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solongsun 'Let's talk about the day you tried to kill yourself,' Dr Kimura said.
It was ten o'clock in the morning, and the window in Dr Kimura's office was open. Outside it was blustery but warm, the grounds outside the sanatorium spread all over with buttery sunshine; it was the first of May and the trees had taken on a more filled-out look, and there were birds and insects humming around, and Ruki was inside missing all of it. He lit his first cigarette of the day.
'Okay,' he mumbled.
'Can you tell me when you decided to do it? —How you made that decision?'
Ruki sighed, exhaling a long plume of greyish smoke. He had nothing against Kimura, but he hated these sessions. Even group therapy was preferable.
'I don't know exactly,' he said carefully. 'I was walking home, and I felt...dazed. Like I wasn't really there.'
'Like you were somewhere else?'
'Not exactly.' Ruki took a deep drag on his cigarette. 'More like I was a ghost, or something. Or like none of it was real.'
'Is that why you didn't take in the explosion? Because it didn't feel real?'
'I don't know. You're the doctor.'
'All right.' Kimura capped and uncapped his pen. 'Back to that day, then – you were walking home and nothing felt real.'
'...Yeah. Well. I kind of thought, why not?'
'Why not kill yourself?'
Ruki met his eyes. 'Yeah.'
'So did you think of any reasons not to do it?'
'I guess so.'
'But they weren't good enough reasons?'
'No.' Ruki sighed heavily, toying distractedly with his cigarette, 'I just...wasn't thinking right. I felt like I was going to die anyway. And I was worried that I wouldn't die all the way.' He frowned. 'I was worried that the part of me that was confused and hurt all the time would stay alive, and that my body would die but that part would keep on going, and it would just be that forever.'
There was a silence whilst Kimura wrote that down.
'So you decided to kill yourself...?'
'To make sure it was done properly. I guess.' Ruki pressed his fingertips against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, 'I know it sounds crazy.'
'I've heard crazier. What was making you feel so sad that day?'
Ruki shrugged. 'Getting kicked out of school.'
'Why?'
'Because...I remembered when I was so happy to get into that school. It was all I cared about; being good enough. And I loved what I was doing there and what I was making. So I was sad because that had gone away and I didn't know what I was doing any more.'
'Okay. Any other reasons? Any troubles with your parents, perhaps, or friends, or maybe a girlfriend?'
Ruki's mouth felt dry. He crushed out his cigarette and lit another one, stalling for time.
'My mentor dropped me,' he said at last, carefully.
'“Dropped”?'
'He said he wouldn't mentor me any more.'
'Hm. Was this a school program, or—?'
'No.' Ruki knuckled his forehead vigorously, 'No, it was just somebody I knew. I mean, we met through the school; he was a guest lecturer for a few weeks. I went to his talks, and then...I don't know, we got talking and I showed him my work, and he agreed to mentor me. He was an artist. Is an artist. A working one, I mean. Successful.'
Ruki closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, the sunlight stung.
'So how did that make you feel, exactly?'
'Sad. And...alone.' Ruki licked his dry lips, 'He was a friend, as well. He was kind of my only friend.'
'Why is that?'
'I guess because I spent all my time working with him. I didn't really have time to make any other friends.'
'What about friends before you met your mentor?'
Ruki half-smiled and shook his head. 'I don't really know what happened,' he confessed lowly. 'But I was...so busy. So in the end, they all just stopped calling.'
'So you were friends, but when he dropped you, he also stopped seeing you socially?'
'Yeah. He didn't think it would be appropriate.'
'Did you have a falling-out?'
'Sort of.'
'What about?'
Ruki fixed him with a look. 'Artistic differences,' he said flatly.
'You know...' Kimura leant forward conspiratorially, 'Maybe this is unrelated; I don't know. But I can't help you unless you tell me the whole truth, so I'm going to tell you something now, and if it's relevant then you can think about it; if it's not, you can forget you heard it. Deal?'
Ruki gave a short nod.
