Kyo looked annoyed, “You better explain yourself! I got called 5 times! Five time! In the middle of the fucking night, you bloody idiot! Why can’t you just pick up the bloody phone and tell them that you have a new number? How long has it been?”
I smiled helplessly, and made a shrug. “I was on the rooftop parking preparing to jump, and got caught up doing other things? You’re just being melodramatic, Kyo. No one calls me in the middle of the night.”
I tugged on my case and walked through the doors. I wanted to be happy today. I tried not to wear too much black. I wore a red and white scarf. It was expected of me to be spontaneous, lively and hyperactive.
“Well it was the middle of my REM session, okay. Does it matter the time? I was bothered by it.”
I held up my hand, “O~kay, you can shut up now.”
Kyo frowned, “What were you doing last night, really?”
“Well, I was on the rooftop parking stairs preparing to jump.”
I bent down to pick up a stray hair tie. I was attacked from behind; Kyo’s grubby fists grabbed my waist, embracing and enveloping me. I tackled him onto the couch nearby. The mock war was won before it had ever begun.
He glowered at me, “Stop lying. That’s my job.”
“No, seriously. Of course, our leader turned up cigarette in hand and stopped time with his glare.”
“What?”
“He reminded me not to jump.”
“Can you do that in a suicide?”
“I’m not suicidal!”
+
Seven in the morning and I was perched on the railing of a roof car park, sucking on Kaoru’s cigarettes. I didn’t like them, but it was nicotine. I had just left his apartment; he’s still asleep. The view was different from here. The distance between me and the ground, the space is vast and empty.
I realised the city wasn’t crowded; it was just me and my grounded view.
I have a packet of strawberry Pocky in my hands and another next to me. Breakfast for me. Unhealthy, sugar packed but so comforting; children’s food, food that was eaten to be burnt up in fun and games.
‘You’re going to be okay, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘How long have you got left?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to leave.’
‘Do you know anything? Anything at all!”
‘Yes, I don’t want to leave. I like you a lot, I want to stay with you.’
‘I’m sorry, but I think you should leave.’ I lied.
‘No! I won’t just leave like this!’
I opened the door, ‘Then I will.’
‘I can’t stop you, can I?’
‘Goodbye.’
‘Don’t you feel anything?’
‘Yes, I feel that you should leave me alone.’ I lied; my hand tore off.
‘Why?’
‘Goodbye. I don’t want to be your friend anymore.’ I lied for the last time.
‘Goodbye.’
Last sweet words. Words that foretold the end. Was there any point in getting what I wanted if I knew it was going to end?
I received a letter in my mailbox the other day for me. It was written in a familiar flowing script, my name and address on the cover. I had touched it; it felt sacred in my hands. It was a lavender envelop; it had been a preferred colour of stationary.
It had been lined with the fragrance of jasmine, a scent I associated with my dying friend; my facsimile of family in the city. The gardener and the potted plants; they had been left behind, testimony of a cultured presence. I left them dying on the balcony; the jasmine plant had been taken.
Unopened, it awaits me on the kitchen table.
I lit a cigarette and went home. So much for quitting smoking. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind.
+
Lunchtime and the practice room was abandoned. I was standing there idly, smoking again. My lungs are shrivelling up, blackening. At least I’m a bassist, not a vocalist. I glared at Kyo who was finishing his packet.
He signed; that must be the 6th time in the last 10 minutes. I played with the indigo rosary with a silver cross hanging around my neck, and stepped on my smouldering stub.
“I’m bored.” He signed for the seventh time, more melodramatically than the last, and stubbed out his last cigarette. He started shredding his empty cigarette packet.
“You’re obsessed with theatrics.”
“And you’re obsessed with costumes, especially dresses and skirts and stockings.”
“Yes well, blame an old girlfriend.” I smiled.
Kyo slump back into the sofa. He stared at me. I stared back. Tangled black smoke between us.
“Well?”
“Well what?” I sat next to him and groped under the sofa for a light.
“Are you going to tell me about your ‘old’ girlfriend?”
“Oh, well there isn’t anything to say.”
“Pretend I’m doing an interview; you’re always so chirpy for interviews.” He sneered, mimicking my voice badly. “Please look forwards to it! Please take us!”
