SURRENDER by Tina
3.0 – Picking up the Pieces…
Xiao awoke the following morning to the loud, shrill ringing of her telephone. She answered it on the third ring. "Mm, yeah?" she spoke groggily into the receiver, blinking at the sunlight that was already filtering in through her window blinds.
"Can I speak to Ayumi?" came the reply on the other end. She didn't recognize the voice.
Xiao glanced at the alarm clock on her bed stand. Whoever Ayumi was, she felt sorry for her. It was only six o' clock in the morning. "Sorry, bud, but I think you've got the wrong number."
Whoever it was that called—a guy—apologized for the mistake and she hung up. She closed her eyes, rolling over on to her side and burying her face in her soft, feather pillows, trying to catch the last remnants of sleep.
Sleep wouldn't come, though. She was wide-awake now, though her eyelids were heavy and her body was still relaxed. She could use the rest; she was up late last night with Jin—past one o' clock in the morning—making feeble attempts to drill him out of his shell and feeding him left over take-out food from her refrigerator, which he ate plenty and fast, as though he were starved.
Jin… She still couldn't believe he was back, much less alive. She'd never forgive him for deceiving her like that and worrying her half to death, but the was relieved nonetheless, as much as she hated to admit it.
He had a lot of nerve, too, barging in on her life like that, especially when she was getting along so well without him. She'd accepted what she'd believed to be the truth at the time, moved on and gotten over him, and then he just pops up out of nowhere and messes everything up. She wasn't prepared for this, wasn't ready to welcome him back into her life.
Whether he knew it or not, he'd hurt her badly when he'd left her four years ago, though not entirely just on a friendship level. Of course, he was a dear friend and trust worthy confidant first and foremost, but as few relationships go, this one developed into more. At least, on her part. She was pretty sure that he wasn't aware of how she felt, how he'd broken her heart all those years ago.
She'd had a major crush on him for years, ever since she met him when she moved into the Mishima manor for the third King of Iron Fist Tournament. That is, until four years ago. After that night on her balcony, she swore to herself never again. Never again would she allow herself to be hurt like this.
She'd done a pretty good job, for the most part. She'd managed to ignore her feelings for him, even date a few other guys, though nothing ever really happened between them. But now she wasn't so sure. She'd been easy on him last night, and that wasn't a good sign to her.
She didn't know what to make of his situation, either. His faking death, hiding out at her place for a few days from unknown enemies—though only to her—and then finding bugs planted throughout her apartment. What did it all mean? What was so horrible that he couldn't tell her?
Xiao turned onto her back, growling in frustration. Thinking like this wasn't getting her anywhere, and it certainly wasn't helping her get back to sleep. Sighing in defeat, Xiao threw off her covers and slipped out of bed.
She'd been so tired last night that she hadn't bothered to take a shower and wash all that grime and filth off. (When she'd explained her appearance at Jin's request over take-out, she was convinced he'd come close to laughing at her. It was a good thing he hadn't; otherwise she'd have bopped him hard over the head.) She stripped the sheets from her bed and threw them in the washer, then headed into the bathroom to take a much-needed shower.
After that she threw on a fresh pair of clothes—a plain gray T-shirt and faded jeans—and combed her hair, tying it back into a simple, long ponytail. She then crept down the hallway, into the kitchen, where she glanced at the clock and figured she should leave Jin a note, in case he woke up while she was gone, then went into the living room, where Jin was soundly sleeping on her pullout sofa. And there she stopped, gazing down at his slumbering form.
He still looked the same, she noted. He still possessed the same handsome, sharp, masculine features—a firm, square jaw, a long, straight nose, high cheekbones and those characteristic eyebrows. The same, wild, spiky black hair, though now it was a bit longer, in need of a good trim, but she bet it'd still feel as soft as the finest silk to the touch as it had years ago. The same golden tanned skin pulled tautly over a lean but muscular frame.
