I Can't Be Your Last Romeo [ Closed/Aisha ]

The Haunted House.

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Word Count || 1,121
GP || 22

[ 19/08/2013 ]

The feeling of a knee bumping into his shoulder and cursing from somewhere overhead grounded him—only vaguely—but it seemed to distract him from the realm of memories he was sinking into. There was a spark of light, a glimpse of a foreigner’s face and the sound of footsteps somewhere in the distance. Aki wasn’t spared the time to fit all the pieces together as all of a sudden, the light vanished and slender fingers dug into his shoulders and the girl—stranger—in front of him hastily hoisted him to his feet. His wan face was tinged mildly scarlet from a combination of exhaustion as he was suddenly made to run and embarrassment at his vulnerability. Just as Aki had begun to believe his little ‘phobia’ was under control, it had to resurface and brutally slap him in the face. In the presence of another person, nonetheless; it was bad enough when his fears attacked him in the privacy of his bedroom.

Suddenly profuse apologies reached him and Aki could not help but be confused even further, but in a surprisingly show of docility, she shushed as she demanded and followed her through the maze, eyes averted from all of the grotesque displays that were situated at the sides of the long corridor. She seemed to be in a rush and he was as well, to avoid further customers who might stumble open him in this panicked state and to avoid running into any more exhibits. A few seconds later, he realised why the blonde beside him was in such a rush and why she’d chosen to disguise herself (though her disguising skills were subpar in comparison to his, he noted wryly in some non-panic-affected region of his mind). She’d thrown the hood of her jumper over her head, presumably to mask her bright golden hair whilst he’d come prepared with a wig.

Someone was looking for her. Aisha, as she was called, tensed beside him, waiting with bated breath for whoever was looking for her to leave. Unaware—and still rather bewildered—Aki held his tongue, although he was rather disdainful of how confused he was. Of course, considering the girl had helped him in his moment of need, he’d achieve little from giving away her location.

At long last, silence came once more.

“I … ah,”  Aki could only frown at himself for how tongue-tied he was. It had been what felt like an eternity since he’d panicked like he had moments earlier—and he could still feel a tremble or two capture h is limbs. “I can assure you, I usually don’t interact by hyperventilating,” He had to  compensate not only for her trouble, but for having humiliated himself in front of her. “I’m—I’m not too good with blood or gore, it’s nothing major.” Shaking his shoulders back weakly and forcing his lips upwards, he turned to face her. He  had to be impregnable, infallible. He was Shimizu Aki and anybody could have filmed this and it could go viral on the internet. As a precaution, Aki carefully examined his surroundings before returning to face Aisha.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he declined the paper bag, the opened bottle and the proffered seat rather bluntly, slightly grumpy from his humiliation. He forced himself to take a few breaths to steady himself, already feeling the vestiges of panic that had been ebbing away returning. The image of that faux-ghoul refused to exit his mind, much to his chagrin, but after having allowed the initial panic of seeing it flush out of his system, the subsequent reminder was not quite as horrific.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Purge those memories, purge those images.

Go away, go away, go away.

Tranquil. It seemed to be working, he could feel the apprehension peeling away from him.

Under normal circumstances, he might have left after a polite word or two, but this was a situation where Aisha had seen something incredibly private about him; something he’d managed to keep secret from even his fans. And after a display of such helplessness, he felt obligated to respond with more than his usual pertness—Aki had to be more gracious, more grateful.  “I … I suppose I have to thank you, for your concern; I—I really do appreciate it, Aisha-san. I—I know it sounds strange and rehearsed, but I really mean it.” he mumbled. Apparently the few times he’d inhaled weren’t enough to completely calm his nervous and not-so-subtle splashes of awkward gratitude dotted his tone. He had never been good with feelings. “But I’m fine, honestly.”

Even if he were on the verge of collapse, he’d blindly insist that after years of having so much as the smallest hint of weakness stigmatised. She didn’t have to know that.

It must have been obvious to her that he was scared, although he couldn’t sense pity in her expression—just a panicked, confused concern. To save himself the trouble of explaining the situation any further, he’d briefly described himself as being unable to handle gore or viscera—when even Satsuki didn’t know about his qualms with blood or the reasons behind it, he saw no reason to allow an absolute stranger to view a closed off part of himself. Hopefully his quick answer would be left as it was, although considering his relatively quick recovery; it could be passed off without further concerns. The worst that could happen was that she’d say something about having seen him in this state, but it was nothing that would create rumours that couldn’t be extinguished in a few days. He’d seen much worse, like that one time Takanori-san had babbled about his ‘fussiness’ (which he really preferred to call an eye for detail).

… although evidently, Aisha-san hadn’t recognised him—perhaps it was because of his wig, he looked significantly different without his blond hair. He didn’t wish to lie to her about his identity but there were definite benefits in her not knowing. To no respond would be much more unwise and even if she didn’t know, about a dozen other people here would be aware of his name if they looked closely enough and could give it away to her.

