CHAPTER 131
I do not own Skip Beat! Yoshiki Nakamura does.
AUGUST
Haunted
Her.
She lied down above her terrace tiles, just the other side of her double glass door, the one leading to the ocean. The slabs were rough under her cheek. Un-smoothed, already chilled by the couple of hours without sun striking them. The rugged tiny buds making the surface were scratching her cheek and her denuded thighs, as her eyes gazed at the waves swallowing high the sandbank with ocean's full tide. She was lying like a starfish on the floor in her tiny Summer PJ, a joke of a top and shorts, breeze not even able to cool her fever at two in the morning. She had prayed cold tiles would help her. Wished the chill would have invaded her skin, to appease the nerves of the raging spring welling inside … drowning her.
It hadn't. The night was warm, and even the humidity of trillions of billion gallons of water that was the ocean hadn't managed to fully cool this hot night.
But it wasn't the reason she was laid down there. Parched and writhing as if she had stood in a desert for days long … without a droplet to balm her thirst.
Four days. That's the amount of time she had stood without sleeping. That she had fought against it. Unconsciously and consciously.
Today was the fourth night since that one.
Today was the day she had to resolve herself to use external ways to sleep. Such was supposed to be the cool tiles. The overly warm weather had dampened her tentative, unfortunately … to a mere lukewarm delusion.
No … that wasn't the reason. She knew it.
That was also not the lone external thing she had decided to use. As the sleep pills standing on her nightstand were accounting for. She had taken one early in the evening, hoping to catch up on her sleep debt. And she had slept, remotely so at least.
But she had also dreamed. Which was the alternative curse of when her body finally collapsed.
She rubbed her cheek against the roughness of the floor again, avoiding looking up at the stars on purpose. She couldn't handle shooting stars right now. And August was at their door.
She wondered how she would have felt if her cheek had been resting on his chest. She wondered if he would have lulled her to sleep with kisses…
She rolled back on her back, tears of frustration and pain glowing under the stars.
She screamed into the stillness of the twilight, ribbons of blue painted with glitter of light her only witness.
She wanted those arms to crush her again…
Him.
He called her.
It had only been a couple of days. But he already missed her. It was terrible, how easily he had gotten used seeing her every morning, every day. Not to see her face first thing in the morning … during breakfast. Coaching him into feeding himself. It felt odd. It felt wrong.
Not hear from her one full day was worse. But several…
He felt unanchored, floating away without the most vital thing to perform.
Her smile was not there to alight the room with its bright.
Her gaze was not there to let him fall into it.
No grumble was heard over his unnecessary teasing. No laugh tinkled at his silly jokes.
No hazard lucky touches was able to brand him every once in a while during the day.
Nothing.
He felt deprived of the most basic sensory input as if she had replaced his five senses over the course of the days he had spent with her.
It was bad.
No.
It was infinitely worse than before…
… making him question the depth of the fall you could take…
What was the bottom of this sickness, really?
He was worried over the silliest things too.
She had left in such a rush. It had appeared so urgent. Were things going well for her over there?
He had texted her.
'Did the audition go well?'
It was weird.
He couldn't put his finger on it.
But his blood trickled odd at an unknown sensation since she left.
He hoped they'll manage to find time to talk despite time difference soon.
She hadn't picked up the call, after all.
She was busy, Ren knew.
Twirling the light-blue button from finger to finger again–he was nearly sure it could only be hers but he hadn't been able to check with her before her depart–he sent her another text in hope she was alright, and set both phone and button on his nightstand. Days filled to the brim with work he had just returned to, he couldn't afford to lose a speck of sleep.
But it evaded him…
Like morning fog filled with its dense invisible dew drops, evaporating under the sunlight's warmth for each progression of the sun in the morning sky.
… and yet, he felt so cold.
Her.
He called again.
The first three times she had been able to pretend she was busy in England. With the audition. She had told him as much.
