CHAPTER135
I do not own Skip Beat! Yoshiki Nakamura does.
~~October12th~~
The door shut down behind, the lock clicking its numerous gurgles, and making her jump her spine inward, as silence settled in the huge place.
She should be used to it … but she wasn't.
The flat was spacious, and gorgeous, and nearly every plane surface of the floor was covered by an encased carpet in this over-the-top apartment, itself part of an even more overkill, very high building.
It was way too much. It was way too high. Had it been a couple more floors high, it might have counted as a skyscraper. She hated it.
She had been living here for twenty days, only, but she felt she had an unnecessary amount of space she didn't know what to do of, and the carpeted grounds were so comfy half of the time, she preferred to lie directly on the floors, instead on the gigantic furry angled sofa. Even if she spread her belongings as disorderly as she could tolerate, she wouldn't have been able to make a tenth of it messy.
The view was splendid, though.
Her eyes could graze every top of buildings, alighted like fireflies at night, that kept her awake if she didn't pull the curtains. But most of all, she had a beeline sight on the biggest river of Edimburgh, Water of Leith, and its banks. The massive wall windows letting her embrace it all. She could see bits of the parks shielded by the city here and there. Most, she hadn't had time to visit. But in two of them, she had succeeded scraping time for a tour. Some leaves had begun their tanning into orange and golden hues. And some were beginning to turn red. Sometimes, it peaked between houses and other structures, when a wisp of wind would fluff out the trees hidden behind the roofs.
The carpet was beige. A warm one. The section covered by wood contained only deep browns. Some walls were white, some a light tan resembling the carpet floor tones. The roofs, brown planks too. It was a massive but cosy interior.
She had never felt so cold.
She was always shivering in it. It was always so … empty.
Choice had not been a luxury, mind you.
When she had reached the coasts of England a little under a month ago, the flat she was supposed to get, reserved by the production of the movie she would take part of, had not been available. They had told her an issue had occurred.
But she remembered when she had met the producer. His and the director's panicked faces. They had forgotten. Purely and simply. Or so they had said. But she was not an actress for nothing, and something in their expressions always brought a seed of doubt in her when she thought back about it.
She had had to rent and live in one of the last hotel rooms available at that moment. Market availability didn't forgive in September, when the city was filled with students moving in, and parents. It had not been a pleasant experience.
Not because of the room, which has been perfectly performing. But because of the feeling she had, of being a pain for those people … the ones that had hired her. She hadn't understood then.
And because she had not been been accommodated, even less refunded, for their mistake.
Fortunately, her contract protected her partially, when she had to rent a flat after that first week, but that was one of the rare times she had regretted living and working without a manager.
Taken per surprise, as they had stipulated all accommodations were supposed to be taken care of, she had to act in the urgency, and had been obliged to rent a flat where she could find one, without really knowing the area or market at all. And it had also needed to be close by to filming locals.
While it was not her first time in England, it was her first in Edimburgh, and filming was supposed to start the next day in the evening, so finding a free apartment close-by had overstepped finding something cheap or calculated.
That was how she had found herself with one of the most luxurious flats of the city, because the fainting outrageous prices meant two thirds of them was always free.
Half the rent was paid by the production of her movie, thanks to her contract and their mistake. But a luxurious flat's expensiveness as this one didn't shore down to reasonable even with the prod tipping in, in her opinion. It was just uselessly huge and filled with all too much high-brand furniture. She had savings, fortunately, but this was still beyond ridiculous.
She still got annoyed at this when she thought of it. She was really glad she had been frugal in her expenses, right now.
Plus, she had Snow. She was a well-behaved cat, but she was still a cat. Expecting no accident would happen on said furniture during her time here was delusional. Meaning caution was not something she could count to recuperate.
To bout, the lease was of minimum six months, and while, yes, her time dedicated to filming here was supposed to take something along that length, she had not planned to live all those months in that flat.
She would have much more preferred to stay in that apartment a couple weeks to a month max, before moving to a much cheaper area.
But it was either accepting six months of payment or not having it.
She removed her shoes, and dropped them by the door. The tiny vestibule was one of the areas without carpets, and her sneakers banged against the floors when they hit them. Snow came, and she took her in her arms, tightening her hands around the fluffy white ball of fur as the purring sound began, ringing louder than usual in the eerie lack of sound of the flat.
She should not complain. She knew. She was lucky. Anyone would drool at this luxurious place.
She wanted none.
Her bag cascaded down her shoulder and to the floor too, and she left it there as her legs pushed to make a motion, and soon her soles met the hushed carpet as she brought snow to the counter to serve her evening meal to her.
Her fist tightened around the spoon bringing down the shreds of cooked chicken into her cat's bowl, as she attempted to contain her fury and stress of today.
Her movie was … happening.
Her scenes progressing smoothly … at least. If only things could go as well after the usual 'CUT' was given, she would be grateful.
