r.i.p. to my wips : )
Aug. 24th, 2009 01:25 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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jewelledhoursas the subject title says, this is my farewell post to all the wips i have currently on my hd. some have a few sentences, some have more than a few and there's really a slim chance i'm ever going to go back to these. mainly because i'm not even writing for je fandom and because my brain can't multitask so too many wips for me to focus on :) if any of these sound interesting and you feel like using the plot lines then go for it. some fics had titles when i saved them and some didn't. Bolded means it's the start of new wip.
IDOL 101 : The Trainee Guide to the Entertainment Industry
Presented by : The popular (and not so popular) idols of Johnny's Jimusho
1. Fanservice. Learn it, live it, do it.
Often mislabeled publicly as molestation or sexual abuse, remember to tell yourself that it works and makes the fangirls scream (unless you're under the legal age, or close to it, then it makes you a creeper and makes the fangirls that ship you even creepier). Also important to note that fanservice can make the not-so-gifted in the looks department idols more popular. It's a godsend and also can be utilized as means of covering up your not-as-secret-as-you-think relationship with your bandmate (beware of the overuse, fines are a bitch). Oh, if you've got a namesquish grievance, file a compliant at the main office (usually takes about two weeks for the change to happen but it'll get done, depending on your status level in the company).
Case in point : Ohmiya SK
The slash coupling so popular it's got a publicly sanctioned name.
Disbandment!NEWS fic
In the months following NEWS' sort of disbandment, he develops the habit of walking into combinis at night. The one across the street from his exclusive apartment complex is the first one he goes to, dead at night when there's slim chance of any fangirls lurking around for signatures or paparazzi to take photos he knows will wind up in the shops lining Harajuku's busy streets.
The cashier is a young man who doesn't recognize him but from the pursing of his lips it's obvious that he's taken him as one of the rich bastards that live nearby and doesn't approve of it. He wonders briefly if maybe he shouldn't have left the house in simple grey sweats and an old cotton tee as he feels the typical head to toe once-over. The thought is fleeting as he's suddenly reminded that there's no reason for him to maintain an idol image anymore - he's no longer a member of NEWS and he stopped being an idol the day that happened.
RyoShige's Ten Methods on How to Deal with a Sick Idol
1. If non-drowsy cough medicine is the only kind to be found in boyfriend's medicine cabinet, either a) bring your own or b) add two spoonfuls of vodka.
2. Always be prepared with tissues, painkillers, and cough drops for the patient. It is also important to not forget the ear plugs and painkillers for yourself.
3. When the doctor says "Drink lots of fluids", be firm in telling boyfriend that a bottle of beer and "I'll be at the bar with Jin" does not count.
4. When he tells you to "kiss his boo-boo", remember that germs are directly transfered through the swap of saliva and other bodily fluids.
5. When boyfriend says he has been taking his medicine regularly but doesn't look you in the eye, it's better to check the number of pills for confirmation.
Broken Halves Sequel
The name he first gave me hadn't been his own but that of another man. The same two syllables he moaned that very night I met him as he repeatedly thrust into my body. I imagine it to be his voice he imagined hoarsely screaming back in return and his kisses that woke him up in the mornings after. And it's his face he envisioned standing next to him in church that day when he had said, "I do."
My name is Abe Miyuki and for two years of my life I was known as Kato-san's wife. And the man whom I knew as Kato-san's love is Nishikido Ryo.
I'm not asking for your pity, it's not what I want and it's not warranted either. I was the one who ended it with a trip to the lawyer's and eight signatures later, the marriage that never should've begun came to its conclusion. I'm also not asking for your sympathies, I'm not a jealous ex-wife on the road of vengeance. I'm just a girl who loved someone who couldn't love her in return. And this is not my story, it's theirs.
I was twenty-seven when Kato-kun moved in, nineteen boxes in total that filled most of his ten-jo room. For more than a year after his move, the boxes remained unopened, piled high against each other and taped along the edges to ward against bugs. It wasn't until we rented our own apartment that I saw him unpack, painstakingly so, sculptures and tiny figurines wrapped in layers of newspaper and cloth.
They ranged from large to tiny, all black or white and made of molded clay. There was an unpolished quality to all of them, as if the artist had made them in fits and moods, sometimes sadness and other times happiness.
Two days after our marriage,
Ryo hitting Shige / Shige gets drunk & has sex with Pi
They were arguing about sex again, or rather the lack of sex. Seven months into their relationship and Ryo still hadn't made a move. And while Shige is far from a hormonal teenage boy, he's got needs that go beyond an occasional blowjob in the bathroom and heavy breathy make-out sessions on the couch. Shige dismissed it as teasing at first, Ryo can be a drama queen and truthfully he's also got a hectic schedule that doesn't provide time for sleeping, much less for the more strenuous activities Shige had in mind.
