-kun was holding him as he cried. Ma-kun wasn't actually talking very much, because there isn't a whole hell of a lot to say to someone when they're crying like this. It was a progression of movement, after that. Arms around shoulders, hands stroking hair awkwardly. A gentle rocking because it seemed appropriate. Kiss the top of his head, because it seemed appropriate, if uncomfortable. Drift down to his forehead, because skin is a temptation. Move down to the eyelids, because one step too far is the best way to live life. Taste of salt on the tongue, and a gentle circle down the cheek to collect more flavor.

Lips.

Tachi felt something inside him rise upwards to fill the ache for a moment. Not the sort of passionate, tearing, groping kiss he imagined Ma-kun would give him. Not even the general feeling of pity. Soft, warm flesh, tear flavor that reminded him of tequilla shots. The movement of their tongues slowly dimmed the salt taste. Tachi draped his arms around Ma-kun's shoulders and didn't think.

The two of them pulled away from each other with an audible 'kiss' noise. When they pulled apart he had stopped crying as much. A moment when brown eyes met blue, he was fascinated for a moment by the shape of Ma-kun's eyes, and then he dropped his gaze, carefully pulled away. He already felt uncomfortably cool away from Ma-kun. Crying had been a bad idea.

"Ok, my turn to be sorry." Ma-kun said, actually feeling a little guilty for doing it.

"I'm losing track of whose turn it is." Tachi quipped hoarsely back, didnt look at him, kept his eyes firmly glued on the light from the other room.

"Pretty sure this time it was mine."

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Hell of a party."

"We shouldn't do this again some time."

Tachi sighed. "Everything's getting more and more fucked up the longer we're here."

"Don't know." Ma-kun said, just as airily distant as Tachi. "That seemed pretty OK to me."

"I really did think you liked girls." Tachi said, knew from the start of the sentance that this whole conversation was going to be one huge mistake, as if it hadn't been from the start of the evening.

"I do like girls." Ma-kun said for the hundredth time that hour. "I just like you better."

Tachi laughed, covered his face. "I can see why you're more popular with them then I am."

"I just don't treat them like shit the morning after. You'd be surprised."

"Not really." Tachi wiped his face with his sleeve again, his sleeve getting wetter and soppier with each wipe and his cheeks getting rawer. He started to wonder how much like shit he looked, then he thought better of it.

"Tachi..."

"What."

"... I'd like to kiss you again."

Tachi made no movement, let out a heavy sigh. "Why?"

"I liked it."

"So?"

"You did too."

"No, I didn't."

"Well, you let me."

"Fuck off. You surprised me."

"'Surprised' you? How? I had my arms around you, I was holding you. Before that our legs were touching and I kept touching your leg to get your attention. I was pretty fucking obvious." Nevermind he hadn't intended to be obvious.

Tachi choose to ignore him entirely. It was a simplistic decision. Avoidence at its very best -- a skill which Tachi more or less had mastered.

"So, why not?"

"Why not what?" Tachi asked, pushed the palm of his hand down on the floor to try and get back up on his feet. As he was pushing himself up, Ma-kun reached out and unbalanced him so that he fell over with an 'oof'.

"Why don't we get together?"

"Eh?"

"You and I."

Tachi refused to acknowledge the heat on his cheeks. He didn't blush. He wasn't the sort that did shit like that.

"Because I'm not gay."

"Me neither."

"What?"

"I like girls as much as you do. I just happen to like guys, too."

"I'm not like you."

"Bullshit."

"Ma-kun, are you trying to logic your way into my ass?"

Unable to help himself, Ma-kun smiled a lopsided smile. "Well, flirting didn't seem to work."

Tachi blinked. He didn't know how to react. "Huh."

Ma-kun shrugged. "What kind of man would I be if I didn't try?"

"My friend?" He had a point, there. One point in a game where he was twenty behind. At least it was a point.

"Ow." Ma-kun paused. "I just don't see why not. How many women have you had? How many have I had? Out of all that meaningless sex, why can't we have meaningless sex with each other?"

"We're men."

"So?"

