I seriously hope there's someone still out there to stick with me, even though my updating-speed is downright atrocious as of lately. I guess I already assured you, but I'll repeat it just for good measure: No matter how long it'll take for a new chapter to be written, it will eventually come because I won't abandon this story. It's much too precious to me by now.
I was really unsure whether I really wanted to go with this chapter the way it is right now. A note in my brainstorming document says 'If you do this there'll be a herd of fangirls out there to kill you.'
So yeah, I really hope I won't completely upset you, especially after such a long wait. And that you'll let me live to see the end of this story ^^°
But enough of me being paranoid about my writing, form your own opinion.
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Chapter 8: August – Longing
The lonely wanderer, who watches by the seashore the waves that roll between him and his home, talks of cruel facts, material barriers that, just because they are material, and not ideal, shall be the irresistible foes of his longing heart.
– Josiah Royce
The first noise escaping Nezumi's mouth after waking up was a groan. He felt as if his head was bursting, a throbbing pain robbing him of any chance to wake up gently.
I was poisoned, was the first thought that sprung to his mind, and the following panic didn't do his stomach any good, if the wave of nausea was being any indication.
Trying to pull himself together Nezumi refrained from jumping up as frantically as he would have liked to. He knew he needed to calm down, and mentally will the ill-feeling away. Then everything wouldn't look that bad anymore. It might even start making some sort of sense. Right now he had to regain hi sense of orientation, that much was essential.
Closing his eyes Nezumi began humming a little melody, the tone soothing and full of parentalprotection. Long ago Nezumi had reasoned it had to be some sort of lullaby he'd been sung to in times he couldn't even remember anymore, yet the effect remained the same.
And despite hating any notion of his that made him confront his past he had to admit that the humming helped him that moment, although it came out sounding rather weak and broken, mistuned. His vocal chords felt raw, and his throat was that dry that Nezumi seriously wondered when the last time had been that he any droplet of liquid had made the acquaintance with his throat. Emptying a whole mug of water with one gulp seemed like the thing that Nezumi desired the most right now, regardless of how much he dreaded it might upset his stomach.
Just when at last he was feeling strong enough to possibly move, a voice announced: "Finally up? Already thought you'd never wa—" A gasp. "Dear god. I hope you'll excuse my choice of words but you look like crap."
The voice made Nezumi's eyes fly open. For the first time he took in his surroundings and noticed that no, this indeed wasn't his flat, and if his mice hadn't suddenly mastered the art of speaking of their own accord with an own voice then no, he wasn't alone in this flat. This flat that wasn't his. Which meant it had to be inhabited by someone else. And there was someone else in the room.
Nezumi felt his head go dizzy and cursed his thoughts for starting to run in circles. Actually at the moment the voice startled him, Nezumi's muscles screamed at him to finally jump up, but the sudden opening of his eyes had send the world around him spinning.
His stomach twisted in the most uncomfortable way. Ignoring the sickness he felt Nezumi pushed himself up.
"Woah, slowly. You seem as if you're still pretty tipsy." The voice again. It was closer this time, which meant the stranger was moving towards Nezumi.
All his instincts shrieked in alarm, and Nezumi, ignoring all threads of his body, spun around, taking up a defensive stance. Whoever was there, whatever had happened to Nezumi, the stranger shouldn't think he'd get Nezumi down that easily. Even if he would be wounded, poisoned, Nezumi wasn't to be underestimated. And he made that clear by the defiant, pugnacious expression etched onto his face.
But when he laid eyes on the supposed stranger, he only saw Jem stand there, hands raised defensively.
"Hey, pal, calm down. What's with that look? It's only me." He announced soothingly, looking quite shocked.
Just then Nezumi started to wonder what exactly was going on. If Jem was there, that meant this was Jem's flat. If he was in Jem's flat, how had he ended up here?
He couldn't remember a thing and his head ached at the mere thought of thinking. There was only one explanation and Nezumi felt slightly stupid for taking so long to fit the pieces together.
"You're so dead." Nezumi growled, burrowing his head in his hands. He simply wanted all the world around him to disappear, all the light and noise.