“Oh shut up. No, I usually say ‘It’s a secret.’”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, just spit this bloody memory out for your friend Kyo!”
“Fine, fine, and you’re not my friend; friends aren’t suppose to bedevil you. Um, let’s see. She was half Welsh, and encouraged me to wear skirts. Found it attractive as hell and well, it went to stockings and all sorts of other interesting areas . . . we had a lot of fun.” I sounded so fake.
He undid one of his pins and poked me.
“Ouch, shit! What was that for?”
“There’s no one else to torture. The room’s empty. Forgive me.”
I blew smoke in his face in annoyance. “Bastard. There! I forgive you.”
Kyo blinked, his contacts flashing. “Argh, the smoke is making my eyes watery! Asshole!”
I laughed, and flicked my cigarette, looking at the pose of it in my hand. “Yeah, well it’s your own fault for pissing me off. You have been warned before about my drive for vengeance. You may be into kinks like pins but I’m not up to that yet.”
He rushed away to adjust his contacts, then ran back to hit my head with his fist.
I slapped his hand away, “Don’t even try it.”
“If my contacts get stuffed, you’re paying for them.”
I smiled and just continued smoking. Cigarettes taste so strange, bitter, choking and yet so faintly sweet, full of something that can’t be described other than . . . grassy. Kyo and I sitting on the sofa, sinking on the sofa and talking about meaningless things. It made me so content that it was scary.
“Actually, I poked you because you’re so dense.”
“Oh, you think I’m dense now do you?”
“Yes, I was asking you to share a special moment in your life; your discovery of skirts.”
“There’s nothing to share. She liked skirts; I entertained her; I liked skirts. You were just saying the other day that I was an overtly sensitive bitch with nails that were far too long.”
“Well you cut them, okay. Why do you think so many girls like guys in skirts?”
“I honestly don’t know. Suits me, I like them. Short skirts are daring, makes me feel like I’m doing something very bad and there is a really sensual feel to the way a long skirt swishes around your ankles, sort of like you’re flying and . . .”
I noticed Kyo’s strange expression, “What? What did I say?”
“You . . . you . . .”
“Wow, I’ve made dear Kyo here speechless. Gotta tell Die this.”
Kyo snarled and jumped up and down on the sofa, “I am not speechless! I am the mouth of a hundred curses! You cannot un-speech me!”
He was very enthusiastic as always to protect his reputation.
“I expected you to say that you liked skirts because they looked nice on you, or you liked people’s reactions to finding out you’re a guy or something. Or it’s cool or –”
I grimaced, “Why do you all think that of me? I’m a person, and just because I’m happy a lot doesn’t mean I’m empty! Actually, I’m pretty depressing; you know me, Kyo, you had me in your bloody house. I take care of my body -”
“And destroy it too.” Kyo looked intently at the cigarette between my fingers.
I gave him the finger. “I take care of my body; I drink milk and vegetable juice, okay. I like beautiful things. That does not mean I’m vain. I believe it is called taking pride in your appearance.”
“Lighten up; I don’t mind if you act whatever. I know it’s an act, Toshiya, you can’t hide from me. I know you.”
I knew he knew that I knew what he was talking about. She was going to die.
“Besides,” he smirked, “It’s the obsessive things we do that make us who we are, right? And it’s that vicious nature you have that send the mind to hell! To hell I tell you! MUAHAHAHA!”
He was mimicking one of those evil laughs from the cheesy western horror flicks. I watched in amusement as he jumped from one sofa to the other prancing, declaring himself a demon. He bowed and I clapped; then he stole my cigarette so I kicked him; he looked like a demon. It felt heavy, but the mask was embedded on my face.
In 5 minutes flat, he was curled up next to me asleep.
I wanted to have a nap too, but instead I tried to smoke without dropping ash on him or setting his hair alight. He was using my leg as his personal pillow. It was getting a bit numb. The tech people drifted back from their break and the others showed up. Kaoru stole my cigarette and I gave him a dirty. I didn’t mind Kyo stealing my smoke, but then Kyo was Kyo.
“Go outside if you want to smoke. There is a place for that.”
This new obsession of his was seriously endangered. He was about to stub it out, but shrugged instead and took a long drag.
“Wake Kyo up, will you.” He looked at the cigarette.
He frowned, “Hey, this is one of my cigarettes.”
