(To make it easier to understand,
Lamiroir had been held in a hostage situation in the opera house, while both he
and Machi broke in her residence. The both then argued, followed with a
high-noon sorta thing.)
Excerpt from Chapter 25 :
XXV : ...Who needs
enemies?
-
The cheeseburger tastes like dust Ð absolutely like dust.
When you've left it to face the woes of nature for almost an entire hour,
that's what a cheeseburger tastes like, sawdust. The patty? It's gruesome. It
tastes like rubber duckies you've put into a freezer, then rip out and slapped
into a round shape and deep fried. Not that Nail's ever done anything like that
as an experiment Ð but you get what he means, don't you? Yes, it tastes like
absolute bullshit.
He unwrapped the rest of the bullshit and puts it into his
mouth, simply because he's hungry. He's been walking for hours, and he thought
he might finally be able to sit down, and wipe grimy hands off his pants Ð but
don't you know it? Call comes in, and he's rushin' n rushin' around again.
Lamiroir's residence and it being broken into wasn't the
icing on the cake of his demise. The absolutely lovely cream flowers for his
demise is a report from a concerned civillian. She Ð the woman Ð hDs seen a
couple of brats on the street. Except they're not brats Ð they're one grown man
and one short guy, pointing guns at each other and shooting people like the
lovely romantic apocalypses.
So now he's eating his bullshit inside the broken window Ð
looking at bullshit, and tasting bullshit. It's absolutely amazing, and you
should try it sometimes too.
"So you saw the man and the kid shooting at each
other?" He asked her for the umpteenth time. His forehead is puckered in a
little frown, and he looks worried enough to pass off as a concerned policeman.
She nodded, pleased that he is paying such attention to her.
"Yes, that's what I said. I was walking by Ð just going
down to Deluca's for some nice, fresh caviar for my dinner party
tonight..."
Nail nodded magnanimously. "Only the best for the best
kinds of ladies, of course."
She smiled and fluttered lightly, turning just the loveliest
shade of pink. "Why yes, well, I was on my way Ð and it's such nice
weather, I love rainy nights you know Ð and I went for a walk. That's when I
saw them Ð a man and a child holding guns at each other."
"You were alone outside this time of the night?"
Nail asked, frowning. Ladies like these never are. They either go out flanked
by bodyguards on each side or not at all Ð and if it was true she left alone,
then she's far more suspicious than any shooter on the street. At this, she
fluttered again and shook her head vehemently, as though affronted by the very
idea of leaving the house without a battalion of soldiers, the very idea being
laughable and sordid.
"Oh no, goodness. Never. No, no, my maid Christina and
my driver Abel Ð they are with me, yes? I wasn't in danger at all."
"It would break my heart if you were, I assure
you," He murmured in response, and she simpered. She had to be fifty one
if she was one. Somehow he doubted that if she had been the one to witness it
firsthand. She would be calling for her smelling salts right about now.
"And you were the one to see this...?"
"Why, of course," She replied, primly.
"Very good," He drawled, nodding. "How did
they look like then?"
"How did they--?" The woman blinked foolishly, as
if it has never crossed her mind that he would ask her what they looked like.
"Well, they look like common thugs! They must be you know, to do something
as hideous as breaking into a lady's abode like this."
"Of course," He allowed. "But you see, we're
trying to put together a profile for an extremely hideous criminal Ð the vilest
sort. And we would greatly appreciate any information on them you can give
us."
She blinked. "I ah-- Christina!" She called, and
her maid materialized behind her. "It slips my mind, don't you know. How
did they look like?" She snapped.
The maid blinked, and Nail smiled at her, all charms on.
This must be the one who had seen, and the one whose credit this bitch has taken
for herself.
"I ah...I think they looked like a black hair man and
um...A little blonde boy."
Nail stopped cold. He took one breath, then two. Then he
opened his mouth and asked. "What did you just say?"
"A-a black hair man Ð he's tall and another little
golden haired boy."
A black hair man. A small blonde boy. Damn.
Nail swore, and immediately stomped out of the room,
shouting at the top of his lungs for the policemen in the place to assemble
immediately. If it was Daryan and Machi for real Ð and they had been pointing
guns at each other, one of them would be dead sometime around now.
The police couldn't have arrived more than a minute after
the actual criminals left Ð the TV had still been wheezing with that slight
tinge that you hear when it's just been shut off when they arrived Ð but if
they were, and he's just saying they are Ð it would be a serious thing Ð and
even Nail, even he, couldn't ignore something like that.
"W-Wait! What about me?" The woman asked.
He stopped long enough to pry her hand off his elbow and
smiled at her. "What about you? Surely you do not wish for a reward,
madame? I hardly think the police has a reward worthy of you."
"W-Well, of course not! But surely Ð I am helping in
bringing down a criminal against justice, aren't I? Surely, the press must be
notified..."
Ah, that's what we have eh? An attention whore Ð of the
ladylike sort. Throw charity parties. Throw dinner parties for the sake of
skinny children in
"What you are doing, my dear woman Ð is obstructing
justice. I suggest you return to your dinner party Ð your guests must be
waiting."
He pried the arm completely off and let it dangled uselessly
under her shocked face, and turned around.
Bitch.
But he would never say it to her face of course. Nail never
says anything to anyone's face, not even when he feels like it. People can be
railing and shouting at him and he will be there, smiling his goddamned teeth
out in their face Ð the exact opposite of what his mates would do. He never
shouts, never rails, only keeping it all inside in a bottle labeled EMOTION,
and when it cracks one day, everything will spill all over the side and he'll
be one of those people who run to schools and burn it whole because he happened
to hate that place.
Nail stomped down the stairs, shouting at the top of his
lungs for the police to gather. They were well trained pooches though Ð Kazaf
must have potty them well enough Ð and before long they were gathered in a neat
stack under the stairs, waiting for his instructions.
"The people who broke into this house is Daryan
Crescend and Machi Tobaye," He growled at them. That sparked an immediate
reaction, and they turned to one another to confirm if the Machi Tobaye he was
talking about is indeed the same one on the wanted poster down and back in the
PD.