The one that didn't exist. Because she had already landed the role. Months ago. The stack of papers on her desk had been ready to be signed the minute she would accept the job. A villain turning good.
She did accept it, then.
After she left.
It would only keep her away this autumn, maybe a little more. But she would be away.
'How are you?'He had texted her, and she had replied.
The four following times he called, she had texted a quarter or half an hour after he had, saying she had been in the middle of the scene. It had only been the truth once.
Two weeks and five days had passed since she had left the Hizuri castle. They were nearly in the middle of August.
She had finished the final scenes of her detective show. She sorted through jobs. She washed, she spent time with snow. She went to the dates arranged by the booth events. It didn't go anywhere. Obviously. She said it again and again. She was not available. Never would be. She even had to state in a very shameless fashion her heart was taken, and that she was not interested in any adventure or friendships with benefits to one of the last guys.
She had to discourage Aigi's friend, Train, too. And while she did have a good moment with him, it was nothing special for her.
She got to meet Aigi again too, and she was quite sure they could become good friends. Though, he had a tiny obsession with drooling all over Ren's. But the man ignored any of their other relationships, wasn't part of the business, so, she could actually be herself and concur. Laughing as they commented the never-ending quality of Ren's figure.
She met Murasame too. But it was a little weird. She didn't get why he kept veering the conversation toward Ren, and poking questions about the both of them. As if he hoped to discover some odd thing, a big lie or a great mystery.
She saw her friends too, even accepted to see Kayla, who was truly trying her best to respect her boundaries more.
Nothing was helping.
'"Can we find a time that would suit you to speak on the phone?"' He had asked. '" I can arrange myself, don't worry."'
He had proposed it several times, in fact. And she had always pretexted she didn't have the time.
Soon, her farce would end.
Soon, he would realize work was not the only thing keeping her away from talking. Soon, no lie would stand between the truth of her lack of direct response and him. It was only a matter of time. If he already didn't know.
Texts could do. Texts her heart still handled.
But her ears couldn't bear to hear his voice. To listen to his worry and interest for her.
She couldn't … couldn't. She could not do it.
She just couldn't.
Every time he left a vocal message … every time her ear would pick on the undulations of his tone … asking to settle times to talk…
She felt wrapped by the ribbons of that night. Surrounded, cornered by the ghosts of this glitch.
Something that should never be. Something that would never be … for him.
Since he didn't remember.
But was everything … for her.
It was her salvation. Her elixir of life.
The last bubble of oxygen on a asphyxiating day.
Her dearest memory of a touch on her.
The consolation of her heart for her lonely soul. For the days, the nights that didn't matter…
A hell of guilt shrouded in pleasure and restraint.
It was her purgatory.
Haunting hands that weren't there.
Lips that she could nearly feel.
Because they had been on her skin. Once.
Skimmers of phantoms touches visiting her slumber.
Strength of arms around her waist.
Whispers at every hour of the day and the night. Parasiting her hearing.
Want … you…
Kyoko…
Endlessly.
Night after night.
Day after day.
Disrupting her sleep.
Distracting her in the middle of a scene.
Stay … in my arms.
Pleasure under his lips…
The hickeys that remained days after the night.
At her collarbone. Behind her hair, near the bottom of her nape.
On her hip, hard and aching. The carved bruise had endured ten days before the last fading trails had erased … as if never existing.
Something that should never have been … but carved trenches of invisible ink in her skin. Tattooing her more permanently than any needle. The brand on her heart stamped with forever.
She cried and sobbed… She screamed at the unfairness … all the while she held the memento of his touch.
She longed like a chained soul. Deprived of vital energy.
And then he called.
And her hand would shake, lifting to pick it up. Disabled.
Limping by her side.
And when it would disconnect, she would cross her arms front, holding at her shoulders, hoping it would keep her together.
Her living spirit begging for release as much as it hoped to hide.
