A/N: Wow! Longest chapter yet. Written in Nevada. Maybe Vegas is my creative place? Well, whatever. Here's a new chapter. Uhmmm, hahaha. By the way, I was tired and it was late when I did this, so don't be disheartened if I didn't respond, 'cause these are only the reviews for Chapter Seventeen, mmmm'kay?
Review Responses
Kimmy- That's a secret! Hee hee. Anyways, I hope this isn't too long- this chapter gives lots of insight into Inuyasha's personal relationships, so I hope you can draw something from that. Enjoy.
CrimsonShiva- Thank you! Isn't Sesshoumaru a big jerk? Anyway, yeah, I guess it is- relatable, I mean.
Rose-in-May- HAHAHA. They don't seem right, do they? Well, this gives a lot of insight into relationships, as I've said, so enjoy that. And, know, that's not the end! There have to be at least fifteen more chapters. Well, thirteen. It has to equal thirty-one, what with the epilogue and all.
Hiroppon- Thanks. Here's the new chappie.
Shinimegami7- Not even close! Well, somewhat. Was the uhmm Otafest good, btw? Anyway, him and Jakotsu are cute. Haha. Enjoy!
Fagot- Uhmm, thanks. I'm not dead, won't be for some time...but read on! Enjoy.
Ile- Oh, I am so tired of reviews. Thank ye Gods it's almost over. Anywho, thanks! I like that it makes people laugh.
Shadow Vampiress- Ooooh, love. Hee hee. I would have castrated Sesshoumaru, too. I guess Inuyasha just likes making things difficult...jerk. That's very unnattractive. Did I spell that right? Anywho, sorry I left it dead so long...and enjoy.
Hakuryuu- Awwww, thanks...isn't writer's block the worst? Here's the update, anyway.
Shinigami Goumon- Oh, Gawd, the last review...uhmm, those monkeys hurt...Sorry to leave you hanging. It's a drag, what can I say. Anywho enjoy!
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Chapter Eighteen
"Why do you have to play this fucking song?" I asked, flipping on the heat a little higher.
"Hmm- I don't know- because I like it, maybe," Kag replied, rolling her big doll eyes to the top of her head, all pout and frown and belligerence lately, like some screwy spoiled wife who always wants her way. It was that Irish girl singing- from the Cranberries- the song Imagination.
"Well, no shit," I grumbled, lowering my voice on the "shit" part- lately she'd been railing on me every time I hit the curse button- something about people cursing their "insecurities" away, or something. This was coming from the girl whose inner-anger language consisted of vocabulary more colorful than a fucking rainbow- who once called me "a fucking dick-sucking sodomizer whose defense would be worthless in Alabama." Now the language couldn't even mutter "stupid" for fear of insulting the many sensitive minds of the fucking numbheads around us. Sometimes I wondered why I even bothered with girls.
Wait. Did I just say...I shook my head of the thoughts, fast and discreet motion so she wouldn't notice. And even if she did, I wasn't going to give her a chance to breathe a word- so I changed the subject quick. "Besides, it's not the quality- it's the quantity."
"I'm not catching your drift," she huffed with a snobby turn of the head.
"I mean- do you have to replay the song over and over?" I asked, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, looking ahead at the cars in front of us, the street as it filled with the obedient cars heeding to the color red. I make metaphors like a poet. T.S. Eliot should kiss my toes. Pshaw.
She paused, and furrowed her brows. "You know, you've got some nerve! You know, it's one thing to-"
"Look, just forget it! Gawd, why do you always have to drag the fucking subject?" I spat, pressing on the gas.
"No, listen to me! You always do this! You insult me and then you want to drop it when there's an argument," she replied, with a tone of disbelief in her squeak of a voice. Gawd, what the hell ever happened to "kiss and make-up"? I was starting to think of the possibilities of having a shallow girlfriend, from now on. Least they didn't drag subjects like they were tug-wagons. "You know, my therapist said that you do that because you're afraid of change and confrontation-"
"Jesus Christ, now you talk about me to your therapist!" I huffed, looking both ways before driving clear through the intersection. Call me OCD, but at least I'm always prepared for the worst. "What the Hell am I, some fucking subject!"
"Yes! As a matter of fact, you are," Kagome replied, wanting to push the subject. If girls ruined everything in music, that was fine with me. What wasn't fine with me was that they pulled fucking useless subjects with them, luggage through the airport of their dulling lives, goddammit, I am so good at this metaphoric shit that I should release as book of the stuff. Metaphors by I.J. Miyazaki. Like F. Scott Fitzgerald. Or Hunter S. Thompson. Catchy name, no? Anything to distract me from her pressing voice. "You are because you pull stupid crap like this on me! I deserve to be respected, too, you know? You're a pig!"
"Look! Just drop it! Why can't you ever just drop the subject! If you really want to solve something, just shut yer trap for once!" I exclaimed, slamming on the break at a stop sign.
"Why can't you ever confront one!" she exclaimed, ignoring my further sentiment.
"Because I don't like fucking wasting my time, that's why!"
"Oh, so this is a big waste of your time. You have got some nerve, Inuyasha Miyazaki."
"I didn't say that!"
"What did you say, then? Look at me, for once, when we talk!"
I didn't even pass her a shooting glance; my eyebrows were furrowing, and there was a small sweat coming on from the heat in the car. "I'm fucking driving, you psychopath!" I burst out, "Can you not see the fucking road!"