'All right,' the doctor said, speaking in a low but steady voice, 'Here it is: times have changed since your friend Aoi was committed here. The legislation and diagnostic criteria is all up in the air at the moment, and I don't imagine it'll be sorted out for a fair while. What I'm saying, though, is that people don't necessarily get committed for that kind of activity any more. You know, there are a lot of...civil rights kind of groups, campaigning to stop that kind of thing, and they're being listened to. I suppose my point is that confessing to that kind of – thing – well, it wouldn't necessarily be as damning as it would have been a few years ago, from a mental health and a...well, a commitment perspective.'
Ruki cleared his throat and leant forward in his chair.
'So you're saying that you agree Aoi isn't sick?'
Kimura's face was stiff as a mask. His eyes flicked towards the door, and he gave a slight nod.
'Then what the fuck are you doing keeping him here?'
'Ruki, it's not as simple as that.'
'Uh huh.' Ruki sat back, glowering, and raised his cigarette to his lips. 'Yeah, I bet it isn't. Have you told him that? Because I'm sure he'll understand.'
'Ruki. Aoi's problems are something for him to discuss with his therapist. We're talking about you at the moment.'
There was an icy silence, and Kimura cleared his throat. 'You know what I said,' he said lamely, 'If you don't tell me the whole truth, I can't help you.'
Ruki stared at him. Slowly, he extended his left forearm and pulled up his sleeve, exposing the fragile white skin of his wrist. Very deliberately, in one smooth movement, he pressed his lit cigarette down there and ground it out.
'You're right,' he said blankly. 'You can't help me.'
The music room was filled with life: when Ruki walked in, he was greeted by howls of laughter and the sight of Aoi and Uruha caught in an ungainly waltz, the cigarette in Aoi's mouth jutting up at a rakish angle.
'Ruki!' he said, his voice sounding funny because he had to keep his limps clamped shut around the filter, 'You're just in time. I'm giving Uruha a lesson. Guess what, he can't dance.'
'I can so,' Uruha argued. He turned to regard Ruki over his shoulder. 'How was Kimura?'
'Asshole,' Ruki said matter-of-factly. 'Huge, enormous asshole.'
Letting go of Uruha, Aoi plucked the cigarette out of his mouth. 'Yeah. What else is new?'
Ruki glanced around the room. 'Where's Kyo?'
'What? I don't know. I'm all for brotherly love when we're having a big jolly sing-song together, but you do know he's an actual psycho, right?'
'Oh, he is not,' Die scoffed, and Aoi raised an eyebrow.
'Yeah? I guess you must know why he's here then, right?'
Die shook his head, and Aoi exhaled smoke in his face.
'That's it,' he said triumphantly. 'Nobody knows. Yeah, he's a bit of a weirdo, but he's not exactly an Uruha-level weirdo – sorry Uru – or a Kai – sorry Kai – and he's not a schizo headcase like Shinya, and he's not trying to win first place in a stick-insect-lookalike contest like you are. Oh, and I can't imagine he tried to top himself, either,' Aoi added quickly, performing a deferential sort of half-bow in Ruki's direction.
'So?'
'So if he's not here to manage his symptoms, then he must have been put here. He must have done something. A bad thing,' Aoi said with relish.
'Oh what, like you, you mean?' Die said sarcastically, and Aoi rolled his eyes.
'I'm the exception to the rule,' he explained. 'Kyo's no homo.'
'How do you know?'
'Do you really think he'd be able to keep his hands off me if he was?' Aoi grinned, and Die gave in and laughed, shaking his head incredulously.
'You are a nutcase.'
'Yeah, and the best part of you ran down your father's leg, Die.'
'Sure it did, but look how much good stuff was left. Anyway...'
With the air of a magician pulling an extra large rabbit out of his hat, Die leant right over and retrieved a package from behind the chair he was sitting on, placing it in his lap. 'Now that you're here,' he told Ruki, 'I can finally open this. It's been a long time coming.'
'Yeah?' Ruki pulled up a chair, 'What is it?'