Three months later and Shige thought that perhaps Ryo's image as the over-sexed emo boy might be another clever creation by the Jimusho and that despite all the talk, maybe Ryo is just shy about his performing abilities in bed. Shige spent short of five weeks restraining himself, showcasing such self-control that could be described of as saintly. Five months in and Shige can't help it anymore, even random objects are starting to look appealing. The rocket magnet on his refrigerator makes him think of Ryo's reputed girth and before he can help it, he's hearing sounds akin to dirty porn that can be bought for $5.99 in hotel rooms in his mind.
Ryo shrugs off Shige's attempts, "I'm too tired tonight", "Maybe later", "I've got filming at 4am", but the excuses are always flimsy and can only buy so much time. Especially since Shige will inevitably hear Ryo in the shower twenty minutes after the conversation, obviously moaning his name while he's not doing or receiving any of the action.
Shige doesn't doubt their chemistry, he can feel the effects his sometimes overzealous kissing and wandering hands have on Ryo and more specifically on Ryo-chan, he's just unsure as to why they haven't gotten the deed done yet. It has crossed his mind before that Ryo-chan might not be as big as he heard and may be more on the -chan side of things. Shige's even got a line and facial expression ready to go along with that situation in case it ever occurs.
After all is said and done, Shige thinks that Ryo-chan is mostly just misunderstood. And technically speaking, it should be Ryo-sama.
-------------------------------------------
It had been an accident. Thirty-seconds was all it took for Ryo's fist to connect with the sharp bone of Shige's nose, cracking it and sending fresh blood riveting down its side. And in less than four minutes after that, Shige was gone.
Ryo can't remember anymore the details of the fight. It's been the same
Ryo finds old ya ya yah tapes in Shige's room and watches them
It's entirely accidental that Ryo stumbles across the old tapes in Shige's study and it's not that he's snooping but that he's mostly curious as to why there is a boxful of at least thirty videotapes with faded labels of "YYY" written on them. It takes him close to two hours, but he does find the old VCR in the back of their closet and carefully connects the wires to his audio/visual system, making sure the wires are properly inputed into the correct spaces before pushing in the first tape, "YYY 03102004".
He's comfortable on the floor, leaning against the couch and eating his lunch of leftovers his mother had dropped off when he presses the play button. Ryo realizes about ten minutes in that it's one of his kouhai's old variety shows, Ya Ya Yah's to be precise and a second later he remembers that they are already defunct. He's struggling to remember all of their names, especially when they are only in their early teens in the show and are barely recognizable. He finds himself smirking at Shige's hair, while Massu's familiar and unchanged aura brings a smile to his face and he laughs at Tegoshi's apparent awkwardness.
It isn't until halfway through the show that he really starts to pay attention to the juniors, those gawky boys still in the cumbersome phase of being a kid and upholding an idol reputation. Ryo automatically closes in on the shortest one there, a pipsqueak looking thing with that high pitched voice and cute crinkle in his eye when he grins toothily. He watches with one eye on him and the other on Tegoshi who's being forced to perform a last minute gag. It's a terrible one and even Ryo flinches, recoiling slightly at how badly it failed before he snickers. Softly at first and then bursting into full snorts of laughter that leaves him gasping. This is what Shige walks into, his boyfriend sprawled on the floor, twitching for air in what seems to be the middle of an asthmatic attack.
Ryo cracks open an eye and sits up, managing only to point to the widescreen TV still paused on the tiny kouhai's painfully honest reaction to the gag, a "Wow I can't believe how unfunny that was" in combination with, "Sucks to be you sempai" look. Shige lets his heartbeat fall back to a more comfortable rate before throwing the remote at him. "That's just Yabu-chan, he's adorable isn't he? I remember back then they had said he was probably the cutest Junior ever from the Jimusho."
Ryo scratches his nose absently and watches as Shige walks into the bathroom for his shower. He glances back at the TV and wonders if this kid was deserving of such a definitive compliment. Afterall, there were a great number of Juniors and most of them were adorable too. There's Aiba with his large woeful doe eyes and pale skin that made him look rather like a precious doll. Then there's Pi who basically looks exactly the same then as he did now, meaning he already had the girls eating out the palm of his hands. And then there was him. Tiny little Nishikido Ryo with his slightly mischievous grin and round button face complete with that famously squeaky voice.
And so it's natural for Ryo to feel indignant on behalf of his younger self and he digs into his closet for his own stash of videos, taped long ago by his mother when the Kansai Jrs. hadn't been promoted too well
Ryo/Shige : i woke up one sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
The first thing they had explained to him was loss. It's a process, they said, and would occur in stages and steps, methodical in its actions. First to go would be the more recent events, what store he had bought that green shirt from or if it was chicken or fish he had eaten the night before. He would no longer be able to adapt to the small changes for the different venues they performed at nor would he be able to memorize the hand movements that accompanied their slower songs.