The only thing she wasn't used to seeing was the stubble of beard growth on his chin. The Jin she remembered from days of old was always had clean, but and shaven. Though if he'd been on the run for so long, like he'd claimed to be, she doubted he'd had much time to shave.
Xiao shook her head, smiling stupidly to herself. If one thing was for certain, she still thought he was the most gorgeous man to ever walk the face of this planet. There was no denying that.
Turning away, she crossed over to her closet in the entryway, grabbing a light jacket, her coat from last night (to be taken to the dry-cleaners) and her purse from her closet, and left the apartment, closing and locking the door behind her.
* * * * *
To Jin's surprise, Xiao's pullout sofa bed was much more comfortable than he'd expected. He'd slept like a baby, not waking up once during the night, something he hadn't done in a long, long time. But, then again, maybe it was just being in a bed that made the difference. While constantly being on the run, he hadn't had one of those in a long while, either. He felt almost fully restored—which was an exaggeration, really, as he imagined he hadn't actually slept that long (he'd always been a morning bird). At least one more night of this and hopefully he'd be fit to set off again.
He climbed off the mattress, stretched his limbs, fixed the sheets on his bed, and then folded it back into the sofa—careful to do it quietly incase Xiao wasn't yet awake—and put the cushions back in their rightful places.
He walked down to the bathroom across from Xiao's bedroom. It was surprisingly plain, he realized. He'd expected soft, feminine shades either of pink, lavender or peach, but everything here was either white or blue. He picked up a bar of soap from a dish placed on the sink and sniffed it. Whew, at least she hadn't given up on feminine scents. He went over to the shower and inspected the shampoos she had stocked. Yup, floral and citrus shampoos and conditioners lined the wrack she had hanging from the shower spout.
Turning back to the sink, Jin filled his hands with cold water and splashed it over his face. He then took a tube of toothpaste, squirted a small amount on his finger and scrubbed his teeth, then gargled some strong peppermint mouthwash. Once finished, he inspected himself in the mirror hanging on the wall in front of him.
He could use a shave, he thought, running his fingertips over the rough patch of hair growing on his jaw. Bending over, he checked the cabinet placed under the sink. Pads, tampons, cleaning supplies…aha, razors. He took one out of the package and looked at it—it was a two bladed, shocking pink plastic thing. Damn. There was a container of shaving scream down below, too. He picked it up, cracked the top off and gave it a whiff. Ugh, no thank you.
Perhaps he was being a bit silly about this. After all, who would know he used women products? It wasn't like he was going anywhere in public. The only one who might notice would be Xiao—
Scratch that. That was reason enough not to use them. If he knew anything about Xiao, he knew she'd never let him live this down. He was a man, damn it, he had his pride and ego to protect.
He put the stuff back in the cabinet and exited the bathroom. Silently making his way to Xiao's bedroom door, he slowly turned the knob and pushed it open. She wasn't there. Her bed was empty, stripped completely of its bedding. He frowned, confused. Where'd she go? He hadn't seen her in the living room or kitchen when he'd woken up.
Jin went back out into the living room. He pulled the blinds open on the windows—only just a bit, though. It was daylight and the streets of Tokyo were busy. He felt an urge to walk out of the apartment and look around, but knew he couldn't.
Turning away from the windows, he walked into the kitchen, figuring he'd occupy himself up with a pot of coffee. He found a note lying on the kitchen table. It was from Xiao. She'd left around seven (he glanced at the clock, it was after eight now), and she said she'd be gone for a few hours doing some errands. Fair enough, he thought, he could amuse himself fine without her around.
Rummaging through the cupboards, Jin searched for coffee grounds to use in her coffee machine. After about ten minutes of searching, he found one at the very back of one cupboard. Its lid was covered in dust and he could tell that it hadn't been used in a while. He blew the dust off and set it on the counter. Peeling the lid off, he inspected the brown particles inside. They appeared to be all right, so he grabbed a filter and poured some in, then inserted it into the machine, filled it with water and turned it on.