Die closed his eyes, as if scandalised by such a banal question. 'It's the big one,' he said in an agonised voice. 'Aoi made me wait for you, because he didn't want you to miss this life-changing experience. Nice he cares about you.'
'This is the one,' Aoi agreed, puffing excitedly on his cigarette, 'Come on, Die, get that paper off. I want to see it.'
Ruki could tell from the size and shape that it was an LP – either that or Die's parents had posted him a large floor tile – and he leant forward interestedly as Die tore into it. There was a split-second's pause, and Die gave a groan of ecstasy.
'It's – so – beautiful,' he gasped, holding it aloft. 'Drink it in.'
'No way,' Ruki said, fighting the urge to snatch it from him, 'Where did your parents get this?' Unable to channel his excitement into anything else, he lit up a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth.
'Import shop. They didn't want to, on account of Mr Jimi being a druggie and a general corrupter of the youth, but...' Die sighed rapturously, 'I managed to convince them it was for my therapeutic benefit.'
'Jimi Hendrix,' Aoi moaned. 'Are You Experienced. The big one. Put it on.'
The Strauss record that had been sitting on the player from the waltzing lesson was swiftly dispatched with; Die dropped the new record down gently and, with greatest reverence, lowered the needle. There was a momentary hiss, a scratch, and then—
'Oh god,' Aoi and Die groaned in unison. Oh god was just about right, in Ruki's opinion. It was a guitar, but not like he'd ever heard one before; it was strong, spare, almost aggressive; it was clear, bold, it was wonderful, and the voice was low and smoky like it'd been breathing in wildfires all its life. Aoi and Uruha and Kai were dancing violently, all thrusts and jumps and punches, and Die jumped up to stand on the arms of his recently vacated chair, and as one they both hollered – 'PURPLE HAZE, ALL IN MY BRAIN' – and Ruki couldn't stop himself from getting infected by their excitement, no matter how embittered he'd felt just a few moments ago; laughing, dancing himself, thrusting his hips around the room like his friends, punching the air, jumping up and down:
'SCUSE ME, WHILE I KISS THE SKY—'
There was a rude silence as the needle was taken off the record, and the men turned foolishly. There were two orderlies in their white uniforms, both looking grim; one had turned the music off, and the other walked over to Ruki, grabbed his forearm and pushed up his sleeve.
There was a small silence as the room at large took in the ashy, blistered burn on his arm.
'You did this to yourself?'
Ruki swallowed. 'It was an accident.'
'Dr Kimura says different. Says you got angry. That right?'
'I— hey!'
The lit cigarette was plucked from his fingers and ground out on the nearest surface, which was – Die gave an inarticulate angry yell – the record still in place on the player. There was a sudden, sharp odour of burning plastic, and Ruki found himself grasped roughly by the arms.
'No more cigarettes, I'm afraid,' the orderly said. 'And it's going to be the isolation room for you.'
It was strange, but the whole time he was being dragged down the corridor, Ruki's mind was oddly blank. It wasn't that he felt peaceful; anything but – he was dimly aware, when he checked back into his body, of fighting like a cornered animal against their heavy grips – it was more that he wasn't able to form a single coherent thought. He was too angry to let the ideas stick themselves together; his brain thrashed as hard as his body did, and the only sound that came out of his mouth were yells and an incoherent nonono when he felt his arms being forced into two sleeves, two sleeves without cuffs that wrapped around and belted at the back and pinned his arms across his body...
He felt every face on the ward turned towards him. The crowd from the music room had followed, their shouting an angry buzz of background noise, like bees; he noted the young nurse with the perm meeting his eyes and then averting her gaze; as he was pulled past Shinya and Kyo's room he saw the flash of movement as they turned to him. Shinya's face was empty; Kyo's grim. It was impossible to explain later – the words wouldn't seem to come – but there was something in Kyo's gaze that seemed to catch Ruki's panic squarely around the middle and hold it for a moment. It didn't restrain it, didn't push it away or pull it close; it just held it, just for a moment, and Ruki's shouts rasped into silence. There was something in his eyes that made him feel soothed. Something that seemed to say, it just is this way sometimes.