"I mean actually pay attention to me! Now, I don't know what's going on in your life right now, and I'm sure it's just terrible, what with your two-story house and your shrubs and your new clothing and loving family, but I deserve the same respect as always!" she said, making a wild hand motion and slamming her delicate fist on the gray plastic of the dashboard, all anger and hissing and flames. Kagome's anger wasn't for the weak of stomach- mostly she was worse than me. Plus, she had a temper like a fuckin' redhead. Flamey, and everything. It would just blow up at you and you'd be so flustered and cluttered in the head that you didn't know what you were saying. Even Miroku couldn't talk his way out of an argument with her, and that was bad. "I mean, which moon are you on lately? I can't even reach you! Even teachers are concerned! Even my friends are concerned, and it takes a lot to make them concerned for your ass! Every turn I make it's, 'Oh, is Inuyasha okay this', and, 'My, is Inuyasha okay that'. I can't even answer because I don't even know! I mean, help me out, for once! Going to parties, driving home in God knows what condition, buying cigarettes for your best friend! Where are you, Inuyasha Jay! Just tell me the truth! Help me out." That was the worst- when she called me "Inuyasha Jay", that was about as concerned as she'd ever get.
"Nothing! Nothing," I said, quieting my tone, "Nothing. Nothing's going on. I mean, no, I'm fine. I'm stressed. It's school. I don't know. I really don't fucking know." I don't know how that all came out- but it was the right thing to say and it just poured out. And there was even quiet. There was a pause- a strange, understanding vague silence. And I looked each way at the intersection, trying to distract myself- oh Gawd, from anything. And Kagome paused a motion and put her hands on her lap, tapping on a denim thigh. Hmmm. Kag once told me that she was a Sagittarius, and that's why she liked the truth. I guess it was true, even though I didn't know shit about it.
The sun came through the blue of the window, crowning her forehead with a deep medicine color, shining on the back of the head of the seat as she turned her head from me. She'd turned her head with this look in her eyes- I could see it in the rearview mirror- and the looks were different in each eye. One eye was- sad. Confused. Concerned. Dimly lit on purpose. The other was teary, angry, twitching a little more. Her eyebrows furrowed. She opened her mouth.
"This is- go down the block here. I'm studying at Aki's today," she said. She'd changed the song- I could fucking cry- she'd changed the song. For me. "It's the…the yellow house. It was- this is 'Lullaby'," she said, pointing out the shivering bongos and guitar of the song. She knew I was thinking about it, what I'd said. How did she know I'd been thinking about it? She could read me like a book, always could. Just sometimes she got it in her head that she was confused. Really she was just too aware of me to face it…that…"I'm concerned. No, I should stop. Have a good day," she said, opening the door as I pulled up to the pale yellow Colonial. Her shirt was from American Eagle- plaid and Victorian sleeves- and her jeans were darked out. She was- so cute. Bleh, my God, I hated this romantic shit, but she was. She was small. Toned. A little filled out around the love handles and the thighs, but small. Curvy, I guess, just a little.
"You- too," I said, near choked out in fucking anger, as the door slammed and she walked away. Gawd, I was talking to myself now. Fucking disaster. "You have a good day, sergeant," I saluted, watching her go in the house- and then spinning fucking off in my rocket as she left, goin' back to space, red on the inside with fucking anger and frustration and this dim lit hopelessness in some fucking weird struggle against happening and new and change. Metaphors. My heart was red and my mind was a bull. Fucking metaphors.
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I dashed out to Bloomingdale's later in the city to crash on the Christmas deal. I mean, it wasn't even fucking Thanksgiving yet, but everyone had Christmas on the mind- when it came to prices and bargains, that was. Thanksgiving was basically kinda inconsequential and un-universal, but the way that it is is the way that it is, I guess. It's people's minds. They don't have Thanksgiving anywhere but America, but they do have Bloomingdale's, so the craze is universal.
It was freezing cold and late in mid-November. I had school tomorrow, but that was…Hell, I needed to get away from Bayside for a while. Bloomingdale's probably wasn't the place to go if you wanted to "get away," but then again everyone was Christmased out there and no one would really pay attention to me so I guess it was okay.
Besides, I needed to get a pretty clear idea of what gifts to get everyone. I mean, it wasn't really "me" I guess- I guess people imagine me vomiting all over the place and shitting in gift boxes on Jesus's birthday, but then again people don't really fucking know me, so they wouldn't know, would they? I guess, well, that if I wasn't an openly "caring" person, I was at least considerate. Polite. Cordial. I didn't really care enough about rebellion to shit on tradition, and besides it was an okay enough tradition, I guessed. I got presents and it was one of the few days my Aunt Kim came out to visit, besides Easter and Memorial Day Weekend (which I couldn't understand, but whatever), so it was okay. I usually got generic stuff like spoons and spatulas and aprons and the occasional spa kit, stuff like knife sets for my dad and measuring spoons for my mom and shit like books or cologne or new headphones for my brother, mainly shit I saw in advertisements. Cigarettes for Miroku. Perfume for Kagome. Generic, and besides I didn't put too much thought or emphasis on anything, so it wasn't like I was all- "CHRISTMAS!"- on the 25th. I mean, it wasn't…wasn't like fucking weird. It was just me. I mean. Nothing weird.
It was maybe a half an hour's drive to the Bloomingdale's in the city, where everyone wore trench tan camel coats and stiletto boots, fifty minutes if the traffic was gay. I don't know why I went to the one in Bloomingdale's- maybe because that's the greatest. There's a huge display in the glass store windows that's lined with tinsel and gold, and fake snowy powdery crap sometimes is falling. There's a train and everything, trees and stuff. It smells like pine and candles. It's super fucking warm and there are huge ass trees- like huge. They're green, with these decorations. Sometimes it's multi-colored but you see a lot of the trees that are all gold or all silver. It's pretty great. There's rotisseries and sweaters on sale, too. It's got a warm Christmasey feel.
Nobody really pays attention to you when you're in that store, especially around Christmas. Everything is grandiose. You just kinda loop through your own little mind-head-world. It's not like I had any money or anything, but it was nice and it was good to think for the head. I mean, nobody's really gonna effing bother you when there's a huge fucking Nutcracker being put up by store employees, right? Right.