She needed. She needed. She needed … she needed…
She needed…
She needed … away.
Far, far away.
Away.
Like a cursed benediction. A wound folding in on itself with the passage of time.
She needed…
That was the only way the fort would hold.
She needed…
Him.
HIM.
He had called her again.
She had been busy apparently.
Working on the audition, then with the director after the second test had happened. He hadn't meant to bother her too much. So, he hadn't insisted. He understood. He spent some time with his parents, then had returned to Japan.
The first week.
The urge to talk had been gnawing at him the moment she was gone … like he had missed something, anything…
She had been too strange … too distant. Too aloof.
He couldn't help it. It didn't make sense. She had appeared alright. She had even laughed. She was just busy.
But his insight kept telling him otherwise. Had been doing so for the last three weeks. Urging him, begging him … to do something.
It was like something was missing … was falling…
Hidden from his sight but there. Just there.
It kept making him wonder if he had forgotten something that night … or if it was just linked to her reason for being upset at the beginning of that day, before the park.
The first week, only, though.
Then, he had started to question things further. The searing comprehension that had punched his guts that evening…
The reason why he drank himself to abandon.
She never will.
The endless questions jamming his head turned up his hesitation to bother her, as a new doubt crept its way into him.
That doubt grew with every time she missed a call, and texted afterwards. Missing it but without a fault, replying. With short answers about work. A few questions about how he was, and an apology about missing it.
And with every day passing, it became evident she was avoiding him. If only slightly.
Maybe it had not been about that night, after all. Even less about why she had been upset.
Maybe.
Maybe this time, it was for an altogether different reason.
Maybe…
Maybe it was because she had seen through him.
Maybe she knew.
About how he felt.
And that was why she was running away from him.
Once the doubt had seeped into him, it refused to bulge.
And every day … every day that passed … it roared louder to certitude.
They had been in good terms when she left. Nothing had any reason to go awry. She hadn't been upset with him. She had hugged him before leaving. They had spent a great day at the Disney castle. Even landed an incredible opportunity.
Nothing should have been wrong. Nothing … that should have made her so busy it appeared as avoidance … unless it was.
Nothing had been wrong…
Nothing … but his outburst of the last eve at the park … getting upset about her qualifying them as friends.
Nothing…
… unless … she understood.
If she understood. If she understood … and felt wrong about it… Awkward.
That would be a good reason for her keeping her distance. That was the only reason that made sense.
There had been other reasons in the past. When they couldn't see other. When it would have been too arrogant to imagine anything other than her working, busy. When distance and time had snatched away the proximity they had before she left for the state. As they had changed and worked, and time had moved with both on their path.
He would not have indulged into thinking he was the source of the distance … a real reason for it to happen, even. They hadn't been close enough to ponder that.
But now … now was different.
They were much closer. Much, much more. Maybe not like he wished they would, but a lot more than before her departure all these years ago. And she opened up a lot more about her worries and concerns to him.
Even more … they had been even closer during all the time he had spent with her … all the time they had spent at his parents'.
Maybe he was indulging too much in illusions about how she had felt, but– … no.
They had been many moments she was laughing, many moments she looked happy, or at least, content … with them.
He might be wrong about many things … but not that. It might not have been what she would have chosen to do without him asking, but she hadn't been unhappy about it.
Which had circled back to the same conclusion.
This time, it was different.
This time, the excuse of work, business, and even a different country … it didn't match.
She was still responding through texts, granted. A lot more than in the past.
But…
He could feel it.
Something was there.
Something had happened.
… just out of touch.
For him to grasp it … understand it.
There weren't many options. That was most likely one, even. Only one.
She had guessed … understood … and was not okay about it.
Not that it surprised him. Not anymore.
Not after the other time. Not after how much denial and refusal she had pushed into being anything beyond friends that day.
No matter how crushing it had been. Was. No matter how his heart reeled back against the idea. No matter how much he didn't want to face it. It still brought the deadly terrible thought of– … What to do, now?
