Chapter Eight – Deeper Than Sleep

(Hi all!  Thanks for r+ring.  Chip and Suki are © me, more or less.  Everyone else is © Katsuhiro Otomo.

Crazygirl Liz, I pity gay people in America then ^o^ I guess as in England we don't have such a strong fundamentalist movement gay people probably don't get so much religious stick…I dunno, I'm not gay myself or anything so I guess I wouldn't properly know.  This fic is pretty much guesswork and imagination!

This chapter's a bit…short and uneventful, but I sort of felt I needed it in there.  Hope it's not too dull.)

The nights were cooler now the storm had passed, and the air was thinner.

            Kai didn't like the coolness.  Or was it just he'd hated the storm?  He didn't know.  But whichever it was, he was awake more these days.  In the darkness and the silence where he was the only person alive and where his thoughts began to panic and grow and crawl through his head until they cast monstrous shadows on the side of his mind and all he could do was watch them –

            He lay flat, and stared up at the ceiling.  Specks of streetlamp dotted it.  In the next room two people were having a shouting match, but it had been going on for about an hour now and was becoming background noise.

            Yamagata was slumped next to him, deep asleep.  One arm hung out of the bed, almost brushing the floor, and his hair was tangled and sticking-up, untidy blackness against the pillow. 

            Most nights they ended up doing this, not doing anything else, just hanging out at one of their places and then sleeping next to each other.  Kai still liked Yamagata – in that way – but those feelings were buried under an avalanche of others.  At the moment, he just liked having Yamagata around because the guy was the only person who knew – who knew anything, really, so didn't get puzzled or pissed off when Kai went silent or miserable.  At least, if he did, he didn't show it.  Not like the others.

            Kaneda's voice echoed through his mind.  Kai, what is with you?  I know you got jumped, but you gotta get over it.  Y'know?  It's not like it hasn't happened to the rest of us before. 

            Get over it.  Get over it.  If Kaneda knew, would he stop saying stuff like that?  Or would he just think it was the same as anything else you'd do in a fight?  Maybe it was, Kai thought.  Maybe he was just overreacting.

            Yamagata got plenty mad when the others said stuff like that, though.  Once or twice he'd come really close to blurting something out – or hitting out – and Kai had had to step in and drag the conversation away, back to safety.

            He was getting pretty mad with Kai, as well.

            Why can't we just explain something to 'em?

            Because I don't want to!

            Kai, they're getting really confused…sooner or later they'll guess –

            Well, if we tell 'em what happened, we'll have to say why it happened.  And you don't want that any more than I do.  Right?

            Yamagata hadn't answered that.  It puzzled Kai.  He'd not wanted to tell before, right?  Scared the others would freak out.  Well, now he'd seen what people did to people like them.  Surely that would make him even less keen?

            Or maybe it wouldn't…he's tough enough, they couldn't do it to him…I'm small enough you can manage, but he's stronger…he's much stronger than I am…

            Like everyone else is.

            He sighed, and shivered, and wriggled closer to Yamagata, who muttered something, rolled over and put an absent-minded arm round him.   

            At night…Kai needed someone else there at night.  The dreams were getting worse, so horrible it felt like they'd burst his skull, and if there was no one there to kick him awake –

            When there was no one there, he didn't dare go to sleep.

            But even though Yamagata was the only person who knew, he still didn't know enough…never would.  You couldn't know everything unless it actually happened to you.  You couldn't know what it felt like when they forced you, rubbed it in your face you were helpless, took your – your dignity, held it up in front of you and slowly sliced it into pieces.

            And most people were better off not knowing.

            The problem then being if you did know, you weren't the same as others – you were cut off – you saw things different.  And he knew too much and he didn't want to know it, he wanted to forget it all and be happily dumb again, but he couldn't, the knowledge tangled in his throat, slimy and dark. 

            And what if something happened, and Yamagata left him again – left him forever this time?

            Lots of reasons why it could happen.  Who wanted to go out with someone so miserable?  Yamagata liked a good time, always had; he'd want some girl, or some boy, who could give him that – who could be kissed without tensing or acting like something horrible was about to happen – who could go out and have fun, who didn't just want to stay quiet and unnoticed and left alone, who could handle sex like a normal person, who wasn't sick in the head because of what had happened to them –

            It'll happen, he thought.  It's bound to happen. 