"Is it the two escaped...?"
"Yes, it is Ð at least, I believe so." He nodded
in the affirmative. "Come on people, move it, alright? Or I'm going to
pity the guy who has to tell Kazaf we were failure most epic. That person being
of course..." He pointed at himself, grinning. "...Me. So help a guy
out, won't you?"
He grins at them, and they grin back at him. Sure, why not?
Help a guy out Ð it's not their hides at stake here Ð it's his. Now they
suddenly feel a lot better about their situation Ð Nail Colfin's offering to be
the shield when it comes to the boss after all. He's going to take all the
shots for them, he's asking them for a favour. Help a guy out, why not? Nail's
charisma is second only to his poundmasters, Klavier Gavin and Daryan Crescend.
They shuffled out of the house in a single file Ð and the
moment they disappeared through the crack that was the door, Nail followed
after them, standing outside the house with both hands jammed into his filthy
coat pockets. The air is the air after rain. It's the air that chills and
soothes and is quiet and beautiful and sublime all the same, and the artist in
Nail is quick to realize that.
He should probably get a move on. Get out there, join the
little people as a little person himself and find Daryan Crescend. Then he
should arrest him, and put an end, put the final nail into The Gavinners'
coffin.
Drag Daryan back into the PD, and betray a friend, just like
Klavier did. Klavier and Daryan had bred Neil Colfin, that little awestruck
dork of an English boy from
He dragged in a ragged breath and got into the car, turning
it on and just staring into the windshield as though it would yield him the
greater mysteries of life. There are none, and there is nothing to see, but a
moment later the receiver cracked with familiar static.
"Sir! Sir!"
"What is it?" He asked.
"I think we've apprehended the burglars who broke into
Lamiroir's residence, sir." Then the man gave him instructions, and the
engine purred itself into lazy motion.
"Thank goodness," Nail returned. "Just keep
them there for a moment Ð I'll be right there."
The car purred again, and down the road it went. He started
humming as he went.
The itsy-bitsy spider
Climbed up the water spout
Down came the rain
And washed the spider out
Out came the sun
And dried up all the rain
And the itsy-bitsy spider
Climbed up the spout again
Two simultaneous screams pierce the air of the night like a
knife through the sticky substance that is night air. There is a shot, or maybe
there is two Ð but that is covered up by the sound of two voices intertwined
with each other as they screamed.
Machi's shoulder felt like an Olympian had reached down and
wrenched it right out of it's socket Ð had twisted his arm all the way
backwards and then let it swing forwards like a limp marionette's arm, back and
forth, back and forth. That wasn't what actually happened, but it might as well
for all the pain it caused him. What was it that the police had said when they
took a similar gun away from Mr. LeTouse's murder? Oh right, it'll shatter the
shoulder bones right out of an amateur's arm Ð too bad he never thought about
it before he shot him.
Daryan on the hand screamed for a way more obvious reason Ð
there's now a hole in his leg the size of a fist, or maybe that is the night at
it again, playing tricks on them like a naughty child.
Either way, the smell of blood immediately wafted up into
the air, a sticky, drippity-drip smell that smelled all at once like seafood
and prawns and garlic and onions and fish all at the same time. Daryan
collapsed, still screaming Ð and clutching his leg like it's not connected to
his body and it's just something he decided to hold on to for a little while Ð
screaming and screaming all the while.
Machi had no idea how much it hurt being shot with this kind
of guns, but it must hurt pretty damned much if it had the usually stoic Daryan
screaming like a girl.
Behind them, red eyes appeared, red eyes that swiftly turned
into yellow as the rats approach them by the swarms. The GO light had been
flicked on for all of them, the smell of the blood in the air something that
they can understand Ð and despite fear for the infinitely bigger creatures,
they started trickling out of the dumpster. First by ones and twos, and then in
pairs of threes, and then soon, the cracks revealed an entire family of glowing
yellow eyes that's just waiting for these two to decompose and they can
practice their jaw strength on them.
Machi, drained of all strength, collapsed against something.
It's wet and squelchy and stinks like crap Ð but his shoulders hurt Ð they feel
like they've been broken in five places Ð and he doesn't even have the strength
to raise an arm to beat off the rats. The two of them just sat there in the
midst of the rats, probably gaining five kinds of diseases in the process or
whatever Ð but it's not like they can do anything about it.
Machi doesn't even have the strength to run, or to shoot
another bullet. Daryan, needless to say, isn't going anywhere soon. Even if he
doesn't bleed to death, infection is going to set in and that leg's gonna go Ð
simple as that.
"K-Kid," Daryan managed to gasp out after a while.
"Die," Machi spat back.
"Shut up and listen for a second," He snapped
back. And Machi did Ð and what he heard made him smile. Footsteps over the
distance, over the horizon, muffled by seven blocks of brick floors, but still
there nonetheless. Heels clicking against the tar and clocking it's mark onto
it Ð someone was coming, there's no mistake about it. Machi broke into a smile.
Someone...Someone. Someone that he can get to send him back to prison, and
maybe convince to let Daryan just lie there and die.
The hole in the leg might be a little hard to explain, but
hey Ð Machi has a pretty decent English vocabulary now. He'll just tell whoever
it is that Daryan tried to shoot him, but accidentally pointed the gun down and
took his own leg out or something. It's almost the truth after all Ð a stretch
of it, but no great stretch.
In the darkness, they sat there listening to the orchestra
that is their own breathing as they wait for the person to arrive. The person
did Ð perhaps following the trail of the ugly smell Ð and soon the light is
blocked out by the silhouette of a man's figure in a police uniform. Machi
almost burst into tears right there at the familiar sight of the dark blue
uniform of the man.
Finally! Finally, someone is going to send him back, where
he can sit out the rest of his time and go back to the siren. He's had enough
of other people and he's had enough of company Ð he just wants a solitary cell
and never come out of it.
"Ah!" The officer's eyes widened at the sight of
the two of them Ð and well he should because they must make a miserable sight.