Next it would be loss of control followed by loss of emotions. A simple five minute drive home would take closer to twenty minutes while that powerful rush of adrenaline that used to pump through his stomach and course through his veins turn into an absence. Instead of the surplus of excitement and passion, he'll feel the lack of them.
Speaking would become difficult, instead of quick fire answers and sharp retorts, it becomes slow and unsure. Saying bed when he meant floor and soup when he had thought coffee. He won't be able to read the scripts anymore or skim through lyrics like before and would need Shige to define even more characters than usual.
It will make its way into that part of his brain, and then finally it'll be the loss of memory. He won't recognize his mother or his siblings. Won't be able to tell the difference between Pi and Jin. Kanjani8 will become NEWS and vice versa. Shige's face and voice will slowly fade until he becomes nameless and a mere mesh of flesh, undetectable.
It's a disease that is also a death sentence. And it's hereditary. Ryo watches as his father struggles, one month passes and he's still the same. Six months later, a slight trembling of the hand, a year later he's unable to tell his wife he loves her. Three years pass and he's gone.
It's a death sentence, one he's had ever since he was sixteen. And now at twenty-five he worries, and wonders. If that bowl of spicy pork ramen will be the last thing he remembers, if this is the last concert he'll complete or if this is the last kiss that'll belong to Shige. Life that is just beginning for others is filled with could-be-lasts for him.
He fears waking up one morning and not knowing that it's already begun. There will be no tell-tale sign, no aching head or fainting spells. Ryo knows there will be no physical pain and to him that's worse, because the least he wants to do is feel the hurt it'll cause him.
Some days Ryo passionately throws all of himself into everything, refusing to play the role of a pitiful victim. It's on those days that Shige finds himself feeling it, the effects of this illness that hasn't even been yet. He watches as Ryo runs about energetically, playfully jibbing and hitting every mark, laughing just a little louder than usual and living that much larger. And he thinks, it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't have to be.
Then there are those weeks when Ryo doesn't speak to him at all. Times when Ryo would envelope himself in hot anger and self-inflicted pain so thick that even Shige is unable to get through. Shige wonders then if that's what it would be like in their future. Teasing smiles and warm kisses with that Ryo and then locked doors and lying eyes from this Ryo. Always having two halves of someone that he couldn't piece back into one whole.
Shige has always despised death. Unlike most it was not the inevitable pain or ugliness accompanying death that he feared but the finality of it. It was the idea that his life could expire over the course of a nap or a short slumber and from that moment on, he'd cease to exist. He liked knowing things, appreciated structured schedules and plans for the future. To him, death was an unknown entity and that scared him more than anything.
So Shige imagines a world after the death, not for himself but for Ryo. He creates a heaven and a hell in his mind, contradicting and yet the same. There's no fire and brimstone, just humans and Ryo, conversing and interacting as if they were still alive and breathing. That's where things begin to differ. In his heaven there's no thoughts, no memories of life before
Ryo/Shige Obit
I met Nishikido-san my freshman year at Sodai, more formally known as Waseda University and while I was there to become a journalist, he was there to case my resident hall.
It was my first time living in a dorm and I had come with bags of mostly domestic stuff, laundry detergent, lemon scented bathroom sprays and even a feather duster. Nishikido-san exited the room as I was entering, carrying two cardboard boxes while I dragged a garbage bag full of old books in. It never crossed my mind that what he had in those boxes might not belong to him but to my real roommate, Koyama Keiichiro.
He tilted his head and gave me a wink, two gestures I'd later associate with his more deceptive side. "See you later", he called out cheerfully and by the time I looked up, he was gone. Two hours later I returned to find a lanky young man with light orange brown hair accompanied by the campus police, filing a report concerning stolen property. I remember asking him later on why he hadn't taken any of my things and Nishikido-san, ever the practical man, had replied "Toilet paper isn't exactly worth a lot."
The next time we met was what Nishikido-san liked to refer to as our first date, I not so fondly remember it as "that night I bailed him out of jail."
Even while he didn't find any of my personal belongings worthy of selling, he apparently found some of it amusing enough to steal for laughs. Three weeks later, I awoke to the shrill ringtone of my cell phone at one am to a calm message from him stating that a) he was currently incarcerated, b) that he needed my help, or more specifically my money and c) I'd be wise to show up unless I wanted to see my naked two year old self, little Shige included, posted all over campus.
What can I say? I'm weak to threats. And that photo album I was sure he stole also included some other photos of myself that I'd rather no one saw ever.
Turned out that Nishikido-san had, accidentally he claimed, dropped his pants while in a public area. And it appeared that he just so happened to not be wearing any underwear at the time either. It was also then that I found out Nishikido-san is the only son and heir to his father's Fortune 500 company and that he didn't need my money to bail him out at all. He just wanted to see if I'd show and if I'd be in those Pikachu pajamas he saw sitting in my drawer.
