Notes: ‘yurei’ is a ghost who comes back because of unfinished business. I can’t find a good translation in English so I thought, argh, stuff it; I’m a blood type B myself if that explains it. Quoted and appropriated heavily from Shakespeare’s Othello. It’s so powerful *sniff*. Has anyone noticed how much I borrow from Jeanette Winterson?
Enjo-kosai: it means literally ‘support association’, but it’s actually the term for a form of teenage prostitution that goes on in Japan; corporation guys buying knickers from girls; who are paid more for taking it off in front of them, or just have an affair with them. Crazy thing is the teenagers themselves feel there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it; they don’t even need the money being usually from really wealthy families. The money they get is almost like pocket money to them – strange, huh? Japan always did appear too nice; I always thought it was false – well, j-rock really does express that lack of restraint, doesn’t it? You know, anybody who does some sorta study on society always say ‘Japanese youths have a lack of restraint’.
I wanted him to feel me, right there, burning into him. If I pressed my hands hard enough against his stomach, I could feel myself. It’s the most amazing feeling; this guilty pleasure of masturbating myself through his flesh. My fingers rubbing into his lower stomach, digging through. I broke plums over him and watched bleeding indigo flesh over his pallor.
His head was off the bed, hanging limply, hair free. I watched his throat, his pale throat. If he swallowed, I would see; if he signed, if he spoke, if he breathed. His mouth was unspeaking; they would normally be closed; his mouth was open tonight. I can see into him, the red throat. Down into the blood’s red rose, resting there in his chest. He squeezed me and I wanted to kill him for the exquisite pain. He doesn’t smile, but when he does, it smells of salt.
Little gasps, so abnormal in the night’s silence. Little gasps, punctuated by me, bent over him and tearing away at the soft bits of his body. The tips of my toes tingled. I saw his face instead of his back, however beautiful that curve may be; his eyes were squeezed shut. They say that open eyes are the sure sign of unfaithfulness, but I say they are of adoration. I could have turned him around, but I have a masochistic streak in me; I watched his closed eyes, his unsmiling lips.
+
“You shouldn’t go out so late at night.”
“I’m not some weak snivelling girl; I don’t need protection.” Direction was never lost on him; hanker around words and he’ll cut you with a blue razor. His tone of ‘how dare you’. A blue brimful of blue lilac spirits filled with the poison of a blue asp. Like Cleopatra, I thought; nothing will ever defeat him. He will kill himself first. He smiled quietly at some great bitter irony, pursed his lips and lit a cigarette.
“But it’s dangerous.” Common sense; the length and breadth of facts. My logic. Magenta. He stole my colour and brushed it delicately on his left eye. I wiped away the make up on his face to see who he was.
“Of course it’s dangerous, but I don’t think I can even imagine it without danger.” His idealism, cynicism or existentialism?
“Why not?” I watched him wash out the colours in his hair, till it was black, dark and perhaps blue-black. Night.
“It’s daring, Kaoru; the whole punch-em-up thing is pure freedom. Kaoru, when you’re attacked in the middle of the night, I think you’d understand.” The sum of his experiences. Azure. Sapphire glittery. He always said to me of mockery, watching me silently, unsmiling, cold-cold-cold and to the side; unnoticed but present, unusual in the scene.
“Attacked? When? What?”
“Oh, it was okay. I mean, I don’t stand for violence, so I basically told the guy to get stuffed, and punched him in the face.”
Kaoru arched an eyebrow.
“Oh, okay, fine. I slapped his face, punched his stomach and bit his hands, satisfied? Then we threw each other around, slamming into walls, etc. etc. – you can imagine the bruises – and then I kicked him in the balls and it was run-Toshiya-run all the way from there. Happy?” Sanguine yet thoughtful, never smile, never smile, but coolly regarding me.
“You have a very bad habit of lying to me.” Melancholy yet sinisterly laughing at me, at me, at me; I knew.
“It’s called an ‘understatement’, Kaoru, not ‘lying’.”
He turned back to watching the night sky. The curtains flew around him, and the cold wind bit his cheek but he still stared outwards at the cityscape. He glanced back; he wasn’t scared of magenta. He was afraid of everything Kaoru engendered in him, the feelings of staying, here, and not there. No solace like standing alone in the middle of a crowd; no solitude like that of the big city. He picked a spot for his excursion.
+
He had descended into little choked gasps. It felt good; sensations he couldn’t articulate. A searing fire at the pit of his stomach. Sweaty sheets, twisted under his hands, the cold breeze, the moon he could see added to the surrealism. The pain sizzled away in the background. Surrealism. Peeling and fresh to the bone. Kaoru inside him. He watched in sadistic delight Kaoru’s expression as he squeezed his muscles; like pain, but not pain, like pleasure, but not pleasure.
