ONE WAY STREET

By mouse-chan

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: All the characters used in this story along with the story plot solely belongs to mouse-chan. Any duplications of this story without the author’s permission is strictly prohibited.

WARNINGS: somewhat yaoi-ish.

NOTE: This is a side-story for HEART BREAKER.

Comments can be sent to mouse-chan at cheese_factory@hotmail.com. Please take note that any flames and anti-yaoi letters will be laughed at and thrown out of the window.

Thank you.

It’s about to rain, but just not quite yet.

There is that familiar scent of rain lingering in the air. The wind sweeps over the grounds causing the trees to reluctantly sway under its unbending will. Up in the sky, the clouds has gathered in one thick, black sheet; covering the sky like a child being securely wrapped in a blanket. Flashes of light flickers amidst the clouds turning the blackness into a shade of moody gray. The change lasts for only a second before the darkness jealously swarms over the patches of light to snatch back its rightful domain, furious that its supremacy was challenged.

No stars. Not tonight.

Everything in the heavens is smothered by the upcoming storm.

Maybe after the rain the stars would return to their playground. Perchance they would come back once the clouds finish unleashing their fury onto the ground that lies below them; when the winds die down leaving only the quiet of the night.

But not before.

I place my hand onto the window. The glass barrier is cold under my touch. No doubt the weather outside was guilty for the drop of the temperature. The restless winds did not help the matter much either. The window rattles lightly under my palm. I shift closer, pressing my cheek lightly on the surface; feeling the coldness seep into my skin. A thin mist appears on its smooth surface as soon as I exhale.

Hot against cold, it’s an odd combination.

Idly, I write my name on the glass and watch as the letters disappear.

Carefully I unlatched the window and slid it open. It made no sound as the it easily moved aside in order to allow the night air into the small room.

Moving figures beyond the glass barrier catches my attention.

I look down.

There are people standing outside, waiting. Lines and lines of human beings hugging themselves to ward away the chill while they glance at their watches eagerly. Colorful banners and signs were carefully held as their owners waited. I can see my name on some of those cheerfully colored cloth. The bright lights coming from large spotlights situated high above the area shone down brilliantly onto the crowds creating ever-moving shadows that seemed to duplicate the already large number of people who were actually there.

Almost absently, I wonder if the ground ever tires of being stepped on each day.

Some of the light trickles into the dark room, producing silver streaks that cut through the darkness. I lift a single finger up to touch the bright beam and watch as it paints my skin an odd color of white mixed with the palest brown.

From where I am sitting, I could feel the barely suppressed excitement being generated by the crowd. It feels like waves and waves of energy forced into a single bubble that was just waiting to burst.

The sky growled causing some people to look up. A nervous chatter broke out amongst the anxious people. A few raised their fists at the darkness as though threatening the clouds to do their worst. I instinctively leaned backward, feeling thankful that I was not seen. There would be a lot more noise if any one of those pairs of eyes managed a glimpse of a single being sitting by the window.

So much more.

I smile slightly.

It was always rather flattering when I come to realize that there were more than a million people who were more than willing to brave through all sorts of weather just to attend a single concert.

To share our love of music.

The neglected pink envelope that was sitting on my lap looked back at me. I could imagine if it had a face, its expression would have been rather doleful. It was still sealed but the thickness of the envelope suggested a photograph along with a very long letter. There was a faint sweet scent of perfume wafting delicately in the air; surrounding the envelope. Almost amused, I made a rather sound guess that its owner must have sprayed it with some sort fragrance before posting it. I glance at it fleetingly before dropping it onto the floor. The bit of paper fluttered in the air before joining the very impressive pile of multi-colored envelopes that sat on the floor.

Fan mail.

Of course, there were fans that were interested in us for things other than music.

A sudden breeze enters the room, causing all the letters to scatter all over the marble floor. I watch them as they cover the dull white with all sorts of colorful patches. Most of them disappear into the dominating blackness.

No doubt I would have to gather them all up again and find somewhere safe for them to be kept until I can read them. Already I have a room full of letters back home. My brother had always said that it would be much easier if I just dumped them into the rubbish bin. But it felt rather unfair to the fans if I just threw them away without even opening the envelope. So I normally keep them until they were read which was about a handful of letters within a month. The progress was rather slow due to my tight schedule and the amount of letters keeps mounting each day hence my brother’s also growing annoyance.

I reach into my pockets and drew out a piece of paper.