Just for a moment, and then he was tipped headlong, landing in a crumple on a mattress on the floor. The ceiling was high but the room narrow, barely big enough to fit the mattress; the walls were padded; the door reinforced.
Frantic, Ruki struggled to his knees, but he wasn't fast enough. The door closed, and it took the light with it.
Some hours later, Ruki awoke from a fitful sleep. He didn't know how long it had been. The dark was complete except for one very thin line coming from under the door; after a while of staring at it, that line seemed incredibly bright. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ruki turned away, moving to nestle in as best he could against the corner of two walls. He felt chilled; his teeth wouldn't stop chattering, and his mind flashed the same thoughts over and over like Morse code: oh god. Oh god.
What the fuck have I done?
How the fuck am I going to get out of here?
The seconds dragged around him, and the air felt thick. He could feel time becoming something languid and syrupy, like treacle, as the day oozed beyond its borders.
'Hey E. O.,' he whispered into the wall. Never mind that he had never once called him that to his face. 'Hey, I'm in a pretty big mess here.'
Silence.
'I only wanted to make all the bad stuff stop,' he said next, his voice sounding thin and cracked in his ears. His throat felt raw, and he wondered how loud he'd been yelling earlier. He knew he'd shouted for a long, long time once the door had been closed.
'The thing is,' he murmured painfully, 'I kind of need you here right now. I'm really scared and I need you. I need you to help me. But on the phone – you didn't ask me where I was – and I didn't tell you.'
He licked his dry lips, but his tongue was dry too. He felt the most incredible thirst.
'Whatcha doing?' he whispered lightly. 'Are you painting? Are you fucking around? Are you drinking or watching TV or reading a book in the bath?'
He swallowed, feeling the motion rip all along his throat.
'I miss you.'
He could feel that he was crying from the wetness on his face.
'I love you.'
His misery was so sudden, it felt as if some cruel hand had snatched at his insides and twisted. He curled in on himself, his shoulders shaking violently, his tears blotting into the fabric of his pants.
Then, just as suddenly, there was a scuffling from outside. After hours of silence it sounded very loud; Ruki turned and realised that it must have been coming from only just the other side of the door; a black shadow was blocking out some of the light. There was some more scuffling and a muffled clicking sound, and then a sound like a lot of clattery things being dropped on the floor, and an annoyed huff. Then, so improbably that Ruki had to shake his head to make sure his ears were still working—
What would you think if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song, and I'll try not to sing out of key
Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends...
Eagerly, and with difficulty, Ruki staggered up to his knees and managed to drag himself closer to the door. If he lay down on the mattress with his head right by the gap, he could hear the music more clearly; he could hear where someone's foot was tapping gently along to the rhythm.
What do I do when my love is away?
Does it worry you to be alone?
How do I feel by the end of the day?
Are you sad because you're on your own?
No, I get by with a little help from my friends...
Ruki let out a breath that he felt he'd been holding for a very long time. Tiredly, he smiled. He let his eyes fall shut, enjoying the music; enjoying it still even when the song ended and there was another click, and a muffled curse, and then another click, and then The Doors started up with Break on Through (to the Other Side). And then The Rolling Stones with Ruby Tuesday. And David Bowie with Space Oddity, and Ruki's heart lifted higher in his chest at the sound of a group of almost inaudible voices from the other side of the door, 'this is ground control to Major Tom...'
Despite himself, he laughed weakly, and he heard some excited mutterings from the other side of the door.
A voice from very close to the gap, 'Just hold on, Ruki. They have to let you out sometime. They can't keep you locked in there.'
In the dark, which away from the glowing gap seemed to grow as soft and expansive as the night sky, Ruki couldn't figure out whose voice it was. He didn't care. As he'd been telling Kimura earlier that he'd had no other friends, he hadn't thought of this: the fact that he had friends now, if nothing else.
