a reeally long time ago (prbly around october) i wrote a poem and i posted it on fb. (cause i suck and didnt post it here) shinru and nana might remember it
well, i added more to it. an actual STORY (with members of KAT-TUN cause i just got their concert dvd and ueda was sexy. very very sexy.) and a prequel cause lots of ppl didnt know what was going on so, BACK STORY!
And also, I hope you like this present from me to you, even though my writing's sub-par and your eyes will burn when you read but still. 8D
Okay, now we begin~
Prequel:
Clipped Wings
People often told him that he had an observant eye.
They would stare at his works and exclaim, pointing out little details that he doesn’t even remember painting and asking him just how he managed to see the little flecks of blue in the butterfly’s green wings, the blood-red lines surrounding the centre of the black flower.
And he would smile and reply the only answer he has.
“I don’t know.”
Because he really doesn’t know. When he paints, every little drop of acrylic paint flows off his paintbrush and onto his canvas, like it has a will of its own. When he paints, his mind is somehow shut off and the world is only filled with the paint, the paintbrushes, the canvas and the object he is painting. He only ‘awakes’ once the entire painting is done, and most of the time it scares himself how much detail there is.
However, there was just one little bad habit he had never changed for a long time; no matter how much he tried, when he painted people there was just no features on the person’s face. It was puzzling, even mind-boggling, how a semi-professional painter like himself could not even get facial features down on canvas.
Whenever he showed the completed canvases to Maru, his good friend, the latter would scratch his head in puzzlement (whatever happened to their faces?) and tell him that he ought to stick to drawing still life.
Which he did, until that day.
*
I saw you
Out of the corner of my eye
A distant promise
An impossible hope*
He was bored.
Really, really bored.
So he did what he did best – call up Maru and plead and whine to him about how boring life was at the moment and could Maru please bring me to the park so I can paint a different scenery.
And, like always, Maru gives in.
Minutes later, he is sitting in Maru’s small car, complaining his head off.
“Maru, Maru, there’s not enough room!”
And Maru would cluck his tongue irritably, like always, and reply nonchalantly that the art supplies were taking up loads of room and if you want to complain take the Tokyo Metro instead!
Half an hour later, he finds himself near a grass-covered cliff near the sea, a place now so familiar to him. He slowly settles down below his shady tree and sets up his respective art supplies, hooking the palette on his left thumb as he gets ready to splash the canvas with colours.
When he is finally done with the first canvas, he examines it once again to see if there were any ugly, uncovered white spots. And that was when he finally saw it – sometime during his dream, a figure had entered his complex story, partially hidden behind a large boulder.
He looks up and spots the youth, not quite a teenager but not yet a middle-aged man, with a face of that of an angel. He sits, stone-still, letting the sea breeze play softly with the copper curls.
Intrigued, he sets a blank canvas on the easel once more and begins to paint.
*
When the sky turns a shade of crimson purple, he begins to slowly round up his art supplies and prepare to head for home. Before that, however, he slowly approaches the youth and asks for his name.
The youth turns, surprised, and replies after a short pause.
“Ueda.”
Ueda, he thinks. It is a nice surname.
He continues to stutter at the stunningly beautiful youth with copper curls, telling him about his name (I’m Akanishi Jin, but you can just call me Jin!) and about his paintings and canvases and jobs and would the other please come again tomorrow so I can paint with you as the focus?
The youth – Ueda – blinks at him slightly, long lashes covering hazel irises.
“I’ll try.”
And he feels inexplicably happy.
*
In this abyss
With no light
The wings on my back
Are soon breaking off*
“You seem really obsessed with this place,” Maru comments as he drives his friend down to the little cliff by the sea for the seventh time in that week.
Jin smiles.
“That’s because I met someone really nice there!”
Maru eyes him from the rear mirror and chuckles. “Tell me about her – what’s her name?”
“Ueda.”
Maru pauses expectantly, but Jin is soon lost in his own little world, humming nonsensically to himself.
“And her first name?”
He wants to reply, but he simply can’t remember Ueda ever telling him.
“I don’t know – maybe I’ll ask him today.”
Maru smiles to himself, and leaves it at that.
*
He sits under the shady tree once again, setting up his easel and waiting for Ueda to come.
That day, Ueda was later than usual; he entertains himself by painting the images of the seagull eating a fish, the squirrel scrambling up a tree.