"So -?" Tachi asked back, not sure what other argument to give back, and then gave up. He just felt weary and ugly all over. "I can't associate sex with you." He says dryly before he can stop himself. "I like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Shut the fuck up. Let's have a beer." Tachi dragged himself forwards. This whole thing felt unfair from start to finish. He couldn't help a tone of bitterness and he couldn't help feeling like he just wanted to be alone. Friend's don't hit on friends. End of story. And they got quiet, again, because they'd already fucked up enough for the evening. Because they didn't know what else they could possibly do that could make any kind of amends, add any type of positive note in the whole morass. Tachi felt a sudden, intense disconnection with the whole situation.

He'd fucked up, again.

At least there was still some beer left. He heaved himself up, walked towards the kitchen. Ma-kun followed. Well. Had beer. Past tense. Tachi picked up a bottle of hard liqour, made a mental note not to get drunk. He uncorked it with his teeth, accidently broke the cork into several small pieces, spat it out into the kitchen sink, and trudged to the living room, stepping around Ma-kun with his eyes downcast. He flopped down on the couch, looked at the so far ignored tv. The movie they had been watching previously had ended and a new one had started. Tachi sighed. "Maybe there's something else on."

"Tachi."

"What?" And now he was annoyed

"Look at me."

Tachi didn't want to.

"Please?"

Tachi swallowed once, and turned his head to look at Ma-kun, chin first, eyes second. Ma-kun was looking at him almost cautiously. "Tachi."

"Yeah?" Cautious in return.

"Tachi...I'd really like to kiss you. One more time." Silence. A complete lack of reaction. "Please? I mean, just once. No tongue or anything. It's just that I've wanted you for so long, and I know after tonight you won't let me ever again."

Tachi was quiet.

".... please?"

Tachi didn't quite know what to think.

"This will be the last of it. Forever and ever. I promise."

He felt Ma-kun put his arm down around him, rest his chin on Tachi's shoulder.

"Tachi?"

Tachi closed his eyes, and was simply too tired to resist. "Only this once?" He asked, as Ma-kun turned him around by his shoulders.

"Yeah." Ma-kun said, leaned in for the kiss, neither of them particularly cared about the slight delusional quality of it. "I promise." And he carefully fit their lips together, and attempted to leave it at that. It was difficult. Trying to keep perfectly still during any kiss is a great deal more difficult then it sounds. But Tachi was managing, sort of. When Ma-kun drew just a little away, Tachi inhaled a small gasp from in between his lips, unaware he'd been holding his breath all that time. As his lips parted, Ma-kun dipped his tongue inbetween lightly and stole a taste. It sent a wave of tingles across his cheeks, and he jerked away with the sound of interupted air. He opened his eyes and looked at Ma-kun, who shrugged and gave him a bit of a smile. Eye contact.

"I look like hell, don't I?" Tachi.

"No, but I think there are a few abused children in Africa who want to send you some money."

Tachi laughed, and dropped his eyes. "Swollen eyes."

"I like your eyes," and Ma-kun brushed away an errant tear, "ol' droopy eyes."

"Fuck you."

"No, I like them. Really." And Ma-kun leaned in and touched his forehead to Tachi's. "Beautiful." And he reached up and carefully touched the very tips of Tachi's eyelashes, drew a little line from one corner to the other, invading Tachi's personal space as much as possible, trying to enforce a more romantic and trusting mood.

This only caused Tachi to avert his eyes further. He leaned back, and turned away -- happened to look at the tv, and the first thing he saw was a woman on a horse with a fly swatter. He laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation, shook his head, and reached for the bottle of liqour. There was nothing he knew better than these moves. He didn't know how effective they were until now. He took one great gulp of liqour, and looked at Ma-kun again. Maybe getting drunk wouldn't be an entirely bad idea.

Ma-kun wasn't letting go of him. Ma-kun started to reach all over him, arrange his body so that Tachi was facing him. Ma-kun, taking swift control over a situation he saw as controllable. And then he put his hand on Tachi's knee, slid it up onto his thigh, waited for him to do something about it.

Tachi just sat there, looking down at Ma-kun's hand.

"You going to do something about it?"