Drawing blood from under his skin, Kaoru licked and sucked at a small stretch of skin. He sucked so hard that blood had risen to the surface. Kaoru’s tongue flicked at the little droplets, relishing in the metallic odour. Blood’s lust-stained sheets that once blue and now mauve, awash in the gory pleasure-pained details of the nether parts. Moving faster and harder, jarring his body. Kaoru’s hands pressing down on the curve of his belly to feel himself.
He saw black spots.
“Say it, say it . . . say it.” Kaoru’s mumblings next to his ear.
He shook his head, “No . . .”
Kaoru licked away all the blood on his thighs. His fingers stretched out and touched bells.
“Will you not say it?”
“A quick confession usually follows a crime of passion.”
“. . . where’s that from?”
“I don’t know. I never realised how little I know till now. I’m going to have a bath.”
+
In my apartment again, after two weeks of Toshiya’s apartment. Where I stood in the doorway, the silence is a telling touch. A cold and sad touch, for all the glamour it’s possessions held, none held sway next to a breathing doll with a fetish for sapphire. But he’s not a doll. He doesn’t listen to me, only himself, and while I’d love to buy him from himself, there is nothing I can offer. He would love my veranda view; I saw the ruby sunset, but never the jade sunrise.
I put his bag down on the floor and toed off my shoes. I walked on the cold floorboards, and heard the little creaks. Now Toshiya could never sneak out of bed. The possessions I had no longer had personal significance, because everything now had relation to him. Everything related back to him. I threw out the rubbish that made me think of him and opened the windows that made me think of him. I went to confront him at practice.
He held up a note and read it aloud, “To Toshiya and Kaoru. Hey, it’s Kyo. Just jotting a note to say that the rest of us voted to take a break. Sorta sucked having to practice today, so we thought we’d just walk out. Hope you have fun – because I will; sleeping and watching videos while flicking nut shells at the other two. Black rain and red sky for you too. Kyo.”
I shrugged, “Okay, let’s go.”
He stared at me, “What? You’re not going to object? Just like that?”
“No and yes.”
“You’re not going to chase them down and stake them?”
“Nope, not a big fan of wood splints. Just shut up and come with me.”
He nodded and followed me. I had to kiss him. His lip gloss of strawberries tasted like tar next to the swimming saline of his mouth. I wiped it off but he ended up drawing on my face with it, so it was kinda useless. Toshiya took off his shoes, eyes flicking around. Will he ever stop being so flighty? He sat down on the couch and watched me move around. I gave him peach tea. He took a few sips and promptly fell asleep, looking at the view.
“I have chicken in the fridge . . .” I whispered, “ . . . not that you want anything from me.”
+
I saw Kyo shake the silver watch a bit and smile, “Hey, it rattles a bit.”
I smiled thinly and cast my gaze to Toshiya. He was tuning. I wonder if he realises that he no longer holds my pocket watch anymore. I didn’t want to have him keep the pocket watch, but my mother had ordered me to give it away in the first place. She had given it to me, my grandmother’s gift from a foreigner for her kindness. He painted Shinya’s face white and started experimenting again. Blood, maybe a touch of bronze, a little magenta.
+
“Why don’t you ever take the initiative?”
I smiled thinly, “My Gods, Kaoru, I do believe you’re talking about sex. Don’t you know it’s like money, Kaoru, nice to have but dirty to talk about.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Why should I do the work for pleasure? I can just lie there under you and absorb everything. I mean, it’s against everything I have been taught, the whole Japanese mentality of ‘duty’ etc. etc.; you know, the whole ‘stand on your own two feet –’ which can be done if you like it standing up and don’t mind being uncomfortable; ‘-do it yourself-’ which kinda gets lonely after a while, and hell, your hand muscles would get sore and -”
“Stop talking about it like that!”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“No, you’re giving me all this bullshit just to piss me off!”
I smiled bitterly, “N~o, I’m not. It’s just a commodity, Kaoru. Like everything else in this world.”
“It isn’t!”
“Oh bullshit! Sex sells in this world and that’s why you have trashy models sitting eagle spread on cars. It’s demeaning to women, and just sex in general. Society couldn’t give a fuck what you thought of sex, the truth is Japanese teenagers get paid to take off their underwear and give it to salary men with deep pockets and that’s the way life is.”
“You’re so cynical.”
“Don’t complain I never warn you.”
“Did you ever do it?”
I frowned, “Do what?”
“Support money, darling, enjo-kosai.” He drawled, face transformed by some foreign humour. “You know so much about it, I gathered that you yourself must have given up a pair of knickers in your life.”
I pursed my lips, “What do you mean?”
“Just tell me. Did you or didn’t you? Did you go for the easy knickers strip routine or did you actually have sex?”
I laughed, “Don’t be stupid, I’m a guy, I don’t do those sorts of things. If I had a sister, maybe you could ask her.”
He stared at me and smiled. Once a seed was planted, it grows. Once doubt grows, it cannot be unsoiled. No poppy, nor mandragora, nor all the drowsy syrups of the world shall ever medicine him to the sweet sleep which he just slept yesterday. He doubted me. A strand of his long hair rests on my shoulder.
