a thousand times i wanted to take his hand, and a thousand times i stopped myself.

[protential]

[Hikaru exhales like he's been holding his breath, far and deep underwater, with no hope of reaching the surface--until the call connects and he's breathing air again.] Hey, [he says--no, he's gasping--and it's the thickest, most insistent hello he's ever managed. He can't seem to keep the sounds to himself; they're falling right out of his mouth.] Hey, Akira! Hey, I know it's pretty loud, but I'm trying to be louder...! [It is Akira, right? Hikaru didn't fuck it up, right? Behind him, all around him, the aural beats of EDM with the bass turned up too high make him feel like his chest is about to cave in any minute. It's an anxious sort of feeling when he's already feeling anxious about whether or not he dialed Akira correctly. The corner of the house he's crouched in is the quietest place he could find all night, and by some miracle it wasn't taken by a couple of annoying-ass partygoers more interested in sucking each other's faces off...

There's a can of beer on the floor, though, already open, probably half-finished, and he reaches for it and picks it up anyway. Since he has no idea how much he already had tonight, he isn't going to start keeping track of it now. But before he takes a sip:]

Now's not a bad time, is it? I just thought--thought I'd be calling you, see how you're... doing, or how you did, you know, with all those fuckin'... exams, you told me about?

[Why he has to hear Akira's results now, right now, right this second, he can't even begin to guess for himself. He just has to know how bad or how good things went, maybe as part of his attempts to be more, like... caring, or some stupid shit... god, this beer is too warm for him, but he's swallowing it anyway.]

Comments

[ashlar]

[Hikaru does sound like he's having a nightmare. Like it would be a relief to find that right now isn't real. Akira thinks of that because he thinks of a time when Hikaru's voice was kind of like this: they were nine and ten, it was November, and they'd been planning a sleepover. Hikaru got sick. It wasn't so bad, he insisted, and neither of them wanted to cancel with each other. So Akira was ferried over to the Shindou home, and Hikaru demanded that his mother let them be for the evening, and they tucked away in the bedroom, determined to have fun. But Hikaru was flushed, and he fell asleep early, and then Akira could hardly sleep himself, for worry. Hikaru was sweating, and his face felt awful to touch, and he kept mumbling. His voice sounded so thick and damp, a marsh of the throat, his tongue unwieldy. When he said Akira's name, shifting helplessly beneath his blankets, Akira got really scared. He did the responsible thing, and went to find Shindou-san, and then his mother had to come and get him. And he didn't know what would have been most frightening: leaving Hikaru, like he had to, or listening to him talk like that any more.

So Hikaru says his name, tonight, and it sounds like the memory Akira has of that fever—like Hikaru's face is hot, like his mouth is hard to navigate. He's saying it's okay, like he did as a child, and he means it like he did then, too. For all the fears Akira has learned, for all his fearing of what Hikaru says and does, he knows Hikaru means this. He looks down at his knees, through the spaces between his fingers.] I know you're not stupid, [he says, sounding startled.] I know that. [That's what he answers, because it's the most stupefying part. Hikaru is always talking about his alleged stupidity, even though he should know Akira doesn't think that of him. Akira has said as much before, hasn't he, so Hikaru should know...

Akira moans a little, into a sigh, rubbing hard at one side of his brow. He's trying to get his bearings. Just because he's awake doesn't mean Hikaru has started to make sense.] It's not that. I just... I just... They went all right. They went fine. They're... [This actually would be easier over text. It's not enough for Akira's face to go unseen; he wants to hide his voice, as well. Because he means to sound accusatory when he says,] What, Hikaru, did you get in over your head with Mitani's friends? Did you drink too much and decide to call me in the middle of the night? [It should be the kind of thing he says as a slight, a taunt to tell Hikaru how poorly he's behaving. Instead, it sounds kind of wounded, like he might really be worried about it.]