Tachi just looked at his hand, watched as Ma-kun squeezed his leg through his pants. He shook his head 'no'.

"Just going to mess around."

"... why?" He asked in return, feeling far too apathetic to do anything about anything at all.

"Doesn't it feel good?" And Tachi nodded 'yes', and then Ma-kun leaned forward and nuzzled his throat, placed a kiss on the 'u' of his neck. "I promise I'll stop if you tell me to."

"It hasn't worked so far." And he put his arms around Ma-kun's shoulders, closed his eyes.

"Well, you didn't mean it." And Ma-kun kissed some more.

"How will you know when I do then?"

"Because you're a violent bastard, and you'll try to kill me if I do something you don't want to."

"Damn." He rested his chin on Ma-kun's shoulder. "You know me too well."

For a moment, all they did was sit there and hold each other. Mostly because it was comfortable, and they felt lethargic from all the emotions of earlier that evening. It started with a kiss at his neck, moved further towards his face, skipped his lips and kissed his eyes. First one, then the other, and then Ma-kun pushed him down onto his back, grabbed one of Tachi's legs and moved it so it was more comfortable. Kissing, that's all it was at first. No erotic grinding of the hips or twisting of tongues, no moaning or gasping. Just kissing. And it was good. After the kissing became all the world was, they started moving their hips, a little hungrier now, more forgetful of the way things were.

Tachi hadn't actually realized how much they were getting into it until Ma-kun stopped kissing him, and started to focus on moving his hips.

And Tachi felt his cheeks heat up, embarressed at how good it felt to grind against Ma-kun, not embarressed enough to stop. He dug his fingers in almost by accident, crooked his knee to get better leverage. He closed his eyes, tried to pretend it was someone else. It didn't work, nothing could get it out of his head.

It was almost part of what made it so erotic.

When Ma-kun went down on him, he didn't protest at all, when he knew he should. This was going to screw everything up. Tachi made fists in Ma-kun's hair. This was going to make things forever awkward. He started to pump his hips, starting to feel less and less logical about the whole thing. He opened his eyes and looked down, saw the top of Ma-kun's blonde hair, Ma-kun opened his eyes and flung him a smoldering look, his hands busy at his fly. Tachi quickly shut his eyes again.

Just a mouth.
Just this one time.
Just this great, slippery, suctioning heat.

He bit his lower lip, heard himself make a sound. Tachi tightened his fists in Ma-kun's hair when he tried to pull off, came inside his mouth.

It was probably rude. But he wasn't really thinking about ettiquite just then. He felt a great wash of exhaustion, and relief. It was hard to open his eyes again after that. Ma-kun was kneeling above him, finishing himself off. Tachi closed his eyes again. It was something he didn't want to see. So Tachi heard it, but didn't see it when Ma-kun finished. Ma-kun pushed him over on the couch, flopped down, panting for breath.

"Aaah." Ma-kun said, and laughed. It made Tachi feel a little ill. "Thanks." And Ma-kun put an arm around him, kissed him roughly on the cheek. "I needed that."

Jesus, why did that make him feel dirty? "Ma-kun." He felt drowsy and ill at the same time.

"Hm?"

"I really think I'm straight." He didn't open his eyes, so the silence that fell just then was empty and without meaning.

"...okay." There was a note of sarcasm in Ma-kun's voice. "I think I'd believe you a lot more if you hadn't let me kiss you and then blow you."

"No...I really do think so."

More silence.

"I'm tired."

"Me, too."

"I guess I should go home. You probably won't let me stay the night, huh?"

Tachi shook his head, "No."

They lay there a few minutes, and then Ma-kun dragged himself up and zipped his fly. "Alright, then." And he climbed over Tachi awkwardly and started towards the door, unescorted. He fumbled with his shoes a bit, leaned himself up against the door frame. "Uh, Tachi."

"What?"

"I... meant to tell you something."

"What now?"

Ma-kun picked at his shoe laces, pulled one shoe on and started on the other. He didn't know of any other way to word this. "We have a meeting tomorrow."

By 'we', he meant ASK.

"Oh." Tachi was still lying on the couch, eyes closed.

"....with Seguchi."