Even street hobos don't look as bad as they do, he was sure. He turned around
to speak to someone. "Are these two the ones you have seen earlier?"
Another figure Ð a female one that Machi recognized from the
street earlier, a passing lady that had seen Daryan tearing after him like a
shooting torpedo Ð nodded. The officer turned back at them, and this time he
wasn't surprised anymore, he was just glowering at them.
"Well, what have we here then, eh? Shooting in the
middle of the street? Indecent!"
Daryan couldn't even summoned up the energy to snap back at
the man or to tell him where to put that attitude of his. Not that the officer
would care, all he did was to retrieve the speaker-thing clipped to the front
of his shirt and crackled into it. "Sir? Sir?"
The thing faintly cracked with static, before a voice
answered. "What is it?"
"I think we've apprehended the burglars who broke into
Lamiroir's residence, sir."
There was a muffled sound in the speaker, where static
blossomed like someone had sighed into it before the reply came. "Right.
I'll be right there."
Then the static sound was gone and the four of them were
left in an eerily silent alleyway with nothing to do but to wait for the man,
whoever it was to arrive. The lady made some sort of mumbled excuse that no one
could hear and disappeared off into the corner. The officer looked like he
wanted to do the same too Ð he was obviously tired, you can see the way his
eyes sort of sink in like rubber you've pressed Ð but it's his job to deal with
people like Daryan Crescend and Machi, so with a sigh, he retrieved handcuffs
from his pocket before clipping them back again.
"No point cuffing you guys," He muttered under his
breath, more to himself than anyone else. 'You guys don't look like you're
going anywhere any time soon."
Daryan just shot Machi an irritated look Ð as though to say
'Now look what you've done' and Machi just shot back a defiant look at him.
Daryan was the one who started it. So what if it's childish? Daryan's fault.
It's all Daryan's fault and Machi felt like stamping his feet and screaming in
rage just to get the point across.
His shoulders were regaining some of it's feeling now, not
so numb anymore. Now it just felt like a shoulder you've been sleeping on for a
very long time, pins and needles and all Ð and if he was Daryan or he's
determined to escape, he could have raised the gun to shoot the officer dead.
He didn't though, and only raised one hand to slap away a
couple of rats who decided to be too advance in their amorous attempts to take
a bite out of Machi's legs.
The movement made the officer nervous and he fidgeted.
"Stop that," He snapped. "Stop moving around, or I swear I'll
cuff you Ð I will."
That cracked Machi up, and he giggled a little. What a thing
to tell someone who's just got shot at, Mister. The giggle turned into a
quasi-hysterical laughter, and from there on just rolled into a gale of
post-adrenaline laughter. It got to Daryan too, the sheer ridiculous notion
that handcuffs were enough to scare them Ð and soon the two of them were
laughing like mad pirates in a booty cave, cackling wildly and disconcerting
the police officer.
"S-Stop that! The both of you! You're under arrest Ð
can't you understand that?"
Daryan raised an uninjured hand and wiped at his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah Ð I understand alright. Being under arrest doesn't mean I'm
not allowed to laugh right? Or had the rules changed since the last time I was
in?"
The man didn't answer, just looked nervously down the street
to await his savior. Daryan shrugged his unhurt shoulder Ð and settled back
into his place against the brick wall. Machi looked at him, then zoned his eyes
onto Daryan's shirt jacket Ð where he had seen the man put the Stork doll into
earlier. Daryan caught his glance, and smirked back at him.
"Don't worry Ð birdie's fine," He announced.
"What was that?" The officer snapped, turning back
around to glare at them. Daryan merely leveled an innocent gaze at him.
"Pardon?" He raised his eyebrows. "Talking
isn't allowed too, officer?"
The officer gnashed his teeth and spat something
indecipherable at him, returning to look at the corner of the street, fidgeting
from foot to foot. He didn't have long to wait, because a moment later another
set of footsteps could be heard from the distance, clipping in precise steps of
one every half a second and following it Ð another silhouette.
This time the two of them nearly blocked out all light
coming in from the streets, and it took Machi almost an entire minute to
realize that Ð
"You!" He cried at the blue haired man. He could
recognize that look everywhere he went Ð after all, hadn't Machi performed
alongside these bunch of people? This is great Ð just great. Just what he needs
to complete is already terrible day Ð Nail Colfin, coming down to rescue his
friend and letting him go. Just great!
"Ah...Goodness!" The man exclaimed, and as he
stepped closer, the lights from the streets were no longer so completely shut
off, and Machi could see that his hair had turned from it's usual blue all the
way back to brown. For a moment, the conviction that he was indeed the same guy
who had performed with him wavered a little, but that too was banished as he
knelt down beside Daryan, worry etched over every line of his face.
"God, Daryan Ð are you okay?" He asked, frowning
at Daryan. He wrapped on arm around Daryan's back, and Daryan winced where his
arm touched his shoulder. Nail took it as a rejection though, and unhand him.
"Jesus, Nail Ð cut that out Ð we're not the boys'
scout. And damn it, my shoulder's dead."
Nail scowled at his shoulder. "What's wrong with
it?" He answered it himself by leaning forward and examining the neat
holes in Daryan's shoulder. "God Ð are those holes? You've been fucking
dinosaurs with your shoulder or something?"
Daryan let out a harsh bark of laughter at that, and Machi
felt like shooting someone again all of a sudden Ð the newcomer. Or maybe it
was more like an urge to cup his mouth and shut 'Look! Machi here too!' at him
Ð because the man seems to have forgotten that there are two injured people in
the alley, not one. In fact, if the officer hadn't reminded the man of him, he
rather thought the man would go on fretting about Daryan forever.
Instead, he stood up and gave Machi a cursory glance Ð
grinning widely now that he was sure his friend isn't in mortal danger. He
squatted down beside Machi and gave him a hand up too, wrapping an arm around
Machi to drag his lifeless shoulders up from where they were kind of being
gnawed at rats.
"You okay, kid?"
Machi gave him an irritated nod.