“Don’t think about me like that . . . and I could ask you the question too, and would you answer?”
“Of course and the answer is no.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“How do you think I know you are?”
A week. He disturbed me. He was just silent, watching me the way he always does, but he does not speak now. I watched him from the corner of his eye, his little painful expressions. He liked me, and now he decided whether he could stand me. The silence is not comfortable any longer. He doubted me. Envy to murderous envy . . . begotten of itself and growing from its begotten self.
I stood up and went to the door.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“Ah, he speaks after all.” I laced my shoes and glanced at him.
“Where are you going?”
“Out that door, down the lift, stairs, whatever, away from you maybe.”
I opened the door and walked out. He opened it and stood there staring at my back.
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know . . . don’t wait up.” Of course, I didn’t really mean that.
The lift door opened and I went in. I waved as it closed. The bell chimes. He stood there watching me with an unreadable expression. He hasn’t smoked in a while; he just watched me, gnawing away at his fingertips. His voice still cracked with the tinge of smoke that resided inside him. His rasping voice that crawled across my skin. I saw him take out his cigarette packet. Looks like he was going to keep his habit after all.
+
‘We should get married . . . you can clean up after me . . .’
Kaoru stuffed Toshiya’s clothing back into the drawers. He swore Toshiya had no concept of neatness sometimes. Toshiya’s blunt need for speed and speed and faster and better; he stuck his hand in, tore through his folded clothing and ripped out the one he wanted. The disturbed rows and piles of other options abandoned strewn over the floor. His little ‘explode, I dare ya’ smirk, just the slightest twitch of lips. His mouth was cruel in its smile.
Kaoru sorted through the stacks of paperbacks and notebooks and sketchbooks and clothes. When he finally finished, he sat down at the table and went through his mail. A plain envelope unmarked. He turned it over in his hand and inspected it. Heavy, felt like photographs, Polaroids to be exact. Someone had just stuck it in his mailbox. He tore it open, curious. The Polaroids scattered across the kitchen table and he stared at them.
Toshiya nude, in compromising positions. Toshiya smiling, waving in bed, in a bath, reading and drinking Pepsi. Toshiya laughing while hugging Kyo, licking Kyo’s knee. Dazed and slightly blank, staring at Kaoru from the pits; he looked completely deprived. Toshiya and some girls, sitting on the bed together in some hotel. For a moment, he hated Kyo. Kyo who had warned him but not enough, Kyo who hinted at Toshiya’s strangeness and wildness but not enough.
+
I have run out of nice things to say about the world. I can go on all I want about the buildings standing tall and stark against the sky. The spiralling buildings of Shinjuku. But the truth is, I just didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about the world. Is this desire? Is this desire enough? To lift us higher? Is this desire . . . or something else? I waved at Kaoru with my little finger and a matching little smirk. His little finger and mine shaking over an agreement.
The city was old and dying. The city was modern and brash. Quietly decaying, somehow hyperactive. The other city under this one; collage of materials – concrete, congregated roofing, bricks. Walkways fifty feet in the air, wind traps, deathly tunnels; graffiti, the veins of the city. The bricks making up the pathways I walked on, the cement slabs of pavement. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I flicked my smouldering butt away and bit my fingertips.
“You ran away, again, Toshiya. I thought I was the last one.” She laughed and leaned on the railings. “I may have just been a friend, but you knocked me over the head faster than I could say ‘Hey’. Well, someone needed to teach you about personal commitment.”
Her skin was sallow, peeling away; yellow and sickly; body thin and dry. “Speak, it’s your cue, Toshiya. I don’t enjoy speaking to myself, however nice I think my voice is.”
“I . . . have nothing to say.”
“I know what your problem is . . . you want all or nothing. Well you can’t have it. You never did believe in the whole emotional package did you? You were so gifted and so intensely emotional. You cried when the teacher made you write out a summary on a subject you had already studied. You were so bored.” She turned and pinned me with a needle-like gaze. “Why? Where was your heart-felt compassion when I needed it?”
“I’m so sorry . . .” I whispered. “I was a bastard, but if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be the annoying friend you loved.”
Her wavering form and shape in drab hospital gowns. She wasn’t real, but she was so real, I feared her; the yurei. Her ankle had a tag on it; was she really already dead? Were people not people after they ceased? Were they labelled like library books? If only she had a spine when I first met her, I would read the traumatic tragic title but my finger would never have touched her page; the warning sticker on the spine would warn me first.
She waved me away, “Just get over yourself Toshiya. If you cry, I swear I’m going to hit you on the head. You’re stronger than this, toughen up for crying out loud. You never use to be like this when the boys at school fought with you.”
“That was a long time ago . . .” I whispered.