This time it isn’t a letter. It was just a small, plain, crumpled thing that would look completely miserable if you compared it to the rest of the colorful fan mail. The paper was so thin that I was surprise that it wasn’t deduced into shreds yet considering the amount of times I unfolded and refolded it. Wrinkles crept all over the small surface; evidence of the frequent handling it goes through everyday.

Delicately, I smooth out the worst of the creases before holding it up against the light.

On that small piece of paper was a name written in dark black ink.

A single name.

I suppose the hand that had written it was trying its first attempts at Japanese calligraphy of some sort for the strokes were rather shaky and uncertain. There were even a few smudges decorating the white background. On the sides I could see a stain that must have been made by a careless inky finger. If one took a glance at the finished product, one would say that it belonged to a child. I had to admit it was definitely one of the worst handwriting I have seen in years…and yet I went through all sorts of trouble to get that single bit of paper. Not to mention suffering the teasing when my friends found out.

Silently I watched as the edges gently flutter in the breeze.

It has been a long time since I came across the wrinkled piece of paper.

And here I am, still holding on to the same old bit of paper. In spite of everything, still holding on to the same old dream. Unwilling to let the wish I made slip through my fingers.

I look up at the sky again.

The horizon is the very picture of velvety darkness, keeping all it’s secrets hidden like a jealous lover. I doubt that any painter could actually capture a bit of that mysterious inky blackness on smooth white paper. No human could ever hope of persuading the skies to part with its inexplicable cloak made out of shadows.

However, I often wonder if I ever could.

Succeed in prying apart those layers of blackness and gaze upon the secrets, which it hides. Perhaps maybe then I could figure out the complexity of human nature. Perchance I could understand myself a little better.

Or just to see that the world is just a small dwelling floating among the stars in the cold space. That heaven doesn’t exist. That everything along with the cross that rests on my dresser is all just another lie. Something that a human, long ago, made up in an attempt to justify why we are here and what happens when we die.

I question myself; unsure whether I would be disappointed if I ever find out the answer.

Gently, I smooth out the paper again in attempt to quell the restlessness I still feel bubbling within me.

I don’t think you even remember the first time we met, do you? I wouldn’t mind reminding you of that incident. That split of a second when you accidentally lost your balance like a clumsy child. I always look back, wondering if it was a curse or a blessing when I walked around that corner and bumped into you. As insignificant as it was, it meant the worlds to me.

The first time we met.

We were both still unknown to the world that that time. Just two normal people standing at the starting point of their careers, questioning what the future had in store for them.

The floor was not a comfortable place to land. You cursed and I agreed with you. Then we both smiled.

It was an odd exchange between two strangers

No introduction or apologies. Just a faint nod of the head before we went back to our respective lives. I never did spare a thought on you again until I heard you laugh. There was a song in your laughter. A song that demanded to be made yet was harder to catch compared to the rest of the notes that I have ever written. Maybe it was because it was so different compared to the tunes that I was accustomed to.

Each time, it varied; as if you were trying to hid something away so that the rest of the world would not notice. As though you gave away just a fragment of yourself and held back the rest. And each time, I wanted to make you laugh again and again; hoping that I could somehow figure out why the song in your laughter never seem to be complete.

Or was it because I merely wanted you to be happy?

It intrigued me like nothing had before.

Occasionally I wonder what would the future be like if I have never met you. Had we never bumped into each other that day would things be different? If I had never bothered learning music and concentrated on my normal lessons like what the rest of my classmates were doing where would I be now?

Perhaps I wouldn’t be here along with the rest of the L’che.

Perhaps I wouldn’t be waist-up in mail that came in colorful envelopes.

Perhaps I wouldn’t even be here holding a crumpled piece of paper.

Maybe there was someone who would be in my place instead of me, wondering about you while holding this little bit of paper.

Unfortunately, it’s a one way street that we are on. We can’t go backwards. The only way of moving would be going forward and into the future. There is no possibility of returning to the past. Back to safe periods of childhood where everything was uncomplicated and the future was just a word only the adults used.

The digital watch beeped once.

Fifteen more minutes until the concert officially started.

I refold the paper again, asking myself how many more times would I repeat the action. Getting up from my seat, I shut the window firmly.

There are traces of the outside air lingering in the room. I stare out of the window for the last time. The crowds of people were already starting to enter the stadium. The familiar feeling of anticipation steals over me like an invisible lover as it has always done before just minutes before I had to step onto the stage.

I carefully tuck the folded piece of paper into my pocket.

Thunder flashed across the skies.

It’s about to rain, but just not quite yet.

~OWARI~