Even after the sun long sets, and the bright sky gives way to hazy grey, Ueda never turns up.
And silently, Jin wonders if anything was wrong.
*
If a place
A place without sadness exists
Please
Please take me with you*
The next time Jin heads back down to the cliff by the sea, he wears his yukata; it was, after all, the flower-viewing festival, and he is by all means a traditional Japanese (even though he doesn’t show it at all).
When he reaches his tree, he finds that, to his delight, all the flowers were in full bloom, their pink and white petals dancing around gaily in the spring wind. He arranges his equipment quickly and did what he does best – capturing the story of plum and cherry blossoms as they waved gently from the branches of the trees.
He is barely halfway through his first portrait when he appears on the canvas, small and tiny and insignificant (yet standing out from the field of pink and white) as he crouches by the giant boulder. Jin pauses his paintbrush in mid-stroke, freezing the young blossoms in place as he abandons his easel in order to walk over to Ueda.
Where were you were the words he wanted to say as soon as he was within earshot of the youth, but the phrase fizzle and dies in his throat as he looks at Ueda, huddled together, next to the unforgiving rock-hard grey boulder.
Jin squats down next to Ueda and puts a hand around the owner of the copper locks, but Ueda flinches from his light touch. Perplexed, Jin tries again, this time touching Ueda’s biceps but he is only answered by the slight look of pain that crosses the latter’s face.
“Ueda, what’s wrong?” he asked, concerned, as he rummages in his pocket for some medical ointment. Ueda’s eyes widen at the little yellow bottle and he shies away, pressing his back painfully against the boulder as he tries to put some distance between the painter and himself.
“No,” he mutters softly, so inaudibly that Jin could hardly hear it. “No, please, no.”
Ignoring the latter’s pleas, Jin reaches out and pushes up the long striped sleeve, revealing ugly purple bruises and cuts that stood out starkly from pale white skin.
Jin curses under his breath. “You’re coming with me to the doctor’s,” he orders as he partially drags the youth with copper locks and sad, empty hazel eyes with him to his easel, at where he packs up his supplies and rings Maru to pick him – them – up.
*
At the doctor’s, Jin finds himself wringing his hands anxiously as he waits for what seems like hours, staring at the whitewashed ceiling blankly. It was apparently a slow day at the clinic; other than the old man huddled in a corner with his worn-out walking cane, there was only him.
When Ueda finally re-emerges, Jin springs up from his seat and asks the former how was he. As expected, all he got was a slight shake of his head and a muttered “I’m fine”.
When Jin goes to pay for the clinic bill, he is given dirty stares by the nurses, often accompanied by sympathetic glances towards Ueda. Puzzled, he lets it slide as he collects the medicine and gets ready to go.
The nurse behind the counter stares at him icily before passing over the white plastic bag. “Abuse is a crime, you know,” she mutters softly to herself, but loud enough for Jin to hear.
Jin furrows his eyebrows in confusion and leaves the clinic along with Ueda.
*
Outside, Ueda takes the plastic bag from Jin.
“Thanks, but I ought to be going now,” he mutters softly, before turning to leave.
Out of instinct, Jin reaches out and grabs Ueda’s wrist, letting go immediately as the latter gave out a sharp cry of pain.
“Yo- Ueda, I think you better stay over at my house tonight.”
Ueda flashes him a pained look, one that screams why can’t he understand? as he replies.
“I can’t, I’m not allowed.”
Jin pouts childishly at him. “But it’s late and the subway’s not safe at night and you might fall and trip and break a bone and hurt yourself and land yourself in hospital.”
Ueda blinks slightly at Jin’s (concerned) rant and gives in at the sight of the pout on the painter’s face.
He supposes that one night, just one night, would be all right.
*
Back in Jin’s tiny apartment, Ueda finds himself with an armload of clothes and a towel. “Go bathe,” Jin states as he points out the way through the maze of half-completed and blank canvases lying pitifully on the floor. Slightly disoriented, Ueda does as asked.
When he is done bathing, he opens the shower door and promptly gets ambushed by Jin, medicine in hand. He eyes Jin suspiciously, stating that I can handle applying the medicine by myself, thanks anyway but Jin wouldn’t hear any of it (you have wounds on your freakin’ back; how are you going to reach that?) and stubbornly stood in his way. Resignedly, Ueda pulls off the oversized tee Jin had loaned him and sits down on a chair.
