II.
Musashi waited
for Hiruma to say something.
How could 10 seconds feel like 10
hours?
Finally he heard him mumbling something like 'Your company is waiting'. And he was right. He looked at his watch. Already 7:15 am. If he wouldn't go now, he'd be late. So he turned slowly to his truck, observing how Hiruma took off his jacket to scratch the mashed dog from the street, silently.
When Hiruma had entered the house and closed the door behind him Musashi started his truck and slowly drove to work.
Wasn't that very strange? The way Hiruma just didn't do anything in particular seemed unreal, not fitting his character.
But it seemed that even Hiruma should be at least a little bit shocked to start talking the car driver down. From his rear-view mirror Musashi saw the man slowly taking his seat inside his car again, shaking his head by wondering why he was still alive.
They lived in a pretty silent and clean neighborhood. It resembled some of these harmonic paradise like suburbs made for families with children and old retired people who weren't doing anything but working in their gardens all day long.
Japanese houses standing in a row except for one big American styled house with a huge garden and an even much huger backyard.
Musashi didn't think that Hiruma liked it too well, living in one of the most bourgeois part of the city. But that was one of those tiny love expressions Hiruma used to make. That piece of ground had been a kind of present to Musashi.
And he loved it.
He loved this little piece of peace.
Everything was shining so harmonically, peacefully and silently. To him it was absolutely perfect. This home was everything he ever needed.
Years ago Hiruma had laughed at him. Of course dreaming the dream of a man who wanted to settle himself down, dreaming of house, wife, children, made him seem even older than he already looked. And now he had this house, somewhat a wife and until just a few moments ago something like a child. At least he loved to compare his lifestyle to the perfect life people loved to imagine.
He never had dared to think that love hotels and changing rooms would develop to THIS. And he had never ever expected Hiruma to fulfill his only modest and cheesy wish. He had found confidence in his life although not everything was actually really perfect.
The people living around here for example still didn't know how to handle their exotic neighbors: one who was obviously mad and one who absolutely didn't care about it, two men and their dog living together in a house suited for six persons. But they got at least used to it, though everyone seemed to be scared of Hiruma. And honestly: who wouldn't be scared of an insanely laughing, gun loving guy who didn't give a shit? Maybe the guy in the car just before would go around now, telling everyone that he might be on Hiruma's 'Black List' now and certainly be killed next week.
Musashi really wondered what Hiruma was doing right now. Didn't he have important appointments as he was hurrying so much this morning? He suddenly felt that he shouldn't have left him alone. But even if he had stayed, Hiruma might haven't said anything but 'You old idiot! As if I'd break down and cry now. Go to work!' He felt like he should be there now. Even if he was afraid that Hiruma might have said nothing. Maybe he didn't want to see that. So he decided that leaving right now had been the best thing to do.
It was strange enough to simply imagine Hiruma being all sad and everything. And he knew that Hiruma hated to show such uncontrolled feelings to others. Even if it was him. It was right to leave him, so he wouldn't have to feel embarrassed about anything.
Musashi simply worried.
If this accident was such a shock to Hiruma, that he couldn't react in his usual patterns, something had to be awfully wrong.
''''''''''''''''''''
This was such a rare moment.
Hiruma hated it - not knowing what to.
He really didn't feel like taking actions.
He absolutely didn't feel like driving to the crematory now. And he didn't want to make a grave, or put an urn on the mantelpiece they didn't had and the least thing he wanted to do was to throw him away like a rotten sandwich.
He only wished for everything to be like before. Simply everything.
Why did it feel so awkward? This fat and lazy good-for-nothing substitute was dead. So what? That was the bill for being so stupid to chase cars.
He kind of realized now that Cerberus II could never have substituted the real Cerberus but that he had his certain charm. And yes, maybe he was… sad about his death. He could just not understand why it made him feeling down so much.
He laid his jacket with the enrolled dog in a big bag and took a seat for a second or two. He hated it, he tried to forget about it, but he knew there was something else that has been ruining his mood since weeks. It troubled him. And it caused him bad headaches. And somehow he wanted to deal with it all alone by himself. Although he knew too well, that one day would be the day when he had to tell HIM.
Something inside him rebelled against that fact.
He COULDN'T tell him.
He couldn't go on destroying people's lifes.
He couldn't do this to him.
But there wasn't any way to avoid it.
There was no way to change it.
Even turning back times wouldn't help.
There would come the time, when he couldn't hide it anymore. And he realized that this time had started today with the uncontrolled shaking of his hand and these uncontrolled surprising emotions deep inside of him showing up now.
Musashi wasn't dumb, he knew that. He'd start to notice soon that something was wrong. That he was hiding something from him. Hiruma feared the day when everything would be revealed. He feared the reactions and he feared how people would handle it, when even he himself didn't know how to do it. He was that kind of person who always had a plan, and a plan b to z. But right now he had no plan. No control. No influence. He couldn't stop it. And it would keep on from now. It would become worse and worse and he couldn't tell how his future would be. That scared him. Yes, those were the things he feared – uncertainty.
Looking around in the living room he remembered good old days. And the moment when he thought, that this life was the life he wanted to choose. When he let this house build, when he let Musashi step inside his life like no one ever before. And although he had laughed at Musashi back then he started to like it. Yeah, he really liked this surreal life they lived. He started to feel comfortable with it. And feeling comfortable was hard. Feeling happy and content was so hard. And though he didn't fit this suburb, and didn't fit the faithful and terrible smug neighbors, though this all didn't fit his character at all, there was one thing that made him even love this.
Musashi gave him a home.
He gave him someone who was waiting for him, when he returned home after work.
He gave him stability.
He was giving him something he always lacked of, but never missed.
And now he would miss this. He didn't want to miss this.
But most important: He didn't want to destroy it.
On one hand these thoughts made him go insane on the other hand he felt more … love than ever before for him. He would never say that out loud, for sure. He even avoided only thinking about it. And becoming so fucking sentimental now didn't help his shitty situation at all.
He didn't lay the appointment off – he held it by cell phone. Others just had to deal with it, period. He shoved away his poring over stupid things. He just tried to make the day, to pretend, everything was alright. This morning hadn't been a good start at all, let alone waking up so tardy. But the worst thing was that there was this certain reason WHY he overslept, why he felt so damn tired, so fucked up, so not like himself anymore. And he was mad at himself for being so shitty this morning, for fucking up his usual patterns.
He only hoped that Musashi didn't ask that he didn't make him lie.
Not that Hiruma never lied. He lied very much, indeed. But he didn't really want to lie about this. Not now, not today.
He came home late and by seeing his truck being well parked in the gateway, he had this lovely feeling of 'being home'. Returning to the hotel you actually live in for a few weeks didn't feel a bit as well as this. Opening the door, entering this warm and cozy home, taking shoes off, letting jacket fall anywhere and seeing him waiting for him. Obviously not really listening to what the guy in TV tried to explain, taking a few sips of his beer, Musashi sat – no he almost lied there – on the couch and lift his head.
'Welcome home, honey', he nagged him.
'Stop talking, fucking fag', he mumbled and let himself fall down, laying his head at Musashi's lap.
Musashi was surprised - a little bit. But he stopped talking. He carefully lay his hand on the blonde shining head and slowly started fondling.
He had questions. So many questions.
How was your day.
How are you.
What in the world is this, that makes you seem so gloomy these weeks.
But he stopped talking. And stopped thinking about it by looking to the door, recognizing something like an urn.
And so he decided to wait. To wait for him to talk. To wait for him, to tell him why the hell he lay there sleeping on his lap, instead of hitting on him heavily as usual.