Yellow
Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And everything you do,
Yeah, they were all yellow.
The night sky is black, the deep black that makes me look behind myself as I walk down a deserted street. My feet are numb, cold and heavy, taking the strides with an unbearable tiredness, lugging the bumbling suitcase and remembering to lift with my knees. The streetlamps buzz a little as I pass under them, their false yellow like miniature suns trying to melt the unforgiving ice that laces the sidewalk. They fail and I try not to slip.
Buildings pass, some overflowing with merriment, with parties and drinking and gift giving. Some are alone and dark with their owners at soirees or boarded up and left to rot. Odaiba streets are supposed to be busy, like a fusion of neon lights and cars and motorbikes, all falling in a rhythm that screams life. But not at Christmas, everything stands empty.
It doesn’t snow; it never does here. But it’s cold and frosty, the next best thing. My breath is a large cloud of gray in the black and blue night. The wind whips around, tugging at my scarf and my gloved hands. But I’m not cold, I’m strangely warm. With anticipation, with anxiety, with an indefinable feeling of eternity.
The stars overhead light up, just burst, little tears in the black curtain. They burn with a mindless passion, something inextinguishable and permanent. If they explode, they do it with a bang, a flash, a to do, a sense of drama. But mostly, they stay steady in the sky, disappearing at dawn and returning in the evening, linking up and pointing in all directions in the heavens, like the huge tracks of time itself. Maybe my life’s being charted up there, to be stared at by some other planet and be part of a new constellation. And you could be my other half, another Gemini.
Your voice replays in my head, hauntingly, quietly, barely able to get above the sounds of cars slushing in the streets and the random voices that drift overhead.
I came along,
I wrote a song for you,
And all the things you do,
And it was called “Yellow.”
The stars are never yellow; they’re white and bright and sometimes blue, sometimes red but mostly those are airplane lights. But the sun’s yellow, that intense glare people have compared me to, the bouncy, unlimited energy, the trailing goofiness, the intense brightness I always possess. But I’m not as bouncy in the night, unlike you, who thrives like a night blooming flower, exploding and singing your heart out underneath the soft gaze of stage lights, of fan adoration, in your own caught up excitement.
The stars shine for you, glimmer at the sight of you, pay homage to their patron saint. I’ll shine for you, smile until my face splits in half and my bones snap in two. Your voice gets louder in my head, those twisting melodies and riffs that maneuver your body in all sorts of appealing ways. My companion on this cold street…
So then I took my turn,
Oh what a thing to have done,
And it was all “Yellow.”
We never expected for their reaction to be so extreme, the ranting disappointment, the vehement denial, the almost violent disgust. We might have said nothing, keeping the precarious stasis of our relationship suspended in the limbo of friendship and something deeper. But we knew it was unbalanced, slowing tipping toward forever, slipping from equilibrium. So we told them, confessed to them with some half assed grandiose speech, spitting out those cliché affirmations of love. And all the while, they stared and gaped and hardened their eyes to us, blocking us from their attention.
And the threats, the vicious names, the shoddily hidden rage. They wanted to separate us, divide and conquer, and ‘normalize’ us. Our words fell on deaf ears, smacking hard against ignorance, against the impregnable fortress of their carefully built plans for our future. All a house of cards, it always had been.
Your skin
Oh yeah, your skin and bones,
Turn into something beautiful,
You know, you know I love you so,
You know I love you so.
It was that night when we were just laying around, talking about nothing at all. I had my sleeping bag encircling me and you were snuggled in your own. We just stared up at the sky with those millions of stars and that half smiling moon. The rest of the group were scattered around us, fast asleep and turning and tossing in their dreams. I took a chance and reached out my hand for yours, gently taking your fingers into my palm. It was all that was needed for us to recognize something that had stood unrealized between us for so long.
I had you to encircle me the rest of that night, so close that I traced the tantalizing angles of your body. Like art, like sculpture, your skin and bones smooth, slender and pale and sleek. You were perfect in my arms, close and light, your lean body matching mine, toe for toe, lips for lips. Warm and swimming, I dreamed that night of the most beautiful things, of meadows, of the bright blue sky, of you sitting in class with that pensive thoughtful expression. And when I woke up in the morning, shaded by the giant elm, I breathed you in, and floated somewhere above myself.
I swam across,
I jumped across for you,
Oh what a thing to do.
We knew it was a rash thing to do, something dangerous with all the possibilities of failure. But words had become meaningless and useless. They needed to lose us to realize that maybe we weren’t so wrong, that maybe we deserved their support. It was my idea, of course it was. Only I could have thought of something so extreme and fantastically implausible. You brushed it off when I mentioned it as ridiculous, impossible. But as things kept getting worse for both of us, you knew it had to be done, if only for an escape from the disapproving looks, the long all night lectures.
So we’re leaving tonight, asserting our adulthood. Going to university part time and working to support ourselves, completely cut off from our family. I’ll miss Hikari terribly, as you will Takeru, but we don’t have any choice. The lingering strains of your songs wrap around my mind and press me forward, turning and twisting into the alleys and avenues, strung hypnotically along with the timbre in your voice.
Cause you were all “Yellow,”
I drew a line,
I drew a line for you,
Oh what a thing to do,
And it was all “Yellow.”
The shops are all empty, closed and dark with their clearance sales, their holiday decorations and the residual energy from happy children. We were like them once, without all the drama of saving the world and squabbling on seemingly meaningless things.
You tried to commit to the plan, tried so hard to convince yourself that it was the only option, but you couldn’t leave everything behind, your band, our friends, your brother. So I made an ultimatum, drew a compromising line. It was me or them. You chose me, and I apologized so much for making you choose that you got annoyed and whacked me with a rolled up magazine.