"Don't know if you remember me," He offered,
putting Machi up on an overturned cardboard box gently. "But I'm Nail
Colfin Ð back from the show with the Siren Ð you remember me?"
Machi nodded again, the irritation ebbing away slightly as
Nail prodded him all around to see if he was alright. At least this is a guy
who can almost pass for normal Ð now that his hair colour has gone away. The
most normal one out of the whole group in fact, from the looks of it.
When Nail was done checking him, he slapped him lightly on
the back and grinned, announcing to the his friend and the officer that the kid
is "A-Grade Fine, honey."
"That's awesome. How about a hand up over here,
dumbass?" He looked pointedly at the bunch of rats gathered around his
wound, determined to kill him with the power of Gangrene and to take a bite out
of his leg. Nail shuffled sheepishly and went over to his friend's side
instead.
"You're the one who told me to fuck off," He
complained.
"I told you to stop trying to hug me Ð there's a
fucking difference, you moron."
Nail replied with a happy smile and wrapped an arm around
Daryan again Ð careful not to touch the wound on his shoulder or exert too much
pressure on that leg of his Ð and carried him up until he could lean over on
the dumpster. Then he slammed the thing down, removed his white coat and
dirtied the whole thing by wiping the top of it clean and pushing Daryan onto
it as a seat. "There you go, leg up."
Daryan raised his leg obediently, and Nail placed him onto
the thing Ð which seemed like a miracle to Machi because Daryan is almost half
a head taller than Nail and is leaning all his weight on him. When he was done,
he looked over at the officer.
"Tell the others they can go home Ð but get an
ambulance to come around, 'right? These guys need more than a couple of
bandages can do for them."
The cop nodded, and hurried off around the corner to make
the calls. The light immediately returned to the alleyway without him blocking
Machi, and a feeling almost like hope blossomed in Machi. Machi is going back Ð
finally Ð and this guy, despite being Daryan's friend doesn't seem like he's
keen on letting Daryan go, or he would have called off the other man. The man
looked like he was ready to eat the grim off his hands if Nail would just allow
it. It must be something about every member of The Gavinners that everyone
seems to adore them readily. Wish the same could be said for Machi.
Nail uncapped a bottle and stuck a fluffy stick down it,
rolling it about before retrieving it from the yellow liquid. "Okay, off
with the jacket, Daryan."
At this, Daryan seized up defensively, and when Nail reached
down to peel apart his jacket, he swept his hands away. "No," He
snapped. "You're not touching my jacket."
"Daryan," Nail said, looking displeased. "If
we don't do something about that wound, Necrosis is going to set in. Is that
really what you want, to have one arm for the rest of your life?"
"I can live with Necro-whatever if it means you're not
going to have to touch me."
"Daryan," He said again, clicking his tongue
exasperatedly. "I haven't turn gay in the short period of time that you
have left, so if you please Ð shoulder." He looked over at Machi and
grinned, including him in the conversation. "Tell this man here he won't
look handsome with only one shoulder, will you?"
Machi looked at Daryan, and said Ð utterly deadpanned.
"Mr. Crescend will look...Fail without one hand."
"Shut up," Daryan growled. "You're the one
who shot me, you bread brain."
Machi grinned Ð utterly fearless now that Daryan is under
the police's thumb. He's saved Ð that's the thing that keeps going through his
head. He's saved and he's saved and he's saved, and nothing else matters very
much nor very significantly. Even the siren is no longer first and foremost on
his mind Ð because now that Daryan is under arrest, he won't be hurting Machi Ð
or indeed Lamiroir any longer. They're safe for good.
"You were the one who shot him?" Nail asked him,
looking alarmed. Machi shrugged and carefully, so as not to give off the
impression that he shoots people on his spare time for fun, nodded.
"He was...First to shoot," He explained. That seem
believable enough, and Nail nodded sympathetically. Who in their right mind
after all, would believe Machi shot Daryan without him provoking the kid first?
"Daryan," He admonished. "Really, man Ð
shooting at kids now? Next thing you know you'll be down in
Daryan screamed.
"--The FUCK is wrong with you, you sadistic
bastard!?" He howled, shoving Nail backwards. He stumbled in the
direction, grinning like he had just won the lottery.
"You know your shoulder needs to be disinfected Ð I'm a
scientist and I say so."
"You're a goddamned Forensic's Ð save your disinfectant
when I'm dead, you fag."
Nail laughed and pocketed his bottle, and Machi thought they
were acting like they just met each other after a drunken party. That seems a
little...Off, somewhat to the boy. After all, shouldn't Mr. Colfin be a little
more estranged from the guy who killed an Interpol agent?
He recalled that the man was extremely friendly during the
concert Ð but there's a fine line between friendly and just plain callous, and
he's treading on it at the moment. But then again...Machi shrugged. Who was he
to offer wise opinions about trust and friendship and all those things? The one
friendship he had apparently cultivated on this piece of ground is a
psychopathic sadistic bastard, and the almost-friend he had is sitting on a
dumpster beside him now, with a shoulder he shot. Not exactly a wonderful
platform on to base a thousand years of friendship.
Instead, he smiled his best pretty smile at Nail. "Mr.
Colfin Ð are we going back to jail?"
Are we going to have tea or
biscuits? His tone might as well implied. Nail
looked over, startled out of a temporary reverie where he had been staring at
Daryan's bleeding shoulder.
"Yes, I suppose you will. No telling though Ð that's up
to Kaz Ð (You know Kaz, kid? He's a sorry guy who's not much taller than you,
but pretty nice chap.) and until then, we'll be keeping you in the small jails.
The CSP's gonna have to wait until the chief drags himself from the four-eye
expedition."
Daryan snapped his head up. "They haven't gotten
Kristoph?"
Nail shook his head.
"By damn," He returned, looking in awe.
"Can't believe the old man's got it better than me."
"Heh." Nail shrugged noncommittally. His phone
rang, blasting out a good old tune from Billy Joel Ð and he raised it to his
ear. "Hello? Colfin speaking.