I mean, Jesus gets more attention than Inuyasha Miyazaki by a triple. Or does he? Sometimes with people like Kouga- Jakotsu- criminals like Bankotsu, or that guy who shot Kagome's cousin, or whatever- even Miroku- I didn't really think paid all too much attention to the guy. Just the statue in the manger, I guess.
But that was all mainstream shit- not like anyone hadn't thought of that before. It wasn't all too fucking original, my thought process. I was- conventional? Confined? Was Jakotsu right?
Jakotsu. Christmas was coming up, and I'd been too stupid to push him out of my life before I had to spend money on him. Goddammit. Here I was, bragging to him about how fucking pragmatic I was. Did I come off like I wanted to buy him something?
What the Hell would a gay guy want for Christmas, though? I thought heathens were burned on Christmas. I'd have to fucking use that…anyway there was lots of stuff on display. Stuff like deer sweaters. Hell no. If I bought that then he'd fucking go out and embarrass me with it, and I already had enough trouble with Miroku's colorful taste for hats and ties and other bullshit that he pulled outta his ass.
Wait. Was I just thinking of going out with Jakotsu?
I shook my head. This was too much. I'd been around that fag too often- I was starting to…be different, anyhow, in the simplest terms you could put it. Was I? Christ, all these questions. There was no fucking question, even. There was only the answer- yes yes yes. Well, what in the God Hell of Jesus was I supposed to do about it? I had no experience in dealing with psychos, and- and…Maybe I thought I was too impenetrable, too stable. Maybe I thought I was like a rock. Well, pshaw. I fucking was. There was no fucking debate or need to debate anyway because I was. A fucking rock, I mean. An island. A winter's day. Like that song…
Speaking of songs, there was the issue of Kagome. My God, she was an issue in and of herself. There was- she was- Christ, I didn't even know. There were just these things about her that I had no clue how to deal with them. Like- how much we argued. How she liked faggoty Damien Rice type girly man music. The way she insisted that I wear tighter jeans because it was "fashiony in a rock star way." But when did she start caring about rock stars?
In fact, when did she start caring about…shit? The way I talked. The way I dressed. My facial expressions. I mean, what fucking right did she have to pull that stuff with me? I mean- it was my life. She was only a slice of it, but this was my pie. Inuyasha Pie Miyazaki. Deal with it- I mean, where did she get off being all high-and-mighty? Getting all fucking huffy because I had a- a had a goddamn life! Well, piss on that! Stupid Kagome, I swear…
But that…that was…all wrong. It was all wrong and I knew it. My thoughts were whirling, turning red with all this psycho babble anger I had in me. I needed to be numb for a while. I needed to…I needed to slow down.
I stopped in the toy department when I saw the glaring light of a steel train road reflecting white and orange and green and blue in the corners of my eyes. There was a green and red train- like the models I used to collect when I was a kid. What the Hell happened to those, anyway? What happened to those models? They were pro'ly worth a lot of money.
I was wrong. Even the goddamn train knew it. The nutcracker knew it. The trees fucking knew it, and when trees know anything, it's serious fucking business. I mean, here I was, talking about what right did she have, and where-did-she-get off, and all that bull. But here I was.
It wasn't always like that. We weren't always arguing, and we weren't always so goddamned melodramatic. Once there was- once we really did like being around each other, when we'd spit bile at each other and I'd try to get her attention and act like an immature idiot baby around her, all pouts and frowns and red in the face when she asked me if I thought she was smart or cute or what I don't really remember, trying, wanting to get alone with her, that one summer, where she thought that I thought that she was going out with Kouga or I was still with Jennifer-Anne, or something twisty like that. We played a lot of Cure songs that summer. She liked the Cure. Said Just Like Heaven was our theme song. Pshaw.
Now that there was Jakotsu, I felt something happening. I felt the fucking brew of life stirring somewhere on the nervous distance, and I was too chicken shit to acknowledge it. But it was inevitable. It was something I could see coming when that dickface was shaking his leg, now that I really thought about it. I could see something weird- new- real unfamiliar. I could see that- fucking asshole, that he'd ruin everything I knew and worked for. Fucking asshole. If there was anyone who didn't have the fucking right, it was him. Screwing up everything. And all for- what? The truth? Liberation? Boredom? A hot fuck? What? What was all that fucking for?
Maybe Kagome could see it too? She'd always been as perceptive as me, eerily more so. But. What fucking ever. This was all dramatic, and…
"Are you gonna buy that?"
I looked down. Some creepy little ginger kid with a black headband and a purple-gold-glitter-tie dye Urban Outfitters-ish shirt was lookin' up at me. I snorted.
"Why the Hell would I do that?" I asked, partly scoffing and partly confused and fucking creeped that a little kid-girl would just fucking approach me like that. I mean, me, of all the people in the store.
She wrinkled her nose. "Because you look gay," she said, in that na-na-na-na-na voice that told me she didn't know what gay really meant.
"Well, piss on your mother, then!" I spat, rolling my eyes at her huffily and looking back at the silvery railroad on the mini train station model, spinning, looping, round round into a weirdly jagged figure eight, if not for the lightning bolt piece of track at the near top of the thing.
She gasped and her eyes widened- freaky green-blue eyes against her dumb freckles. Dumb dummy freaking girl…"Don't blame it on me just 'cause you're gay," she said, her voice lifting stronger, as if really meaning to get into some heated argument with me. Yeah. Tch. Wasn't gonna happen. I could kick her silly ass to Chinatown and break her nose anytime. Even now. Straight through the windows and down into SARS land…
"Look, Freckles," I said, turning toward her with a bargaining tone. She wrinkled her nose when I said "Freckles." I knew how to pick on a kid pretty good. "You wanna get beaten silly? I got no interest in talking to ya, kid."