Minutes ticked by as Jin waited for his coffee to brew. He went into the living room and watched television for a while, though there was nothing of interest on—sitcoms, talk shows, soap operas, the weather channel.
Finally, his coffee was ready and Jin went back into the kitchen and poured himself a mug. He blew off a cloud of steam, and took a sip—and then spitted it back out. That had to be the worst coffee he'd ever tried. Picking up the tin of coffee grounds, he checked the label.
Expiration date: October 12, 2002. Well, that explains it, he mused inwardly. It was the second week of April, of the year 2003. This coffee was stale.
* * * * *
Xiao arrived back home at quarter after nine. She'd spent most of her time in town struggling at the dry-cleaners and a coffeehouse. Though it was Sunday, the Sabbath, a day of religious meditation and rest, it didn't seem to slow the city goers down any.
Her usual dry-cleaners had been too full, and so she'd taken her business elsewhere. The next closest—and cheapest—one was owned by an immigrant Indonesian family that didn't speak very much Japanese, and she'd spent a half-hour trying to calm a large, angry woman with a face red enough to envy the ripest of beets, whom she'd some how offended without meaning to.
After that, she'd gone to pick herself up an espresso and something for her and Jin for breakfast. Again, you'd think it was Monday morning, with all the people lined up to order. And then finally, the ride home had been hectic (flagging down a taxi).
"You're home," Jin said from his seat on the sofa. He was holding the TV remote, but it wasn't turned on.
"I'm home," she said, walking into the kitchen and setting her bags down on the table, her tone was cool, breezy. "It was busy this morning." She felt she didn't need to offer him an explanation, but there it was, out in the open even before she could think to stop herself.
"This is Tokyo," he said, "it's always busy."
"Anyway, have you eaten breakfast? I picked up some food while I was out." She pulled out the assortment of muffins, Danishes and croissants she'd bought from the coffeehouse. She looked at Jin and saw his questionable expression. "Of course, I don't expect you to eat all this. They had a lot of good things this morning, so I decided to bring some home to last for the week. Plus, I didn't know what you'd want."
"Is there any chance you brought some coffee, too?" Jin came up behind her, looking hopeful.
"Yes, I did." She handed him a steaming, lidded paper cup.
Jin accepted it in his hands. "Thank you." He took the top off and blew on it. "What have you got something against instant made coffee?"
Ah, so he'd found her old tin. She wondered how long it'd been sitting back there now. "It's not as good as this stuff," she said, taking her own cup. A thought struck her. "Did you make some?"
"Yes. It's past its due date, you know."
"I imagine it is. I haven't used it in months."
"So I discovered."
"You smell minty," she observed, though there was accusation to her statement. "Did you use my—Oh, drat. I meant to buy you some things while I was out. I completely forgot. You should have seen the mess I got myself into this morning. It was—"
Xiao recollected her experience with him from town with the Indonesian woman. She was aware that this bit of sharing was an opening, a step to warming up to him, which was something she wasn't quite ready to do. After all, she was still angry with him—or, at least, she was supposed to be—but that was getting harder to maintain the more she saw of him.
She was surprised at how easy it was, to fall back into old patterns. She felt so comfortable around him, so calm and relaxed, almost like he was like the same old Jin she'd grown to respect and care for as a friend, like he'd never even left her in the first place. In fact, if she hadn't stopped herself, she imagined she'd have kept babbling on and on.
"Ahem," she said, clearing her throat over her cup, her eyes studying the swirls of coffee and scream and foam. "If you'll excuse me, I have some things to do." She got up to leave, taking her drink and blueberry muffin with her.
"Xiao, wait," he called after her.
She stopped. "What?"
Jin looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face, his long bangs falling over his brow and shielding his eyes from her. He was hesitant, but she waited patiently. "Nothing," he said.
