A Reason For Everything

By Kay

 

Author’s Notes:   . . .erm.  I can't write well at all.  This is really pointless and bad.  I have no idea what I'm doing.  But hey!  Cute Ash/Eiji!  With shounen ai implications.  I meant it to be a lot more, but. . . c'mon, everyone knows they love each other anyway, right?  ^^;;;  Posted and revised slightly to fit into BF section of FF Net.  Don't like it much, but it has to go in.  Will write better fic to christen happy, joyful opening of section.

IMPORTANT: This takes place *just* before (you'll recognize the ending, hopefully) the last issue of PULP that appeared.  The August issue, "Manga Hell,” whatever you want to call it.  Where Ash is shooting people.  ^^;; And Eiji welcomes him home.  Just thought I'd warn everyone--small spoilers, maybe.

Disclaimer: I don't own Banana Fish, although I'm sure if I wished really really really hard, I could.  No, really!  (First action!  I give Eiji to Ash wrapped up in ribbons and a cute little "Keep Me" sign.)

 

----

I hate how you are never home until late.

 

Sighing softly, Eiji looked up through his dark bangs outside the bedroom window, searching the shadowed sky devoid of stars even in the night.  Outside, the wind blew softly, but firm enough that he could hear it whispering against the leaves of the summer trees growing outside the large apartment building.  And with it, the sound of distant cars and traffic, faint and undemanding.

 

The Japanese youth gently laid a hand on the glass of the windowpane, scanning with deep eyes over the street below.  Beneath the expensive apartment he shared with his missing counterpart, the sidewalk was empty of any person, leaving only the scattered leaves marking the concrete.  No one came up to the doors to enter this late, no one except the one figure he was looking for, a shock of gold amongst the shadows of the city nightlife.

 

Where are you right now?  Shouldn't you be here?

 

I hate what you think you have to do.

 

Dark eyes brimming with sadness left the window.  Eiji's hand slipped to his side, and almost unconsciously it brought up the newspaper his other hand was holding limply.  Someone had delivered it again this morning, but he hadn't had the courage to bring it up to Ash during breakfast this time.  Last time he'd tried, but it had gotten him nowhere.

 

The headlines were cruel.  Words shouldn't hurt as much as they did, disappointing him with their solemn news.

 

They call it murder, a massacre.  Barbaric.  Horrible.

 

They could be right, yes?  But I don't understand. . . why. . . .

 

Why his closest friend in this place, the person he'd come to rely on more than anything, was out there this late at night.  Why Ash Lynx seemed to find it fitting that he went through the streets, tarnishing his name with the crimson blood of others that had betrayed him.  Shooting what looked to Eiji like older allies that had turned away from his trust.

 

And as much as Eiji's heart would have hardened against them, he could not understand the reasons why Ash was doing it.  Doing something like this to other people, innocent--and doing this to himself.

 

He would come home every night, later and later in the hours.  And it was beginning to always be the same--the weary tiredness, the darkening in those lively, fierce green eyes.  The little hints of bloodshed he couldn't ignore any longer.  The stained clothing at times, or the exhausted way he dropped his gun without a thought to the floor.  As though it were too heavy to carry anymore.

 

Eiji's hand clenched on the newspaper painfully, shuddering once as he recalled.

 

Silently, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window.  It calmed him a little, cleared his thoughts, the frosty pane trapping a few black hair strands on his face.

 

Why are you doing this?  Do I even want to know this?

 

I hate what you are doing to yourself.  This is not the Ash I have grown to know, not in any way at all.  And I miss him.

 

So much. . . .

 

It was becoming a somewhat constant ache, the thought of losing Ash to something he could not even see or fight.  Whatever thread entangling the blonde gang leader in this web of death and trap was going to end up dragging the true Ash right out of him.  And away from Eiji.

 

Just when he thought he understood what was going on in Ash's mind, he was closed out of it.  It was really wearing thin on Eiji's mind--he wanted. . . .

 

Every night Ash came home late, in worse condition and more tired.  Soon there wouldn't be much he could do, probably.  Even now all he could try to do for him was get some hot tea ready, or a drink of some kind.  Talk to him like he was just Ash, the person he'd always known as Ash Lynx, no matter what implicated otherwise.

 

Pretend what was happening outside the door of this hotel room. . . just never existed.

 

And if that is a coward's way out?

 

It can't be.  I will not allow him to. . . .

 

There was not much he could do, and Eiji knew that with painful clarity.  He could only hope, and try to return Ash to his older and safer state of being, even if it meant confronting him with the knowledge he held tightly in his hand--the headlines that couldn't hide all the truth.  No matter how afraid he was of doing so.  Even if it meant. . . .