She pursed her lips. "You're mean," she said, sticking her tongue out, "I was only asking, you damn fool." Christ- kids these days. Especially in New York. She'd probably heard her parents say it (probably to each other), but, Gawd, fucking kids. All of them vulgar fuckin' pottymouths, trained from the start to insult in anger and flip off the nearest Arab taxi driver. Kids in New York, especially girls, were a savage bunch of fuckin' killers that I wouldn't trust more than Al Capone. Little brat wenches…
"Look, Lolita, save it," I said, rolling my eyes, "I'm busy."
She scrunched up her face again, wincing a little, and then biting her bottom lip, twirling her hair. "I was only talking to you because you were cute, anyway!" she defended, with this stupid childish indifference, "I don't actually want to be your friend. And my name's not Lolita, anyhow. That's a retarded name. My name's Heather. I was named after-"
"I think I see Santa," I answered, "So whydontcha scadaddle before he goes back to the North Pole?"
"I don't like you anyway! You're gay!" she answered, trotting off to her mother- a fine piece of work in black slacks and a white button top, a working woman, I guessed, with honey blonde hair and glittery eyeshadow.
"Ah, you're goin' to Hell anyway," I answered. But I was more answering to myself than her- more answering to the person in my mind that kept telling me not to be such a fucking dick.
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Anyway I was looking for jewelry in where else but the jewelry department, and I was thinkin' some about Kagome…these women all reminded me of Kag, with their rushed self-conscious sorta gaits when they walked, the way the looked like they had somewhere to go. Kag always acted like she had somewhere to go. I had to figure out why that was, sometime. Well, it could do with the fact that she always did have something to do. Kag was like a juggler, I think- she always had to care about stuff, seeing as how her mom was always working and her little brother needed to be taken care of, and there were household chores, and everything. Kagome's house did really even have one floor, save two- it was a teeny house with two bedrooms, a rec room where her little brother Souta slept and one bathroom, and a real small kitchen that sort of leaned in on the living room. So I guess she had stuff to worry about. I guess.
I was looking through the display cases when I saw this necklace- looked classy, like it coulda been ripped offa Jackie O. Triangle diamonds leading up to a big thing in the middle, this circle-y kind of oval-ish thing. I wasn't sure if it was some kinda sapphire or something, but it pro'ly wasn't- it looked like turquoise, just with some other color. Real nice stuff. But where would someone actually wear that? Like all those stupid trends- leggings, fluttery shirts, tight jeans and motorcycle jackets- who actually wore that shit?
I moved on to the next piece of jewelry. No way in Hell would I buy something like that for Kagome. That was embarrassing, and besides I wouldn't be surprised if I had to sell my house to buy that shit. No way in Hell, so I moved on. There were other necklaces- all tacky and shit- and there were bracelets, the kind my mom used to wear in the seventies, big and chunky. If there was anything I didn't want Kagome to look like, it was my goddamn mother…there was other stuff. Earrings. I kind of liked the way it looked when Kagome put on her earrings- it looked girly, feminine, and real attractive (maybe only 'cause it was Kagome). So maybe I'd buy her earrings.
There was a pair of dangly earrings that I would of liked on her- dark silver and with these designs…and little turquoise things hanging off 'em. I asked the lady at the counter how much they were.
"Oh, those? That's a wonderful choice- they're made of real silver and turquoise- and the designs are subtle. May I ask for whom you're buying them?" she asked, taking an interest.
I furrowed my eyebrows and looked away while I spoke, creeped out that she would be so interested. "My uhmm girlfriend," I answered curtly. Well, blame me for not wanting to get into a conversation with a saleslady of all people. Don't lecture me- you do it to telemarketers all the time. Besides, at the moment, I wasn't really appreciating niceties. I'd had enough of people, for today- after that little girl and the fight with Kagome and thinking about Jakotsu, I was all peopled-out by now.
"Oh! That's a lovely choice," she said, taking them out of the display case and jabbering on for a bit about the intricacy and the beauty and the simplicity, when all I wanted was the fucking price, oh God, please get me out of this…she asked me if I had any further questions.
"Yea. How much?" I asked, looking at it closer- the light was glinting in the Christmas lights they were putting up.
"Oh- fifty dollars," she said, checking her watch, instantly sounding bored and uninterested.
"Oh. Thanks. How much is that thing?" I asked, pointing to a monster ring, fucking big diamond rock. I couldn't even see the band, that's how huge it was. I just wanted to buy something like that- fuck practicality. I wanted Kagome to wear something like that, something so big she couldn't lift her finger, so she could brag to her friends and everyone would live happily ever fuckin' after…
"Oh- that ring?" she asked, looking at me, taking note of my age, or something. "That's…wow, that's about five-hundred dollars-"
"Jesus," I muttered.
"Come again?" she said, holding her left ear with an award-winning smile slapped silly on her face.
"I said thanks," I grumbled, nodding her off and going away to look for other stuff. I just wanted Kagome to know I actually, you know, liked her.Appreciated her. I figured a diamond could do it- because I certainly couldn't.
I didn't end up buying her a diamond, though. I ended up buying her a Smiths CD, the one that has that "There Is a Light and It Never Goes Out" song on it, and a raspberry-cranberry candle, or something like that. All impersonal shit. I didn't want to seem too obvious.
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Besides- Jakotsu had told me that diamonds were tacky on girls who weren't forty or older. That was true- diamonds were old and stuffy and powdery, not girls that were- you know, young. Besides, simple things were good. Even if they weren't earrings. Or fuckin' monster diamonds.
I wondered, for some reason, how to say "diamonds" in Spanish (okay, so some weird shit pops into my head- at least I'm always thinking, you heathens). I'd ask Jakotsu. He would know- he spoke like, what, fifty fuckin' languages? I wondered how, with his ADD and everything, he'd learned to speak so many…and interchangeably. I guess 'cause his parents were direct immigrants. Both his parents had something of an accent- his Dad had that kind of hurried, harsh sort of Asian thing goin' on, and his mom had a bit on an annoying, nasaly French accent- so she couldn't pronounce her "th"-s correctly. It kind of made me laugh every time I thought of her saying "the world." Hardy har har.