Half an hour later he was out, courtesy of my banking card and an open 7-11 five blocks away. On the way back he asked if I really disliked him now and why I didn't just tell the cops that he was the one who'd stolen from the Waseda dorms.
I suppose even then Nishikido-san had a plan up his sleeve, he always did. That's the thing about him, he may seem spontaneous and wild but in actuality, all those last minute "Let's go sky-diving" and "I want to graffiti a car now" were always well-thought out and carefully orchestrated.
To many, Nishikido-san may have appeared as a delinquent, always causing trouble for his father and a good for nothing son that would be of no help in the future. If you were one of those people, you're wrong. Nishikido-san might not have had an IQ of 160 and while he didn't get accepted into Keio or Todai, he was one of the best men I could've encountered, thief and all.
My response then was to tell him he owed me exactly 13,750 Yen, not including the taxi fare of 3580 Yen. He smiled at me, wide and toothy as if I was a girl he wanted to woo and with his hands tucked into his back pockets, he was disarming and youthful, like a childhood friend asking if I wanted to share a beer.
"Wait here," was all he said before jogging off. He reappeared twenty minutes later, just as I was about to leave myself, having written him off. He ran past with and yelled for me to follow, "Hurry! They're coming!"
I barely heard him, much less process his words before I caught sight of two men approaching, yelling what seemed to be, "THIEVES! STOP!"
Four seconds later I was behind Nishikido-san, who handed me some of the loot, cigarettes and porn magazines it seemed, with a surprised glance.
"High school track team" I explained in-between cursing him out.
And just like that I became Nishikido-san's favorite new friend. The one he brought to stuffy executive parties thrown by his father, the one that was dragged skinny-dipping and the one that he kissed, tongue and all, after having fought off a groper at the Waseda annual costume party.
Nishikido-san and I dated, five months after he had stolen my underwear (because he liked that I let my mother write my name on the band in bright green marker), and a year later, he would ask me to marry him, half-drunk while he tumbled into bed still smelling of ash and his father's death.
I agreed eight weeks later and he chose Vegas because, "Baby, I've always wanted to get hitch where Britney did."
He was kidding and luckily for us, he was rich. We took his private plane to some secluded island in some continent I didn't know existed, where it seemed Brad and Angelina were also hiding, waiting for the birth of their tenth child. It was a quiet ceremony, only us, the priest and Koyama present as a witness. We honeymooned for a short three days before he was called back for meetings and other official business he was too young to handle.
My husband, legal in twenty-three countries and a total of four US states, died two days ago, eating a hot takoyaki from our favorite stall in Osaka. He's always said that he'd like to die mid-orgasmn, preferably of a heart attack, quick but painful enough so he'd be able to recognize he's dying. He's always hated unknowns.
It didn't happen that way but he did manage to grope me in between bites and his death wasn't exactly a conventional one. And if he couldn't die during sex, at least he died while eating some of the best takoyaki this side of Japan.
Nishikido-san loved life and even in death, trust that he's laughing at us mourning him when in actuality almost everyone who knew him had been cheated by him at some point in their life. But for me, having fliers of my then tiny penis handed out to my writing seminar class is worth what I received in return, a husband whom I loved and loved me back, and frankly, he also left me a lot of money.
The memorial service will be held at The Ritz-Carlton Tokyo this Sunday the 20th at 1pm. It'll mostly be attended by the men in his life that he never casually choked with a pull of their ties or tripped by accidentally pushing them over his foot. For those of you who really wish to remember Nishikido Ryo for who he was, steal a beer and a porn magazine from the combini sometime this week and jack off as loudly as you can.
Remember, "Carpe Scrotumn" or in Ryo's words, "Grab life by the balls."
IDOL 101 : The Trainee Guide to the Entertainment Industry
Presented by : The popular (and not so popular) idols of Johnny's Jimusho
1. Fanservice. Learn it, live it, do it.
Often mislabeled publicly as molestation or sexual abuse, remember to tell yourself that it works and makes the fangirls scream (unless you're under the legal age, or close to it, then it makes you a creeper and makes the fangirls that ship you even creepier). Also important to note that fanservice can make the not-so-gifted in the looks department idols more popular. It's a godsend and also can be utilized as means of covering up your not-as-secret-as-you-think relationship with your bandmate (beware of the overuse, fines are a bitch). Oh, if you've got a namesquish grievance, file a compliant at the main office (usually takes about two weeks for the change to happen but it'll get done, depending on your status level in the company).
Case in point : Ohmiya SK
The slash coupling so popular it's got a publicly sanctioned name.
Disbandment!NEWS fic
In the months following NEWS' sort of disbandment, he develops the habit of walking into combinis at night. The one across the street from his exclusive apartment complex is the first one he goes to, dead at night when there's slim chance of any fangirls lurking around for signatures or paparazzi to take photos he knows will wind up in the shops lining Harajuku's busy streets.