"Now, now, it's quite unwise to threaten the person in possession of all your clothes." Jem threatened, sounding teasingly. "Well, almost all."
Only then Nezumi noticed that he was indeed only wearing his underwear. The glance he cast Jem would eventually be able to kill people, Nezumi was practising a lot for it to.
Once again Jem raised his hands in defense, but this time he laughed. "Jeez, calm down. It was fucking hot tonight, your clothes would only have bothered you." he tried to ease Nezumi. Or at least Nezumi hoped for him that that was what he was trying to do. Because if Jem would try to make fun of him, Nezumi was going to make sure the other would pay for it. Painfully. Once Nezumi would be able to move without cringing again, that was.
Thus right now he only managed a deep growl, before burying his head in his hands and forcing himself to forget everything around him.
For a moment it worked, but then Jem's voice broke through the gratifying silence. "Wait here for a moment."
It's not like I'm bound to go anywhere either way. Nezumi thought bitterly, using all his willpower to keep his stomach calm.
To distract himself he decided to try to remember what had happened. He was hung-over. Pretty bad so. Good, that part was obvious. But how had he ended up so drunk that he had a hangover as bad as this? And a black-out as well, apparently.
He seemed to have agreed to go drinking with Jem, easy to figure out as well. Or perhaps he had been forced by Jem, didn't matter, in the end he had ended up out, drinking, with Jem. And potentially other people. Whom he couldn't remember at the moment.
Okay, one step at a time.
So, the biggest question was why he had drunk this much. It wasn't his first time being dragged to a pub-hopping-tour, though he had been able to limit them to only a few. Nonetheless, even when someone—and that someone almost always was Jem, most of the other people who knew Nezumi were surprisingly intimidated by him—so even when Jem got him to join, Nezumi never drank much.
What had been different?
No matter how much he wrecked his mind he wasn't able to come up with an answer. And in the progress he noticed that "wrecking" his mind surely wasn't the cure to his headache.
"There." Jem announced out of the blue only a few feet away, holding a glass out to Nezumi, who hadn't even noticed his leave. It made him cringe inside, and fear lapped at his mind. It was irrational, because even in his current state he would be easily able to beat Jem if it were to come to a fight. But he was caught off guard—no, he wasn't only caught, he was off guard, not only for a short moment. He felt exposed to another being, and defenseless.
But he had long ago learned that the more defenseless you looked, the more defenseless you were. So he told himself for the umpteenths time since waking up to pull himself together.
And just like that the mask was on. Easily fitting his features and his being. Annoyed, but confident. Threatening even. That was what Jem could read in his body language now.
"What is that?" Nezumi asked in answer to the proffered glass, just the right amount of disgust and defiance tinting his tone. The water inside the look-through confinement was strangely milky, and after waking up feeling like he had been poisoned, milky water wasn't exactly high on his list of things he wanted to consume now.
"The best cure for a hangover. At least the best I know." Jem announced with a big grin. "Come on, be a good boy and drink it. It'll make you feel better."
The mocking tone in his voice made Nezumi wonder why he hadn't shown Jem the lines he wasn't allowed to cross much stricter a long time ago. With his knife, the most effective argument he owned. Sayings like "The word is mightier than the sword." were nice and all, but that didn't mean the sword might not be a cleverer choice sometimes. When trying to make a point.
"I for sure won't drink that." Was all Nezumi bit out in response. He most of all wouldn't drink it if he was ordered to. Or expected to. No matter with how much force his former fantasy of emptying a whole bucket of water returned. No matter how damn dry his throat suddenly felt. No matter how much his head hurt.
He kept the stubborn stare on.
Jem matched his stare, as if unwilling to give in. A few seconds passed in silence, then Jem simply shrugged and downed the liquid himself.
Nezumi narrowed his eyes, wondering what Jem was up to. Even if he didn't look like it, the fellow actor could be almost as stubborn and persistent as Nezumi. Giving in like that wasn't like him.