She smiled, “It was, and what a wonderful dream childhood seems now. Playing with us girls; you had a lot of fun, I think, despite what others say. Where are you now, Toshiya? The spine of your book doesn’t say . . .”
“Some place lonely; no pain . . .” I said, “It’s the motive behind everything.”
She nodded, “Yes, I know . . . it’s not a bad thing, but you forgetting something, my dear Toshiya; worlds only open when you compromise. Don’t you want to pour yourself over the pages of his book?”
I nodded, “The glass ball around me is no longer so thick . . .”
“Japan didn’t always like foreigners, Toshiya . . . it was fear, Toshiya; fear of what it could mean, what it would do to us, for us, fear of everything. Except, I wouldn’t be who I am without my English father and Japanese mother . . . and you wouldn’t be who you are without your western music, your bass, your cello dreams; your western life.”
“. . . I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid of him . . . I was . . . was I really that bad? I can’t seem to stop despising myself. It’s like one mistake shows me another mistake and another and another until I’m insane with imperfection.”
“Then you should stop. Treat it like you treat a fight. Your battlefield is right there.” She tapped my chest. “And here.” She tapped my forehead, “Read the letter, stupid. Go home now. You’re very lucky to have someone waiting for you. You wouldn’t let me wait for you, neither did you wait for me, but let someone wait for you at least.”
I nodded and turned to leave.
I turned back. “Makiko . . . mo- . . . I . . .”
She shooed me away and beamed under the night’s light. She’s not my real mother, just a childhood friend. She acted as my mother, caring for my dehydrated body after the sex parties I attended at night. She never complained or demanded. I ran all the way back Kaoru’s apartment. I staggered in the door, falling right into his arms. I find it strange how ‘home’ translated into ‘Kaoru’s apartment’.
+
Simple words, soft on the paper.
“So . . . what did she say?”
A blank piece of white paper with red ink scrawled inside. Red, the colour of blood; red, the colour of breaking bonds; red, the colour of hatred, angry, love and passion. No revelations or accusations. Blue pen for my name and hers; best friends.
Toshiya.
Have a happy life.
Remember your ‘ mother’ . . .
Makiko.
Simple. “For me to be happy.”
It sounded incredibly stupid. How corny, I snorted and threw it out the window. I glanced out, and wonder if I’m wrong.
+
The girl he had been drinking with stood up, “So, are you coming?”
They left the bar and he followed her to where the car was parked; her car. The white lights overhead made the world awash in the pure white glory of snow, whiter than snow, perhaps likened to bleach. Scorching and burning bleach, eating away the colours of the world. Her skin was sickly. Nothing like his skin, fine and easily bruised when traumatised. When they were in car, he stopped her starting the engine.
“Before anything else happens, I want you to know there’s someone else.”
“Isn’t there always?” she replied, a touch of dryness. “Tell me; tall, dark, beautiful?”
“No; tall, blue, beautiful . . . I just want to say nothing’s going to happen.”
“I’m not complaining.” She started the car up. “Where do you live? It’s early, I’ll drop you home.”
Kaoru reached into his pocket and pulled out the little strip of paper with his address. The card was worn at the edges, but the writing legible. It was in three different ink colours, in Toshiya’s loopy handwriting; artisan at every occasion. Toshiya’s handwriting reminded him of little drawings.
‘Every member of Dir en Grey gets one. And some of the crew. Sometimes, we just get way too drunk for our own good partying. Don’t wanna get lost, now do we? How tragic; imagine Shinya, Kyo and Die waking up in Kyoto instead of Tokyo.’
She nodded and pulled away from the curb. “Tell me a story then, why don’t you? What’s your name, by the way? Sorry, don’t even know that. Alcohol makes everything unimportant.”
“Kaoru. You?”
“Pleased to meet you, Kaoru. I’m Makiko.” She smiled. “So, how about the story?”
+
We fought with each other everyday, above the clouds so people couldn’t see our combat. Mouth to mouth resuscitation; palm to palm, a kiss more holier than any I’ve known. Our mouths spoke to each other. Our mouths slicked with saline saliva and the juices we feed each other, starving dandelion seeds riding the wind for a snazzy cardigan to catch. He understood coldness, and despite his warmth, he was dry, so dry sometimes.
I kissed him with the hollow of my mouth, the curves of my mind; my notations on paper, in confessional green. Soft pencil markings on bleached paper. I kissed with the hollow of my mouth, and watched him speak to me in the magical language. Opening heart and perhaps the strange thing called a soul; he opened his mouth and I sang till no more oxygen fed my brain. I took a deep breath and he sang till he fainted in my arms. He punched me in the face so I’d never see him weak.
His kiss; caress, whisper across skin and bone, touch of the fingers, sealing wax of purple and blue candles shining in the dark. The wax dript down on my flesh but stained him. I was scorched by the heat of his fingers alone. His lips are grape-blue, not ready, but promising me of the day. The harvest was not here yet. I feared frost, just I feared hail, flood and drought. I feared sleeping during the day, when the sun rose.