The cashier is a young man who doesn't recognize him but from the pursing of his lips it's obvious that he's taken him as one of the rich bastards that live nearby and doesn't approve of it. He wonders briefly if maybe he shouldn't have left the house in simple grey sweats and an old cotton tee as he feels the typical head to toe once-over. The thought is fleeting as he's suddenly reminded that there's no reason for him to maintain an idol image anymore - he's no longer a member of NEWS and he stopped being an idol the day that happened.
RyoShige's Ten Methods on How to Deal with a Sick Idol
1. If non-drowsy cough medicine is the only kind to be found in boyfriend's medicine cabinet, either a) bring your own or b) add two spoonfuls of vodka.
2. Always be prepared with tissues, painkillers, and cough drops for the patient. It is also important to not forget the ear plugs and painkillers for yourself.
3. When the doctor says "Drink lots of fluids", be firm in telling boyfriend that a bottle of beer and "I'll be at the bar with Jin" does not count.
4. When he tells you to "kiss his boo-boo", remember that germs are directly transfered through the swap of saliva and other bodily fluids.
5. When boyfriend says he has been taking his medicine regularly but doesn't look you in the eye, it's better to check the number of pills for confirmation.
Broken Halves Sequel
The name he first gave me hadn't been his own but that of another man. The same two syllables he moaned that very night I met him as he repeatedly thrust into my body. I imagine it to be his voice he imagined hoarsely screaming back in return and his kisses that woke him up in the mornings after. And it's his face he envisioned standing next to him in church that day when he had said, "I do."
My name is Abe Miyuki and for two years of my life I was known as Kato-san's wife. And the man whom I knew as Kato-san's love is Nishikido Ryo.
I'm not asking for your pity, it's not what I want and it's not warranted either. I was the one who ended it with a trip to the lawyer's and eight signatures later, the marriage that never should've begun came to its conclusion. I'm also not asking for your sympathies, I'm not a jealous ex-wife on the road of vengeance. I'm just a girl who loved someone who couldn't love her in return. And this is not my story, it's theirs.
I was twenty-seven when Kato-kun moved in, nineteen boxes in total that filled most of his ten-jo room. For more than a year after his move, the boxes remained unopened, piled high against each other and taped along the edges to ward against bugs. It wasn't until we rented our own apartment that I saw him unpack, painstakingly so, sculptures and tiny figurines wrapped in layers of newspaper and cloth.
They ranged from large to tiny, all black or white and made of molded clay. There was an unpolished quality to all of them, as if the artist had made them in fits and moods, sometimes sadness and other times happiness.
Two days after our marriage,
Ryo hitting Shige / Shige gets drunk & has sex with Pi
They were arguing about sex again, or rather the lack of sex. Seven months into their relationship and Ryo still hadn't made a move. And while Shige is far from a hormonal teenage boy, he's got needs that go beyond an occasional blowjob in the bathroom and heavy breathy make-out sessions on the couch. Shige dismissed it as teasing at first, Ryo can be a drama queen and truthfully he's also got a hectic schedule that doesn't provide time for sleeping, much less for the more strenuous activities Shige had in mind.
Three months later and Shige thought that perhaps Ryo's image as the over-sexed emo boy might be another clever creation by the Jimusho and that despite all the talk, maybe Ryo is just shy about his performing abilities in bed. Shige spent short of five weeks restraining himself, showcasing such self-control that could be described of as saintly. Five months in and Shige can't help it anymore, even random objects are starting to look appealing. The rocket magnet on his refrigerator makes him think of Ryo's reputed girth and before he can help it, he's hearing sounds akin to dirty porn that can be bought for $5.99 in hotel rooms in his mind.
Ryo shrugs off Shige's attempts, "I'm too tired tonight", "Maybe later", "I've got filming at 4am", but the excuses are always flimsy and can only buy so much time. Especially since Shige will inevitably hear Ryo in the shower twenty minutes after the conversation, obviously moaning his name while he's not doing or receiving any of the action.
Shige doesn't doubt their chemistry, he can feel the effects his sometimes overzealous kissing and wandering hands have on Ryo and more specifically on Ryo-chan, he's just unsure as to why they haven't gotten the deed done yet. It has crossed his mind before that Ryo-chan might not be as big as he heard and may be more on the -chan side of things. Shige's even got a line and facial expression ready to go along with that situation in case it ever occurs.
After all is said and done, Shige thinks that Ryo-chan is mostly just misunderstood. And technically speaking, it should be Ryo-sama.
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It had been an accident. Thirty-seconds was all it took for Ryo's fist to connect with the sharp bone of Shige's nose, cracking it and sending fresh blood riveting down its side. And in less than four minutes after that, Shige was gone.