If it was true…
If it was true … should he tell her properly?
Should he ripe the bandage to set things clearly?
But what if he was wrong?
What if he damaged things irremediably by telling, asking her? What if he hurt by underlining a mere doubt she had, forging it into a truth? What if it made them unable to return to what they were, when there would still have had a chance? Something that might have mended with time?
What if he was wrong and she didn't know?
What if he hurt her?
That last one was especially brutal on his psyche. He refused it.
He wanted nothing more than tell her … Rush down, crush the barriers that was separating them. Throw them away like the pests they were.
But racing to something better, superior. Not ashen what they had.
Breaking that … was a movement of irresponsibility that even his selfish heart longing to possess her, begging for her heart, refused to commit.
Even less … if the price was hurting her.
But aware, or not aware she was, his doubts bled a new need. A sorrowing one.
Wary.
Maybe she felt harassed?
Maybe he was asking for too much of her time?
Even if she didn't know, she could still feel the need to distance herself … if she felt overwhelmed.
Since she had returned to Japan, he had done his utmost, everything, to nudge the bridge away between them … to spend all the time he could give her, that they would allow him to give, that work would permit to give to her, with her … to be with her. To show her in every possible way…
Not that there would have been a smidgen of helping himself off her. It was more than obsession, it was enthralment … he knew. The spell she was, had rooted its thorns like fig trees dig under houses. Under the foundations, the strength so unyielding … it up-sided down what came first, what came second. The priorities of his soul, of his dreams, of his psyche … in disarray. Until it found a new order. One that could make sense. One that would never cease to delve deeper into the soil of his heart.
But if he was being overbearing…
It was, after all, not the first time she put distance between them. Maybe he had just always failed to understand he was the annoying source of it.
No matter how distressing the thought was to him.
He had kept going and going after her. Pursuing her when she had asked none of it. He couldn't keep going forever.
He could not try, and try, and try to be with her … if she didn't want to. If his behaviour was what was making her take distance. If he was suffocating her…
Even if he didn't want to surrender.
Even if he knew he couldn't. Even if he knew he would never give up. Even if he knew he would never recover.
Even if he knew, he would still respond to the tiniest of hope … the smallest of signs.
From her.
Forever and ever … if it meant a chance at together.
Even if he would not be able to keep away … ultimately. He knew. Oh, he knew. He wouldn't be capable of it.
He'll never be.
Even if he would still want to spend every hour, every minute, every second with her.
So long she let him.
Even if staying friends would probably kill him like a suffocating fire, struggling every day to live despite not being given air.
Even if he knew it would never change … how he felt.
Even if…
He could continue on and on.
But maybe…
Maybe it was time.
Maybe…
Maybe this time…
Maybe…
Maybe distance was the right thing.
Maybe it was the first hurdle … the hardest step he would have to take.
This was the speech he kept repeating to himself … the words he hoped he needed to hear to make a decision. Any decision, the decision … as his sight glazed over the two contracts, his heart torn.
Repeating and repeating, trying to convince himself to choose. After weeks of pondering.
After the hard callback of reality … when she had rushed out his parents' house. Leaving nothing behind. After ignoring all his calls … giving excuses, he knew to recognize by now. After so many attempts at reaching her, and so little success… After so many cold shoulders from her. Without ever a good reason. Not one he could accept anymore, at least. Without ever calling back.
After so many propositions to find a suitable time when they could talk.
He had wanted to rush where she was so many times he had made him sick. Packed half a dozen times in a rash bout of energy. Called Yashiro twice that amount to cancel something and set a flight, before cutting the line every time before his manager could even talk. He could feel how worried his friend was becoming too, but he wasn't in any ability to share. Not when everything was taking such a downfall.
He didn't have the opportunity to free time now, anyway. He knew that too. He knew, he knew, he knew. He knew all of that.