“Yes, no wonder it tasted weird,” I smiled. “But nicotine is nicotine.”
+
“TOSHIYA!” Kyo grabbed his hands. “YOU IDIOT!”
He looked up. Shinya and Kyo holding onto his limp hands pulling him up. He slammed a few times against the side of the building; he could feel his body lightly bruising. His feet dangled; he could feel his shoes slipping slowly off his feet.
His hands were slipping from their grasp and Shinya lunged forwards to grab his wrists. His wrists started to ach. His neck ached too. In the end, they pulled him up over the edge and collapsed on the floor a heap.
“God, can’t you keep your frigging feet on the ground!” Kyo wheezed. “You scared the living daylights out of me, you know that! Do that again and I’m cutting off your legs! You don’t deserve them if that’s what you’re gonna do.”
Shinya was panting, hand over heart. “I agree! Scare us if you want, Toshiya, but hell, not like that!”
He sat on the floor watching them. “Sorry . . .”
Kyo snarled and stood up, “You should be! You could have died! What is it with you and heights nowadays anyway!”
“I’m sorry . . .” he frowned, “I was hallucinating.”
“You need a doctor.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Oh, please! Convince a 2 year old that there’s nothing wrong with you!”
“There is nothing wrong with me.”
“You have denial bad.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Denial! Toshiya, I know you have problems with the whole thing with Ma -!”
“Just shut up! I don’t need a stupid doctor!”
He turned and walked off the balcony area, kicking the rubbish can over and slamming his palms into the glass doors. Shinya realised they were slightly cracked, and the needle thread lines dotted with blood.
“What’s the date today, Shinya?” Kyo asked.
“It’s the 5th of August, of course.” Shinya looked at him strangely.
Kyo looked up at the cloudless sunny skies, “So . . . I guess it’s the last month of summer . . .”
+
He woke up suddenly to the beeping of the alarm. The bed was empty. A cup of steaming tea on the table besides him and he sipped gingering at it, the hot liquid searing the edges of his tongue. It was very hot, which means Toshiya had only just left.
He read the note:
Hey, K.
I’ve left earlier to go home and pick up stuff. See you
at practice. I’ll talk to you later.
T.
His bed’s scent was the fragrance of fruit.
+
The two of them sat on the stairs together and stared at the passing traffic. It was break time, and they passed one cigarette around. He thought it was strange how this harmless gesture could be something so much more.
“At one point, it was like ‘Hey, you’ve lost weight, why are you so skinny?’”
“This is coming from someone’s like a skeleton?”
“We’re talking about you, not me.”
“Yes, but the subject is anorexia. We should have Shinya here to make a testimony.”
“We’re not in court.”
“Well, it feels like you’re interrogating me.”
“Sorry, but I swear, when I looked back over the live pictures and thought ‘jeez, his shoulders look so tiny and his arms, my goodness – he looks like he’s about to fall apart.”
“Ha, and what do I need? Vitamins and minerals? You’re the one drinking black coffee, I’m the one drinking melon, apple and orange juice. Yes, it makes a lot of sense.”
“You have sunken cheeks, especially when you open your mouth.”
“Oh, and you don’t? Look who’s talking, Mr-Bony-Cheeks?”
“That’s structural. You’re just flesh related.”
“Yeah, yeah. Well, I do not fall apart. Was just stress, Kaoru. I’m human, but I’m still very capable of looking after myself.”
“I’m not doubting that, just be careful with your health.” He paused and took a drag, “You know, I wrote on Tanabata that I wanted to meet you again in my life. I thought my request was cursed because the bamboo I hanged my wish on was killed by a storm . . .”
Laughter, “Well, I guess some higher power agreed so much that they burnt your wish to tell you that it was granted.”
His lips touched the place where another set of lips had touched. His tongue was scarred.
“I had a dream last night. I dreamt about two people drowning in the sea when they tried to get away from the world together.”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“Maybe . . . it depends.”
“On what?”
“On what’s involved . . .”
“Is this conversation even real?”
“Pinch yourself.”
“That’s supposed to help?”
“Don’t blame me for the clichés.”
“I think I’m dreaming.” He stubbed out the cigarette.
“Then you are.”
“But I know this is what you would say, Toshiya.”
Toshiya stared up, “Then this is real.”
The sky above was grey.
Arna.