Ryo can't remember anymore the details of the fight. It's been the same
Ryo finds old ya ya yah tapes in Shige's room and watches them
It's entirely accidental that Ryo stumbles across the old tapes in Shige's study and it's not that he's snooping but that he's mostly curious as to why there is a boxful of at least thirty videotapes with faded labels of "YYY" written on them. It takes him close to two hours, but he does find the old VCR in the back of their closet and carefully connects the wires to his audio/visual system, making sure the wires are properly inputed into the correct spaces before pushing in the first tape, "YYY 03102004".
He's comfortable on the floor, leaning against the couch and eating his lunch of leftovers his mother had dropped off when he presses the play button. Ryo realizes about ten minutes in that it's one of his kouhai's old variety shows, Ya Ya Yah's to be precise and a second later he remembers that they are already defunct. He's struggling to remember all of their names, especially when they are only in their early teens in the show and are barely recognizable. He finds himself smirking at Shige's hair, while Massu's familiar and unchanged aura brings a smile to his face and he laughs at Tegoshi's apparent awkwardness.
It isn't until halfway through the show that he really starts to pay attention to the juniors, those gawky boys still in the cumbersome phase of being a kid and upholding an idol reputation. Ryo automatically closes in on the shortest one there, a pipsqueak looking thing with that high pitched voice and cute crinkle in his eye when he grins toothily. He watches with one eye on him and the other on Tegoshi who's being forced to perform a last minute gag. It's a terrible one and even Ryo flinches, recoiling slightly at how badly it failed before he snickers. Softly at first and then bursting into full snorts of laughter that leaves him gasping. This is what Shige walks into, his boyfriend sprawled on the floor, twitching for air in what seems to be the middle of an asthmatic attack.
Ryo cracks open an eye and sits up, managing only to point to the widescreen TV still paused on the tiny kouhai's painfully honest reaction to the gag, a "Wow I can't believe how unfunny that was" in combination with, "Sucks to be you sempai" look. Shige lets his heartbeat fall back to a more comfortable rate before throwing the remote at him. "That's just Yabu-chan, he's adorable isn't he? I remember back then they had said he was probably the cutest Junior ever from the Jimusho."
Ryo scratches his nose absently and watches as Shige walks into the bathroom for his shower. He glances back at the TV and wonders if this kid was deserving of such a definitive compliment. Afterall, there were a great number of Juniors and most of them were adorable too. There's Aiba with his large woeful doe eyes and pale skin that made him look rather like a precious doll. Then there's Pi who basically looks exactly the same then as he did now, meaning he already had the girls eating out the palm of his hands. And then there was him. Tiny little Nishikido Ryo with his slightly mischievous grin and round button face complete with that famously squeaky voice.
And so it's natural for Ryo to feel indignant on behalf of his younger self and he digs into his closet for his own stash of videos, taped long ago by his mother when the Kansai Jrs. hadn't been promoted too well
Ryo/Shige : i woke up one sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
The first thing they had explained to him was loss. It's a process, they said, and would occur in stages and steps, methodical in its actions. First to go would be the more recent events, what store he had bought that green shirt from or if it was chicken or fish he had eaten the night before. He would no longer be able to adapt to the small changes for the different venues they performed at nor would he be able to memorize the hand movements that accompanied their slower songs.
Next it would be loss of control followed by loss of emotions. A simple five minute drive home would take closer to twenty minutes while that powerful rush of adrenaline that used to pump through his stomach and course through his veins turn into an absence. Instead of the surplus of excitement and passion, he'll feel the lack of them.
Speaking would become difficult, instead of quick fire answers and sharp retorts, it becomes slow and unsure. Saying bed when he meant floor and soup when he had thought coffee. He won't be able to read the scripts anymore or skim through lyrics like before and would need Shige to define even more characters than usual.
It will make its way into that part of his brain, and then finally it'll be the loss of memory. He won't recognize his mother or his siblings. Won't be able to tell the difference between Pi and Jin. Kanjani8 will become NEWS and vice versa. Shige's face and voice will slowly fade until he becomes nameless and a mere mesh of flesh, undetectable.
It's a disease that is also a death sentence. And it's hereditary. Ryo watches as his father struggles, one month passes and he's still the same. Six months later, a slight trembling of the hand, a year later he's unable to tell his wife he loves her. Three years pass and he's gone.
It's a death sentence, one he's had ever since he was sixteen. And now at twenty-five he worries, and wonders. If that bowl of spicy pork ramen will be the last thing he remembers, if this is the last concert he'll complete or if this is the last kiss that'll belong to Shige. Life that is just beginning for others is filled with could-be-lasts for him.
He fears waking up one morning and not knowing that it's already begun. There will be no tell-tale sign, no aching head or fainting spells. Ryo knows there will be no physical pain and to him that's worse, because the least he wants to do is feel the hurt it'll cause him.