The phone was loud enough that in the quiet confines of the
place, Machi and Daryan could hear it. Not much, but it was a faint buzzing
voice, like a mosquito dancing about beside your ear, making those fluttery
noises that seem so impossibly loud on something so impossibly small. There's
no mistake though Ð it's someone in authority, and Machi guessed it was that
kid Nail just mentioned Ð the one not that much taller than Machi.
"Uh-huh..." Nail muttered into the phone, his
expression darkening at whatever he was hearing. "Right. Right you are Ð
look, I'll get you the full report on Monday, alright? So bugger off for a bit,
okay? Yes, right on your desk. Assuming you haven't finished with the other
legendary Pokemon by then."
The phone clicked, and Nail pocketed it. When he returned
his gaze towards Daryan, he looked almost...Shame faced. "Sorry," He
mumbled.
Daryan merely grinned though. "Aw, what's with the long
face? It's you job. Trust me Ð if our roles were reversed, I'll do the same in
a thrice, and it'll hurt a whole bitch more when I stab you with cotton
too."
Nail didn't answer, merely shrugging. A moment later, the
officer ran back towards the alley, and the sounds of the siren of the
ambulance could be heard.
"The ambulance is coming, sir."
"Yeah...We can hear that." Nail shrugged
helplessly, then turned around and walking towards Machi, gave him a hand up.
By now though, Machi's shoulders had completely regained feeling Ð and that
feeling came in a variety of pain and more pain. Something must have cracked
with the force of the gun Ð not that his shoulders were even that sturdy in the
first place Ð and now it felt like someone had taken to his shoulders the way
people took to crabs when they eat them Ð they smash them all over with
hammers.
Nail noted the sawed-off on the ground, picked it up and
calmly deposited it into a plastic bag and labeled it with a large yellow '1'.
When Machi fidgeted though, he reassured him with a
sympathetic glance before sealing the bag up. "Don't worry," He said.
"We're not going to press charges against you for shooting Daryan Ð not
for self defense, like this is." Then under his breath, almost too quick
for Machi to catch : "Unless our chief decides to go for a triple
kill."
The bag sealed, he deposited it into the sling bag hanging
around him. With the new addition, it looked ready to burst at it's seams Ð and
Machi darted a nervous glance at it in case it goes off when Nail stepped
beside him and carried him up easily.
"Don't worry Ð I know what I'm doing."
The other officer righted Daryan Ð and right on cue, the
ambulance drifted in, looking very solemn, very white, and very red, it's siren
like a malevolent eye. Machi darted another nervous glance at it, but Nail
patted him on his head.
"Relax, kid Ð everything's alright now, mm?" He
winked at Machi, and Machi nodded, looking at the sullen Daryan. Everything's
alright now. He's going back to jail, and everything's alright. The irony of
the statement was lost on him as he limped towards the ambulance with Nail
helping him along, just glad to be able to see a reassuring jail cell at last.
That night, he would sleep well.
Machi's white figure was curled up in the cell next to
Daryan's. There was a debate earlier about whether it would be wise to place
the kid next to his cell, but in the end Nail won with fair and simple logic.
There aren't any other cells. Nada, zilch and zippo. They're either taken by
drunkards in for the night for misdemeanours, or they're just plain unusable.
Daryan slumped against the wall of his cell, and swung his
leg onto the bed and placed one of them on it. This is the one with the hole in
it, and he wanted it out of harm's way Ð by the time he gets sent back to the
CSP, he wants the thing fresh and lovely, which seems like a decent sort of
hope, considering that even though now there's a pretty nice double-scrabble chip
size hole in it, it didn't hurt so badly after the ambulance guys applied the
anesthetic to it.
The stork doll's still around Ð pressed against him and
concealed under his bulky jacket Ð which he insisted on continuously having on,
even though fresher prison wear had been prepared for him. Daryan had persuaded
Nail that there was absolutely no way, under no condition is he wearing hideous
orange, and Nail Ð nice, pushover Nail Ð had agreed to it.
When hasn't Nail agreed to something anyway? He's got absolutely
shit for backbone Ð Klavier and him, even Zydaline...There's never a moment
where they can't play him like a violin. He's always the easiest to fool, and
whenever you're in trouble, when you've been dragged in by the city counsel
because you happened to be shouting at the top of your lungs in city square in
the dead of the night, then baby? You don't dial
Like right now, Nail is still grinning, even though Daryan's
been arrested and sent to jail. Not even a malicious grin or a sorry sad smile
Ð it's a grin Ð like he's just happy to see his old buddy Daryan. He'd let
himself into the cell, and perched himself onto the opposite bunk bed, the
unoccupied one.
"So, how's the leg holding up?"
"It's my shoulder you should be worrying about,"
Daryan retorted. And it was true. The leg's faded to this dull thud of pain,
like a distant drum going thump thump thump far far away, but the shoulder
still hurts like shit. Probably Nail's fault Ð whatever he had applied onto it
earlier sure hadn't came with anesthetic Ð that's for sure. "Hurts like
bloody shit," He told him.
Nail shrugged and handed him a magazine. "You want
this? Something to kill time with."
"Why don't you hand me that sawed-off you took? I'm
pretty sure that the thing would 'kill' a lot easier than a magazine."
He shrugged again and peered over his shoulder and through
the bars, where Machi had fallen asleep, curled against his own bunk bed with
his head firmly pointed towards Daryan when he had still been awake. Maybe he
was afraid that Nail would hand Daryan a gun while he slept and allow him to
shoot him dead Ð which was partially possible, at least. There's nothing on
earth Daryan can't persuade Nail into doing for him.
"No thanks," Nail retorted sarcastically. "I
don't want a death on my hands Ð too hard to get out of the walls. You wanna
shoot him, do it on your own spare time."
Alright, maybe not. But pretty much everything else.
Daryan yawned and rolled over, lying down with hands on his
stomach and the magazine held between it. It's some kind of tabloid, and it's
busy detailing how pretty the Borginian bitch is. Something about the fact that
she's blind, how it got revealed...Yadda yadda. It's just five hundred pages of
praises for the woman anyway. There's about one tiny column Ð barely two inches
wide and two inches tall Ð about them, The Gavinners, and it was only some
distant mention of it through some other rock star singing them praises.