[protential]

[In tipping back the can of beer, Hikaru realizes it's completely empty, and he lets it clatter to the floor and roll away. He could use something more to drink, as parched as he's feeling, but he's also feeling too heavy to do more than sit here and hold the phone to his ear. It wouldn't be so bad, he thinks, if he could listen to Akira's voice for the rest of the night. Akira could say more things like, I know you're not stupid, as if that's the truth, as if Akira isn't just trying to calm him down. It wouldn't be so bad. He tries to laugh about it, but it comes across as a choking sound, an abortion of sound itself, the saddest thing ever.] You're saying that to me, but then you're always acting like I'm the idiot... [But he didn't call Akira to argue with him about random, meaningless shit. As stupid as he is, as insensitive, and easily irritated, he didn't call Akira in the middle of the night in order to harass him.] You think I don't know what you're doing, when you do that thing, with the other thing, but I know what you're trying to do...

["All right." "Fine." Akira's exams went "all right," they went "fine," so Hikaru can take a deep breath and let it all out again, relieved, alleviated. If things went "all right" and they went "fine," then why didn't Akira say so that much sooner? Why did he have to be so weird about it? He's always doing weird things, like that thing he does with his hair, his fingers, where he tucks back his hair and then bites his bottom lip. It's the sort of thing a schoolgirl does to get attention, not direct at all--and then he gets mad whether Hikaru ignores it or asks if Akira's gotten his hair cut recently. It makes Hikaru feel like a stupid moron, every time.]

Mmm, that's good. That's really good, and that means it's going to be okay. It would've been okay to have it any other way, but if they're all right, then you should be all right, too, so... [He leans his head back against the wall, his shoulders dropping, too loose.] I'm not getting in over my head, [he grouses, then, his focus waning, slipping into the next topic.] And it's not like I'm drinking too much. I know how much I can drink and I'm not drinking too much, and I decided to call you 'cause I wanted to call you--I was just thinking about you when I did it. I've been thinking about you all night long. All night, and then some. [He was thinking he'd rather be playing Go with Akira than sitting stranded at a party with a bunch of people he doesn't care about.] My mom's going to kill me when she finds out, though. Not about the thinking, but about the drinking, heh. She's gonna skin me alive and... and hang me out to dry like that. So if that's how it is, I'm really shit for brains...

[All in all, Akira doesn't need to remind him that he's behaving poorly.]

Akira, listen... Are you listening? Listen, you can have my goban when I'm gone. The stones, too. But the manga collection's going with me, if you're wondering, if you want to know. [Hikaru tries laughing again, like this is a very funny joke, and not incredibly morbid. If his mom doesn't kill him, there's a decent chance he'll wander into traffic, anyway, in this state, and then he'll be out of everybody's hair for good. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad, either. Akira wouldn't have to wake up in the middle of the night just to talk to his lonely ass.] My grandpa bought that for me--the goban, not the manga. Obviously. That's like, obvious... so you have to treat it good.

[ashlar]

[All Hikaru's talking, his breathing and his slurs, bring Akira to bite down hard, harsh, on his bottom lip. He works the edges of his front teeth into his skin, trying to keep from breathing in too sharply. You think I don't know, says Hikaru, and Akira's face burns like a fire alarm. Like an actual, physical alarm... It's guilt. But I know, says Hikaru, and Akira's teeth threaten to cut into his lip. All the ways he's thought about Hikaru, all that he's imagined, all he wishes to needle after—he feels guilty. He feels fucked up to want all he's spent this time wanting. It never feels that fucked up in the moment, when he's tucking back his hair or making a show of playing with his lips. But when Hikaru says he knows, and Akira looks back upon all the thoughts he's scared of Hikaru knowing, it definitely feels fucked up. Akira can't compare it to being caught lying or stealing or sneaking by his parents, since he's never been caught doing those things. This is a guilt previously unidentified.

He feels crazy for it. Like he might actually be kind of crazy, huddled in his futon, covering his face. What if his parents came in? They wouldn't, they'd have no reason to, they never enter his bedroom at night, but what if they did? How would he explain the expression on his face, or the way he shields that expression with stiff fingers? How would he explain the thoughts he's having? Well, nobody knows those, so it should be fine, but Hikaru knows them, so...] Hikaru, [he says, just once, terribly quiet, just terrible in its quietness... He keeps listening. Hikaru's reassurances feel like a bed of nails; Hikaru's thoughts feel like an invitation to lie down upon that bed of nails. Akira hasn't the tranquility, he knows, to keep from being prickled through. He thinks about telling Hikaru that he's ridiculous, that he could have come over if he was thinking so much about Akira. His bottom lip feels raw, by now, for all the rolling between his teeth. He rubs at one of his eyes and tries to breathe in without it shaking.