Some days Ryo passionately throws all of himself into everything, refusing to play the role of a pitiful victim. It's on those days that Shige finds himself feeling it, the effects of this illness that hasn't even been yet. He watches as Ryo runs about energetically, playfully jibbing and hitting every mark, laughing just a little louder than usual and living that much larger. And he thinks, it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't have to be.
Then there are those weeks when Ryo doesn't speak to him at all. Times when Ryo would envelope himself in hot anger and self-inflicted pain so thick that even Shige is unable to get through. Shige wonders then if that's what it would be like in their future. Teasing smiles and warm kisses with that Ryo and then locked doors and lying eyes from this Ryo. Always having two halves of someone that he couldn't piece back into one whole.
Shige has always despised death. Unlike most it was not the inevitable pain or ugliness accompanying death that he feared but the finality of it. It was the idea that his life could expire over the course of a nap or a short slumber and from that moment on, he'd cease to exist. He liked knowing things, appreciated structured schedules and plans for the future. To him, death was an unknown entity and that scared him more than anything.
So Shige imagines a world after the death, not for himself but for Ryo. He creates a heaven and a hell in his mind, contradicting and yet the same. There's no fire and brimstone, just humans and Ryo, conversing and interacting as if they were still alive and breathing. That's where things begin to differ. In his heaven there's no thoughts, no memories of life before
Ryo/Shige Obit
I met Nishikido-san my freshman year at Sodai, more formally known as Waseda University and while I was there to become a journalist, he was there to case my resident hall.
It was my first time living in a dorm and I had come with bags of mostly domestic stuff, laundry detergent, lemon scented bathroom sprays and even a feather duster. Nishikido-san exited the room as I was entering, carrying two cardboard boxes while I dragged a garbage bag full of old books in. It never crossed my mind that what he had in those boxes might not belong to him but to my real roommate, Koyama Keiichiro.
He tilted his head and gave me a wink, two gestures I'd later associate with his more deceptive side. "See you later", he called out cheerfully and by the time I looked up, he was gone. Two hours later I returned to find a lanky young man with light orange brown hair accompanied by the campus police, filing a report concerning stolen property. I remember asking him later on why he hadn't taken any of my things and Nishikido-san, ever the practical man, had replied "Toilet paper isn't exactly worth a lot."
The next time we met was what Nishikido-san liked to refer to as our first date, I not so fondly remember it as "that night I bailed him out of jail."
Even while he didn't find any of my personal belongings worthy of selling, he apparently found some of it amusing enough to steal for laughs. Three weeks later, I awoke to the shrill ringtone of my cell phone at one am to a calm message from him stating that a) he was currently incarcerated, b) that he needed my help, or more specifically my money and c) I'd be wise to show up unless I wanted to see my naked two year old self, little Shige included, posted all over campus.
What can I say? I'm weak to threats. And that photo album I was sure he stole also included some other photos of myself that I'd rather no one saw ever.
Turned out that Nishikido-san had, accidentally he claimed, dropped his pants while in a public area. And it appeared that he just so happened to not be wearing any underwear at the time either. It was also then that I found out Nishikido-san is the only son and heir to his father's Fortune 500 company and that he didn't need my money to bail him out at all. He just wanted to see if I'd show and if I'd be in those Pikachu pajamas he saw sitting in my drawer.
Half an hour later he was out, courtesy of my banking card and an open 7-11 five blocks away. On the way back he asked if I really disliked him now and why I didn't just tell the cops that he was the one who'd stolen from the Waseda dorms.
I suppose even then Nishikido-san had a plan up his sleeve, he always did. That's the thing about him, he may seem spontaneous and wild but in actuality, all those last minute "Let's go sky-diving" and "I want to graffiti a car now" were always well-thought out and carefully orchestrated.
To many, Nishikido-san may have appeared as a delinquent, always causing trouble for his father and a good for nothing son that would be of no help in the future. If you were one of those people, you're wrong. Nishikido-san might not have had an IQ of 160 and while he didn't get accepted into Keio or Todai, he was one of the best men I could've encountered, thief and all.
My response then was to tell him he owed me exactly 13,750 Yen, not including the taxi fare of 3580 Yen. He smiled at me, wide and toothy as if I was a girl he wanted to woo and with his hands tucked into his back pockets, he was disarming and youthful, like a childhood friend asking if I wanted to share a beer.
"Wait here," was all he said before jogging off. He reappeared twenty minutes later, just as I was about to leave myself, having written him off. He ran past with and yelled for me to follow, "Hurry! They're coming!"
I barely heard him, much less process his words before I caught sight of two men approaching, yelling what seemed to be, "THIEVES! STOP!"
Four seconds later I was behind Nishikido-san, who handed me some of the loot, cigarettes and porn magazines it seemed, with a surprised glance.
"High school track team" I explained in-between cursing him out.