            And it would hurt.  Hurt so much he wouldn't be able to take it, he'd smash like glass. 

            He was so sick of hurting.

            He wanted to ask Yamagata this stuff.  Tell him and then say so is it true?  But if he did that, and Yamagata said yes…

            No.  You were better off not knowing.

            He could hear them breathing together, filling the room with life, two of them, together in the dark.  And warmth, good warmth when their skin brushed.  And Yamagata still had an arm round him, shielding him, keeping back the real blackness.

            So why did he feel like he was alone?

The air wasn't so bloated with heat now.  It was easier on the mind, stopped your head aching.

            Kai was screaming again, and the sound dragged Yamagata up out of sleep, away from some dream about the Harukiya, up, up into the small, dark room.  Headlight reflections skidded across the ceiling.

            "Kai," he whispered.  "Come on, it's okay.  I'm here."

            He shook his boyfriend gently, and Kai went silent, and then dropped back into sleep again.  Yamagata watched him for a few moments, but then decided this particular nightmare seemed to have been driven back for now, and let go of him.

            At least, he hoped it had been driven back.  For all he knew, Kai had thought it was just someone else coming to pick on him and shut up because he was too scared.  But he always said he couldn't remember nightmares, and so Yamagata had to assume he was doing the right thing.

            He hated feeling doubtful.

            He hated feeling scared. 

            He hated a lot of things at the moment.  The Clowns, for starters.  And the Capsules.  Couldn't they just shut up and leave Kai alone?  Couldn't they just stop asking questions all the time?  And the fear and misery in Kai's face.  He hated that worst of all.  It dragged the light out.  It was like a mask and while Kai wore it, he wasn't himself at all, he was someone else, someone who was hurting too much and Yamagata didn't know what to do to help him…

            The day after it had happened, when he'd brought Kai some other clothes, he'd seen the bruises, dark, mouldy-coloured marks all over Kai's ribs and arms, and he'd nearly thrown up.  Him, who smashed in rivals' heads every damn day of the week. 

            Maybe it was the knowledge of what else had happened.  That knowledge was too heavy for one person to hold, especially when the others didn't understand why you were struggling.

            So, perhaps most of all, he hated the secrets.

            He was sick of having to find dumb excuses for saying things.  He was sick of not being able to tell the others a few home truths that would make them just shut up for a bit. 

            He was sick of being scared.

            Was he still scared?

            He didn't know.  Thing was, you couldn't afford to be scared yourself when there was someone else who was really terrified.  You had to be strong for 'em, or else you both just drowned or something. 

            And at first you just ignored your own fear, because it was just distracting – and then – then sometimes it went away –

            Had it gone this time?

            Didn't matter if it hadn't.  He'd taken too many steps into this having-a-boyfriend thing.  Even if he stopped now, his dad would still kill him, and it wasn't terror now, it was just…it was gonna happen, and you had to accept it sometime. 

            Oh, come on, he thought.  You're makin' no sense.  Dad could be anywhere, probably not even in Neo-Tokyo no more, and even if he is, who says he'd notice you or care?  His father was part of a past now.

            Yeah.  For the first time, his dad wasn't looking over his shoulder.
            The knowledge uncurled inside his ribs, and it was like a torch suddenly being shone into his brain.  His dad wasn't looking over his shoulder.  And his dad was who he was scared of, right?  He'd just been a stupid little kid when he'd got beaten that time, but he was stronger now, and taller, and that scar was nothing more than a hair-thin mark, and he knew more stuff and if he wanted to go out with a guy, then no one was gonna damn well stop him!  No one was gonna stop him yelling it from the rooftops if he wanted to!

            Well, almost no one.

            Kai sighed against him, and muttered something.

            No.  If Kai didn't want to tell, that was cool. 

            Well, okay, it wasn't cool, because the reason he didn't want to tell was those Clown bastards had scared him too much.  But that wasn't his fault.  And so if he didn't want to tell, Yamagata would help him not tell.  Even if it did mean sooner or later he'd be punching Kaneda's face in and have to say it was for no reason at all.

            He liked Kai relying on him a bit.  If only he knew what was the right way to help him.

            But not telling had to be one of the ways, so fine.  They wouldn't tell.

            Not yet, anyway.

Your skin wasn't glossy with sweat now.  Instead it was speckled with goose bumps sharp as grains of salt.