And Tachi opened his eyes, sat up and turned to look at Ma-kun. "Touma." He said back.

"Yeah."

Tachi looked frozen, blatantly fearful. "No."

"We have to."

And Tachi shook his head at him. "No, I won't meet with him."

"He says he has a deal for us."

"I don't care!"

"Tachi, he says he'll drop the lawsuit. We have to meet up with him."

Tachi didn't blink, felt his heart race, shook his head again. "No."

Ma-kun dropped his chin, sighed heavily. "We have no choice."

Where is business done these days? Over dry martinis in swank resturants, with red walls and over stuffed chairs? With French menus, no prices written next to the entrees and businessmen in clean pressed suits?

Today, at least, business conducted itself in a dance club, where the menu was unwritten but it was generally accepted that they only carried items in liquid form.

Hair, the whole room was full of interesting haircuts. Black hair in mini-mowhawks, blue hair trailing down to lower backs, spiked and swept down over the eyebrows, exotic exotic hair like the plume of a peacock's tail -- drawing attention from whatever gender happened to be looking. And pink hair, short, chin length, changing hue in the altering dancefloor lights: magenta, hot, fushia, near purple.

Noise, music, rhythym, the sound of people shouting over the din. In movies, extras are picked up and told to repeat, "watermelon, watermelon, rudabega, rudabega," over and over again, to give it that undulating, neverending feel -- this is the true sound of people gathering. It is an ever building roar, dozens of people shouting out orders, phone numbers, real names and fake names, cuss words and flirtations, it gets louder as the night wears on, as the liqour wears on. Along the edges of the crowd of dancing, colorful, talking people are the tables of the club, usually taken by regulars who get there early to secure them. It wasn't unusual for business to be conducted at one of these round tables, not even big business, or legal business.

One table drew attention to itself for two reasons: the people at the table were famous, and they were being very... business like, which is less common in business than one would imagine. Three men sat at one side of the table, two men sat oppisite. It appeared to be the dainty negotiations of the professional, where one side would be much more powerful than the other, but no one knew which. On both sides of the table were blonde men. On both sides of the table were famous men. While it was unusual to see one of them out in public, no one was brave enough (or drunk enough) to attempt to race over and ask for an autograph. The paid bodygaurds who sat nearby weren't going to see much action tonight.

The beat raged on, in the night, amongst the voices of the clubbers, amongst the sounds of shoe soles striking against the laminate floors; and pink hair flipped round as a chin bobbed to it, lost inside the churchlike sense of cleansing music brought to the soul of any real dancer.

Back at the table, words were exhanged with a polite smile. Paperwork was exchanged with a polite smile. One blonde man took the paperwork, and began to read.

A new song, a slightly more frantic rythym, the DJ turned up the volume to make up for the noise the people were making. The people began to talk louder to make up for the louder volume of the music. The noise built up higher and higher, slowly reaching upwards until it was just a mesh of bewlidering noise.

And the people danced, and business went on.

After around, three minutes (halfway through the remix of the current Top Ten) one blonde man turned to the other. If he could have responded, and have been heard, he'd have said, "You can't be serious." But since this was a dance club, and the music was loud and the people were too, all he could do was look up and look incredulous.

The other blonde man responded exactly as he would if the room were prefectly silent: he smiled.

Ever dance drunk? Your limbs flail, you don't care, it is simply wonderful to move.

The music seemed to sympathize with their business today, the room got just quiet enough for words to be spoken.

"What do you want?"

"Payback."

"You can't do this to me." Tachi stood up, eyes wild.

Touma smiled gently and didn't bother to respond.

"I'm worth more then that!"

"Not anymore."

Sharp downbeat, the bass took over again. Eyes met eyes and no more words were spoken.

Dancing drunk, you flop around the dance floor and touching people isn't difficult at all. This sweaty rythym of music was everywhere, this was dancing inside some great heart, abandoning one's sense of self to music. You feel like you're winning when there is no competition.

There is a single pillar inside of him, that holds up his entire being. A single pillar between his cock and his brain that holds it all upright. It is made out pure granite, it is made out of workmen's stone, there is no grace to it, no beautiful carvings. It is ultilitarian in its beauty, perfect for its function. It is what keeps him alive.