He had no liberty, no life, no lover, not any more. But he did have friends. There were people walking on the earth and he may have had no connection with them, no blood and no mutual upbringing, but they still cared if he was happy or sad.
Bowie was replaced with Martha and the Vandellas, Dancing in the Street, and Ruki could hear the squeak of their shoes and see their shadows leap as they danced just behind the door. He closed his eyes tight and found he could picture it just as clearly as if he was able to look right at them; Uruha hanging back, embarrassed, Aoi dancing like Elvis, up on his toes with bent knees, grabbing Kai around the waist and twirling him; Die's long skinny limbs everywhere at once. The shadows moved and he heard a small thump as somebody dropped to their knees by the door; there was another click and the song changed: My Generation, by The Who, and Ruki licked his lips and tried his best to sing along with his shredded throat and dry mouth: 'people try to put us down...just because we get around...'
Click. The Beatles again, Twist and Shout. Click. You Really Got a Hold on Me. Click. Carry That Weight. Click. Happiness is a Warm Gun. Click. Revolution 1 got halfway through and then – Click. Nothing else.
Ruki could hear voices again, and he wriggled desperately against the door. He thought he could just about tell what was happening; he thought he could hear his friends being told to cut it out right now, that it was dinner time, to go and wash their hands and get to the table sharpish.
Sounds of protest. Ruki bit his cracked lips. Without the music playing the space seemed tiny and cold again, and he shivered. He heard the squeak of shoes against the polished floors as, one by one, his friends traipsed away down the corridor.
Pause. A silence that felt icy. Ruki waited. There was something said quietly, something short, and an even shorter reply, and one last set of footsteps.
Then, so close it felt like it was coming from inside his own head, a voice in Ruki's ear – and this voice he did recognise. Not quite cold, not quite warm. Hoarse. Soft. Kyo.
'It's okay,' he said in a low voice. 'I'm still here.'
Ruki closed his eyes and rolled onto his back, smiling gratefully up at the ceiling. He could hear the other man stirring through what he could only imagine was a pile of cassette tapes, hunting out a good one.
A pause, and then the voice again, seriously: 'Imagine you're outside. It helps.'
Click: Here Comes the Sun. Ruki grinned.
He didn't know how many cassette tapes they had between them, but the music continued ceaselessly through the evening. Time started to behave normally: averaging each song at three minutes long, Ruki could consider twenty or so of them to be another hour's passing, which made him feel calmer. Eventually, the sound started to distort and wind down, and Ruki guessed the batteries were going, but by then it was okay: he felt bolstered. His body ached and his arms felt like they had no blood in them at all, and he was hungry and tired and he needed to piss with some urgency, but it was okay. He felt curiously calm, floating in the darkness like a Buddha.
As if that was what the room had been waiting for, the door at last clicked open, and Ruki squinted against the sudden bright light.
'I have to piss,' he croaked. 'Get me out of this.'
He could barely hold still as he was unbuckled and released; he was shivering so much he was almost dancing on the spot. As soon as he was freed he raced to the bathroom, but when he walked out drying his hands, he noticed something he hadn't seen in his urgency: sprawled out over the floor, his back up against the wall next to the isolation room door and head lolling onto his shoulder, Kyo was fast asleep with a pile of tapes and a portable cassette player in his lap. Carefully, his legs still shaky from hours of being cramped into a strange position, Ruki squatted next to him and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. Kyo scowled.
'What,' he said flatly, not opening his eyes. Ruki smiled.
'Thanks,' he said. Kyo cracked an eye open.
'Think nothing of it,' he mumbled.
'It was nice of you. It was really nice of you. Staying with me.'
Kyo yawned widely into his face.
'You gave me the book. We're even.'
Ruki opened his mouth to argue, but Kyo just gave a loud fake snore. He rubbed his eyes and then, with surprising agility, almost jumped to his feet.
'You're being boring,' he said. 'Go to bed.'
And without another word, Kyo stalked off down the corridor to his room.
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Kyo was so sweet to sit with Ruki while he was in isolation. And once again, you made me cry with the whole "imagine you're outside" thing.
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