He wouldn't have … before several months. Whatever he chose.
And that why he faced his two contracts on the table, knowing he had to make a decision.
One would keep him away for part of Fall, it had great potential to reach the international and would be produced in Australia and by Netflix, and the casting was promising, and quite interesting. A good movie, with a very unique character.
The other one held an amazing opportunity because of the director shooting it, would be produced by a streaming platform too, and had the potential to turn into several sequels, if the first opus went well. It was assured to become something big for his career. It would keep him in America for six months, at least. The contract stipulating that the ending of the role so fast would mean the goals would have been too hard, and that they could already see only one movie would make it out, so they would be cutting it there. If, on the contrary, things went as planned, he would even have to cancel a few small gigs, and medium one he had already accepted the moment he would sign this. But most of all, if it did well, he would probably have to renounce the show the director had proposed to Kyoko and him during their outing.
Both greatly interested him. And both would be a great boost for his career.
Two months ago, he would have known without even a speck of second which one he would have chosen.
One month ago, he would not even have hesitated, he would have jumped against the risk of missing an opportunity to play with Kyoko.
Without even mentioning how good the job the director Sparrow had proposed was too.
But now…
If he had to choose the right thing.
If I have to be responsible…
He wasn't sure he could still take the pirates job, truly. To be this close … knowing now, there would never be … anything.
Having to play a romance with her?
Seeing her glow every day?
If he needed to stop imagining things…
If he needed to let her breathe…
If he was suffocating her…
Maybe he had to let it go…
Maybe he had to step away…
Until he could act properly again … with her.
Until he could pretend he was okay.
…
Until his heart had resigned…
His hand lifted, long digits raising toward the stack of papers for the second movie. He closed his lids, and his hand shook, his breath collapsing … but he grabbed it.
Crushing the paper, he stood, grabbed his drink–boy, did he need right now–, and went to sit on his bed. But on last second, he sat on the ground, letting his head drop backward.
He had tried so hard to make her see.
He had given her everything he could give her … that she would let him give…
But if he was bothering her.
If she didn't want him close.
What else could he do?
What else?
What could he give to her? What would she let him?
How would she let him be part of her life?
If it turned unhealthy because I cannot let go … or abnormal…
If he hurt her … or worst, scared her because of his persistence…
Bile filled his mouth as a horrid word came to mind to define him. The weight of it, the possibility of it crushing him under, even as all atoms in his body repelled against the very idea it could apply to him.
But…
How he felt didn't matter. Even if he didn't understand her behaviour. Whether he was right or wrong about her reasons. Whatever he felt about it, about her.
What mattered was how she felt about it. How she reacted about it.
And she certainly wasn't acting like his attention was pleasing to her.
If it was to turn unhealthy, he thought again.
If his overwhelming demand for her attention was turning harmful … for her.
Then he couldn't continue.
Then he needed to step back and let her be. Let her breathe.
The word rang in his head again.
Stalker.
He took a large gulp of air as nausea rose in his throat, and he pressed a palm over his face, as alcohol threatened to make a one-way return. He was so grateful he hadn't eaten today.
But as an ice he hadn't visited for a long time overcame him, realization refused to stop its rankle inside.
After all,
Maybe it is time…
PS: Well, here I come again, I guess. I had hoped to be able to post earlier than this but life is a mess and a few of my kitties are sick. And well, got a sickness and stuff...
...Anyway, I will always rise from the dead.
I hope you are all healthy and bubby and having a great month of October.
I also hope you are alive after last chapter...
Yes, I know, it was most sadistic. And I'm very proud of it. muahahaha. And yes, as I had warned the storm has arrived, lol.
But all is for the best, you will see. I promise.
Just be patient, and remember, I'm a firm believer of fluff and happy endings(even if we are still far from the ending, but you got what I meant). So, don't despair too much.
Kisses to you all.
Mimagfan,
AUTHOR OUT.