Hikaru's attempt at laughter, at levity, sends all strings tight: Akira doesn't have to keep from shaking when he has gone rigid as the dead. His jaw locks into place and his lungs feel like heavy crystal.] What? [he asks, without realizing he was going to ask it.] What are you talking about? [His hand drops low, until he can press it against his stomach. That's stupid, it's such a stupid thing to do, but he presses his hand against his stomach and grimaces when he feels its solidity. It feels, it really felt, like somebody had taken a trowel and scooped his abdomen hollow. It's not cold, and it's not painful, it just feels concave and starkly empty.] What are you even talking about? Like that—don't say things like that, what are you saying? Hikaru, I... [He tries to wrench himself out of his own confusion, hoping to insert himself into Hikaru's, as if he can tune into this frightening, nonsensical wavelength.] If Grandpa got it for you, it's special. It's yours. Why don't you... [He doesn't want to say this, because he doesn't want to get out of bed. He doesn't want to uncurl himself or leave the comfort of his own limbs.] Why don't you tell me where you are, all right?

[protential]

[Hikaru is too stupid to know when he should give up, so he keeps trying to laugh at himself--and he does about as well as a wind chime with most of its pipes missing. The hot nausea that ripples through him afterward doesn't make it any easier to deal with what he's thinking about. But he's still thinking about it, about all the things he should've thought about a lot sooner, so he wouldn't have wasted so much of Akira's time and attention. Honestly, he must be pretty delusional because he thinks Akira sounds kind of concerned right now. There's no reason for him to be asking where Hikaru is--] I told you, I'm at a party with Mitani's friends-- [unless he's concerned about it, or maybe he's getting ready to rat out Hikaru to his parents. He has never done that to him before, though. He never told anybody about the smoking, even though he could've a hundred times over, even when it would've been well-deserved revenge. So Akira is asking because he wants to know, and he wants to know because he wants to... do something about it? That is ridiculous. At this time of night, the trains have stopped running; Akira would have a hell of a time getting over here on foot.]

Listen, listen to me, okay, I'm just saying... [Forget his mom. Forget the drinking. Forget all of that.] I'm just saying that's why it'd never work. [From broken wind chimes to clogged storm drains, Hikaru sounds like a natural disaster that's come and gone.] I'm going to keep being me, and you're going to keep being you, and we're... we're so different now. I wasn't around when you decided all this shit, and you've got all this shit going on, so you shouldn't even want to--god, I don't know why you want someone like me. [Subtext can't stay subtext when Hikaru is this drunk. He doesn't remember the first thing about subtlety or tact or shame or anything.] I'm just gonna fuck it up again. That's what I'm saying. I've been fucking up everything else-- [Frustrated, he bursts out with:] Akira, I did all the fuckin' math for it, and, like, if I win every Oteai for the next year, I might receive a promotion. I might. That's the kinda hole I'm stuck in, and it's all mine. All my fault. That's what I'm talking about. That's what I am. So it'd be easier if I just... [If he just went to the Kanda River and jumped in with no intention of ever climbing back out.]

I don't know. I don't know. I just know there's no way you'd come all the way over to Kobinata Park--holy shit, you'd have to be crazy to do that. Maybe you're a little crazy but you're not that crazy... [His voice is thinner, about as thin as pond scum, when he says,] I'm a little crazy, too. I think you're driving me a little crazy. [As far confessions as go, there can't be one that's even more pathetic than this.] I know it wouldn't work at all and I still wanted to see you, I wanted to be there, with you, but you didn't call, so I couldn't ask, and I couldn't tell you it'd be okay, either, and I just... I was just so mad about it, and then I realized it's always a shitshow with me, always, always such shit. You've got enough shit going on without my shit on top of it. [He wouldn't be surprised to find out Akira hung up on him halfway through that diatribe, by the way.]