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There was a phone message waiting for Ken when he rose late the next morning, a blinking red light of ill tidings, he supposed.
"Hey, Ken! This is Kakaria. Remember me? It's been a while since we last talked, and I just figured I'd check in with you. You seemed sort of preoccupied and I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. Give me a call when you've got time." Her voice lilted sweet and soothing from the little phone speaker. He quickly deleted the message, glancing about to make sure no one else had been around to hear.
"Not only am I not going to ask, I never heard anything no matter who asks." Youji called from the kitchen. "Your secret is safe with me." His laughter was a little too bright to be sane sounding.
"You okay, Youji?" Ken skidded a chair up next to him. "You're up awfully early."
Youji looked up with overly bright eyes. "I'm fine. You're the one getting phone messages from happy, normal sounding girls. She called pretty early this morning. Never a good sign, my man."
"What time did she call?"
"Around six judging by the kitchen clock."
"Why didn't you pick up?" Youji shrugged and after a moment Ken figured it out. "You thought it might be him?"
"Oh, fuck off! Youji stood abruptly, pushing his chair back with a clatter. "If you're going to start ribbing me about that fucking shit too then I'm going to-"
"Who said anything about that? I'm not picking up the phone anymore either! It's just common sense."
One already thoroughly gnawed lower lip disappeared between even teeth, worrying raw flesh. "Oh. Well, I just thought-you know... And he said..."
"Sit back down. Who said what?" Ken caught Youji's wrist, drawing him back to the table.
"Nobody." His eyelashes dipped low, the hollows beneath his eyes pronounced enough to accentuate the gaunt contours of his face. "Well, I mean-Aya was saying..." he trailed off again, at a loss. "It doesn't fucking matter, all right. I am stupid. This is nothing, it shouldn't bother me." He twisted his fingers together until he felt bones creak in protest.
"Youji, come on." Pleading. "Don't even listen when Aya starts up with that shit. We can't all be perfect, can we? Aya himself is living proof of that. You can be nervous or afraid of whatever you fucking feel like. This is still a free country last time I checked."
Youji smiled down at the table, a wry twist of the mouth. "Yup."
"Did you sleep at all last night?"
"I'm fine." He brushed aside Ken's concerns. "Nothing to worry yourself about. Now, this phone message of yours. I said I wouldn't ask, but I think I will anyway. You know what they say about curiosity and the cat."
"She's actually the crazy lady next door's granddaughter. I met her a week ago."
"And?" Youji drummed his fingers on the tabletop when no more information was forthcoming.
"And that's all she wrote, as far as you're concerned. She's just something I have to figure out how to break off."
"A tricky situation?"
"Something like that." Ken looked, down, daunted by the prospect of once again throwing away a chance with one of those dream girls who rarely came along for anyone once, not to mention twice, and both within a period of years. The first one on a plane, far away from him, the fate of the second yet to be determined. There wasn't really an option as far as she went, it was just the method used to pry himself away from the dream that was up in the air, an allusion of choice.
"Well, if you need any help, or any of my sage, all-knowing advice, let me know." Youji patted him on the shoulder and stood.
"Where are you going?"
"Upstairs to take a shower."
"You aren't going to try and get some more sleep? You look like you could use it." He wasn't bad yet, the smudges under his eyes pale lavender. They could all be worse right now, healing head-wounds included. Ken decided to keep his nagging to himself.
"Nah. So much to do, so little time. You know how it goes."
Ken debated breakfast for a few moments, debated abandoning reason and calling Kakaria spur of the moment. He couldn't be sure what words would leave his mouth though, an abrupt dismissal or some sort of half-witted declaration of undying affection. It couldn't be the latter as much as he wished it. He'd promised Omi; and Omi needed him now just as much as before.
