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]

[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.]