The sun should rise though, it must because he must ripen in my hand. I waited for the time. I longed for another turn of the earth, another circle around the sun. I wanted the clock to go a little faster. I wanted to kiss him quick. If everything would just fly faster and I would have him in the palm of my hand. That palm shall not close, but stay open so I may watch him dance. Enclosed, plants wither away as do fruits rot.
I wanted him to kiss me with the hollow of his mouth, the indentation of his desire. I wanted him to kiss me with the pulled-apart open spaces in his mind, with the demolition of his ruins, with the dilute blue of sky and cloud in his eyes. Blue diamonds for eyes, transmuted by the heavenly ponds above and the plight of his fellow birds. I doubted him; he was flighty, and he would leave me, even if he were denuded.
When he kissed me, my heart was in my mouth. I forgot to swallow it down, and he tore it out. He read the inscription and hasn’t given me a single reply since. Bitch. My email account was empty. Not that he wanted anything from me.
“Charming,” She grinned, “Very charming.”
I sniffed, “It’s not funny.”
“Of course not . . . except you describe your other as a seasonal fruit, a ethereal creature out of your reach, a bird without direction and a harsh critic who’s decided to ignore you.”
“What’s so funny about that?”
“It’s the irony, Kaoru. Haven’t you heard this; ‘As your lover describes you, you are’?”
+
Toshiya stared at the sprig of dried jasmine on his pillow, “Kaoru . . . was someone here when I was out . . .? Lie to me and I’m going to hit you with my boot.”
+
He slept in his bed. Calm and seemly innocent in slumber. Kaoru leaned back on the doorframe and licked his lips, lips dry from the cigarette in his shaking hands. Shaking hands steeped in invisible blood. Shaking hands steeped in blue blood. He started to cry for some reason he couldn’t remember. Toshiya believe in expression, but only intense expression – other than that, he was a cold and manipulative bastard with a twinkle and a natural kiss.
“It’s the cause . . .” he whispered to himself. “If I don’t do it someone else will . . . his crime . . . he’ll just do more damage so I have to do this . . . I have to do it.”
He wasn’t going to shed Toshiya’s blood or scar his skin. Every breath Toshiya breathed sent him to hell. Even as he held the body, Toshiya went out looking for someone something someone something. If he didn’t find it, he was better off dead. Toshiya in pictures; nude in a hotel room with some people, Kyo smiling wide. Technicolour glory. Kaoru looked at the pictures again and felt his blood spiked.
“Skin . . .” he frowned and opened his mouth, “Whiter skin than bones . . .”
The gleam of white flesh in the moon’s pale glow. The skin sapped of the blood’s flush, and Toshiya seemed like a monumental statue, living flesh frozen and encased. Unbreathing. How many cubic centimetres of gaseous ice did Kaoru suck into his lungs? Ice that froze once inside him. His lungs and heart must be thawed and warmed before he was functional. He hated how well Toshiya seemed to fit the bed, like he was meant to be sleeping there.
“He dies . . . else he’ll betray someone else . . . but . . . if it’s wrong . . .” He felt the prick of salty cubes falling from his eyes; he doesn’t cry, he said to himself: I don’t cry. “If I’m wrong . . . I wish I was wrong . . .”
His lungs frozen and poisoned by the minion that lay on the bed, twisted among pale white sheets. Kaoru had tried to massage the frozen organ of his red rusty heart but the crystal flicks of blood stayed as they were; frozen. He doubted, and the seed grew within to consume him. I have had to kill you. In the game they were playing, Toshiya hooked his belt loops with his finger and jerked him off balance. Balmy breaths, eyes forever grinning maliciously, his silver key chain jangled.
His voice like a soft crackling breeze, “No poppy, nor mandragora, nor all the drowsy syrups of the world shall ever medicine me to the sweet sleep that I slept just yesterday . . .”
He crept up silently next to Toshiya and kissed him. He held Toshiya’s hand for a while, the tips of the fingers; little caps of skin for playing bass – an accompanying instrument to his guitar, but Toshiya had a blue razor blade to cut the silky strands between his body and the world. Toshiya stirred as his wet lashes brushed his skin. He stepped back and returned a far corner of the room, side stepping as he viewed Toshiya’s form on the bed.
“Who’s there? Kaoru?”
“Yes . . .”
Through the cascading falls of darkness, curtains across the room, thick and heavy with ice and the blue light from outside. Think and velvety black a pouch for Kaoru’s frame and the pair of black stockings he clutched in his hand. Black stockings he dropped on the floor next to the bed for the conclusion. Toshiya bare shoulder, cold and pale blue in the light of night.
Toshiya yawned and blinked, “It’s called a fucking bed and you sleep in it, so hurry up.”
“Did you wash yourself?”
