Short Story

This is me with the worst

For hundredth times I heard others praising your brilliant idea of Gazette music characteristic. ‘This is our style’ they claim. ‘You’re doing good’ they say.

Four pairs of eyes –a pair of red envious eyes of mine- was fixed on your skilled fingers, four pair of ears -a pair of denial ears of mine- was listen carefully in every sound of resonance your black guitar made.

They all were impressed by your music sense.

You walk with your smile displaying perfectly sweet toward my direction -to cut out my already dry throat- as I predicted it at first. I knew it is your routine after your litte-show-off performance. Afterward, ‘How is it?’ will be the first sentence you ask after you reach a spot where I sit; envying you.

“I like the part where the last refrain changes into shrill tone” I fake an attraction mimic. Hell if I failed with it. I will thank god if you did notice it instead.

“Really? I think that part is pointless”
damnit! Even a great part you said ‘pointless’?! What is your head made of, Uruha?

You sat beside me; black guitar on lap, eyes staring to mine, calm and gracious manner yet I hate it. I’m watching you babble bout the song you made. The focus on my head is not where it should. The focus is all about this envious-resentment stuck on my head. About you lent me guitar strap when mine was broke, about you bought me lunch when I’m busy composing song, about you offered me companion to night club as Ruki couldn’t make it, about you treat me kindly as if I’m a worthy friend while I keep this envious growing -dangerously- worse and worsen toward you. Don’t you know that is making me feel like a back-stabbed bitch??!

Give me envy, give me malice, give me a-a-attention
Give me envy, give me malice, baby, give me a break!
When I say "Shotgun", you say "Wedding"
"Shotgun", "Wedding", "Shotgun", "Wedding"

Two glass of Smirnoff placed on the table. An ashtray placed on the right of my cigarette box. And you placed exactly beside me, on my right side.

Look at you, Uruha…
Blond hair framing your smooth face neatly, lips pout naturally, long legs and lean body to catching people’s attention of your dazzle figure.
Look at your surrounding, Uruha…
They all are looking at you, adoring you like what they always do; enjoying beautiful creature like you

You and your thing of everything I envy of…

Will you give me a space where I don’t have this sick feeling of your thing?

You’re talking in a high volume –in order to making me hear what you say in a room full of chatting people and throbbing music- close to my ear. I’m only inhaling Marlboro menthol -blowing the smoke to contaminating the air more- as a respond of your babbling which I’m not pay attention to.

I’m hearing you’re talking. I’m glancing over the crowd; you’re sipping Smirnoff. I’m watching swaying bodies; you’re sipping Smirnoff. I’m ordering a glass of Smirnoff; you’re ordering a pitcher of Smirnoff.

From watching a pitcher of Smirnoff you pour to my glass and yours -then watching you gulped that alcohol in no mercy- to watching you lost consciousness slowly was worrying me.

Don’t get drunk… don’t lean on me… don’t make me supporting your boneless body…
Don’t force me to make body-contact with you, Uruha.
It’s hard to help you whole-heartedly while I wish you to fade away of my sight or to turn back time where I never know you, it’s hard… it’s so fuckin hard!!

“NO! Don’t you ever dare to touch that glass again, Uru” I’m moving those glass of Smirnoff to the edge of the table so he can’t reach it “you’re goddamn drunk!”

“I’m not drunk, Aoi”

“Yeah, whatever. Now we’re going home!”

Holding your body to steadying your walk was never been my deal, but I end up doing it instead. Your breath smelled like Smirnoff, your golden hair smelled like smoke, your unconscious state smelled like… envious.

Why Ruki have to finish those lyrics?; Why Reita have to visit a friend?; Why Kai have to go to hospital and leave me alone with you, Uruha? Leave me alone with this uncomfortable feeling, a disgust to my self of act like good friend outside and want to break you down so badly in the worst way inside.

*****

Aoi slipping his free hand to Uruha’s pocket to find the blond apartment key while the unconscious guitarist still giggly as alcohol effect.

Uruha wrapped his both hands to Aoi’s waist then rest his head on the crook of raven neck while Aoi’s left hand supporting Uruha’s unbalance weight and the other hand unlocking the door in hurry.

The raven head lead the blond to his bedroom and laying him there.

Aoi didn’t bother to take off Uruha’s shoes and jacket; he only turned on the night lamp and air conditioner then ready to leave.

Instead of leaving, Aoi is stopping his step and turning around to look at unconscious Uruha as the blond mumbling his name.

“Aoi…” Uruha turning his body and pulling a bolster on his side “…Daisuki da yo”

Have some composure
Where is your posture?
Oh, no, no
You're pulling the trigger
Pulling the trigger
All wrong