He crept back upstairs, peeking in on Omi who still sprawled peacefully across their disheveled bed, lost in the blissful dreams of the innocent. As innocent as any assassin could humanly be. He couldn't work up the nerve to peek into Youji and Aya's room, too embarrassed by the thought of invaded privacy. Fate was nowhere to be found. He hadn't seen her since last night, actually. The coast was as clear as it would ever be.
The phone number was firmly etched into his mind, the napkin with her writing on it long gone to avoid being caught in his newest lie.
"Hmmm? Hello?" Her voice greeted him, a little slurred and sleepy.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" Startled. She didn't seem like the sort to laze about all day. Discomfited by the whole situation. He wasn't good at these sorts of things. There had been little enough opportunities for dating and socializing as of late.
"Mmm." He could picture her stretching, pushing dark hair away from her eyes, cute and lethargic. "Yeah. It's okay though, weekend or no, I still have to get out of bed." It was a weekend, wasn't it? Funny how time fades away when you're busy living hour to hour.
"I wanted to thank you. For being concerned." He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Things are all right, but I don't think I can see you anytime soon. Maybe never."
"Really?" A hint of teasing in her voice to counteract his awkward rush of words. "How does tomorrow night sound. Think you can get away for dinner with me?"
"I don't know." Desperation. Why did she have to be like this? He wanted to say yes, and she knew it. Something had to change, something had to tarnish her in his eyes. He couldn't survive like this. "Things aren't really going so well. I lied."
"What's wrong?"
I can't-I can't really say anything about it."
"Hmm. Well, I'll keep my evening clear then. Give me a call with an hour's warning if things change and you find yourself longing for some gourmet cuisine and some company."
"I-Thank you again. I have to go now. Bye." He pressed the 'talk' button before she could say anything else, clutching the slim plastic receiver until his knuckles matched the off-white plastic hue almost to a T. This was out of his league. He couldn't orchestrate things to his satisfaction if she didn't cooperate. But she was, picking up on what he couldn't say, giving him the option all the same. He shouldn't even be thinking about this. Their lives were on the line. There were so many more important things to think about. He was just a selfish-bastard, he guessed.
"Ken?" Omi padded barefoot down the stairs.
"Right here." A guilty clatter accompanied his words as he dropped the incriminating phone back into its cradle.
"Who'd you call?" He rubbed at bleary eyes, small and fragile in one of Ken's oversized t-shirts and pajama pants positively garish with grinning pastel monkeys.
"Does it matter?" More snappish than he'd intended to be. Couldn't he get even a moment of privacy around here? The recently abated rage had started to build again, days away from a real blow up, but potent all the same. Why was everything so goddamned unbearable.
Omi's face fell. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." He brushed past Ken, escaping into the kitchen.
Son of a bitch. This day kept getting worse and worse. Just like almost every day before this one. Gone were the days when good was good and bad was bad, when he wasn't sleeping with one of his teammates, his teammates weren't sleeping with one another, and a satisfactory days work involved making floral arrangements for cheerful young girls and then going out once dark fell to pound the shit out of some rotten bastard or another with the four people who really mattered.
Too depressed to try and apologize to Omi, he headed for the living room, flopping boneless on the couch. An early sports re-broadcast greeted him as he accidentally jabbed an elbow into the television remote control. Soccer, of course. One more thing he'd left in his wake. The word had it out for him, taunting him with glimpses of abandoned dream after abandoned dream.
In the kitchen, he could hear the muted clang of pans, that too practiced sound that came from putting too much effort into being quiet. Ken rubbed his eyes, wondered which angsty teammate he should go after, Youji or Omi. One was something he could alleviate. One was something he'd caused. In the end, he decided his own status as angsty young man far outweighed all the competition. No drinking, no smoking. He needed to get a hold of a vice, and he needed to get a hold of it quickly.
"Omi?" He forced himself to make the effort. This was all the family he had now. They had to stick together. For all of their sakes. There was no alternative, he had to keep reminding himself. There was no happy domestic life for Omi, no lazy-job as a detective for Youji, no happy, dancing sister for Aya, and no beautiful Kakaria for him. Life was definitely a bitch.
