L'Arc en Ciel fanfiction .::. Offer and Demand

Episode 10

I left Yacchan sulking and drinking alone in that grisly motel room. I didn’t manage to tell him much. In fact, I didn’t manage to tell him anything. In other words: I made up an excuse.
He protested… I promised to tell him more tomorrow… I don’t know if I’ll have the guts to do that though, but I don’t care. I really stopped caring at this point.
And now… man, now I find myself driving down Aoyama dori as fast as I can (and is permitted) towards Shibuya. I should have taken the Shibuya line, but maybe I’m too much of a nervous wreck to make the right decisions at the moment.
I need money. Money. Money. Money. Nothing else can help me now. Nothing else than money can do it for me now, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it. I’ve already lost any dignity, any decency, any good piece of me that was left. I already lost the tinge of the small town boy I used to be when I first arrived in Tokyo, years ago. I have already lost it all… and I don’t want to keep losing.
There is probably no point in telling Yacchan how I have always admired him. Whereas this continues to be true, I think, coming from me, it doesn’t mean anything anymore. There is no point in telling him what I’m doing, because… what the hell… he can’t help me. And I won’t put him in danger by borrowing money from him that I know I might take years to return.
There is no point in indulging in the safety of his warm embrace… because I can’t be with him. Because I’m not meant to be with him. Because no matter how far my admiration and love for him go, we are destined to be apart. And I should be thankful to be able to call him my friend. Yacchan has truly nothing to do with this, and it’s for the best if he remains ignorant of my present situation.
At least one thing… one thing… I want to keep immaculate. My friend… Yacchan… because everything else is crumbling to pieces, rotting from the inside. I think I’m dancing on the Titanic, smiling like a stuck-up idiot in my refined suit and mirror-polished shoes; and yelling “kanpai” with a glass of the finest champagne between my gracious fingers to those who will accompany me in my last destination. I’m heading towards death… death in life. I’m a walking corpse if I don’t get out of debt. I paid first class… but I’m going down just like any other rat in the boat.
I have truly lost everything… and all I need to keep the remaining pieces back together is money. Money will be the glue that keeps from disintegrating. It will let me take a step out of hell, and maybe it will let me watch from the outside how everything that used to surround me now crumbles down. Because there is no love anymore, no good sense anymore, no dreams, no hopes, no faith, not anything I want to do but keep living this life quietly, without being distraught by screams, nagging, pressure and yelling. I’ve had it with everything around me… I’ve had it with the world around me… and so now I need money… to buy my ticket away from it. To buy my passport back to the little world I should have never stepped out from: my own.

I think that cop just ticketed me. Damn.

I swerve and head towards the hotel where my client is waiting for me once again. I hope this time he won’t be rough… and I hope he doesn’t mind too much if I smell of liquor and sweat. It’s not like I had plenty of time to get a shower.
And… by the way… what’s with showers? Why is everyone so picky about showers? Isn’t it the same as standing naked under the rain? Yeah… only showers are socially accepted. I think every time it rains, I’ll go to the balcony and I’ll stay there naked, lathering myself idly. Yes… that’s what I’m gonna do. Until it stops raining… or Megumi kills me… or some preppy neighbor calls the cops. Whichever happens first.

I walk towards the appointed room as usual. There’s nothing new in it by now, but some vague feeling of nervousness still remains inside me.
I don’t know anymore if I want to find out who my mystery lover is or not. I don’t think I care anymore. I just gotta get out of debt… I shouldn’t be thinking of anything else. There is nothing else… yeah… money. That’s all I need. Money. I don’t give a shit if I’m screwing a roadie, a staff member or the pope. If they can pay, then I can endure it.

I just hope it’s not a journalist…

And the stupid game of hide and seek begins. The big guy at the door… the dark room… the cloak… the hushes… the earth-shattering sex…

The pay.

I wake up in the morning thinking that I gotta go home and see Megumi.
She’s probably mad.
Well… she’s always mad.
I feel tired, angry, devastated… I wanna see her… I wanna see her and screw her up badly… because I can’t help but laying the guilt of it all on her. And I don’t care if I’m right or wrong anymore. I want her to be the culprit of my disgrace. And I want her to pay.

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