"What? You didn't seem to want it. And it would be a shame to waste it. But if you should change your opinion, water is in the kitchen. Right beside the sink is a little package. I got the powdre from the apothecary. You know, the one three streets from the theater. Seriously, the best money I ever invested. One spoon, one glass of water and your headache is gone." Jem explained, and put the empty glass on the couch table. This was quite a difficult task, seeing as there was hardly an empty spot. If Nezumi had thought his living style to be messy, he for sure couldn't rival with Jem's. Creative chaos, he assumed. He didn't even want to begin imagining how Anthony's flat would look like.
"Ah, I guess I'd better fetch your clothes." Jem announced and immediately acted upon his words, disappearing through a doorway right to the kitchen.
For the shortest of moments Nezumi contemplated keeping his defiance up. To stay strong and not give in to the seemingly nonchalant offer Jem had made him.
But the thirst and the throbbing of his head were very effective ways of his body to say get over into the kitchen and make that goddamn drink or we won't be friends for quite a while.
So he gave in and marched over to the sink. Just as expected he found all required ingredients and after mixing them he drowned the liquid greedily in one gulp.
When returning to what seemed to be the living room he found his clothes lying on the couch he had slept on.
"Feeling better?" Jem inquired from the doorway.
"Do you think your medicine is able to work wonders? How the hell am I supposed to feel better already?" Nezumi bit back, all too aware of the throbbing of his head. "Anyway, how can you be in such a goddamn good mood? It's making me feel even sicker."
"The blessing of youth." Jem replied, fully aware of the fact he was the older one of the two, so he couldn't be the least bit surprised by the icy glance Nezumi cast him.
Deciding it was beneath him to deign Jem with any more communication Nezumi walked to his clothes and wordlessly got dressed.
After finally feeling the familiar clothing on his skin once again, he followed Jem into the kitchen, who was standing in front of the opened fridge.
"I knew I forgot to go shopping..." Jem announced.
Nezumi leaned against the doorframe, trying his best to use the nausea he was feeling for deepening his scowl. He couldn't have cared less about an empty fridge. He didn't feel like his stomach would allow any food to be consumed. Or at least wouldn't allow him to keep it for long.
"I guess we'll have to grab a bite somewhere, then." Jem reasoned, facing Nezumi. Upon seeing the scowl he added. "Don't worry it'll be my treat, so brighten up."
"I'm not hungry." Nezumi moodily replied, unwilling to move.
"I am, though. And I bet you'll be too once you see the delicious food they've got to over at the diner right around the corner." Jem told him persuasively, marching into the living room to collect his purse.
Nezumi watched him sifting through the seemingly endless piles of clothes lying around the living room. For one moment he considered simply walking out on Jem and returning to his own flat as fast as possible. There would be a herd of silent mice waiting for him. And the occasion to sleep for another few hours.
But then again it would be foolish to reject the offer of having a paid-for breakfast. Actually going out for eating, to get served dishes he hadn't bought the ingredients for himself or watched them being cooked, if not have cooked them himself was something that still felt foreign to him. When preparing food himself was that much cheaper, why waste money on such service? But Nezumi was no longer living in the West Block where he had to watch every coin he earned. Since Jem or Elly or Anthony or anyone else from the theatre occasionally succeeded in dragging him out he had been to a couple of restaurants by now.
And he had stopped by countless inns on his years of travelling, where it was obviously easier to buy a meal than make one himself.
Still, while Nezumi didn't feel as if he would ever get really used to the notion of it, he wasn't one to reject getting breakfast for free. His stomach wasn't rebelling as much anymore as well. It probably had been the hangover combined with his sleepiness that had made his stomach feel so bad.
"Ah, there you are!" Jem told his purse, before winking Nezumi over. "Let's get going. I'm starving, now that I started thinking about food."
It was only then, that Nezumi noticed something odd about Jem. The other was always rather loud and outgoing, and almost painfully happy. Right now was no exception, but his actions and cheerful words seemed forced. Not that Nezumi could actually pinpoint why it felt that way, it simply did. His head prevented him from dwelling on the thought though. Perhaps Jem was simply too proud to admit his head was killing him as well and tried to overplay it.