I wondered how his dad and his mom had met. I mean, it's not like they met at the fucking model convention, or anything. I mean, his dad already had liver spots, for Christ's sake. He wore glasses and had thinning hair and his head was big and square. But his mom- annoying as she was, she was fucking gorgeous. Maybe it was arranged. Or maybe it was like he said, maybe his mom was a "wine-guzzling icky gold-digger whore." I'd have to ask him that, too.
Some days I actually did look forward to the call- no. That wasn't right. I never fucking looked forward to those calls. It was- it was just that I was just so fucking BORED. Miroku was always "too busy" to talk or even do anything (not like I had any fucking problems with that- most likely he only got me into trouble, anyway, and with school and Kagome and my parents and, oh, not to mention, Jakotsu, I did not need to be sitting in a police station with my tail between my legs). Kagome was always "studying" or "out with friends lol" or "doing homework, lmao," so she was always a no-go. Other than that I didn't really have many friends. Not really any that I wanted to talk to, anyway. And not any that would use up five fingers on my right hand…
So I was bored. Sometimes I would make a bet with myself- in which hour will he call and ruin my day? Mostly, it was either eleven in the morning (on weekends) and nine at night, or it was six in the evening and two in the morning (the reason why I don't get much sleep). I mean, I could have just shut off my phone. That was a major possibility. And there was always that question in my head- "why the Hell not?" Maybe it was like he said, he was impossible to ignore. I thought maybe that I should conduct some kinda study- wear glasses and a long white coat- and put him in a room with the most apathetic people in the world, just to see what would happen. I mean, not really even my brother could completely ignore him, either because he was real different or extremely annoying. I thought the latter, but, hey, what do I know.
I was on the street now. It was freezing fucking cold- it had the effing nip that November air always had- "I am November and I will blow you away and there is absolutely nothing you can do about my icy breath, so shut the fuck up and put a coat on." It was like someone was pinching your skin or punching you in the teeth every time a breeze came by. I was thinking of stopping in a coffee shop, but then again that was where all the gay bohemian-poseurs and nasty hippies hung out, and I was not any part of that crowd whatsoever, no way, no how. Besides, since when did I drink grande-mocha-frappa-choco-denim-jacket-mocha-lattes? Or whatever the Hell they were. Since, like, oh yeah, never.
There was a guy on the street doing ring tricks- some fag in a regular casual getup, all denim work jeans and green shirt and stuff. He was flipping rings around, up and down, through his arms and shit. All the tourists were just eating it up. New York tourists were the absolute worst. In fact I've got a not-so-secret desire to have them all mugged and robbed and clubbed on the street. Teach them to walk around like idiots, goddammit…and it's not like they came to Bayside, anyway, so that was a plus for me.
I wondered when they would do the Thanksgiving Day Parade and thought Jakotsu might enjoy the faggotry going around. I mean, ring tricks, big balloons, Midwestern white people? He would fucking love this.
I mean, all of a sudden I was thinking of what he would like. When did that fucking happen? I shook my head at myself. I was convincing myself that I was getting sucked in, that was all. And besides I was so used to him that, you know, it wouldn't make any difference anyway…I mean, I hoped…
I was thinking of getting a pretzel (and then deciding against it when I saw the big dirty Greek guy manning the stand) when I saw this…familiar figure walking through the crowd. He was semi-tall, brown suede jacket, longish hair, little on the dark side…where had I seen him from before? I couldn't see his face, but…he was approaching a large set of steps, when he turned my way. I saw his face- oh. John- the better-looking guitarist guy. What the Hell was he doing here? I rose an eyebrow- I'd expect him to be in some boondock hoedown, not carousing in New York City. He was suspicious, on a whole- he looked like a Midwesterner. Why was Jakotsu even wasting his time on this guy? Then again, why waste his time on me? Well, feh. Whatever he wanted to do was not any of my business, and that was more comfortable for me, anyway.
But he was looking persistently in my direction. I wondered why. I raise a hand grudgingly to acknowledge him, but he wasn't waving at me- he was waving at someone behind me? I looked around…and suddenly I was pushed by a small blonde girl in a long camel trench coat and stiletto boots (the fucking epitome of New York trendy), waving madly and…wait.
Wait just one mind boggling fucking second.
I cocked my head- was she…she ran toward him and hugged him. He kissed her on the cheek. Oh, my fucking Gawd! Oh, fucking Jesus. That fucking asshole. He laughed at something and they just looked oh-so-peachy-happy and wonderful together that I felt like socking that bastard in the face every time that sunshine fucking smile crept onto his face. Fucking toad…that jerk.
She was smaller than Jakotsu. She was more tanned, too. I mean, he was the Pilsbury fucking Doughboy, so that was a given. She looked angular. She had a small little face, a pointy chin, a bit of a large forehead, toothy smile, fucking sharp little upturned nose, like a fucking witch…more generic than Jakotsu. Trendier than Jakotsu. More attractive than Jakotsu. Neatly pulled back gold-blonde hair, pulled so tight that it shone and there were no bumps and her hair was straight and slick and clean…even cleaner than Jakotsu. Neater. Prettier. Blonder. Better. More pure. More gentle. Smarter. The list went fuckin' on and on.