            Chip paced the room.  His eyes wept for sleep…his whole body ached for it, screamed for it…but he couldn't.  He couldn't most nights. 

            He hated Neo-Tokyo at night.  It never shut up even then, did it?  So many people, people screeching and singing and fucking and driving cars down the freeways.  Too many people.  He'd love to see them all just…wiped out…make the world so much cleaner…white light, and then all these fucking morons and bastards and perverts would be gone…

            While there were people, he had to try and hurt them, and he was so tired…too tired to hurt a lot of the time, but the need wouldn't go away…it was like a rat lodged in his ribcage, pacing, snapping, pushing him onwards.  Hurt them.  Hurt them.  In the daytime it was okay, but it was just now, when he was so tired…

            The rat snarled.

            You shouldn't be snarling, Chip told it.  You should be damn happy.  We did good this time, remember?

            And he did, and sat down on his bed, and a smile slid across his face, warm as a trail of syrup.  Even when he was this tired he could still feel satisfaction.  That had been a job well done.

            He wished it would rain again.  Rain made him feel good, because he remembered and because the rat remembered and it stopped biting.  That whole night made him feel good.  The bike-as-bait thing, which had been his idea.  That stupid kid looking up so scared as they surrounded him.  The other Clowns' faces when he'd told them what he'd seen at the Harukiya, and the warm, fat pride in his chest when they'd asked him – him! – what to do next.  And then the best bit…

            Chip fell back, the springs in his bed creaking, another smile dusting his face like the sound of giggling.  Who cared if he couldn't sleep?  He bet that little creep wasn't sleeping either.  Because of him. 

            He was sick of people beating on him.  And they always would because he'd always be weak, always be not too great at fighting, always get fists in his stomach and patronising pats on the cheek.

            But he could get his own back.  Always would.  Had last night, right?  He hoped that stupid relationship was dead as he'd felt after the tall guy had finished with him. 

            The rat hissed again, spat hate.  Chip lay back, and remembered the rainy night, and the good feeling spread through him, and he gasped happiness up to the ceiling.

The air nipped sometimes, and you wrapped yourself up in sheets and tried to ignore it. 

            Suki's feet were cold.  She cursed, silently, and sat up in bed.  It was hopeless trying to sleep tonight.  The house was too noisy, creaks and groans and people whispering and music playing.  Still.  As the world had fun without her.

            As people got loved without her.

            She was so lonely.  No one else understood.  Hiroko, Ima, Kaori, they were all happy.  They all had guys who loved them.  They all had boyfriends.

            Well, kinda.  Kaneda and Hiroko bitched at each other half the time they were together and fucked the other half – but hey, it worked for them.  Ima didn't have a steady boyfriend, she just hung around with whoever wanted her to.  And Kaori and Tetsuo were practically married.  Personally Tetsuo wasn't Suki's type.  He didn't have that – that air about him, that cool casual I-don't-give-a-damn air that the other guys did.

            That Yamagata did.

            Suki sighed again.  She wanted to be asleep.  She didn't want to be awake thinking about Yamagata.  Every thought was sharp and made her feel sad, made her want to wail out into the night before she splintered like crunched glass.

            But she couldn't stop thinking.  He'd got her brain between his hands and he wasn't letting go.  He found his way into every aspect of her life and then stayed there until she was almost sick of him and sick of longing for him.

            Sighing, she reached out and clicked on the bedside light.  The bulb flickered, then came on, and the glow spilled over the room, too bright, sore on her skin and in her eyes.  She reached out for a magazine, and started to read it at random.  If she did that, maybe she'd get back into the mood for sleeping.

            She'd read this article before.  It was about how women these days had decided they didn't need men or something.  Suki didn't really get it.  She sure needed men.  Or more specifically, one man. 

            Hiroko had said she should give up on him.

            I mean, I like a good time, Suki, but you know, he was getting a bit violent just now.  Weren't you scared?

            She had been scared.  She'd been really scared, but she hadn't been able to work out when it had changed from the oh-this-is-good-let's-do-it-feels-so-good-it's-almost-scary feeling to the realisation that it wasn't good any more but just scary…getting out of control…that he wasn't going to stop…that she couldn't make him…that she didn't want this –

            Of course.  That had to be why he hadn't called or nothing.  He knew she wouldn't give him what he wanted, so he'd dumped her. 