“Shimizu Aki,” A few moments of debate later, his answer arrived. His fingers grasped the wig attached to his head and nimbly worked it off, revealing the shock of blond that resided underneath. “Does it make more sense now?” 

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1,072 words // 21 GP // 44 GP total

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Word Count || 956
GP || 19 / 41

[ 19/08/2013 ]

Or something. Aki could not help the mild bulge of his sepia orbs at the cluelessness of the girl—of course not everybody was a fan of him, if the promise of money had not existed then he would have seen no reason to endure enacting nauseating scenes of enamoured lovers professing their gut-wrenchingly saccharine love for each other. It made sense that there were perhaps, people out there who did not appreciate his work … not that the idea of that particularly pleased him. It was, however, his first encounter with someone who was unaware of him. Was it because she was a foreigner? Or was she just ignorant of all things famous in general? Was it necessarily a good thing? Somehow it stung almost as much as if she’d insulted him.

“Ah,” Aki coughed after a pregnant pause. “It’s the first time I’ve come across someone who doesn’t know. They’re all people who watch TV though.”  It seemed as if he was talking to himself as she didn’t respond to his explanation but to the sudden burst of sound that echoed from one of the many, capricious corners of the room. Something like a marble, bouncing lightly against the floor, Aki processed before presuming that it was merely something small that had been dislodged by one of the other customers. Evidently Aisha-san had not reached the same conclusion s in moments, her slender fingers dug into his chest as she gripped her shirt with an almost inhuman tightness and gasped into the fabric of his shirt.

From the girl who only moments ago had attempted to pacify him, to soothe him it was almost unnerving to hear her crumbling under his touch at a tiny sound. What was he to do, return the favour? She had been gracious enough to give him water, lead him to a chair and help him into a state of tranquillity and yet he could only find himself transfixed at her escalating panic. Embrace her, common sense seem to pound into his stream of thoughts in an insistent beat, a pressuring ferocity that nearly drove him mad until with the hesitance and uncertainty of a quivering leaf, he found it in himself to gently grip her shoulder. The bony smoothness of it, even under the fabric of her jacket felt foreign in his trembling palm and from the sheer discomfort he was radiating, it would be miraculous if she could derive any comfort from him.

She didn’t. He shouldn’t have expected her to; Aki had never been a connoisseur of emotions. On reflex, apologies poured from her lips behind the hands that shielded her face and swiped at her cerulean orbs. “It’s … It’s alright,” Aki murmured in a voice that bordered on ‘I could care less’, although a crevice of his heart stung further in discomfort at the sight of her struggling to gather her bearings. Had he been that vulnerable moments ago, had he left her to pick up the pieces for him? Had she been just as uncertain and hesitant? But it seemed as if Aisha wanted as little to do as humanly possible with mulling over possibilities—in a series of whispers and crashes, she staggered, first away from him and then towards the exist of the amusement park setting and he could only follow her, wanting nothing more than the same. The image of the ghoul was only just starting to dissolve in his mind into a bad memory along with gossip and rumours and a few bad fallings-out.

Maybe he needed to offer her something more in reassurance; her first action was to drop to a low crouch on the ground and wrap her arms around her lithe frame whilst Aki’s was to extend his hand to help her up before aborting the action midway. “Really Aisha-san, it’s fine,” he murmured in response, battling against the mild exasperation that was creeping into his tone like ivy. He’d grown so accustomed to hearing people bend over in apology, take it that extra mile over the limit that the blonde could rarely stomach the sight of others vomiting apologies at him—or at others—a quick, curt one was always more than enough. It was especially frustrating as it was over a matter she could not possibly help. “I … I suppose I owe you—“

He gritted his teeth mid-sentence at the sight of fingers appearing at her shoulder. Someone had come for her—presumably the people Aisha had been attempting to escape from, given her petulant sigh. The barest tinge of sympathy streaked Aki’s goodbye to her—he’d been on the receiving end of stalking, as he put it, having to constantly be under the vigilant eye of a ‘guard’ was unpleasant. Of course he had been guaranteed that it was a ‘minor precaution’ and it would seem like his watchman was invisible, but bigger lies had never been spoken. The actor had always seen it as having to tote around an extra growth, to have to put up with warm breath sliding down his collar and the threat of being dragged home the instant he attempted anything seemingly unconventional. Being a constant prisoner to invisible ropes exhausted the desire to rebel within him.

She seemed ready to leave—he wasn’t, not yet, one more thing hung in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.

“You … ah, you won’t tell anyone about this will you?” He had to be sure—the headlines were already visible in his mind’s eye, sleek black against off-white, detailing dramatically one thing; Shimizu Aki, afraid of blood? “I’ll even take you out to dinner to make up for it. Saturday, seven-thirty?”

She didn’t make for bad company either.

(But that was secondary, of course.)