He paused at that particular column, and stared at that
little hole on the page. Nail noticed though, and quirked his lips a little.
"Sad, huh? That's what we've been reduced to Ð a tiny
four square inches on page thirty two."
"Damn sad-making. I need an obituary for us,"
Daryan retorted, and calmly and determinedly flipped to the next page. He
doesn't want to think. About the band, or about any of the good times they had
had. It's a good strategy, letting it slip off like that. Most days he's too
busy mapping out his own life to think about a has-been like themselves, but
it's pretty hard to ignore a bull's backside when it's staring at you like this
in the face.
"Perhaps we should," Nail announced, not letting
the subject drop. "Did you know our ratings dropped on the popularity
scale from first to sixth in a matter of weeks?"
"I thought Klavier's the sociopath, not you."
"Nah. Enrich sent me the statistics Ð and it struck
pretty hard below the belt. We spent years climbing that high man Ð
years." A pause. Then, "And did you know our stuff's completely
dropped out of the top 40's?"
"Uh-huh." Daryan wished Nail would shut up about
the band. Hello, doesn't it hurt enough already, that he's in jail and not out
there, performing throughout the night with the help of a million cans of
coffee? "Can we talk about something else? Because I couldn't care less
what happened to the band, or the fucking ratings."
Nail shrugged, and decided to let the subject drop. It did,
and it did with a plop, falling flat on it's face and making the atmosphere
thick with sheer awkwardness.
Daryan continued reading the magazine, but he was aware of
Nail's gaze, drilling holes into the wall.
"How's Enrich and Zee?" He asked at last.
"Zee's Zee." Nail said with a shrug. "He
finds consolation where people run off screaming. Hotshot undercover and all
that."
Don't they know it. Zee's Zee. Always involved with the
underworld. There's a joke amongst the soldiers of the PD that says Zee's five
parts criminal and one part police Ð and they've nailed it on the head. He
spends more time with the underworld types than he did with the good guys.
"And Enrich...?"
"Enrich's Enrich." Nail replied, but his voice had
taken a stony quality. Enrich's always been Nail's favourite buddy out of the
gang Ð maybe because he doesn't play as many pranks or get into as much
trouble. Then again, Enrich doesn't get into anything at all. About the only
guy Daryan's ever seen who's less fun than Kristoph is.
"What, he's upset?"
"Enrich's Enrich, he's out of the country." He
repeated again Ð and this is his Final Tone. The
you're-not-going-to-fuck-around-anymore tone. The kind that he uses when one or
more of them's been getting into trouble and he's tired of bailing them out of
it by virtue of default because the rest of them is too stone drunk, and
because Enrich is too much of a clam and doesn't have the balls to get them out
of trouble. Yeah, it's that fucking superior tone of his Ð and Daryan doesn't
like it.
So he changed the topic instead.
"What about our lovely prosecutor?"
"Oh, Klavier," Nail laughed, leaning back against
the bars that framed one side of the bed with one knee up. "He's his usual
self. He broke up the band and bounced off right as good as anything ever was Ð
got himself a boyfriend, and now lives in la-la land. Dreamiest prosecutor I've
ever seen."
"Heh. He was pretty like rubber. Nothing sticks,
everything bounces. Though..." Daryan frowned. Something seems to be
forgotten, like... "Wait Ð wasn't he involved with some kind of nude shit?
Nude photos of him in the press. How can he still be totally Britney with
that?"
Nail shrugged, and did a perfect imitation of him.
"Ach, it happens to the best of us, ja?"
Daryan nodded, and stared up at the underside of the above
bed blankly. Made sense Ð it's Klavier we're talking about here after all. If
he's any sunnier than he was, Daryan would have accused him of being a girl.
Even being gay doesn't cut it as an explanation for being so...Goddamned
bubbly. Well, Klavier's fine Ð glad to know. Daryan isn't Ð glad to know that
too.
"What about you?"
Nail's smile froze for just a barely perceptible second Ð
but that it did. Then it went back to normal, like a hospital machine that had
forgotten to beat for a moment. "Me? I'm fine. What can I say Ð I'm still
in Forensic's, and there's that detective that's obsessed about science that's
pretty cute Ð that about sums of my life, hmm? Doesn't get any better than
that, right?"
And that was it Ð that smile was the thing that did it. Like
the Big Dipper, or maybe the southern cross, everything just made sense all at
once. A puzzle Daryan's been puzzling over in his spare time for the past week
or so, just clicking into place like a magical hand had come down to right his
rubic cube.
It's like a game of reason Ð when you can't figure out the
solution through thinking, then you eliminate the answers until you get the
right one. It's like an ABCD question, an objective test. Any CA guy can tell
you how to do it. It's like a game of 'Three out of five is lying'. You eventually
get the answer if you've guessed enough. Eliminated enough. Daryan sat up and
licked his lips.
"Nail?"
Nail looked up, and he's looking friendly again. He's Nail.
Lovely Nail. Guy you can always count on, but he's got no backbone. Mr. Nice.
You need something? Fetch, Nail, fetch. He's the best friend you've had since
grade school, the pet who will always be there when you've just gotten dumped
and need a shoulder to cry on. The guy you can always count on, and for a
moment Daryan's logic wavered. Then it's back again, because he's not a sappy
guy, and he doesn't do that doubting shit.
He licked his lips. Then slowly...
"You did it, didn't you?"
"You did it, didn't you?"
The words seem to echo in the small confined place until it
was endless. Bouncing back and forth like particles that cannot die. Science
tells you that noise eventually travels away. Actually, you don't need science
to tell you that. Your own ears have been telling you exactly that since you
were born, unless you're deaf of course. And for a moment, Daryan suspected
that Nail might be exactly that Ð deaf Ð and that would explain a lot of his
utter oblivion to what people say about him.
"You did it," Daryan clarified. "You did
those photos."