“Help yourself,” he says gloomily as his lean frame shivers slightly in the cold air-conditioned room.
Jin eyes Ueda and whistles, more in surprise and shock than amazement. As gently as he could, he swabbed the medicine on the numerous wounds on Ueda before letting the latter get up and head over for his spare room.
As Ueda pulls on the shirt that was three sizes too big and turns to leave, Jin stares on sadly from behind.
So that was what the nurse meant, he thought silently.
Just who is the one who did all these?
*
If I could
I could laugh just one more time
Please
Please show me the way*
The next morning, Jin wakes up to the smell of fried eggs and sausages wafting from his cluttered kitchen. He walks towards it, groggily rubbing his eyes as he does so.
It takes him a few moments to remember who was there and why, but soon he does and he is wide awake.
“Ueda, you’re injured, rest!” he protests as he tries to take over the preparation of breakfast, but the owner of the hazel eyes smiles lightly towards him and states that it’s okay, I’m fine.
Very soon, breakfast is prepared and they eat at Jin’s miniature dining table (made out of a giant canvas depicting the red spider lily with a plastic sheet covering it and makeshift wooden legs) in comfortable silence.
When they were done eating, Ueda stands up and immediately heads to the kitchen with the intent to wash the plates, but Jin stops him and takes the dishes and cutlery from him (it’s my house, and you’re my guest!). After Jin is done, Ueda is already back in the clothes he wore the day before and was preparing to leave.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he says in a soft, musical tone as he pulls on the worn black sneakers.
“At least tell me your first name.”
A pause.
“Well?”
Ueda looks away. “I have no first name,” he answers in an almost inaudible tone.
Jin sputters on the cup of coffee he was drinking. This had to be the most absurd thing he had ever heard.
“Why not?”
Ueda smiles slightly, a pained smile that hid many other emotions.
“He says I’m not worthy of one.
I really must go now.”
But, if anything, Jin is more curious by the weird offhand answer he had just received. As Ueda turns the doorknob, Jin places a hand carefully on Ueda’s uninjured right shoulder.
“Stay,” he asks pleadingly, his eyes full of sincerity and promises like I won’t hurt you and you’ll be safe here.
And Ueda believes in them.
*
While Jin prepares another two fresh cups of coffee, Ueda busies himself with a self-tour of Jin’s artwork. He skims through a few of them, a hummingbird in mid-flight, a dog running gaily in the open fields, a violin lying serenely on the floor, lit up by moonlight. He examines them all, pausing slightly only when he reaches the more recent ones.
Like all other artworks by Jin, the ‘him’ in the canvases were telling a story as they flowed from one canvas to the next. He is surprised, surprised by Jin’s apparent flair in painting. There, in the canvases, little dark secrets rear their ugly heads in the form of almost-unnoticeable bruises, faded scars and hidden teardrops. He sees it all, the fights and quarrels, the smashed glass tearing across his skin, the alcohol poured like burning fire onto open wounds, the tearing pain he experiences on occasion when he wakes up after a rough nightmare.
He also sees the happiness, the fears tucked away in little grey shadows and half-smiles, speaking of times when he was happy and they would lie in bed together, with only comforting hugs and simple conversation and soft chuckles and no worries about being assaulted while the moon hung high in the sky.
He slowly comes to realise that he was not alone when Jin places a hand tenderly on his shoulder.
“Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?”
That was all it took, a simple invitation over a cup of home-brewed coffee, and soon Ueda finds himself sitting down on the couch and spilling dark, angry secrets he had never mentioned for god knows how long.
*
He told of their entire story like it was just a frozen painting on canvas; of the smiles and promises yet the threats and beatings. He told of the glass and of the books hurled in his direction, yet also of the sweet presents and endearing conversations. And throughout his entire story, Jin listens, never once turning away and offering a shoulder for Ueda to cry on when the story became just too hard to continue.
When Ueda is finished talking, Jin stands up and looks out of the window. “Hey,” he mutters slowly, but with conviction. “I think we should get you a first name.”
Ueda looks surprised.
“Tatsuya. Isn’t that a nice name?”
Ueda, through teary hazel eyes, still manages to sputter slightly into his coffee. “In what way am I dragon-like?” The unsaid words hung in the air between them, tainting the atmosphere with a heavy tone.
I can’t even stand up for myself.
“But Ueda has already endured so much, hasn’t he?” Jin reasoned. “In that way, that is courage by itself.”