I'd fucking kill both of them. I'd- I'd take a fucking bat, mash his face in. I mean, it was none of my business, but what a sick fucking bastard. Fucking sicko- fucking weird guitarist sicko, I'd kill him. Kick him in the nuts and push her onto the pretzel cooker and run away. Fucking sick jerk…he looked at me. His face fell- like suddenly he was saying "oh, it's Inuyasha, that one guy." He stayed that way for a moment. The look on my face was- bewildered. Like fucking stunned. Like someone had just kicked me in the brain and I couldn't think on how or why or when or what it happened…my eyes were widened. My mouth was grim but bland and bleakly expressionless. I'm guessing I was getting red in the face (embarrassed and/or angry), or there were those wrinkles around my face- those wrinkles people get when they're, I dunno, stunned, or something. He must've seen those, seen that. Fucking bastard shit motherfucking sicko…he forced a weak, fishy smile and raised his hand, with a limp wave. Fucking arrogant jerk. Pulling that shit just 'cause he was, you know, good-looking, could play the guitar, was oh-so desireable. Fucking jerk. And even treating her like that- kicking her in the face every time he saw Jakotsu. Oh, my God. I wasn't so stunned at the fact that he was cheating on two people than with the fact of how fucking sick that was. I mean, I felt like throwing up. Imagine that. Ewwwww, I mean, sick sick SICK. I couldn't even wave back.
She turned around, seeing who he was waving at. She was looking around, confused-ish. He turned her back around and said something- and then they laughed and went up the stairs. He walked nervous. Fucking…
Well, wow. I mean, wow. I never…I walked in something of a daze as the rings went up and down and the people shouted around me. So, wow, that was what he meant by "straight"- that they liked getting down with him, but much more preferred to love her. I mean, jeez. Now I understood. Damn, I wish I didn't understand.
>>>>>>>
Relationships. I mean, relationships. All of 'em, worthless and confusing. I was thinking of calling Jakotsu. I came so close, too. I dialed his phone number and the message came on- and he picked up. I mean, I wasn't doing him a special favor or anything, right? It was just casual. It was just that he had a right to know, right? So I wasn't doing anything out of my way or anything, not looking out for him, particularly. Right? Just casual.
Oh, very casual. "Hey, uhmm, I just saw your fuck-buddy with some blonde chick. Yeah man! Sweet. Let's do pizza on Tuesday, and while we're at it, let's go drinking with the news team for two days! Wonderful. Ciao."
Not likely...,well, anyway, I dialed, and he picked up- that's where I lft off-
"Hello?" he asked, yawning- I could probably imagine what he was doing. Sleeping. "Oh, uhmm, John? This you?"
Oh, Gawd. I couldn't even- John! He was even asking for that dipshit! "Oh, please take advantage of me-" oh, well, I'd have none of it. None- the minute he said "John" a rising nervous prickling rose up to my chest, making me feel helpless, stuck, and I slammed the "END" button on the phone with a jerking movement, and threw the phone hard into the backseat, clutching the steering wheel with nervous hands, as if the steering wheel of all things would help me calm my nerves. It was silent- then I jumped when Warning came muffled yet loud from the backseat- I would have to fucking change that ringer…my hand searched for the phone. When I got it, I looked at the screen, which revealed, to my dread:
17185601294
Oh, God. I pressed down on the "END" button immediately, tossing it again into the backseat. I inhaled sharply. Hot damn, I needed to stay away from all these freaks.
>>>>>>>
It was nighttime now. I just finished doing my homework- I'd been doing it in a McDonald's parking lot (now, don't think I eat that bullshit- if anything I try to keep at least a fifty yard limit between myself and any surrounding fast-food palaces). I wasn't really ready to go home yet. I mean, not yet. I didn't really feel right, taking that kinda attitude home. I mean, taking those fucking images home. Imagine what my mother would say…well, fuck that. I had other…shit to do.
I thought about going home for a while, or else getting something to eat. I was fucking starving, and I actually wouldn't have minded a bit of that greasy-disgusting capitalist bullshit right then and there. I looked for my wallet in my jean pocket, and discovered that I only had a twenty dollar bill. I didn't feel like getting change, so I decided to fuck it and just drive home.
Wait…but that did not feel right just then. I shifted into go-motion and headed off. It was fucking dark now- what time was it? Seven? Eight? It was already purple-black out…I guess it would be a good time to get home. I sighed and listened to silence for a while, and then turned on the radio when I got fucking bored of that.
Some boppy-rocky tune came on…that song by the Strokes. Juicy-juice, or whatever the fuck it was. I really wasn't in the mood for obnoxious rock music right then, much less anything that was slightly happy, so I turned the station. I mean, why the fuck should it be happy and me not be happy at all? Didn't make any fucking sense. I mean, the least they could do was cooperate…I wondered why this always happened when I was in a shitty mood.
I went past those weirdo Spanish channels and went to Z100…where they were playing, what else, but fag music. Most likely they had a broad team of homosexuals putting together their daily mixes…I tuned it to K-ROCK. Talk shows. Stupid fucking…I almost slammed the radio looking for something halfway decent to listen to…goddammit, what CDs did I have, anyway? I pressed the load button and waited for the little "CD1 TRACK 1" signal to start blaring- but all I got was a "NO MAGAZINE" signal.
"Fucking shit!" I hissed, slamming on the radio…I was not in the mood for this bull right now, oh Holy God, I wasn't in the mood…I had just gotten into a tremendous fight with my girlfriend, seen a homo with a straight girl, almost talked to a homo, and royally screwed everything up, oh, and, not to mention, with a twenty dollar fucking bill and an empty fucking STOMACH. I was about to go insane. Oh, Jesus. I wish sometimes the guy would listen to me…
I grumbled some curses and switched the stations. Well, what the shit- there was no use going all pussy now. A college radio station came on…or something.
The music was mellow and it was nighttime music, so I listened. Pearl Jam. The only classic rock music I actually knew. The guitar was airy but it came on…strong, it was like it knew what mood I was in. I sped up a little. Oh, fucking Hell. When I was alone it was so much better.
I was coming on streetlights. I think Miroku had told me this was originally a Led Zeppelin song, or something…I couldn't remember. The streetlights were glaring this bright affirmation, this wide-eyed future, this sort of fuck-it-all hope that was me, that was just entirely me at the moment…I felt like I was, God, I felt like I was flying, or something, I felt goddamn powerful. Well, more than usual- what power did I have, anyway? Not over my girlfriend. Not over my social life. Not over my goddamn phone.