Reluctantly Nezumi followed his fellow actor through the hallway that was equally as messy as the living resided between them until they had left the house Jem's flat was located in. It was Jem, obviously, who broke it. "When you woke up, what was that about?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious. He could only be referring to the fact that Nezumi had reacted with his instinctive defensiveness when he woke up in an unfamiliar flat.
Nezumi had never told anyone in No.1 anything about his past, Jem was no exception. And he wasn't going to be. What should have Nezumi told him anyway? That he had been living on the edge of being killed for years since his whole tribe had been annihilated when he was barely old enough to understand what was happening? And that without a reflex like the one that had kicked in that morning he would probably be dead right now? No, even if it had been reasonable to talk about such things, Nezumi didn't like it if people were meddling with his past.
Thus he replied curtly: "None of your business."
But Jem had never been able to read the situation well and to recognized when Nezumi wished to be left alone. "You looked as if you were ready to draw out a knife and cut me into little pieces with it. I swear I've seen plenty of people's reactions to a hangover, but yours tops them all."
"No one says I won't still do it once I have a knife in reach." Nezumi grumbled, trying to act as unapproachable as possible. Perhaps he would be able to silence Jem that way.
Surprisingly Jem only laughed, as if taking Nezumi's threat not serious. It annoyed Nezumi that his words were laughed off, because while the threat was obviously not meant for real, Jem didn't even for one moment consider it to be.
A few years ago, in the West Block, every threat of his had been for real. Noone would have dared laugh at them. Although... Inukashi might have, but that would have been a futile attempt of hiding her inferiority.
Jem simply laughed because he didn't know Nezumi. Didn't know anything about Nezumi beside what Nezumi was willing to show of himself, which wasn't much.
"Gosh, you're so grouchy when hungover, Nezumi. I guess I'll make sure you end up in your own flat next time, without anyone around to help you up." Jem positively chirruped, as if he was absolutely delighted at the prospect of Nezumi waking up in his own flat, helpless and without any medicine in sight. Or any food in the fridge. It was a mystery to Nezumi why in Jem's eyes he was unable to take care of himself. It's not as if he had ever given any indication of bad housekeeping-qualities.
But that wasn't what bothered Nezumi. He didn't care about how others saw him, least of all how Jem saw him. What stung were the words "next time". Nezumi thought about how foolish it was, to still internally flinch at such flippantly spoken words, when he had months ago resolved himself to accept plans for the future. Nonetheless he felt himself going into a defensive, stubborn state of disagreement. That others were assuming there would be a next time meant they thought they knew what he would do. As if his actions had gotten predictable.
Jem obviously wasn't awaiting an answer, and with Nezumi's aversion to conversation he would be insane to give an unnecessary one that might have them carry on the conversation for even longer.
The distance from Jem's flat to the destined restaurant wasn't actually long, but for Nezumi it felt like an eternity. The heat of the late summer was burning down on them with hellish intensity. At least there was a little movement, thanks to the ocean stirring up slight breezes. It wasn't enough to prevent Nezumi from feeling as if the air was almost palpable though, one thick layer of warmth that hit him head on.
Buried in his internal complaints about pretty much everything it took Nezumi a while to notice the silence beside him. Unable to fight his curiosity he glanced at Jem, quickly and inconspicuous, so that the other wouldn't feel inclined to start talking once again.
Jem was facing sideways, away from Nezumi, his eyes loosely focussed on the buildings on the other side of the street while not looking as if they actually seeing anything. His shoulders were sagging. If he hadn't known better he would have said Jem looked nervous or as if he was deep in thoughts. But he knew better, Jem was shameless, and the shameless hardly ever were nervous because they didn't see any reason to be nervous when their actions were nothing to be ashamed of. And when Jem claimed to be nervous, he did so loudly.
Deciding not to bother with it for now, Nezumi was more than happy to let the remaining walk pass in silence, though he couldn't help relating his current observations to his former once about the forced cheerfulness. There was something off, and Nezumi wasn't sure if he wanted to find out what.