“Yeah . . . why?” Toshiya’s sleeping face marred by his light frown, pale hand reaching out and beckoning for Kaoru. “Come here, Kaoru . . . come here . . . don’t be such an insomniac . . . um, remind me to teach you to sleep one day.”
“Is there anything you’ve done recently that you would like to tell me? Anything you need to tell me?” Kaoru took Toshiya’s soft palms, palm to palm; the whisper of his bare feet.
Toshiya frowned again, a flicker of shadows on his face. “No . . . Kaoru . . . what do you mean?”
Kaoru released Toshiya’s hand and sat down on the bed, “I don’t know . . . did you anything wrong?”
Toshiya smiled and touched Kaoru’s hair, “No. I haven’t, amazing eh?”
Kaoru turned around and Toshiya was left with un-kissed fingertips.
“I don’t believe you.”
Toshiya grinned and tickled Kaoru’s neck, “Not surprised.”
Kaoru hit Toshiya’s wrist, “Stop it!”
Toshiya sat back on the bed, apprehensive. “Okay . . . you’re bitching about something; what’s up?”
Kaoru touched Toshiya’s brows. Toshiya blinked as his eyelashes were ticklish, but that only made it worst. Kaoru took Toshiya’s hand and looked at it. Toshiya watched him silently, sitting crouched on top of the blankets.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re not real.”
“What?”
“Apologize . . .” Kaoru clenched a thin wrist, hand fisted. “Apologise and tell me . . . I’m ending it.”
“On what? I haven’t done anything. What do you mean? Ending what?”
“Yes, the end, for this whole mess.”
“Forgive me for my ignorance but what the hell is wrong now?”
“. . .”
“What’s wrong? Tell me, Kaoru. What did I do now? Please, don’t leave me in the dark. Sorry for the sarcasm, but I’m dead tired and you keeping me awake isn’t a blessing in disguise. Kaoru . . .? Death? Okay now you’re scaring me.”
The fist tightened.
“Stop! It really hurts, you know! This is not funny anymore! Let go! Fuck off and hit a pillow if you’re in a tiff but don’t take it out on me! Speak to me! I’m to be spoken, not thrown around! I’m not a fucking toy!”
“Don’t think I won’t! You’re just a subtle whore!”
“You’re like a freak screaming ‘repent, repent’, Kaoru! Let go of my wrist! It really hurts! I’m gonna kick you if you don’t just let my fucking arm go!!! LET GO OF ME!”
“If you say sorry, you won’t go to hell.”
Toshiya stared at Kaoru’s face and pulled back, swollen and bruised wrist forgotten in its clamp. “Hell . . .?”
“If you say sorry, if you tell me everything . . . I forgive you.”
“I don’t need forgiveness. You’re crazy, Kaoru. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink . . . are you feeling alright?”
“You know, some people in this world . . . would say you can go to hell just by saying that?”
Toshiya smiled, “It’s okay, I’m in hell already.”
He reached out with his free hand to blot at the sweat of Kaoru’s brow. Kaoru slapped his hand away and started to cry a little, just melted salt cubes like little shiny glass pieces. Toshiya wiped the traces away with his free hand. He reached to the edge of Kaoru’s lips and tried to make him smile, using his little finger to stretch his lips. Kaoru removed his hand and placed it forcefully on Toshiya’s lap.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Oh okay but don’t cry . . . Kami sama . . . don’t cry . . . Kami sama, mercy. . .” Toshiya reached out to touch Kaoru’s face.
Kaoru pushed him away roughly, “They should have mercy on you.”
Toshiya fell back on the bed, “You should have mercy on me!”
“. . .”
“At least tell me why? Why? I didn’t do it, whatever it is you think I’ve done. I haven’t done anything. I haven’t! Believe me and calm down, for goodness sake. Isn’t it enough that I’m going to stay awake all night and listen??”
“How can I be calm!” Kaoru jerked Toshiya to him.
Toshiya slapped him and tumbled back onto the bed, “You wake me in the middle of the night ranting and raving and you expect ME to understand you??!! And FUCK! Your grip is harsh!”
“Think about it . . .” He caught Toshiya’s remaining wrist and twisted, watching the almost nude figure writhing on the bed to get away. “Think about it and it’ll come to you.”
“Nothing! I swear I haven’t done anything wrong except for what you know!”
“And I’m going to punish you.”
“But! But! BUT WHAT HAVE I DONE? Tell me what I’ve done first!” Toshiya strained to get up.
Kaoru pushed down, “Shut up and sit down, slut.”
Toshiya’s brows furrowed as he stared, “Tell me what’s wrong . . . tell me, what’s wrong? Don’t call me slut, Kaoru. I’m not a slut, and I refused to have you call me one! If you wanna abuse my name, do it elsewhere! Otherwise, just fucking well leave!”
“Why shouldn’t I call you slut? You’re the one who dreamt about an obi over your stomach. If you’re a whore in your subconscious, it must mean something, right? Perhaps you have an Electra-complex, who knows. Ever considered fucking your own father? I always wondered what went wrong with you; you and your lovely typical, wealthy family. Did you?”