The car was power, though. I could fucking laugh myself to death in this car- at this particular song- "fuck you all! I am driving over the Brooklyn Bridge!" I would be, soon. Fuck it. Fuck it all.
The streetlights were gleaming overhead, passing one by one, and I was feeling golden. I was a goddamn CHAMPION. With the pedal and the gas and the speed and the car, I was champion. It was all me. The chorus came and the streetlights passed, one by one, stark and glory against the dark night sky, and the guitar was blaring, and Eddie Vetter was creepier than ever. Screaming, "FLY!" Oh, fuck it all! I hated to be the jock sort but at the moment I felt like it. I was always a lot better by myself. Screw people. I was by myself.
>>>>>>>
The song had ended five minutes ago. The new song was coming on- Zombie by the Cranberries. The Cranberries…I was feeling grim now. I always remembered my moods better when I was alone…well, that didn't help. I was still a fucking jerk, penalizing her about the Cranberries, of all things. I could never say what I really wanted, but then again, did she have to be such a weener face? I mean, Jesus Christ, I'd fall on my feet and praise Allah if I ever met a girl who didn't like trouble.
But, then again, trouble was what I was causing by…God, what was I fucking doing, lately? Gallivanting with faggots? Arguing with braided midgets? Thinking about relationships? Hanging out with Miroku? What the Hell was I doing? I tried to think back, think back to when all that shit started happening…
Oh, yes. That one fine fucking day in October, when I had to go visit the therapist's. I mean, Holy Fucking Hell. It was Kagome's fault, dammit! Not mine. Never mine…
I always contemplated Jakotsu. Not really him, but myself more. Like, about why I hung out with him. Why I didn't sleep too often. I was talking to him more and more and that scared the shit out of me. I mean, I was Inuyasha Jay Miyazaki- cold sarcasm, hard practicality, morning schedules, big books, strict discipline, and fried chicken were my dishes of choice. And now I was…hanging out with faggots. I had never been anti-homo. They made me uncomfortable, yeah, but as long as they didn't bother me (which they often did) they could go about their rainbow-hugging-joy-boy-tight-shirts-and-jeans-business. Be a fag if you want to. Just don't be Jakotsu, of all people to be.
I was more anti-Jakotsu than anti-fag. He stood for everything I didn't like- flimsy-whimsy-delicate shit. Forgetfulness. Laziness. Dumbness. Flower power. Class systems. Irresponsibility. Franco-Americans. Psychopathy. Why did I even bother? I had told myself I was bored, but this reached beyond boredom. I was listening to the Pretenders, for God's sake. I mean, there had to be a reason.
I changed the station to another nearby college radio station. The Cranberries weren't my people of choice, right then. Dave Matthews was playing- of course. Him and the Cardigans were so fucking collegy.
The song was Crash. I was heading over the Brooklyn Bridge…this was nighttime music, too. I remember my brother listening to a lot of Dave Matthews when I was younger with his girlfriends. I remember a cover of No Rain by Blind Melon being played over and over and over again. Also, a lot of the Smiths. That and lots of Elvis music and Frank Sinatra was a big part of my childhood.
It made me think of Kagome- the song, I meant. I really, really liked her and everything, but…there really was something lacking. Or something like that. Maybe there was a therapist term for that.
The next song that came on was that Jay-Z song. Where he's talking to the girl? "Can I get a wuh-wuh?" I smirked and turned the volume up. I liked this kind of music- it was "Hell yes" kind of music, and I liked it. My girlfriend Jennifer-Anne and I broke up over the song. There had been a lot of tension about Kagome, and stuff, and the song had come on in the car. It was freshman year. The song had come on and Jennifer-Anne had said something about how it "marginalized women" and "was sexist and degenerate" and "vulgar" (someone had been on the fucking Oprah train for a little too long- but, hey, maybe I should shut up). I said that it was just music and it was shit like that and that she should shut up because she wasn't always right. She told me that she was going to get out of the car and she didn't speak to me after that. Jennifer-Anne was neat and practical and a real hard-ass, with tightly pulled, neat blonde hair, perfectly stenciled eyebrows, hard gray eyes, formulated tan. I wasn't saying that I didn't want to get on that package, but when she opened her fucking mouth it was just a train of bull…I wished more girls were like Kagome. Accepting, and shit. You didn't really get that. Kagome was one in a diamond dozen and I was determined not to let that go…no matter which fag wanted to get in the way.
The next song was a song by Ciara or something, so I turned the station. Girl singers usually freaked me out. Girls in general freaked me out. Maybe that was normal.
>>>>>>>
"We're too much alike," she breathed into the phone, warmly. She had this tone- gentle and pretty and warm, a tone I couldn't escape. Girls were like that to me. Pretty and warm. Spiderwebs. Or something (again, I am the king of metaphors- I am fucking genius) (watch me get struck by lightning later for saying that- I bet that would happen- all the horrible shit always happened to me) (but I digress). "We're both too hot-headed. Did you know, you're an Aries and I'm a Sagittarius? That's why we're always fighting."
"Yeah," I answered, "I guess." I really couldn't say anything back when she said stuff like that. What could I say? Whip out the zodiac analysis book that I just happened to have and read wonderful cream puff stuff from that? Not. I rolled over on my side and stared at a pen on my bedside table.
There was an awkward pause. "You know, Yasha, you're the best to me," she said, again with the tone. It was sort of breathy and hot but static-y from the telephone. She started to sound worried. "I mean, no matter how much of a wiener you are to me." She laughed.
"Can it," I snapped, clicking the pen repeatedly, only not awkward when I was being mean. Hey, but that was just me. I clicked the pen off and on and then threw it at my closet. "Listen, I gotta go do- homework."
"Really? Dummy- why can't you ever just stay on the phone!" she snapped, demanding an answer.
"Oh, well, maybe, just maybe, I've got a life," I snapped back.