And just like that I became Nishikido-san's favorite new friend. The one he brought to stuffy executive parties thrown by his father, the one that was dragged skinny-dipping and the one that he kissed, tongue and all, after having fought off a groper at the Waseda annual costume party.
Nishikido-san and I dated, five months after he had stolen my underwear (because he liked that I let my mother write my name on the band in bright green marker), and a year later, he would ask me to marry him, half-drunk while he tumbled into bed still smelling of ash and his father's death.
I agreed eight weeks later and he chose Vegas because, "Baby, I've always wanted to get hitch where Britney did."
He was kidding and luckily for us, he was rich. We took his private plane to some secluded island in some continent I didn't know existed, where it seemed Brad and Angelina were also hiding, waiting for the birth of their tenth child. It was a quiet ceremony, only us, the priest and Koyama present as a witness. We honeymooned for a short three days before he was called back for meetings and other official business he was too young to handle.
My husband, legal in twenty-three countries and a total of four US states, died two days ago, eating a hot takoyaki from our favorite stall in Osaka. He's always said that he'd like to die mid-orgasmn, preferably of a heart attack, quick but painful enough so he'd be able to recognize he's dying. He's always hated unknowns.
It didn't happen that way but he did manage to grope me in between bites and his death wasn't exactly a conventional one. And if he couldn't die during sex, at least he died while eating some of the best takoyaki this side of Japan.
Nishikido-san loved life and even in death, trust that he's laughing at us mourning him when in actuality almost everyone who knew him had been cheated by him at some point in their life. But for me, having fliers of my then tiny penis handed out to my writing seminar class is worth what I received in return, a husband whom I loved and loved me back, and frankly, he also left me a lot of money.
The memorial service will be held at The Ritz-Carlton Tokyo this Sunday the 20th at 1pm. It'll mostly be attended by the men in his life that he never casually choked with a pull of their ties or tripped by accidentally pushing them over his foot. For those of you who really wish to remember Nishikido Ryo for who he was, steal a beer and a porn magazine from the combini sometime this week and jack off as loudly as you can.
Remember, "Carpe Scrotumn" or in Ryo's words, "Grab life by the balls."
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Date: 2009-08-23 03:04 am (UTC)That being said. DAMNIT I want that Ryo/Shige - Shige/Pi. Whyyyyyy?
And the obituary one was AWESOME. I think it ended pretty nicely where it did for all of being a WIP. But still. Well, out with a bang I guess. (I'm totally still holding out for Massu.)
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Date: 2009-08-24 03:40 am (UTC)I will light a candle for them boo.
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Date: 2009-08-24 04:16 am (UTC)i liked all of these lol and i can't tell you how weirdly 'comfortable' this whole thing is, like coming home after a vacation abroad. I had a wonderful time elsewhere, but this is still somewhere i feel i belong.
is that too weird for a RIP post LOL.
anyway there's not much of a fandom going on right now for you to leave anyway..............haha
love you :)
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Date: 2009-08-26 01:27 am (UTC)Am I suppose to be here or is this only for the jewels of this comm? *looks at comments above my own*Libbbb-tan, I know you're practically out of the fandom (save for Ryo-chan probably), but sdhgklsdhg;ldfg this post makes it seem like you'll be out of the fandom and to never return. DDDD:
That aside, I still loved the last one. I think you've snippet-ed for me before because I definitely remember the part about Ryo stealing Koyama's stuff XD
That and the Broken Halves II. I've read a snippet of that before too I think...
Oh and I totally think Ryo's jealous of Yabu (and not just because Yabu was damn adorable as a junior, but sdgkdfl Yabu latched himself onto Shige so many times when they were in YaYaYah).
You know...ironically enough, this may be your "goodbye" post, but it's one of the few things you wrote that isn't actually angsty enough to break my heart. (I still remember your first fandom fic...I believe that was the whole Shige-threw-suitcase-at-Ryo x] Oh and the giving-Shige-cactus too x] )
....so I realize I haven't spammed you on msn in a while...nor have I caught sight of you in a while. Nonetheless, you'll probably see me when I epically fail the 10k challenge. Till then~ &hearts
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Date: 2009-08-26 04:13 am (UTC)T_______________________________T
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Date: 2009-08-29 04:36 am (UTC)Although i am sad you are leaving JE fandom, i know this has been a long time coming. :D
Also, as someone said, there's not too much happening in fandom right now anywho, so its pretty good timing :D :P
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Date: 2009-09-01 04:09 am (UTC)Do the first one for kpop fandom!Luckily I'm slowly learning more and more kpop groups - with help from certain biased friends - so I'm not as sad as I would have been a month ago to hear that your leaving JE fandom for good~ I'm really only an Arashi fan myself now . . .
I have a bit of a cold so I'm going to end this comment to deal with the sneezing XD
Did I mention that I miss you? ♥