andrew_in_drag | T-t-t-teaser

I'm sick!

But I got all you guys' lovely feedback on my "huh?" post this morning, so I was thinking about Kyo's as yet untitled fic all day.

There were a lot of things I had to think about. It's so confusing that I couldn't even type a plan out, because computers aren't designed to type in batshit insane chaos patterns. So it's all on one page, and it's about 40% arrows and crossings-out, and the rest isn't a real plan at all, it's a big list of scenes I want to include, and motifs*, and a sort of bizarre argument with myself about whether it should be first person, third person, or a mixture of both, like Fifteen Years.

So I sat down and wrote something, and really I just want to put it here because I'm feeling insecure about this new venture, and wanna know whether this is the sort of thing that you folks had in mind or not. And if not, why not?

I wrote it from first person, but I don't know yet whether or not it will be slotted into an entirely first-person fic, or if it will be a first-person interlude. I am leaning very heavily towards, er, both of those ideas. Of course, it might not end up in the fic at all. So, yes. Enjoy?!

*You will probably learn very quickly from the teaser exactly what one of the motifs is. And how.

When they first got together, I went home and turned off all the lights and drew all the blinds, and I had a good think about it. I took off all my clothes, and I sat down in the middle of the floor.
I knew I should just go to bed, but the thoughts I was having of the both of them together were making my head hot and musty, and so the idea of crawling between those clean sheets appealed to me about as much as serving up fresh food on a dirty plate.
That was in August, during that horribly hot summer we had in 2003. I always hated summer in the city; it’s not like summer in the country at all. The air always tastes of exhaust and hot metal. It’s like suffocation, like a slow death, and I have to wait until autumn until I can breathe again.

I sat down in the middle of the floor like that because I didn’t want anything to touch me. I always have to do that, when I really think about something. I did it when we signed our contracts with Free-Will, and everybody started telling us that we were important. I didn’t feel important. They were telling us that we were in charge now, that we were going to control the charts and the hearts of the girls and the boys like they were our own little puppets, and I couldn’t say a word because I didn’t feel like I was controlling anything; not even myself.
And years later, on that day, I still didn’t feel like I was important or in control. Toshiya had left my apartment for Die’s, and I knew almost without question that all their staring at each other and sweating in the heat had transformed, somehow, into sex.
I also knew that it was something that had to happen, just like the storm that occurred the day after had to happen, because it had been so hot and I’d been seeing heat lightning on the smoggy horizon for weeks. It seemed painful and natural both, like giving birth. I just couldn’t understand why it made me feel so sick and sorrowful.
So I suppose I was sitting on the floor like that because I was waiting for some kind of realisation. I had to try and make my mind very clear, and then I let myself slowly fall backwards and stare up at the ceiling. I knew I had done it right when I kept on falling. The ground below me wasn’t there at all and I was standing inside a kind of shut-in, windowless corridor, and although it was empty there was the terrible droning sound of a bell being rung over and over.
It was the alarm bell that had been ringing in my head ever since my childhood, ever since I was a little boy, and I realised with a kind of numb horror that it had stopped ringing, briefly, the first time I ever felt Toshiya’s body against mine, and I hadn’t even noticed. Over the years I had grown so used to it that it had faded into the background.
But now he was sleeping with Die and it was back again. It was so loud that in the corridor, I pressed my fists to my ears, but of course that didn’t work because the corridor isn’t real at all, it’s a place I go to inside myself; the bell was ringing from inside my own head.

Later on, I woke up on the floor with my naked body curled up like a shrimp, and the apartment had become darker by degrees because the sun was going down. I could hear evening sounds from the city as I climbed into bed. I pressed my nose to the sheets and wished they still smelled of something like him, but I had washed them as soon as he’d moved out.
I wondered why I had done such a thing. Not a trace of Toshiya remained. I had done everything I could to erase the proof of my own crime, because even as I had been doing it I’d known that it wasn’t right.
Now I wished some kind of evidence of it had remained, like a testament to my own foul nature, but there wasn’t a single thing. I curled up tight and squeezed my eyes shut and I listened to the alarm bell ringing, ringing, ringing in the back of my mind.

T-t-t-teaser

no subject