"Oh, you big dumb- wait 'till I see you next-" She interrupted herself with laughter. "Oh, whatever. But you owe me a phone call!"
"Alright, woman! Jeez, do you ever stop talking!" I snapped, being a jerk as usual. I'm glad I never change from the usual naturally glorious championesque me. "I gotta go. Bye."
"Alright, then- bye- have a good day," she answered.
"Yeah. Bye." I hung up the phone and lay on my back. I was ten times closer to Kagome than I was to Jakotsu. But something was drawing me away from her…
>>>>>>>
Five minutes of doing nothing later and I was getting b-o-r-e-d. Luckily, I got a phone call just then.
I knew who it was from- it was like second nature to me, to pick up the damn phone when he called. "Uh-huh?" I greeted, with a raised eyebrow and a bored, suspicious tone.
"Yash?" said the squeaky, girly voice from the other end. Yup. Jakotsu.
"How did I know you were calling me," I asked myself, shaking a snow globe on the bedside table. At least I wouldn't be throwing it against the closet later.
"Beeeeecause you love me, and you expect me to talk to you, like, twenty-four-seven," he answered, dragging it out in one of those Jakotsu-is-really-cute delusional spells he went through. He clicked his tongue. I could hear the sound of things crashing together in the background- dishes? I'd slit my own throat if Jakotsu Himekawa was washing dishes. I listened in.
"Because you're, oh, let's see, predictable," I answered, rolling my eyes and propping myself up on the wooden bed back. Might as well be comfortable, if I was going to talk to that weirdo. I flipped on the radio- that cheesy black song was playing- Love Will Save The Day by that woman, Des'Ree, was her name (shut up- don't even fucking ask me how I know her name, unless you want a swift kick in the teeth or a quick death). Fag music. Light music. Suitable for Jakotsu, at least.
"Hey! I am not predictable!" he exclaimed, sounded clearly offended. I heard the sound of a dish smash as he said this. Fucking retard. "Oh- uhmmm- whoops- hee hee. Haha. I just broke something- hold on- owch! Eeee."
"What the Hell are you doing, exactly?" I asked, raising an eyebrow again. If he was washing dishes, it would be the end of the world…
"Washing dishes," he answered, with this jaunty tone that said he was immensely proud of himself. "I'd make a good housemate, huh, Yash?"
"Sure," I answered, caustically, "I mean, if you're living with bunch of circus freaks. Or the Manson family." I shook the snow globe more and sighed. Fucking freak. Fucking frustrating freak.
"That's funny," he said, half-distractedly, as the sound of the water went on again, as if he didn't really think it was funny- just being polite, whatever that word meant for Jakotsu Himekawa, anyway. "Did you know that Charlie Manson gets out in 2007? Anyway, I am not predictable. I am wonderful. Anyway, how's yooour day going, Yasha?"
"None of your business," I said, looking at my hands, extended to the ceiling, "Why are you washing dishes?"
"Because I want to- why not?" he asked.
"Forget it," I answered.
"You sound P.O.'d," he said, like a know-it-all.
"Well, you're calling me," I said, defensively.
"Girl trouble?" he answered, with a smart people laugh that totally did not suit him.
I shot up to a sitting position. "Are you fucking watching me from my window?" I asked, looking around. Knowing Jakotsu, I would not be surprised. "I want to know- are you really that much of a fucking freak?"
"You're mean," he said, with a pouty tone. But soon he perked up. "Anyway, nah, I just know. Mind telling mama?"
"Who?" I snorted, raising an eyebrow.
"It's a Janis Joplin song," he said. He laughed. "Maybe it's like Wes says- maybe you just don't know anything at all about music. Is that true, Yash? Maybe I should talk to Wes more from now one." His tone was annoying- teasing- mean. Fucking jerk. He laughed again, high-pitched and maniacal, rising and just fucking in hysterical stitches when seeing other people's embarrassment. Retard. He really needed a good slap in the face sometimes…
"Wes doesn't know diddly-squat," I answered, snapped, matter-of-factly, "And why, pray tell, do you wanna know about my love life?" An Elvis Presley remix played onto the speakers, but I wasn't paying attention at the moment.
"Because I'm part of it, Yash! O'course," he exclaimed happily.
"YEAH RIGHT!" I yelled into the mouthpiece.
He laughed again. "Oh, you're too much, Yasha- well, go on, tell me about it- I am all ears! And a bit more, if ya know what I mean." He laughed again, probably grinning from ear to ear at my frustration and pain.
"Whatever- you jerk," I answered, propping myself up on newly fluffed pillows.
"I'm not a jerk," he whined, "I'm just honest. Well, go on! Tell me, before I get bored!" He was snapping at me- that was new.
"Whatever," I grumbled again, rolling my eyes, fixing the pillows behind my back, getting ready to tell him, the Saint Midoriko Slut, all about my love troubles. He was- so oblivious. I mean…it sort of hurt, to see him all like that. I felt bad for him- so fucking blind and happy, senseless, when hurt was waiting right around the bend. I don't know why I didn't tell him then- maybe I was…maybe I figured it wasn't any of my business. Maybe I was uncomfortable. Well, I didn't tell him- instead I flipped the station. The trumpets of Penny Lane were playing, and the conversation was just about to begin- themed music for conversations with Jakotsu, blindly happy, somewhat strange, and always interesting. I went on talking and, - surprisingly, he listened. A laugh here, a joke there, a snide comment thrown around- but it was just another conversation, just another Day In The Life.
>>>>>>>
A/N: Alright. Songs (that I can remember at the moment).
Imagination- The Cranberries
Given To Fly- Pearl Jam
Crash- The Dave Matthews Band
Something by Jay-Z
No Rain- Blind Melon
Penny Lane- The Beatles
A Day In The Life- The Beatles
Love Will Save the Day- Des'Ree
A Little Less Conversation (Remix)- Elvis Presley