They rounded two corners, passed a little fountain where a swarm of greyish birds had settled down to relish in the water's cold and finally Jem's head perked up. A few meters ahead of them the restaurant was visible.
At the prospect of food Jem's eyes seemed to sparkle with anticipation, his stomach giving the fitting growl, and Nezumi almost wondered if the formerly perceived thoughtfulness had been his his eyes playing a trick on his slightly hung-over-affected mind.
As if to keep the equilibrium between them, Nezumi's face deepened into a scowl at thinking of food, matching Jem's excitement with its counterpart. He couldn't recall the last time that he had been so reluctant to get something to eat, something that was bound to properly feed his stomach and give him the energy to keep going. The mere thought of wanting to refuse something like that was absolutely bizarre, so Nezumi placated his complaining stomach. He kept the frown though, simply for good measure.
"That's it." Jem stated what was obvious to Nezumi. But the way his relieve and anticipation sounded awfully wrong was belying his joyful eyes and affirming Nezumi's observations. It arose Nezumi's suspicions, if they hadn't already been risen enough. Though Nezumi didn't particularly feel inclined to admit it, he was well aware of the fact that Jem's acting wasn't too shabby.
Jem's voice betraying him like that was unlike him. So very unlike him that Nezumi felt the sudden urge to halt his steps, turn around and walk away. There was no logical reason for that notion, aside from the fact that he felt something going really wrong.
Nonetheless he followed, as Jem guided them inside, arguing with all windows opened there might be a nice breeze going inside. Nezumi highly doubted that, but he saw no point in arguing. Wordlessly he followed Jem to a table to the left, quite close to the opened windows.
They sat there for approximately 30 seconds when an overly happy waitress rushed over, handed them both a menu and a dazzling smile, much too bright to be genuine.
She probably hoped to earn a smile of them in return, but Nezumi didn't feel inclined to let his features ease out of their frown any time soon, especially not when it helped keeping annoying strangers at bay, and Jem was apparently already too deep in thoughts again to even properly acknowledge the girl's presence.
When she had trotted away, looking quite disappointed, Nezumi focussed back on Jem, despite not wanting to. His eyes narrowed the slightest bit at seeing Jem nervously biting his lip, with his eyes almost forcefully trained on the laminated card, yet not seeming as if any of the information registered with them.
Nonetheless he was able to place an order instantly when the waitress arrived.
After following suit and sending the waitress away once again, Nezumi felt that his patience had run out. He was annoyed with watching Jem fiddle, so he prompted him: "Spit it out or suck it up."
Accidentally that was just the moment that Jem had made his mind up as well, suddenly facing up, his blurted out words overlapping with Nezumi's: "Who's Shion?"
All of Nezumi's thoughts came to a sudden halt, his posture frozen in disbelieve. "Excuse me?" The words left his lips on their own accord, his brain still much too busy evaluating whether Jem's question had only been the remaining alcohol buzzing in his veins playing tricks on his ears.
Jem looked Nezumi briefly in the eyes, and then let his own travel the slightest bit down, as if he couldn't stand the direct eye contact. "Who's Shion?" he repeated, much less determined, cautious even, as if having been caught kinda off-guard by Nezumi's shocked expression and now wanting to be as gentle as possible.
"How do you know that name?" Nezumi croaked out, the mortification having seemed to rob him of the physical ability to talk. The moment the words left his mouth, he knew they took a big chunk of his armor with them, cracked the carefully prepared facade of the person without a past behind which he hid himself. He knew that this question made him sound suspicious and that Jem would know there was something deeper to that name. A nonchalant "How should I know?" or a doubtful "What are you talking about?" might have left Nezumi the room to argue his way out of this conversation, to divert Jem from the topic.
But he had screwed up, and he could only blame the hangover-induced slowness of his mind for that combined with the shock of hearing such a familiar name from such an unexpected source. Also Shion's name, spoken out loud, did sound somehow strange. It had been so long since Nezumi had heard it, and hadn't only spoken it in his mind, that for a moment there was an unfamiliarity lingering around it.
"You don't remember yesterday?" Jem asked, discomfort present on his features.