Then he spoke, softly, and Daryan knew he isn't deaf. Far
from it.
"Oops...Busted." He smiled, and Daryan thought he
saw a hole opened somewhere in the ground and his friend going through it.
There's a big freaking black hole in the ground, and it's just sucked his
friend in, leaving...Something behind. Nail's never been his favourite person.
Daryan Crescend's favourite person is Daryan Crescend - he operates on a
take-care-of-yourself, and yourself-alone basis. But still, Nail had been close
enough to count as one of his friends, and it felt strange seeing something
happen to him and not quite sure what the hell just happened.
Nail shrugged nonchalantly. "It took long enough. I was
actually wondering if people are ever going to figure it out Ð or if I'm going
to get away with it." He looked at Daryan expectantly. He doesn't budge
from the bed, or runs away screaming in shame. Not even getting down on his
knees and begged for forgiveness, the way he would have expected Neil Colfin
to. Then again, maybe he's discarded more than just the name. "Tell me,
what gave it away?"
"What gave it away?" Daryan asked, straightening
and looking at him sarcastically. "What hadn't gave it away, you mean.
Come on Ð Enrich is out of the country. Zee's being Zee Ð he hasn't the time
for this kind of shit. And that would leave only two candidates Ð no, wait Ð
make that three."
"Aw man, three? Gee Ð one out of three, still not bad
though."
Daryan raised three fingers. "The first would of
course, be me."
Nail nodded agreeably.
"I have the most reason to do it. Klavier's stuffed me
in jail. Why wouldn't I put naked pictures of him out and shame him to bits?
But I didn't do it Ð and I should know it myself. That rules me out."
"Of course, Daryan. You would never do something like
that."
"Then there is of course, old four-eyes. It occurred to
me, you know," Daryan shrugged. "When I saw those pictures Ð my first
thought was Ð maybe it was Kristoph. Maybe he took pictures of himself, because
they look so damned identical that there's hardly anyone that can tell them
apart without his glasses."
"But that's impossible," He pressed on.
"Because Kristoph broke out of jail just to see his adopted son Ð and his
brother. He wouldn't do that to his own lovely Klavier, he's too damned much of
a sentimental fool. Which leaves..." He tilted the lone finger until it
pointed directly at Nail. He looked cool Ð almost is cool Ð but he certainly
doesn't feel like it. He felt like shaking this...Man in front of him and ask
him who the hell he was and what he had done to the friendly blue-haired guy
who's always had that kind word for people.
"Me." Nail announced. "I'm the only one with
a means, motive, and opportunity." Then he brought his hands together and
clapped it Ð and behind him, Daryan could see Machi's figure stirring as he
peeked out under golden lashes to see what was happening.
He had enough sense to keep his mouth shut though Ð this is
a Gavinner thing Ð something to solve within the pride, within the tribe. When
there's something rotten in the apple, you cut it out, or the entire apple goes
to hell and comes back burning to a crisp.
"Congratulations, you win one bottle of Iodine,"
Nail declared. "Do you want it now or later?"
"Shut the FUCK up, Nail Ð I don't give a fuck for this
act of yours. What the hell is wrong with you, and for the love of all things
with breasts Ð WHY?" He demanded. And it was a genuine question too Ð not
the how-do-you-dos that you pump people full of but never really wanted the
answer. He wanted to know why, even though Klavier was just about one of his
least liked persons on earth right now.
Nail uncurled the leg and leaned forward, and mimicked his
tone from earlier.
"Why not, you mean."
"Why the bloody hell did you do that? Was it like some
kind of revenge for him getting me or something? Because if that's the case Ð
thanks but not thanks, I ain't never asked you for it."
"You," Nail snapped. "Have a deluded
exaggeration of your own importance."
"Okay, so it wasn't because of me. That doesn't answer
my question Ð or should we start playing tic tac toe and loser spills?"
Nail leaned forward and sat on the edge of the bed, and
Daryan leaned forward too. His leg hurt, but he curled it up until he was
sitting cross-legged, until the both of them were looking at each other, almost
nose to nose. By God he's not going to lose a freaking staredown match if this
is what it is.
Then Nail opened his mouth, and said quietly.
"He just walked in one day."
Machi stared at Nail's back, his eyes wide awake.
"He just walked in one day, up to me, and told me to my
face Ð the band's disbanded. Gone. Kaput. Goodbye."
"THAT'S your reason?" Daryan shot back,
incredulous. "That's your reason for releasing those Ð you could have
ruined Klavier, you fucking moron. You could have just flushed his career down
the drain Ð and THAT'S YOUR REASON?"
Nail smiled, and pressed on, ignoring him.
"He just walked in one day you know, after Kristoph's
last trial Ð and told me to my face that that's it Ð the band's over."
Machi looked up, and sensing that something was not right,
even with his paltry English, looked around the cell for something that could
be used in case Nail went apeshit. Smart kid.
"It's not 'We need to talk' or 'Get everyone, there's
something I want to tell you guys', it's just 'The band's over'. Never once did
he asked for our permission, ask for our opinion, or even gave us a warning
before the heart attack." He nodded solicitously. "That was okay. I
told Enrich about it, because Klavier was upset about his brother. He was
smiling, laughing Ð but you can see he's upset. So I told Enrich, and I told
Zee, and that's it Ð the band's over because Klavier Gavin, our vocal - he
orders it. With one word like that, our life, for the past what, decade? It's
gone Ð just like that."
Daryan growled. "Not that I like the guy, but that's still
no reason to--"
"And that was okay. Because Klavier's upset, y'know. It
really hurt Ð seeing something that we had spent the past decade building going
to shit like that. It was okay, even though we had to go out there and explain
to a million teenagers that sorry, we've gone bust. It's only right after all
that happened. You were gone. And Klavier's brother had just gone and gotten
himself charged with a second crime, and now faces the noose. Klavier was
feeling down, and we couldn't help feeling bad for him too. He deserves all the
time in the world to recover, and we were going to help him."
A finger twisted into the fabric of the bed.