 

I do not want him to hate me.

 

Funny.  Shouldn't it be the other way around?  Shouldn't Ash be worried that Eiji would judge him for what he was doing?  Did it even matter to the American?

 

Did how Ash thinks of him really matter so much. . . .

 

Yes.

 

For now, all he could do was wait.  Wait and hope--pray that Ash wasn't taking too many risks, that he wasn't outdoing himself tonight, even if he was even later than usual.  The clock was going by even slower than before, the bright red digital numbers flashing in the room by the bedside table.  They kept growing in agonizing jolts.  It never took this long to come home. . . .

 

He comes home later every night.  I never know if he is hurt or in trouble here, and all I can do is wait.  Later and later, until I see him walking up the sidewalk, shoulders slouched, dark green eyes downcast. . . .

 

The Japanese boy felt tears of frustration well up suddenly in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut tightly.  Unable to stop the sudden, unexpected reaction, his breath hitched loudly, and he drew a free hand up to roughly press against the stinging in his eyes.  He could already feel the droplets of tears running over his hand in salty streams, burning paths over his face.

 

What are you doing?  If you cry, and Ash comes home, you will look stupid and all your worry will be for nothing!  He always comes home.  He is not a fool.

 

Sadly, not even the calm voice of reason and logic could halt the sudden outpour of repressed fear and pain Eiji had been facing lately.  The constant battle to keep optimistic, waiting up every night in concern, unable to sleep sometimes from the harsh restraint of worry.  And there was reason enough to worry--after all, Ash had so many people after him. . . .

 

And the cold knowledge that Ash would not explain to him why.

 

And maybe, if Eiji let himself admit it among the quiet weeping he finally was starting to allow, just maybe. . . that hurt even worse than the waiting.

 

Sliding down to the floor in weariness, Eiji hugged his knees to his chest tightly, burying his face in them as his shoulders shook with crying.  While he was not weak, emotional burdens took toll on him far too easily, and he missed the comfort of familiar things.  Waiting in a hotel room he'd been calling theirs constantly, never knowing where Ash was right then. . . .

 

I miss you.  It's strange of me, but I can't help but think you don't trust me.  Why can't you tell me what is going on?  I promise not to make fuss.  I can listen.  I need you, so much.  I meant what I said about going crazy without you.

 

Maybe if I asked you to call. . . .

 

That idea was easily dismissed.  Ash had enough to think about without remembering to check in to him, and the mere thought of asking seemed embarrassing.

 

I like being able to help you when you are here.  But still, there is no pause in what you are doing, Ash. . . .

 

Confide in me.

 

Trust me enough to let me know why.

 

Please don't come home so late?

 

Wiping the already drying tears he'd forced an end to, Eiji felt almost as tired as he knew Ash probably would be.  Still, he refused to go to bed--although there were some nights he gave in to his own needs and slept, it was always restless and uneasy.  He hardly felt revived in the morning, even after seeing Ash sleeping in the bed parallel to his own.  Only relieved and somehow empty.

 

He wasn't sure if Ash knew.  And he seriously doubted he wanted him to know.

 

Eiji rubbed his eyes, still a little itchy from the crying he was already slightly embarrassed over.  It wasn't that much to get worked up over, really. . . or it shouldn't have been.  Even if it felt like it was something he should be worked up over.  Instead, he steadied himself against the wall and stood up, wincing as one of his joints cracked.

 

Wonder when he will come home tonight. . . .

 

After washing his face and checking the window yet again for signs of the familiar blonde figure standing outside the hotel, Eiji finally settled into bed.  Still, he didn't sleep, but curled up against the pillows and picked up a book he was working on.  It was small, but he usually did not have the time to finish it--and there was plenty of time now, obviously.

 

Even as his eyes scanned the printed words, his mind drifted back to the newspaper he had lying on one of the tables.

 

Do I really want to confront him?  Startle the wildcat into coming out of its hiding place?

 

Yet. . . .

 

It is hurting him, as much as it is me to see him doing such things.  I suppose I must do whatever comes to mind.

 

The door creaked open about ten minutes later, and Eiji's heart jumped wildly in his chest with a start.  He looked around his book without a sound, already printing the figure in his mind that he knew would be standing there.

 

I hate how you are never home until late.

 

And I love so much how you at least come back.

 

Ash looked at him with an unreadable face, blonde hair slightly mussed as though he had run his fingers through it far too many times.  His eyes were quietly surprised.  Eyes that were green and vibrant, too unusual a shade to be called emerald.

 

"You're still awake?"

 

". . . hi Ash."

 

And Eiji smiled at him softly.

 

I hope you never stop coming back. . . .