Ueda feels tears form in his eyes again, though this time he isn’t sure whether it was from sadness of it all, or from the utter happiness of having someone who actually understands.
*
Some days, Maru calls up and wonders why Jin never asks him to be his personal chauffeur anymore.
To that, Jin would laugh and reply, “that’s because I found my ‘focus’ of the stories I paint.”
Every time Maru hangs up the phone slightly confused, but every time, every single time, he can’t help but to think it had something to do with that mysterious broken youth with copper curls and sad hazel eyes.
*
On Ueda’s birthday, Jin drags him to a bar, amid Ueda’s protests of no, I’m a light drinker and I can’t take alcohol, along with well-timed pouts. Jin laughs at Ueda’s reluctance and tosses him into the back seat of Maru’s car, ignoring the sulky look that came upon the latter.
Instantly, Ueda finds himself surrounded by four unfamiliar faces; he shrinks back against the car door, a sudden sense of claustrophobia overcoming him. They laugh, amused by his reaction, but shift slightly (Hey, Junno, you’re sitting on MY lap again!) to accommodate him.
“Self-intros!” someone (Ueda can’t tell who) exclaims suddenly during the car trip and the car is abruptly filled with five different voices, sans his own. Amid the confusion, Ueda finally learns their names; the one with hair cut closely to the scalp and wearing a beanie is Koki; the one who bounces around and gets bullied by said person wearing beanie is Junno; the one driving the vehicle is Maru and the silent, pretty one sitting at a corner is Kame.
Ueda thinks that, in the middle of all the confusion and the chaos, he could come to like Kame enough to talk to him.
*
At the bar, Ueda finds himself softly ordering a Sex on the Beach before safely retreating to a corner of the bar, sipping slowly at the sweet (yet tart) drink. From his safe corner, he watches Jin fool around with the rest, and even starts laughing at their antics some time later.
When Jin hears the tiny chuckle coming from Ueda’s direction, he abandons everything that he was doing and strode over to the latter, effortlessly lifting him up (hey, I was drinking!) and setting him down in the middle of the dance floor.
“Let’s sing the birthday song!” Jin erupts randomly, and throughout the bar people were singing Happy Birthday off-key, making Ueda flush from all the unexpected attention.
The bartender must have quite a good relationship with Jin, Ueda notes numbly as free drinks were passed all around (it’s on the house, just for tonight!). He takes a mug and swirls the translucent yellow liquid around before downing it.
Somewhere in the alcohol-induced euphoria, Ueda finds himself laughing and smiling for the first time in a long while.
What he doesn’t know (and never would), however, was that someone was watching him from the shadows.
Found you, my pet.
The next morning, Ueda wakes up back in the guest room of Jin’s house with a terrible hangover. He looks out of the window; judging by the amount of sunlight, it was close to midday. Stretching slowly, he picks up his mobile phone and squints at the screen with sleepy eyes.
Went to the park to paint, be back by dinner.
Yawning, he stands up and packs the bed before going to bathe. The cold shower feels good on his pale skin, the icy spray rendering him more awake than when he stepped in earlier.
After bathing, he heads to the kitchen and rummages through the medicine cupboard for some headache pills. Taking two pink-coloured ones out of their bottle, he downs two with a cup of warm water.
As he does so, the doorbell sounds, and he slowly gets up to answer it. Not bothering to look in the peephole – usually, it was one of Jin’s acquaintances at this timing – he opens the door, only to reveal a face he had hoped never to see again.
“It’s you,” he stammers, and tries to close the door on the angry almond eyes staring right back to him, but his muscles were frozen in place even though every nerve in his being was telling him to run.
A sinister smile greeted him, lighting up the almond eyes in a diabolical fire.
“I’ve been looking for you."
Spread Those WingsThere was once a boy
Who loved his friend so very very much
And this friend loved him back too
He tried to protect this innocent boy
But inside, the Beast ate him up
Little bit
By little bit
And soon he could not recognise himself anymore
But the boy
The boy
Innocent
Pure
Naïve
Still loved his friend
The boy couldn’t let go
Of a soul
Who dies a little more inside
Every
Every
Every single day
*
It hurts.Kame – man, teenager, youth, adolescent, model – crouches in his corner, drawing his lanky legs closer to him in a futile effort to shield a part, any part of himself. He whimpers in pain as a hand reaches out and yanks his shoulder-length hair roughly, making his head jerk back, and soon hot tears fill his eyes, blurring his vision.