The twenty-something sigh of the day finally broke through her lips, and she vacated the kitchen, going back to the entrance to set things in order. Pissed at herself for throwing her emotions at objects, and more exhausted at her own behaviour by the minute.
She brought the bag to her table, and pulled her phone.
She had failed after all.
After that call.
The one made that evening after going out with Kayla.
Keeping away had been the plan.
At least until she would have tucked back the waterfall of emotions flooding out from her … since that night.
But…
It was too hard.
She could hear it in his voice.
How concerned and dejected he had been. And worse … in spite of doubts surging when she thought about it, a huge part of her felt like she had hurt him, it was like she could hear the pain in his tone. Even if he had tried to sound casual about it.
There was something … wrong.
He had sounded … lost … at times.
Like he was always holding back a sigh from escaping.
As if something was demolished … or as if he didn't know the road he ought to take, now … as if the one he had wished to take had been forfeited.
To say it had worried her … was putting it mildly.
She had panicked.
She was not sure if she were the cause … but the mere idea she might…
Before she knew it, she had been telling him her schedule would lighten the next week of that call, and had proposed to call him when he was free.
And she had found herself unable to stay away all through that following week before the next call.
The curt answers she had been giving him by messages to maintain distance replaced by her sincere eagerness to talk to him through the days passing, and hoping to fill the abysmal void his imposed absence from her life, had caused.
She didn't dare more. She still had a lid to put back on her emotions.
But her needs and worry for him drove her resistance to smithereens … and each response sent by him elated her like bursting bubbles. Which made keeping limits and hold to her determination to fix things all the more tenuous.
He was the one that was making it possible, though.
He was … different.
She could only guess he was busy … and he had said as much … but he tried less to speak with her.
He was … more … absent.
Less … available.
The second call–after her impulsive renouncement one, the night of the club–, only happened a couple of days earlier. The 8th of October.
It's not they had not been texting here and there. She had long given up renouncing that altogether.
But it had remained occasional, and since he was filming his scenes in Australia, even messages had been few during the weeks.
And now, she was here, a couple of days after he had called her.
He had been warm. Affectionate. Like always. But yet … not.
But … different.
Like … withdrew. Like … he was forcing himself.
Maybe it was because he hadn't tried to tease her it felt off.
Maybe it was just her fault.
Maybe he still felt he had done something wrong.
She didn't know. But she worried endlessly.
She wanted to fix it. She wanted to ask. But she had no right.
She knew it was the right thing … to do. To let go. To let a bridge create.
Her feet led her to her window, and her gaze loomed over the many rooftops, the dewdrops of countless lights … both moving and immobile. Her cheek pressed against the cold glass and fog coloured the glass's spot over her mouth. She hugged her sides.
It was what she had wished for. What she had wanted. What she still thought was … needed.
Her mind kept repeating her there was no other way around. That it was the only solution to preserve what once was.
So why does it hurt so much?
Their easy banter. Their closeness. Even his teasing bouts. His smiles. His overly affectionate touches. His scent. His acting.
She could never help but compare other actors to his. To what he would have done.
This was the best scenario she could have asked for. He was bringing distance between them himself. She didn't have to do anything this time. He didn't even think she was angry, and she didn't have to find more excuses and fight her own desires and affections to keep her distance.
He was doing it for them both.
It was the healthiest way to bring their friendship to a safe medium again. To give her time to rebuild her walls.
Without having to hurt him.
So, why did it feel like she already had?
Why was it even harder? Why did it make her urge to call him even more? To hear his voice … to gaze into his eyes. To hear his laugh. To receive an impromptu hug from him. More … More.
To be the one to hug him. To grab at him until it'd hurt. To soothe his concerns away. To be the one to bring smiles on his face.
But…
It was the best possible road. The only one. The only safe one. The only one existing. The only one helping. She clanged her head against the window, shutting her eyes not to see the bright fireflies lights of the night below and beyond.
I miss him.
It had to be. It had to be.
Her side slipped down the window and her eyes glazed at the city stretching down like a black and white illusion, tiny glimmers reflecting in her unseeing pupils.
"It has to. It has to."
Only the void of quietness responded in the huge room. Not even Snow came. Probably sleeping. Chill that appeared to come from more than just the window burned her bones with its cruelty, and she rubbed her right hand's fingers, as if breaking their immobility was going to bring back blood and warm them up. Like the perfunctional, mechanical reaction expected.
It didn't.
Stars gleamed above in the sky, but in this cloudless night, it just gave her the impression of a colder night coming forth.
I really loathe this flat.
She fell asleep against her window.
§§§
PS: Hello everyone, and Happy New Year! I hope you will all a wonderful year filled with happiness, joy, love, heath and weath. And I deliver a last minute new year present. Short but efficient. I hope you will love it.
See you soon. Kisses. Mimagfan.
AUTHOR OUT.