Omi turned from the stove, eyes red rimmed. More crying, perhaps. As life wore on him more and more, the tears seemed to come easily.
"Here I am apologizing already, and it's only morning." Ken awkwardly cocked one hip against the Formica counter, turning his back to the evil that was the microwave.
"What are you sorry for?" Omi sniffing, turned away, encouraging the water he was boiling with blurred vision. Never could spare enough effort to make water hot, don't you know.
"Being short with you. I'm just a little testy today. Things are-OW! Hey!" Ken stumbled forward as an irritable Aya shouldered him out of the path he wasn't blocking. They both watched in silence as Aya stalked angrily across the patterned vinyl floor to all but tear the refrigerator's door off of its hinges, the set of his bare shoulders speaking volumes on why it would be best not to confront or criticize. For a moment, all arguments were forgot as blue eyes met brown in open shock.
"Somebody has a bit of a hang-over, eh?" Youji propped one elbow up on Ken's shoulder, deliberately antagonistic. The snarky grin plastered on his face just begged to be smacked off. Aya bristled as the cozy kitchen bordered on full, bottled water in one hand, the other clenched into a fist. "Maybe somebody shouldn't have gotten into my alcohol and drunk himself stupid last night, eh?" Youji's hand transferred from Ken's shoulder to the table top, his very stance speaking of his readiness to turn this into a match of fists.
"Maybe someone should shut his mouth before he finds himself spitting out teeth." Aya bared his own even teeth, animalistic in his displeasure.
"Woah! Calm down." Ken stepped between the warring duo, more to protect Youji than Aya. Biased and all. "If you must fight, take it somewhere other than the house. I don't know about you two, but I spent the last month busting my ass to spruce this place up some. If you both start destroying things, I'm not touching it! The clean up falls solely on your shoulders."
He crossed his arms and braced himself. Even with a gimp leg, Aya was still more than a force to be reckoned with, and with a mood like this, who knew where the violence would shift. For one brittle moment, Ken was sure he was about to have his face well and thoroughly broken. Aya's expression had narrowed down to the point where rage actually contorted his usually disinterested features.
"I have found him!!!" Fate burst into the room, knocking both Ken and Youji straight into an irate Aya. The scuffle that ensued left bruised ribs and bruised egos alike.
"This had better be about Ko-Ishi." Ken growled from the bottom of the heap, Aya's knee crushing something rather vital. Aya scrambled away, bristling like a cat in water, crouched defensive and volatile in his newly claimed corner of the kitchen.
"I think I'll just stay here until we're all done jumping on one another." Youji crossed his arms beneath his head, making himself comfortable. The last of the breaking tension seeped from the room as Fate did her best to absorb any and all attention in the room.
"I have found Ko-Ishi! Do none of you care?"
"I found Ko-Ishi a month and a half ago, and I'm still regretting it." Youji pulled himself into a sitting position, back to the fridge. His fingers twitched as the momentary desire to fumble with a pack of cigarettes overcame his new anti-habit. "I'd much rather have found Jesus. Now there's something to write home about."
Ken all but spit out the first mouthful of coffee he sipped scalding from his mug, spluttering laughter easing the tightness at the pit of his stomach.
"I am serious here. I know where he will be found." She flapped a sheath of paper in Ken's face. She turned away, eyes meeting Aya's.
"I'm listening." He straightened; previous helpless rage abating as Fate once again stepped in (pardon the pun, I'm still kicking myself ^_^).
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I figured this was as good a place to stop as any. I kind of know where I'm going with this whole thing, but I'm always so busy and caught up in so many projects that I'm losing the focus on this one. I can't seem to decide if its dark and angsty or sardonic and mildly-humorous. A combination of both is the goal, I guess. PWING! Send me e-mails! [email protected] or [email protected]