He got up and felt dizzy, he flung a desperate look at Ma-kun and Ken-chan, who were both looking at the twin contracts sitting on the table.

"God." He said outloud, because he knew no one could hear. He was sick and dizzy.

He felt a great pillar inside him crack.

No.

No, god no.

Hasn't Touma taken enough?

He could never expect Ma-kun and Ken-chan to keep him under these conditions.

From across the table, Touma gave him the kindest smile. Inside his head, for a bare moment, he could remember the sound of the sidwalk and the noise of the car coming to a complete halt.

He turned and walked away from them all, pushed his way back through the dancing crowd. Various random strangers reached out and touched his shirt, because this was the closest they'd ever gotten to anyone who was more or less famous. The flashing coloured lights struck so many interesting haircuts, changing the hue with each new rotating cel.

And then he caught her. Caught sight of her. Caught her elbow.

She turned around and looked up at him with pretty blue eyes. His eyes narrowed and for a moment he was too violent to think clearly. Violent, ready to shred. Full of heat and rage and jealousy and resentment. Ready to butcher whatever bastard got in his way. For a moment, that was all. But he calmed down enough a moment later, forced a smooth smile.

He leaned in close to her, and she allowed it because she found him attractive.

He leaned in close to her, and a lock of her pretty pink hair brushed his lips.

"Hi." He said up against her ear, in his best carrying whisper. When she rotated her head so her lips were against his ear to whisper 'hello' back, he knew he had her.

He pursed his lips for a moment to capture a lock of her pink hair, and she laughed.

In the parking lot there was a great sense of absence, the lack of music making itself known. He'd been aggressive about it. He'd wrapped his arm around her petite waist and guided her towards the door, making as if he wanted to talk. She probably didn't think for one second that talking was actually on his agenda. They both pretended as though it was as a matter of formality.

When they reached a place where they could properly hold a private conversation, they both turned at each other.

She had a short, almost boyish haircut with dyed pink hair and pretty blue eyes and a little pixie chin. She was absolutely adorable.

"So." She said at him, smiled a little off to one side.

"So..." He said back at her.

They looked at each other for a second, and she was about to continue with the 'conversation' when he leaned in to kiss her. Seduction made easy, she didn't resist even a little bit.

The near-flight to the hotel room was not wasted on thought. He was not thinking about losing his whole world. He was not thinking about one of his closest friends hitting on him, or a record deal he'd never ever get again, he was not thinking about anything at all more complicated then where to park the car. He refused to think about those things. He refused to acknowledge they even existed. Fuck it. He was going to dive head first into the pleasent oblivion of sex.

He pulled over only once for condoms and alcohol. She made it hard by kissing at his ear and talking cute. He wasn't sure if he even liked the cute talk or not but he loved her voice. Or simply the fact that she was talking to him. Or maybe it was just the fact that the breath against his ear felt pleasent.

The hotel room and he still couldn't calm down. He knew already he was too aggressive right now to fuck a woman. Or at least, not a girl. The room details didn't even strike him. He was too blurred by emotion and need. He clutched at her with frustration and desire.

God, her waist was too small.

Her body was too soft.

He ran a hand against her back and felt a band of fabric where her bra should be. Sports bra, nothing to it, slip to over her head and she's set to go.

He reached around her and started to yank off clothing, he pushed against her a little too hard -- making the foreplay more like a wrestling event then anything else.

And he grit his teeth at just how soft she was, how perfectly dainty. He felt like she'd snap in his arms if he held too tight.

He felt like he was fighting something he was destined to lose. Out of control, an almost frenzy, he was trying to calm down with all his skill and utterly losing the battle. None of her skin made him feel good. None of her softness made him wild. Her adorable dainty soft frame did absolutely nothing for him. And he felt like he was going to go fucking mad trying to grasp at satisfaction.

How long could you need something and never achieve and not go utterly insane?

God, he couldn't even define it anymore.

He needed.

She was too soft.

He jerked away from her suddenly, pulled off the bed and went for the paper sack they'd dumped on a chair. He fished out the liqour first and started to pull off the plastic cap.

