Aoi/Kai - Kai/Aoi
(PG)
There’s a chill in the air. Winter has finally come to this part of the world. Snow heavy clouds hover on the far horizon and a grey pallor has fallen on the city. It’s the time of year when short sleeves turn to light jackets that are quickly replaced by thick, down-filled coats with matching gloves and caps. People rush even more than usual, dashing here to there to escape the biting cold that seems intent upon settling on them.
We’ve been afforded a day or two between performances. This tour seems never ending, but I’m not complaining. I’ve learned that it does no good to complain in this business. It only serves to make things harder. So, I refrain from doing it. Simple.
My apartment is warm, much warmer than the air outside. It’s cozy, just the way I like it. The television is on, the volume down; one of my favorite music shows is on. I recognize the guest band, know them well, actually. But my attention isn’t there.
There’s a stack of unfinished paperwork, bags of unanswered fan mail, and an inbox full of waiting e-mail, both here in my personal office and at the studio. As much as I know that I need to complete these tasks, as much as I hate neglecting our fans, I just don’t have the energy to do any of it. Call me lazy or irresponsible, but sometimes even I need a small break. A little ‘me’ time away from the band and the industry.
I enjoy my kitchen. It’s clean, simple, and I know where everything is. Everything has its place. I take a pale blue mug from the upper cabinet to the left of the sink, a small kettle from the lower cabinet to the right of the stove. From my small pantry cupboard, I survey my small collection of instant tea.
I always feel a little bit guilty when I shop and buy the colorful boxes of tea bags. It was a guilty pleasure, one that I’d fallen into on one of our recent recording trips to America. I hadn’t been feeling well and had asked one of our interpreters if she could find someone to get me some hot tea to soothe my sore throat. She’d come back some minutes later with a mug of hot water and some sugar. In the water was a bag of tea on a string.
I don’t mean it to seem like I had never seen such a thing, but my mother and father had raised me in a somewhat traditional manner. Instant anything had not been a normal staple of life. But, the tea that the young woman had brought to me changed that. After a few moments of hesitation, my throat had given a painful throb, clearly making up my mind for me.
Now, back home, I keep a few flavors on hand, but my favorites by far are the green tea varieties. The aroma is enticing when I drop the bag into my boiled water. A little sugar and I wait.
The curtains in the living room are open, letting in the dull grey of the afternoon. It’s not dull enough to dampen a good mood, but not nearly as bright as it was, say, a week or two ago. All I remember is going into a venue one day with warm weather outside, only to come out hours later with chattering teeth. Winter in Japan is lovely that way.
Standing at the window, sipping on my tea, I watch the people pass a few floors below. School groups go racing by, scarves wrapped tightly around chins and noses. People are just generally coming and going, same as everyday. I smile when a familiar figure comes into view, his black hair hanging loosely and naturally around the shoulders of his leather jacket. He approaches my building confidently, and as if he can feel me watching, he looks up, smiling. I wave him in and wait.
The elevator must be running slow today, because he takes a little longer than normal to get to my door. He lets himself in with a key, smiling at me as he removes shoes and jacket. I set my mug down and move toward him.
“Hey, baby,” he says, settling himself against me as I melt into his arms.
“Yuu.”
I breathe in his scent, reveling in his grasp.
“Happy anniversary, Yutaka,” he whispers, drawing me up into a long, deep kiss.
“Happy anniversary,” I murmur, finally drawing away so he can present me with a small wrapped box.
I take it with a smile, moving away to set the box, unopened, next to my tea. I know what it is, so it can wait. Smiling still, I take his hand and lead him further into my apartment, closing the bedroom door behind us.
The day fades into evening as we claim and reclaim one another in my bed. We’ve completely forgotten the outside world and the small, unopened box wrapped in silver and blue paper standing lonely in the living room next to a long since gone cold mug of green tea.
~end~
Profile
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
avas_archive- avas_archive