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[ 24/08/2013 ]

A few words exchanged every second on an incandescent screen kept them connected somehow, across distances, walls and times. It could compete with the touch of her gentle fingers against his skin or the sound of her pretty voice—like the tinkling of windchimes—but it was enough. His imagination could compensate for the missing detail—could picture her iridescent face or her sweet laugh.

[ 19:56:03 ] you ready yet?

The beeping of his phone would by far be the best sound he’d heard all night. Aki would never have pictured himself as such a … sap, for lack of a better word but he’d come to appreciate Aisha over their numerous conversations online. There’s was something fiery about her that sparked his curiosity, enough for it to burn into attraction for her. Nothing serious, nothing nauseatingly dulcet (yet, his mind whispered mischievously); it was an insouciant interest and he would not let it become anything more than that, Aki reminded himself. He had been satisfied with mindless fawning and innocent, meaningless kisses with other girls—and Aisha was no different.

[ 20:02:07 ] I’ll see you at the restaurant.

He set off. 

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1,156 words // 23 // 67

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Word Count || 1,214
GP || 24 // 65

[24/08/2013]

Perhaps the napkins hemmed with Queen Anne’s lace and the five stars following the restaurant’s name were a touch too much, but Aki was a child of wealth. And after his manager had resorted to a little digging (or what others might classify as stalking), he had uncovered that Aisha was no stronger to luxuries herself. There was no venue more befitting for a girl of class, Yamamoto finalised before making reservations at a restaurant in some upscale region of Tokyo whose name was now lost in Aki’s whirlpool of memories. And Aki, divorced from normalcy, conceded, deciding the idea of ‘hanging out’ the way any other teenager might at a rundown establishment whilst consuming incredulously cheap food and laughing obnoxiously was best reserved for later. Perhaps when he was in a more rebellious mood. A thick, heavy sort of disappointment sank into his stomach at the need to once again swallow his desires and prioritise Aisha Ione’s which he smothered with a quick sip of water.

After all, Aisha was due to walk through the elaborate high-arched doors of the restaurant any minute and Aki would be a terrible date if he were to seem anything less than excited. She was a constant presence in the back of his mind, a quiet reminder that perhaps for him, the line between attraction and appreciation was hopelessly blurring. He’d been thinking about her a lot in comparison to any of his other ‘girlfriends’ (was that an appropriate term for them?), but every girl he’d ever had a romantic encounter with in the past had always been infatuated with him beforehand. Aisha hadn’t even known who he was.  As much as that bothered him immensely, because, how big a rock did she have to live under to not recognise him, it made their every conversation that much more interesting and precious. Aki was at the start of a careful experimentation process; of touching and feeling and stumbling in the dark but slowly and surely piecing together the puzzle that was Aisha Ione. That was an accomplishment he had never bothered he achieve with any of his previous … companions. Perhaps he needed to re-evaluate his romantic values—love at first sight wasn’t just an overly-unrealistic idea from fantasy tales after all.

Not that he was the type of agonise over his choice of clothing (or so he insisted), but Aki did believe in being presentable and after some debate, he’d settled on a navy blue jacket, bordered with dulled gold around the cuffs and under the concave convergence of the lapels was a sliver of pastel yellow. Adorning his feet and completing his ensemble of what was normal apparel for an eighteen-year-old were a pair of demure, grey hi-tops. After carefully constructing an expression of nonchalance—adding a finishing touch by resting his chin against his palm—he waited for the other blonde to enter. She was like a breeze, so cool, so refreshing and a small part of him wondered if she could blow right through him. Hah. Not in a lifetime. He’d never let her see the mass of paradoxes he was.

The gentle staccato of soles against the tiled floor rerouted his attention to the girl who was approaching his table. Dressed in blue with a suede jacket thrown on although her thick, golden curls, sprawled over one shoulder concealed a good section of her attire. Her first action was the grin at him, following which arrived kisses upon his cheeks. Tinges of red blossomed where her soft lips had met his smooth skin, not out of embarrassment but from the warmth that slowly spread through him. It seemed, just seeing her was enough to stir a feeling of warmth and joy in him. It had more to do than just her appearance—although she was attractive, indubitably, there was something vibrant and passionate about her that overpowered her physical beauty.

“Not long at all, Aisha-san,” he assured her quietly before stepping out of his seat and politely pulling the chair on the other side of the table for Aisha to sit down at. “I would agree with you,” he continued as he resumed his seat, earlier nonchalance drifting away and revealing an underlying mischief. “But you don’t strike me as the clichéd type at all … something most protagonists tend to be, don’t you think? Unless of course ... you've ever imagined yourself as the antagonist. They're never cliché, are they?”

“Don’t hesitate to eat whatever and however much you want, Aisha-san,” A smirk drew the young actor’s lips upwards, accompanied by a generous wave of his lily-pale hand. “Everything’s on my manager. Isn’t it great, eating on someone else’s wallet?” 

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760 // 15  //82

OOC: okay so i know this sucks but please bear with me ;______;