The response I'm getting for this story is making me very happy, so thanks to everyone who's read and/or reviewed. I hope this chapter is up to the same quality, even though I doubt it is. Hope everyone is enjoying the holidays!
Disclaimer: I don't own The World Ends with You.
The next morning, the air was cold. The weather seemed to be continuously contradicting itself. Everything seemed to be mocking the Tech. The weather was just his favorite bully.
He woke up early. It was about an hour before his alarm clock was set to go off. He checked his cell phone; no new messages. This caused him to sigh in relief. That meant that no one was going to take away the gift of 777's return. No one was going to toss him back into the nightmare. Sadly, that realization brought forth no show of happiness. He felt… subtly elated. If he was looking in a mirror, he probably would've seen a small, content smile. If he was lucky, maybe it wouldn't appear broken.
With an air of apathy, he began making coffee. He knew that he wouldn't be able to hold anything down, so he didn't prepare anything for breakfast. However, there was small, nagging voice in the back of his head. Sighing, he grabbed a piece of bread and popped it in the toaster. And that, for a reason that was beyond him, made him feel a flutter of happiness.
After drinking his coffee and forcing the toast down, he felt the tiredness return. But it was too late to go back to sleep. He had to face the day. It was simply too late to hide under the covers. Besides, he could probably sleep in the car anyway. That would be preferable to being stuck in a confined space for an awkward two hours.
Time crawled by and the Tech was becoming more restless with each minute passing. He began pacing around the apartment. He almost decided to watch TV, but he knew that nothing besides the news would be on this early in the morning. The news was not going to be able to predict how this day would turn out, so he wasn't interested.
The Tech quickly came to the conclusion that he needed to get out of the apartment. Walking around in circles around the small space was only showing him one thing: he desperately needed to clean. And while that would take his mind off things, he really didn't want to do that.
With that as a motivator, he grabbed the pair of jeans and t-shirt he could find, then migrated into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Within five minutes, he was out the door. The thought occurred to him that Tenho and BJ would be expecting him to be home, but he just had to get away. He needed to clear his head. He needed some reassurance that things wouldn't blow up in his face today. Without that, this would all mean nothing.
He left without a guilty conscious. If he wasn't back in time, they could merely call him on his cell. He nodded, reaching into to his pocket to make sure it was there, that would make it all okay. He didn't have a destination though. All the Tech knew was that he had to walk around, and his feet seemed to be in control. They were walking toward Dogenzaka, so he could only assume that his mind was guiding him to the ramen shop.
However, that realization made him roll his eyes. The place couldn't be open so soon. Why would it be? While Ramen Don was practically a father to him, he could honestly say that his business was not doing that great. But the day was just full of surprises, the Tech discovered five minutes later, seeing lights on inside the quaint building.
He was greeted with the normal exuberant "Irasshai!" as soon as he entered. The Tech waved back half-heartedly, taking a seat at the counter. The ramen maker regarded him curiously though. The older man didn't ask if he wanted food, nor did he follow any of his normal characteristic patterns. Instead, he crossed onto the Tech's side of the counter and sat down next to him, clasping his shoulder in a concerned manner.
The Tech smiled warily, feeling the tiredness from before seeping into his body. His mind couldn't even create a lie; couldn't muster up the nerve to say, 'I'm fine.' No, he had been doing that for too long, and everything just came crashing over him. 777 was coming home today. He was supposedly cured, even though he knew, deep down, that wasn't true. It just couldn't be true. A breakdown that took who knows how many months to happen couldn't be fixed in just sixty days. That guarantee had to be false. No one could promise anything that extravagant and actually make it come true.
Maybe that was why he felt like he was about to fall over, and the only thing supporting him at that moment was Ramen Don's hand, still holding onto his body even though the man had yet to say anything. His silence was unnerving; he was always grinning and raving about something. The silence made him look older than he normally acted. It belied his actual age.
Thinking about it now, was it possible that he needed mental help? They had all forced 777 into getting some—an incredible feat, one he would remember for the remainder of his life—but the Tech never thought that he should talk to a therapist. Hell, probably those three would need to undergo band therapy before they ever played together again, if such a thing really existed.
And what about his and 777's relationship? Had it crashed and burned that day, and they just hadn't found out yet? Or would they find out days or months or even years from now that their relationship had been smashed to pieces and left in ruins?