And then there was that final straw, that final intrusion that threw us even closer to the threshold. They started to pressure you to go out with your father’s boss’ daughter. You ranted and raved about us, about who you were, but they didn’t care. It was a last ditch attempt when you attacked them for all their years of not supporting you, of leaving you and breaking you when they divorced. You got house arrest for that one, and I didn’t see you for a month afterwards.
My parents thought it was the best thing in the world. They told me you got what you deserved, for being so ‘sick in the head.’ And how I could just avoid the same mess if I got rid of this abnormal, twisted, perverted fantasy in my head that I could love you and start a life with you. They said I deep down didn’t want to be so wrong, so unnatural, so against humanity. I kept myself cold, shut off from them, fuming and hurting inwardly and never letting myself break under their onslaught. Not until they were out of earshot. Hikari heard me once and tried to comfort me, though I knew her acceptance of us didn’t bear any weight at all. That’s when I told her of our plan. She was terrified that I’d take such a drastic step, but knew deep down it might work.
That was then she told me ‘good luck’ and ‘I love you.’ There was no turning back now. I got a job and worked my ass off, slacking off in attending team practices to scrounge up every single cent, every tip and hiding every paycheck. You committed yourself too, getting gigs almost every night at bars, nightclubs, anyplace that paid. We’d get together secretly in the school’s library, counting our money and making our plans. And now, we’re taking that final step, that leap, that plunge into the icy ocean.
Your skin,
Oh yeah, your skin and bones,
Turn into something beautiful,
And you know for you,
I’d bleed myself dry for you,
I’d bleed myself dry.
The station comes up as a great big bright building. Trains steam in their tracks waiting for people. Attendants rush to stuff suitcases into the storage compartments. There are few passengers, waiting and tapping their feet on the platform, waving their tickets in their hands. They all have that impassive look on their faces, like the one on mine. Maybe they’re staring a new life too.
My feet are leaden, plodding now as I near the outer rim of the large floodlight’s illumination. My heart explodes in my head, pounding like nothing before and my body tries to get more air but fails as my lungs refuse to function. My lips have gone dry, cold and dry, stinging like my face does. I wonder if I could really do this, feeling my strength and determination sapping.
But you come into view, blowing hard onto your bare hands as you exit the station house. Despite the artificial yellow of the lights, you’re brilliant, shining. Your hair moves a little in the light breeze and glows in the dark. It’s the angle of your shoulders, the kind of wistfulness that wraps around you. Your posture, your bones and your pale, smooth skin. Your affection, the way that you tell me that you love me. My feet are involuntarily moving, running and speeding up as I rush the platform. The suitcase is flying awkwardly every which way, and my scarf is unraveling from around my neck and billowing out behind me like an oversized ribbon. I shout your name, making people turn my way, the vague surprise on their faces at my crazy looking figure pelting toward them.
It’s true, look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine.
You turn slowly, showing me your soft profile for a moment before facing me. I could burn with that small smile on your lips, the gentleness and depth of the single look. I’m in your arms suddenly, suitcase abandoned on the cement. There’s the instantaneous burst of yellow in my head as I feel your hands press against my back and pull me closer, impossibly close against your cheek.
A sideways glance tells me that everyone on the platform’s looking our way, a few smiles, a few looks of shock, a few eyes filled with horror and disgust. But you’re holding me and they disappear into the vaporous realm of dreams and unimportant things. It’s unspoken love as I wrap my arms around your neck and pull slightly away to look into your face. I make a face and you laugh that gentle laugh of yours, leaning forward to meet my lips.
We kiss, one of those innocuous ones that never seems quite to satisfy me, but wonderful nonetheless. I feel my head moving back and meeting the brick wall as we continue to kiss. My eyes start to slide shut, but I find myself fixed, staring past your face and up at the sky. It’s incredible how all the stars shine and spin in a frighteningly beautifully whirl of tracks and constellations and forever. They’re so intense, more intense than I’ve ever seen them. You break the kiss and rest your head on my shoulder, sighing contentedly against my neck.
My arms hold your slim frame close to me, feeling that fierce heat radiating off your body, even through the many layers of fabric between us. The black sky gets darker and the stars and the moon keep getting brighter and brighter. Eternity, forever, all things immortal, they glimmer down at us, shining just for you, loving you as wholly as I do.
They excite me, staring down at us with such a beautiful, benevolent gaze, and I pick you up and start to spin us around, faster and faster in a dizzying deranged waltz. You just laugh and let yourself see double and triple. The conductor blows his whistle, telling us that it’s time to go. But the world’s still spinning, leading me in circles, make me feel as if I could just leave my body and supernova.
The whistle sounds again, and I finally put you down. You stumble and go to pick up our things strewn across the platform, directing the attendants to our bags and suitcases. Meanwhile, I’m entranced, the stars still sparkling with something so unearthly that’s it’s beyond the capabilities of my mind. They look so simple, just shining endlessly, for everyone without any expectation of reward, but they have such a force that makes people fall in love under them, makes people despair into them, that makes people wish on them. You’re beckoning me to your side as you hang off the side of the train. I break my face into a smile, bounding to meet you and be pressed to your side, to nuzzle into your skin.
And when the train starts to churn away from the station, I give you a look, trying to tell you I’d never leave you, never have second doubts. You only smile more, lay your head on my shoulder and wrap an arm around me.
The stars swirl above us through the window, staying by our side as we leave Odaiba behind us in a cloud of steam. Give, sacrifice, anything for your happiness so you can be beautiful for me. I grin harder, leaning down and searching for your lips, trying to get you to face me. Just look at me, Yamato. See how I’ll always shine for you…
Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And all the things that you do.
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