Kame can’t remember what he did wrong this time. He probably did something bad again, didn’t he? He was loving and caring and kind and fun and wouldn’t do something to purposely hurt Kame.
Yes. That was the answer. Kame was bad. Kame was always bad. What was it that he said? Kame, you’ve been bad, you know I don’t like you to be bad, you’re a good boy, but you’ll have to be punished.
He wouldn’t hurt Kame intentionally. It was Kame’s fault. It was always Kame’s fault. Never his. Kame knows that he was loving and caring and kind and fun and joyous and affectionate.
Kame blinks away the tears in his eyes and looks up, and is captivated by the pretty copper tresses and refined features and the ugly expression that just does not belong.
“Stop, please stop.”
Kame bites his lip as he realises what he has said, what he has done, and awaits his punishment for talking back. Yet it never comes, as the owner of the copper tresses steps back as if he has been shot and dashes out of the door, slamming it behind him and going off to god knows where and not once does he look back.
And only then does Kame allows himself to cry, to let all the anguish and built-up frustration and anger and hate and incomprehension to leave his body, racking it with harsh sobs.
*
And the Beast would beat the boy
But the boy
Innocent
Pure
Naïve
Let the Beast beat him
For he knew that somewhere
Inside
Inside the Beast
Was a smile
So bright
That it dazzled a million sparkling stars
A smile
So wonderful and pretty and kind
That the boy would do anything to see it again*
Jin flips open his mobile to double-check the name of the bar with the one written in a message, an action that was so redundant since he already knew that his correspondent was inside, probably downing some hard liquor or vodka as he idled outside. Jin strolls into the bar and heads to the corner he – they – always go, and sure enough, he was there, copper tresses and refined features and everything else beautiful contrasting with the sad, bittersweet tears streaming down flawless cheeks.
Jin seats himself in the chair next to his friend, not doing anything, not saying anything (as usual, it was always like that) but only stopping the other from ordering another (his eight – no, nine, but who was counting?) glass of alcoholic concoction.
“Enough, Ueda,” he mentions softly, and Ueda, owner of brown tresses and refined features and everything else beautiful turns slowly to face Jin, as if he had just realised that Jin was right next to him. Ueda’s bottom lips tremble (very much like a young child) and quickly, Jin pulls Ueda into a tight hug as the latter burst out in heavy, fat tears.
Don’t cry now, everything’s okay is what Jin wants to say but he decides against it. His memory flashes back to the time where he was a lifeguard, and those mothers would look up from some trashy magazine, only to run over to their near-drowned child and uttering words like Honey, don’t cry, Mommy’s here, everything’s okay (but would never be for the poor child). Futile words, he used to think (and still does).
Because, for Ueda, it would never be okay.
But Jin never says that.
*
When the Beast decides to hide
The boy’s friend would appear
And the joy in his words would fill the air
And the boy would smile along
But this happiness
This fleeting happiness
Was never meant to last*
Kame, all cleaned up, cuts and grazes and bruises safely covered up with concealer, waits and waits and waits and waits for him to come home.
But he never comes, and at three in the morning Kame decides to turn in.
Only when all the lights in the house were off did the front door slowly creak open, allowing Ueda to enter. Ueda sits in the living room for close to an hour, doing absolutely nothing, before heading up to the only room with a bed in the house.
Kame hears the light footsteps enter the room, and feels Ueda’s warm figure envelope his cold, shivering one and he relaxes in the other’s comforting touch, which held promises like I’ll protect you and we’ll be together forever.
And Kame believes in them.
*
Kame wakes up to an empty room, where the chairs are placed neatly and the pillows (other than the one he had been lying on) are fluffed, the clothes he needs to wear to the photoshoot afterwards folded in a neat pile next to him.
He stretches and grabs the clothes, before sluggishly making his way over to the kitchen. As he pours himself a cup of coffee, a blue slip of note paper catches his eye from where it hung innocently on the refrigerator.
We need to talk, the words written on the paper in indigo ink stated, messy and rushed, Ueda’s handwriting.
Kame feels his eyes filling with tears, but he furiously brushes them away (he couldn’t turn up to an assignment with puffy eyes) and decides to, for once, reply.