"You'd don't have to wrestle me you know." She said up at him, her dark eyebrows puckered at him with annoyance.

"Bad Luck." He said after a long liqour gasp.

"Huh?"

"Heard of them?"

She beamed and pointed at her head. "I buy the same brand hair dye."

"ASK?"

"'ASK' what?"

He capped the liqour bottle and dropped his eyes. He slid the bottle back into the paper sack. "Nevermind." But he exhaled once and felt dizzy and out of control. "Never... mind." And he closed his eyes and felt himself crumple a little bit more. He was aware now of the state of the air, the way the fabric of his shirt felt against his shoulders. He was aware now of the noise of her on the bed.

"You know..." She started, but didn't quite finish. The catch in her voice was there because she was a woman who sensed danger.

"You should go." He said, feeling dizzier and dizzier.

"Yeah."

The world, he closed his eyes, the world is lost.

"Don't feel pressured," Touma's voice.

"'Don't feel pressured'?" Ma-kun parroted back at him. "How could I possibly --" But he stopped, and decided that questioning Seguchi wasn't a wise idea. Amusement glinted dangerously in Touma's eyes, and Ma-kun knew what that meant by now.

"I hold no grudge against either of you." Touma was adjusting his hat, now, against the wind. "So there is no real point in punishing you for another's wrong doings."

"Without Tachi --"

"Without Tachi, you make a great deal of money." Touma smiled again, "Good evening," and he ducked into his car and drove away.

All they did was watch. Ma-kun looked at Ken-chan, and Ken-chan looked at Ma-kun.

"It is a lot of money."

Emptiness.

Sincere, emptiness.

This is a world, without anything. Void.

Tachi drank straight from the bottle.

He could remember the place of fire. The torrent on the mountian, he knew where it was. He could intellectually place it somewhere just a few months ago. Rage, Violence, Need, he remembered what all that felt like. It was rather a clear, concise memory. It needed no further wording to convey, then the utter perfect fire of it's previous existance.

He wanted.

He needed.

That defined him.

Without it, it was as if the one vital thread that held together his form had been pulled, and he was unraveling into a shaggy picture of himself.

There was nothing left for him to destroy.

No great palaces to raze.

No blood to bask in.

No pure hate to wreck hell upon.

Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.

But a bottle of rice wine and an empty hotel room.

This is your world. It isn't as narrow as where your vision ends, it isn't as dull or usual. Every moment you are alive, it is with perfect purpose. He had nightmares sometimes, nightmares about being devoured by it, lost under an avelanche of this purity. He was only passion, and he was only the moment when this gripped him. And inside his mind there was a flood of visions of the corrupt and the pain of loss. He would deny heaven if he had to, he would give up forgiveness. And in the end, he felt himself turn into a monster, a thing which was created and not born.

There was some part of him that regretted becoming this.

But most of him didn't. No regret.

The light in the room was a soft pale yellow, it sat on the furniture heavily, as if it were solid, as if it had weight. The room was tiny, being only a bed and a small bathroom that was just large enough for a toilet, a shower, and a narrow sink. The white walls looked yellow from the overhead lamp. The room had a smell that was half old dust and half new disinfectant. Every moment he was there he felt as if he were losing, losing more and more.

He wasn't drunk even though he wanted to be.

He could see the forumula of the movement inside his head, he knew what was going to happen next.

His stomach turned with sickness.

Christ, he just wanted to stop for a little while. Just a little while.

Just to rest. On the matter of the lawsuit of NG versus ASK: NG agrees upon the following guidlines, should the requirements be met:

A) NG agrees to drop all litigation against the entity known as ASK, for breech of contract

B) NG agrees to sign the entity known as ASK for the pre-agreed dollar amount, to be paid on a monthly basis

C) NG agrees that the entity known as ASK shall have no less then (3) albums pressed under their record label
and
D) NG agrees to pay all studio fees for all albums under their label, and will collect the same percentage of income as the previous contract stipulates.

Requirements:

The band member Aizawa Tachi must, on all counts, be striken from the band ASK, or this and all future contracts shall be null and void.