The Tech found himself shaking his head forcefully. Sure, he was a pessimist, but he couldn't allow himself to think like that. He pounded the countertop hard, causing his hand to tingle in pain and an echo to resonate through the building. But neither man flinched.
There would be one good about 777's return… besides the obvious. Maybe once the singer came back, he would bring time back with him. The Tech had grown tired of time losing its value and meaning. There was probably something unhealthy in that notion, but it was too far hidden underneath the layers of dependency and yearning.
It dawned on him that his unruly behavior might be worrying the ramen maker. However, he still lacked the courage to lie about his state of being. He then settled for what he deemed second best. "I'm sorry."
The aging man merely shook his head though. He patted his shoulder and stood up, making his way back to his side of the counter. The Tech numbly noted the lack of touch, missing it but knowing that it couldn't have lasted longer than a few fleeting seconds. This was all reaffirming his previous thought: there was something wrong with him. Hopefully it wasn't irrevocably damaged.
"I haven't seen you in awhile." The Tech looked up and stared at the man. His voice wasn't booming, like normal, but he sounded concerned. "I've been wondering about where you've been."
He only nodded his head, unable to say something to ease the man's concern. The only thing he was experiencing now was a gripping silence, almost as though someone had gagged him, or that he had somehow forgotten how to speak.
Ramen Don seemed to pick up on that, so he continued his one-sided conversation. "I haven't seen your friend lately either." The Tech didn't like how this conversation was going. "Did something happen to him?"
That was the question. That had been the question he had been repeatedly asked this whole time. And every single time, he had no answer, no response.
But maybe this time would be difference. He opened his mouth to answer, but slowly shut it. Were there truly any words to describe it? When he thought about it, it seemed easy. All he had to do was just say what happened, which didn't require much of an explanation at all. And if he was vague, the answer would be even shorter, but satisfying.
It seemed like a legitimately easy task. 777 collapsed during his concert. It was only five words. Eleven syllables. And yet he couldn't utter them. He wouldn't be able to make it through any follow-up questions, like was the singer okay? Well, that was one he could easily answer: no, no he wasn't. There was also the predictable question of the status of the band. Since the Tech wasn't technically in the band, he had no idea.
But then there was the question he most feared: was he okay? That wasn't an easy question; it was one that he had been asking himself daily. And that was the thing. If 777 was supposedly fine, shouldn't he be? After all, everyone's mental stability had, as of now, been revolving around the singer's.
The Tech found it ironic that he was falling apart once things were supposed to getting better. That had to be a bad sign, or some kind of bad omen of the future.
It occurred to the Tech that he had yet to answer Ramen Don's question. The man was still staring him intently, waiting patiently for an answer. He released a shaky sigh. He could do this. After a beat, he opened his mouth. "He, um… he's not doing too good." He didn't elaborate on if he was doing badly physically, mentally, or emotionally, but he since 777 wasn't doing good with either of those, he didn't feel like that he had.
"A few kids have stopped by asking about him. I guess they know you eat here. They said he passed out during a show or somethin' like that. Is something wrong with him?"
The Tech's eyes widened, and he was sure that he gasped slightly. While he knew that other people were aware of what happened, hearing that they knew was a different matter. He was hoping that more rumors had been spread; he didn't want to hear the truth mentioned. He thought about it enough, he didn't want other people thinking about it too.
"He's not doing good," the Tech repeated only because those were the only words he could produce. His voice was shaking, almost completely drowned out by the insecurities and fears he had refrained from mentioning. Mentioning them would make them real, and the Tech wasn't sure if he could handle that.
His cell phone rang, causing him to jump. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, flipped it open, and passed it to the ramen maker, offering no explanation. His mouth was open, but there was no sound. He couldn't find his voice. He was lost for words.
It was still cold outside. From that point, the Tech was expecting it to rain, for it to pour, for it to wash away everything. Maybe then everything would just get swept away. Maybe then the uncertainties and insanity would be washed away. But there was no guarantee that the Tech would like what was underneath it all.
Well, there's chapter four. I'm not sure how long this story is going to be. It'll probably be ten chapters at the most, but I'm not positive. Anyway, please review. Comments and suggestions are appreciated and most often loved!