Kame spins around diva-style to retrieve his stack of pastel pink note paper from beside the kitchen telephone, uncapping his favourite black pen and takes his time to form elegant script on the piece of paper, tearing it off the stack once he was done and stuck it onto the refrigerator, taking up the exact same spot the blue piece had before.
Kame heads to the shower to freshen up before leaving for the photo shoot, his blue cup of coffee sitting on the kitchen countertop, long forgotten and undrunk.
*
As soon as Ueda reaches home after the photoshoot, he strips off the designer jacket he had been donning for the entire day and heads over to the kitchen. He spots a cup of untouched cold coffee on the kitchen countertop and frowns, picking up the cup and dumping the black swirl down the sink and washes it, before setting it carefully on the dishwashing rack.
Ueda hates leaving things undone.
He strides over to the refrigerator and extracts an apple from its corner in the extremely neatly-packed refrigerator, taking a bite into its juicy depth before slamming the refrigerator door closed. He plucks the sheet of blue paper off from behind the magnet and squints at the elegantly scripted words.
You’d never listen, it stated, written in a way that could only be Kame’s.
Ueda frowns slightly at the single line of characters, takes a stack of sky blue note paper from next to the kitchen telephone, and uncaps a dark blue pen and scribbles hurriedly. He uses a magnet to pin the note paper against the refrigerator, and at the same time, takes down the pink slip and stows it in his pocket.
*
It had became a daily routine for the two of them, entering and exiting the cold kitchen, writing on square pieces of note paper that were either crushed or, in Ueda’s case, carefully kept away in his pocket.
It was some kind of unwritten agreement, that they wouldn’t see, much less converse with each other even though they lived in the same tiny apartment with only one bed. Kame took the bed; Ueda, the couch.
(There wouldn’t be any more smiles to trade, any more laughter to share.)
*
And somewhere, somehow
The bond between these two souls
The boy and his friend
Disappeared
The bond which they all said
Would never ever disappear*
The last note to be left on the refrigerator stays there unanswered, blue edges dog-eared, as if it was fingered many times but left where it was. On it was dark, gel-based indigo ink, which seeped slightly through the thin paper. Ueda’s.
You’d never understand anyway.
*
And the boy
The innocent boy
Received a promise full of hope
And he decides to leave
His friend
His kind friend
Owner of dazzling smiles
Behind
For he was tired
Tired
Tired of it all*
Kame never returns home.
Not anymore.
Ueda takes out the stack of pastel pink note paper tucked away safely in a drawer, and flips through them one by one, reading the characters over and over again.
Ueda thinks of the promises he had made (promises he had never kept) and soon his vision’s too blurry to see the elegant script anymore, and he cries, for lost souls and tainted innocence and everything that he had unknowingly ruined.
What have I done?
Ueda wants to turn back the clock, turn it back and back and back, so that he’d never have to meet Kame, never have to friend Kame, never have to love Kame, never have to hurt Kame, but he can’t, he can’t he can’t he can’t turn back time. He wants to disappear.
And he, he suddenly realises that he knows how.
To disappear.
*
And the Beast
It laughed at the boy’s friend
“Are you sad?” it asked
And the friend could only smile
And nod sadly
And watch silently as everything
Everything
Everything he ever cared about
Was taken away
From him*
Jin feels torn between two worlds.
He knows that Ueda’s been going frantic, trying to find Kame. He knows that he had agreed to help Ueda looked out for Kame. He knows how much Ueda loves and cares for Kame.
He turns and looks slightly to his right, where a young man was tucked safely under heavy covers, sleeping.
Kame.
Kame was in his house.
Part of him had nearly gone crazy when Ueda stopped contacting him two days ago, but just going over and telling Ueda that he knew where Kame was (in order to stop Ueda from panicking) would spell trouble for the sleeping figure.
One’s my best friend. The other, his lover.
And yet, I’m tearing them apart.
In his pocket, a mobile phone started to vibrate. Jin takes it out and squints at the screen. Message from: Ueda, it says, and Jin flips his phone open to read the message.
He flips the phone shut, apologises silently to Kame for leaving him alone and exits his house.
*
The innocent boy found a home
And a place where he was treated with respect
Yet
Something
Something felt missing
And the empty feeling inside of him threatened
To envelop him
In a darkness
Where the dazzling smile couldn’t reach*
Jin enters the bar and walks to his – their – corner, but Ueda, owner of copper tresses and refined features and everything else beautiful, isn’t there.