Nezumi's blood ran cold, because he felt the memories lingering in the back of his mind suddenly press forward, as if triggered by the question. He couldn't yet precisely tell what they were about, but the chills he felt were like a premonition, telling him he might not even want to know.
Nonetheless he couldn't help the memories from slowly resurfacing.
He remembered the warmness of the alcohol, buzzing much stronger than the little offshoots he still felt now. He remembered the cloudiness of his mind, making everything seem logical and simply okay. And he remembered another person, close to himself.
Shion.
There was the name, embedded in the hazy memories of the last night, and only the seemingly frozen state of his features prevented Nezumi's fear from showing.
He knew why he had never gotten drunk, and why he should have stuck to that resolution. Getting drunk had made him tore down the precious walls that he had worked so hard, so long to build to protect his inner most part which was so goddamn vulnerable. And he had done it himself, on his own accord.
And now he was sitting opposite to Jem and felt as if the other could look right through him, and destroy him.
"I am kinda sorry for bringing this up, when you seem to have forgotten. It is possible the matter would have been better of being left alone. Especially since I really don't want Elly to find out... but I think it would be wrong to not talk about it. We have to sort these things out." Jem explained himself, but the words were hardly registering with Nezumi as he was too overwhelmed with the memories that were becoming clearer and clearer.
He remembered an arm, slung around his shoulders for support. He remembered a hand, holding keys to a door that wasn't his. He remembered a mouth, chuckling contentedly and silently close to his ear, in recollection of a joke he either hadn't heard or hadn't understood.
"I guess I should also apologize for that ever happening. You apparently were even more drunk than me, so I should have tried to remain reasonable. I seriously don't know what got into me."
There was the small hallway of an uncommon flat, painted only in different shades of darkness, almost devoid of all light. No fingers tried to reach for the light-switch, being much too occupied already.
"But somehow one thing led to another, and my drunken mind kinda took itself out of the equation, leaving my body to roam free."
There were jackets against his back, and hands, first on either side of his head, then suddenly on his shoulders, on his arms, on his back. The owner of the arms was no more than a shadow, blending perfectly with the rest of the environment. And yet Nezumi's mind told him there was familiarity in this figure, this mere shadow. It told him this person was safe. For a moment Nezumi felt as if crying out of relieve, because he finally had re-found the presence that was able to make him whole.
"It's not as if anything really happened but still..."
There was the illusion of white hair and red eyes, and a snake wound tightly around a pale body, only visible on the face though because everything else was hidden by the shadows. And Nezumi's hands reached out on their own accord, drawn in by the presence, like moths drawn to the light. He couldn't and didn't want to stop his arms from wrapping around the shadows neck, drawing it closer because he was afraid he would fall into endless darkness if he wouldn't keep the light as close as possible.
"But I'm digressing. I basically wanna know, if Shion is the guy I should be apologizing to."
The other person didn't shy away from Nezumi's touch, but its movements were temporarily stilled, as if it were surprised by the reaction. It didn't resist Nezumi's pull though, easily moved in until there were two breaths mingling, the only noise in the otherwise silent room their heavy exhaling. Nezumi's eyes saw black, but his mind said white. His eyes saw brown, but his mind said red. His nose smelled an unfamiliar scent, but his mind said it was a reminiscence.
"I simply want to be sure I won't have destroyed a relationship with my foolish actions."
There wasn't the slightest bit of resistance when the space between them was closed. There was only the memory and the feeling of hands on his body, and lips on his lips, and a sense of security and longing, of desperate longing. And choked up by emotion his mind conjured the name fitting the illusion, naming the desire.
Shion.
"I can understand if you don't even want him to know about it, but still, will you tell me who he is?"
"He's no one..."
When the mouth moved to his neck, a moan escaped his mouth.
"Nonsense."
But the moan wasn't shapeless like it was supposed to be, but rather it was made of sounds strung together to form a sensible word, or rather a name.
How do you know that name?
"Nezumi, you don't say a name like that in a situation like that for nothing."