            Suki blinked, and then a drip fell onto the magazine, turning the paper grey and wrinkling the words.  She swallowed, and rubbed her eyes on the sheet. 

            She had to get him back.  Somehow.  She was sure, deep down, he'd be nice to her.  Make her feel special.  Yeah, he'd made her feel damn special when they were actually doing stuff. 

            Just never made her feel special any other time.

            But that didn't matter!  Guys were like that.  You just had to put up with it.  Even if you did think you deserved better.  Even if the magazines and movies talked about princes and knights who helped you stop crying.  Those guys weren't real, so you settled for the ones you knew. 

            Even if they did act like they found you a pain in the ass most of the time.  You just pretended you didn't care.

            Anyway, she thought, yawning a little, Yamagata was stressed at the moment.  She wasn't sure why, but she could tell.  She saw him hanging with his friends, and he was tense and gloomy as front-page war headlines or something.  So when he got over whatever it was that was bugging him, he'd have time for fun again.

            And time for her.

And then the sun rose, and the cool night air began to heat up as grey light oozed into your room.

            Tetsuo groaned as it glowed on the inside of his eyelids.  He didn't want to wake up.  Tired.  He rolled over, and cursed as he remembered Kaori, who was lying curled up next to him.  She'd be awake and wanting to talk and stuff, and he couldn't handle that today…he didn't want to yell at her, but it was just – when she was all sappy and good and sweet – he wanted to be nice to her, when she was like that, but he couldn't.  The words stuck in his throat and by the time he'd got them out they'd changed, changed into things like shut up and leave me alone and get a life.

            Everyone was driving him crazy these days.  People who called themselves his friends…his girl…even just random passers-by.  Everyone.  And why?  Because he was at the bottom of the pile.  Him and Kaori.

            And that was why he didn't like talking to her.  Who needed to be reminded they were pond scum? 

            "It's not fair…I can't do anything right and when I try they just laugh…or tell me to shut up."

            The words tangled in the cobwebs smearing the misty grey ceiling. 

            "I'd love to do summat that'd show them – just show them all –"

            Well, most of 'em, anyway.  Especially Kaneda, who was supposed to be his friend and yet who he hated sometimes, really, really hated.  Once he'd used to be grateful Kaneda even bothered to be his friend. 

            Who wanted to spend their life being damn grateful all the time?  He didn't owe anyone anything and he was sick of feeling like he should! 

            Yeah, show most of them.  Kaneda.  And Yamagata, who jumped on everything Tetsuo even said these days.  Always telling him to shut up or that he didn't understand.  Yamagata was no Einstein himself, was he – but no, just cos he was older and more sure of himself, he got say whatever he damn well liked, and did.  All the time.

            In fact, the only person whose skull he didn't want to jump up and down on was Kai's, and that – that was because Kai was practically taking his place as the small pathetic kid these days. 

            Tetsuo smirked.  At least I can hold a conversation without sinking into my jacket, he thought.  At least I don't get depressed when I've only been jumped.

            This superiority – tasted like wine, sort of warm and sour – was actually making him feel quite kindly towards Kai.  You didn't need to hate people who really were lower than you. 

            Kaori was different.  Kaori was on the same level as him, only she was a girl.  She'd never be a proper cool girlfriend.

            And he'd never be a proper cool boyfriend.

            Tetsuo sighed, and fought down the urge to shout and kick the wall and break things.  It didn't quite die, so to free it he pinched Kaori's arm to wake her up, and then so that he didn't need to look at her hurt eyes – puppy eyes, they forgave you, they just asked why? – he got out of bed, and started looking for some clothes.

The sun had risen now, and your bed became too warm, and sweat started to pool on your feet and in the dips of your body.

            Below the Olympic site, hidden under the crater left by a far-back cataclysm, something still slept. 

            As Kai congratulated himself on getting through another night, as Yamagata kissed him and tried not to notice him tensing, as Chip gave up on sleep and threw off the sheets and snarled at the sunlight, as Suki realised she'd fallen asleep on her magazine and smoothed the crumpled pages, as Tetsuo dressed, trying not to look at Kaori –

            Akira still slept, no longer whole, a slumber deeper than sleep but not as low as death; unaware of how he would send people's lives spiralling downwards into darkness.