Confused, he talks to the bartender, who rummaged in a drawer (all the while muttering about I’m not a storage bin and everything else related) before extracting two envelope. On them were hurriedly scribbled characters (decidedly Ueda’s), the first one addressed to him and the second, Kame.
He orders a drink from the irate bartender (Sex on the beach, please) and sits down to appreciate the drink, as well as opening the letter Ueda left for him.
If it didn’t say anything nice (or held empty promises), Jin resolved not to pass on the latter Ueda wrote for Kame.
His eyes widened once he read the first few lines.
Well, shit.
Jin shot out of the bar, all the while yelling back to the infuriated bar-tender to put the drink on my tab, old man, I’ll pay it later! as he started up his motorbike. Before the bar-tender could come out and whack Jin over the head with some wooden board, the latter started up his bike and tore out of the area to his – and Kame’s – home (wherever that is).
*
And the dazzling smile was to die
To fade into darkness and never shine again
Only then
Just only then
Did the boy realise what he’d left behind
The lost soul
Of a forgotten friend*
A sleepy Kame appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes as Jin slammed the front door. “Jin, wha-“
“Don’t talk, read!” With that, Jin forcefully shoves the envelope in Kame’s hands. The latter stares at the plain white envelope blankly before the handwriting registers in his eyes – messy, untidy, very decidedly his – in the dark, gel-based indigo ink.
Kame’s hands shake as the words repeat itself over in his mind (Kame-chan, Kame-chan, Kame-chan), but still he opens the envelope to pull out the sky-blue sheet of paper to squint at the messy handwriting, all the while reminding himself that he’s reading it for Jin’s sake (and also because he’s tired of empty promises and dreaming of a happy ending).
The letter, surprisingly, only had a few lines scribbled on it, and with every character Kame reads, he shakes even more, till the shake is uncontrollable and Jin has to reach out to steady him.
I’m sorry, was what the first line said.
Maybe this time you’d be free, stated the second.
And the third –
While I fly with the birds in the sky.
Hot tears spill, and soon the indigo ink smudges (to the point that the words would never be read again) and Kame cries. He feels a touch enveloping him into a hug, but he pushes it away.
It wasn’t the comforting touch. It wasn’t.
It dawns on Kame where Ueda is, and Kame sprints out of the door, to the destination that he and Ueda loved the most before Ueda changed.
*
And the innocent boy,
In his quest to find the dazzling smile
Forgets the promise made to him by another
And that other person
Can only stop and watch
The boy’s bittersweet tale unravel before him
For they (neither of them three)
Were never meant to be *
Jin watches as Kame sprints out of the door to god knows where, picking up the letter that Kame had left behind. As he does so, a line of characters coupled with an equally messy drawing catches his eye from the back of the paper, and he turns it over to get a better look.
Smile, Kame-chan, it stated, and right below was a cartoon-style turtle with horseshoe eyes and bright smile completed in green ink (a feat, considering Ueda hardly owned any pens that were not blue).
Jin smiles bitterly, and suddenly he’s laughing, laughing so much that it hurt, tears streaming down his face as he cries (and laughs in a austere manner) for Kame and his best friend with the copper tresses and refined features and dazzling smiles and everything else beautiful.
*
Kame sprints towards the sea cliff, and sure enough, he was standing there, breathing in the salty sea breeze, a content look on his face. Kame shouts Ueda’s name, but the words are whipped away by the harsh wind, and Ueda never hears the words meant for his ears.
Come back, turn back, this time I’ll listen, I’ll understand.
Ueda gazes up at the sky, the royal blue silk of his robe shimmering softly in the light of the setting sun. He looks down, and it hits him for the first time that he is scared, but he can’t, can’t ever turn back.
He just can’t go back and hurt anyone – his manager, his friends, Jin (his one and only best friend), Kame (Kame, Kame, Kame-chan) – again. A tear falls as Ueda realizes the full consequences of his impending actions, but he can’t turn back, can’t pretend that everything is going to be all right anymore.
Kame watches, frozen, as the former steps forward on the cliff, and suddenly Ueda’s intent strikes him, like a bullet to the chest. He screams for Ueda to come back, but Ueda never hears them as the waves crash into the rocks below. Another step, and another, and another, and Ueda never falters, never hesitates.
Goodbye, the word rises to Ueda’s lips, and is lost into the depths of the wind’s harsh whisper.
And then, Ueda flies.
comment?
/ top