Pursed lips, “It doesn’t mean anything you bastard! AND NO! OF COURSE NOT! What has got you all tight anyway?!”
“I gave you my watch, Toshiya, the one I loved, the one you stole. I let you keep it but where is it now?”
“I have it of course.”
“You gave to Kyo. Don’t lie to me.”
“No, I have it! Really!”
“I saw him with it.”
“But . . . but how is that so . . . I swear, I never gave it to anyone . . . I . . .”
Kaoru cupped Toshiya’s face and squeezed, “Stop lying. You always lie to me.”
“I lied to you once and SUDDENLY I ALWAYS LIE??!!!” Toshiya lifted his leg and kicked Kaoru in the shoulder.
Kaoru fell back and clutched his shoulder, “You gave it to Kyo . . . you gave it to Kyo . . . if you didn’t want it, why couldn’t you just give it back to me?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t. Ring him and asked him if I did. Make him confess.”
“You should be careful . . . I have sources, you know, that tell me the truth.” Kaoru plucked a tissue from the bedside table and blotted away a light layer of sweat on Toshiya’s brow. “You shouldn’t lie to me . . .”
“Yes . . . I know . . . but . . . because I didn’t give it to him.”
Kaoru gripped the side of Toshiya’s face, “Just tell me the truth! Lie one more time and I’ll strangle you! Stop lying! Stop lying! STOP LYING TO ME!!! WHY ARE YOU SUCH A BITCH IN RETURN!”
He thought he saw diamonds glittering through the blue dimness of the room. Cubic centimetres of salt and solvent making train tracks, rivets of sea water. A large truck rushed past down below in the grounded streets, its horns call wailing through the cold bedroom. A drop of searing hot liquid on his hand and Kaoru jerked it up. The cold smile of Toshiya’s masked face, the main player in their little game, smashed and broken – it wasn’t right, Kaoru thought.
“Stop . . .” Choking gasps, diamonds slithering down blood-leeched skin. “Don’t . . . don’t . . . I really haven’t lied to you . . . I swear . . . I was never anything to anyone . . . and Kyo found it, he found it, because I didn’t give it to him, I didn’t.”
“I saw him with it. Liar. You’re false.”
Toshiya clenched his fists and slammed them against Kaoru’s arm, “I haven’t fucking well lied!! Why won’t believe me!?? It’s the truth! Ask him! Ask him! He found it! I don’t know! Ask him!”
“He said yes . . .” Kaoru lied, holding his sore arms. He knew his truth.
“What . . .?”
“It’s happened . . . you . . . and the stockings . . . throwing away my watch . . . your cynicism . . . it all makes sense now . . . how you know about enjo-kosai . . . you and your friends . . . strumpet . . . he said so . . .”
Toshiya shook his head, “No . . . that’s not right . . . by what?”
“. . .”
“He’s lying! Who do you believe more?! Me or him?! Show me the evidence!”
“. . .”
“You’ve done something, haven’t you . . .? You idiot!”
“So what’s it to you?! I thought you said you don’t care?! I thought you said he lied!?
“How the hell is he going to tell you the truth if you’ve pissed him?! He would want to make you angry then Kaoru! He would provoke you! Don’t listen to him! Listen to me, Kaoru, I -!” Toshiya tried to get up.
Kaoru pushed him down to lie on the bed, pinned; he screamed, but he cried too. “Why are you crying, slut?! You want proof?! Okay! I’ll give you your fucking proof!”
Kaoru ripped the Polaroids out of the envelope and threw them Toshiya. Toshiya cringed at the plastic pieces of glossy paper hit him in the face and scattered. He flinched each time Kaoru flicked them at him, the little pieces snapping with a click against his skin. Toshiya clutched them as they fell everywhere. He took one and tried to see it in the dark. Him, nude with someone else, Akiko, Kyo, Yumi, lazing in bed with a cup of apple tea.
Toshiya looked up pained, “No . . . you don’t understand . . . this isn’t . . . this isn’t it . . .”
“Oh please. Where’s your cynical front, Toshiya?”
“No . . . I can explain . . . it really isn’t what you think . . .”
“I don’t care anymore. The game is ended, baby.”
“Kick me out but don’t touch me! You haven’t heard me yet! Don’t you dare deem me guilty before you hear me speak! Listen to me, you’re being irrational Kaoru - .” He tried to get up.
“Get down!” Kaoru pushed him back down on the bed.
“OKAY! IF YOU REALLY THINK I’M A LYING BITCH THEN MURDER ME! COME ON THEN!”
“. . .”