Suddenly there was emptiness, coldness where moments ago there had been warmth. The lips on his neck retreated as fast as if they had been burned. "Fuck." cursed a bodiless voice and a voiceless body moved away from him, until it had almost almost disappeared from Nezumi's alcohol clouded field of view. "What are we doing? What am I doing? You're drunk, and I'm drunk, and apparently we're both taken." Nezumi could only blink dazedly, feeling as if being robbed of his safe place, the one where he could feel at ease, without strings attached.
"This person is important to you. Very much so, going by the way your voice sounded.", Jem said, finally breaking through the memories that had held Nezumi captive.
Yet Nezumi already wished he had remained in the memories, however humiliating they might be. Because every word of Jem—saying Shion was important—felt as if he was dragging Nezumi's innermost self outside. He either didn't recognize or misinterpreted the pained expression on Nezumi's face, since if he had interpreted it correctly he would have known he had long since overstepped his bounds, was intruding in the innermost parts of Nezumi's mind, the ones he always fought to keep safe and unseen.
Yes, of course Shion was important to him. More so than anything else in the world it seemed to him lately.
He was slowly able to acknowledge that to himself. But to Jem? To Jem, out of all people? Or to anyone else at all?
No, there was no way he was ready for that. In no way would he lay himself bare like that, let anyone know of the mortal weakness that had already come so close to being the end of him so many times.
He couldn't take that, couldn't take to be in Jems presence any longer, so he did the only thing he could think of and—like so often—fled.
He was out of his chair and out of the door faster than Jem could react, rushing past the startled waitress and almost taking two chairs down. Not that he would have cared. Actually it probably would have been a good thing, since that might have prevented Jem from following him.
"Nezumi, wait!"
Nezumi spun around, his eyes conveying fury because it was the best protection. It would keep Jem away, scare him away if he was lucky. "Get lost." he hissed, voice full of spite.
"I am really sorry Nezumi, I didn't meant to upset you. Or for that to ever happen. But it did. Why can't we simply sit down, talk about it, and deal with it like two grown up people?" Jem looked desperate, as sorry as he said he was and a little disbelieving at the harshness of Nezumi's reaction.
"Shion is none of you business. So stop prodding!" With that Nezumi turned and continued his way, every step widening the distance between them as Jem didn't follow him.
He only called after him weakly, once, twice, then Nezumi was out of hearing distance.
His feet didn't still until they had crossed pavement, rubble, grass, sand and finally came to rest on stone.
Wandering without a goal had led him to the bay. His bay. His refuge.
He sank down onto the stone he was standing on. The wind blew around his head and yet didn't do anything to ease the throbbing or to dissipate the heat of the blazing sun.
The salt burned in his lungs with every harshly inhaled breath.
How am I any different from when I left him, if I react like?
Slowly he laid back, until he could no longer see the sea, or the rocks, or the green grass in the distance, but only the clear blue of the sky. He had a lot of thinking to do.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Am I a dead person now?
I was really torn, but in the end I want this to be 'realistic' and in reality people make mistake,especially when drunk. I can't imagine Nezumi to be any exception.
On complete different note though, I want to sincerely thank ANYONE who's still with me, who's actually still reading this. It means so much to me.
And I can't repeat often enough how sorry I am about my updating schedule. It's horrible, and you deserve better, but sadly I seem to be incapable of keeping the monthly rhythm I was thriving for.
I actually thought of an compensation and a thank you, though I don't know whether anyone would even be interested:
I would be willing to write drabbles for things you prompt me with. Anyone who would like one written, can tell me the topic in a review or per PM. Please don't make it longer than one or two sentences, perhaps only one word, because while it's not going to be a strict 100 words drabble (probably), it's also not going to be long, so I'd like to still have some place for my interpretation. I can't tell how fast I'll have these written, because in no way I want them to hinder my work on 'A Year of Waiting', but when I'm stuck I sometimes need to clear my mind by writing something different, and drabbles are perfect for that.
So, yeah, leave me any situation (for example 'Nezumi and Shion shopping for the interior design of their flat') or simply one word (for example 'Cleaning-duty'). I won't limit the number of prompts right now, because I think hardly anyone will want me to write something for them ^^°