“What’s wrong, Kaoru?! The sight of blood making you weak?! Kill me if you want to! Do it tomorrow! Stare me in the face tomorrow at practice and kill me then! It’s just the moon making you a little crazy! You’re not yourself Kaoru, believe me -”
“No . . .” Kaoru picked up Toshiya’s flimsy black stockings from the floor, ones he’d dropped upon entry. “You die . . . even these stockings . . . fanciful things you wear for the stage . . . for the thrill . . . perhaps you are as your image dictates . . .”
Kaoru grabbed Toshiya’s arm and wrenched him over, pressing him down into the soft covers.
“Half an hour then!” Toshiya whispered.
“The ball is rolling . . .”
“Let me pray then?”
“No.”
Toshiya surged up and pushed Kaoru away. He picked up the bedside lamp and threw it at Kaoru. He slammed Toshiya into the headboards. Toshiya kicked him. Kaoru knocked Toshiya’s head against wood. There was a trickle of blood from the side of Toshiya’s mouth. Breathing hard, Kaoru stood up and stared at the still form. Bending down, he licked up the blood. The touch of lips blue and coffined sealed. His little finger pried the lips open and he tongue kissed Toshiya.
He wrapped the silky stockings around Toshiya’s bare neck tenderly, “It’s too late . . .”
+
Kaoru woke with a start. He was in the car, the humming of the engine steady. His hands shook as he brushed his hair back and sat straighter in the plush seat. Cold sweat on his temples. A chest full of quartz stones needled through with disquiet.
“Have a nice dream?” Makiko grinned.
“. . . it was horrible . . .”
Makiko nodded, “Nightmare, eh? We’re almost there.”
+
Shinya slammed his fists on the door, “Kaoru! KAORU! OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!”
For a moment, he thought Toshiya was still alive. Toshiya was still, face drained of all shades.
The black silk stockings in a noose around his slender neck. Did he breath still? His ashen pallor blended well with the white bleached sheets. Pure white sheets. He thought it was a cunning illusion of purity. He undid the noose and touched Toshiya’s lips; cooling. Kaoru shut the bedroom door and opened the front door for Shinya. He stumbled in with Die catching him just before he crashed head first into the floor. He spat out some hair and grabbed Kaoru’s collar.
“Kaoru, Kyo got into this fight and -!”
“AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Die jerked up at the sound of that awful sound. Shinya cringed and stared at the closed bedroom door.
“Kaoru? That cry . . .that . . . sounded like Toshiya . . .”
Die covered his ears, “That is Toshiya! A very DEMENTED Toshiya!”
Shinya wrenched open the door and poured himself over the immobile pale form lying among wrecked sheets. “Toshiya! Die, help me and don’t just stand there! Toshiya, speak to me! Speak!”
Toshiya’s face creased, eyes shut, voice a rattle of a
whisper. “I didn’t . . .”
Shinya noticed the deep bruises over his collarbone, “Toshiya . . . who . . .?”
His head shaking from side to side, crying. Toshiya stilled. Shinya touched his bloodied lips; cold. Kaoru knelt by the bed and took Toshiya’s hand, shaking it side to side and asking him to wake. He started to cry; he had told Toshiya that time didn’t end, that his cobalt wind-up body would simply be re-wounded. Only it had ended, and with that the world ceased; he was a liar. Toshiya opened his eyes and stopped. He closed the music box and took out the key.
+
Kaoru tucked his hands into his pocket. Something silky in his pocket. He took it out and stared at it. A pair of black silk stockings. It smelt like the salt of the sea. It smelt like the salt of tears. There was a tear in it; an old pair of stockings.
“He doesn’t lie . . . he doesn’t lie . . . he doesn’t . . .”
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“Nothing . . . nothing . . .”
“Come on, spill.”
He told her the dream, feeling the rush of relief as he finished. She paused and frowned.
“Kaoru, are you a normally jealous person?”
“No, just sometimes pretty intense.”
“Well it sounds from this dream you’re very intense. Are you sure you aren’t just infatuated?”
“I don’t know. I’ve asked myself the question before . . . about obsession and the whole thing . . . but just what is infatuation anyway? Isn’t that wanting to keep someone to yourself, needing that person? -” He closed his mouth; he didn’t know her.
Makiko smiled, “Too bad love has the same definition, eh? We’re here.”
+
“It was all a mistake . . .” Shinya whispered. “It was a mistake . . . the stocking was mine . . . I brought it over for costume consideration last time and just left it there . . . Kyo found the pocket watch under the sofa at practice and took it . . . he didn’t know, honest . . .”
Blue diamonds for eyes; dull as they stared at the ceiling, at the broken electric lights, at the night sky.
‘It’s not too late.’
Kaoru wiped away some tears, shook his head and poured Makiko a glass of water.
+
She handed me a pair of scissors and some thread, “Wind the thread around the scissors. Surely you know this superstition; it’s to find something lost.”
I stared at her, “But . . . he’s not a something.”
The bell rang and I looked towards the door. I turned back and she wasn’t there anymore. I looked around the room. Creepy nightly shadows from outside. The bell rang again. I went to open the door.
Arna.