"Fast forward to months later. Klavier's still not
around. Enrich's gone. Zee's gone. Klavier still hasn't pull himself together Ð
and you're in jail. There's no one to stop him from partying, and I can't
because he just tells me to fuck off anyway. And what can I say to that kind of
smile? I'm sorry, but you're not allowed to smile until you burst into tears?
Of course not. He takes a couple of months off, doesn't do his job, and spends
every second of it partying with strangers whose name he doesn't even know,
doesn't even care about. One day he's going to wake up with his nose in coke,
or get busted because someone brought some crack in, and then his career would
be gone Ð both ways."
"So what does Nail Colfin, busybody that he does,
do?"
"That was the first wave of those pictures,"
Daryan answered, slowly racking through his brains. That was around the time
when Kristoph and he had been preparing to escape Ð he remembered seeing it in
the jail Times because someone had stuffed it into his face, full of bullshit
and assholeness.
"That's right. That was the first wave. I set Kazaf up
to give him a case. Wake him up a little Ð and then I sent those pictures of
him to the press. They weren't very hard to get," Nail announced this with
a conspiratorial air, like Daryan had knew all along. Which now that he thought
about it Ð maybe he did. Just that he couldn't believe good old Nail would do
it.
"Klavier gets drunk every day of the week. He drinks
until he's in danger of destroying his liver, and then I bring him home to
sober him up and he barfs all over my couch. I throw him into the shower, where
he gets his act together, and five hours later, walk out like a damned thing
hasn't happened. And so I took it, and I handed it around the press park like
free candy. If it had worked Ð Klavier would be haunted by the press. He won't
be able to party, because all those strangers would be out for blood Ð out for
gossip Ð and the only thing for him to do would be to turn back to the
law."
"Nice to see that it worked, huh? Did it make you feel
good Ð betraying a friend like that?"
"Oh, it doesn't. Man, did it hurt, Daryan Ð it hurt.
Feels awful to see a buddy go down like that you know Ð and then you guys went
and did a back flip and escape from prison, and that compounded his problems
like nothing did. Absolutely brilliant though. It worked like nothing did, and
he got his act back together, got himself a star role in a secret mission, and
fell back in love with Apollo. It's like, his life's a fairy tale or
something."
'Are you jealous or something?" Daryan snapped. He just
doesn't get where this is leading to Ð other than that the man sitting there
really isn't someone he knew anymore. People don't go twisted like that in a
day. Something had happened, and somewhere along the line a friend is gone Ð
kaput Ð just like the treasured band. Poofed. "Is that why you went to such
lengths?"
"No."
One word. The hand twisted completely into the fabric.
"That wasn't why. You know what took all the icing and
all the cake Ð what made me just fucking pissed at him?"
"What, he wore fucking superman underwear?"
"Nah, I don't mind what he keeps inside his pants. No.
He just came in one day you know, after all that lovey dovey crap Ð and he
announced to me, that he wanted to resume his singing career."
"But that was what you wanted!" Daryan snapped
back, his blood, always near boiling point Ð began to bubble. "That was
what you wanted, wasn't it Ð why you started the whole mess! You wanted him to
get back into the music scene Ð so why break up his chances!? Jeez Nail Ð I
fucking hate that guy Ð but even so, you can't just do shit like this!"
"Because he just walked in, and with this absolutely
fuckamazingly happy smile on his face, announced he wanted to go SOLO."
The word echoed, just like the question earlier.
"He just walked in, looked me in the eye Ð and told me
he wanted to go solo. Once again, not 'Sorry, old pal, I feel a need to be
individualistic', just 'I'm going solo.' It's like, just because you're in
jail, and Kristoph is gone Ð just because the two of you messed up his life,
just because he's in love Ð it gives him the right to be SELFISH."
"And that's the truth of it Ð he's never been anything
but SELFISH. He acted like we were gone, like along with the band, we too had
disappeared. He never once Ð not even for a moment Ð considered remaking the
band, or just doing it with the four of us. It's not impossible Ð it's not even
that hard Ð but NO! To him, we just don't exist anymore! When you left, when
Kristoph was imprisoned Ð we died along with you guys too Ð we just
disappeared, just like that Ð we're NOTHING."
Somewhere between the air, they knew Ð the both of them Ð
that Klavier never really meant any harm. He'd been insensitive, but then again
we are all guilty of being insensitive. But it's just so much easier to pretend
that everyone is out to get you than otherwise. Makes people easier to hate,
makes thing in shades of blacks and whites. And Klavier just happen to be the
least messed up member of the band Ð as it was starting to look like.
"Oh that's rich!" Daryan snapped back.
"Justifying yourself on basis on others now? How low you've fallen, Nail
Colfin."
"How low the two of you have gone you mean! Have you
realized something, Daryan? Who's always the first to appear on interviews and
in front of posters?"
"Klavier Ð obviously. He's the vocal after all."
"No," Nail snapped right back. "It's not
Klavier Ð not just him anyway. It's Klavier, and YOU. The both of you are
always the first and foremost of the band. The first to appear, the first to be
interviewed Ð the first faces to appear on any MTV, and the only faces on some,
come to think of it."
"So it's back to this, petty rivalry? Petty jealousy?
Being PETTY?"
"No, you faghead Ð it's not JEALOUSY!" Nail roared
Ð and suddenly he was standing up and Daryan curled HIS own hands into fist in
case Nail decided to attack him. The look on his face didn't look so far away Ð
he looked like he wanted to kill someone, or had just plain cracked.
"It's not about the jealousy Ð I don't give a goddamned
FUCK if you're on the front page or not. I don't give a fuck, don't give a
damn, if we Ð the rest of group is always and will always be the background
music. Enrich and Zee were fine being that Ð and so am I. The fucking spotlight
is yours, so take it! Take it all!"
"We were happy being obscured, we were happy that the
press never mentioned anything about us Ð because to us, it wasn't really about
us. We're not really THERE. We're just
as awestruck as the bunch of teenagers down on the stage, waving cheap
night-glow sticks. We might have been on the same stage, but it never stopped
us from liking you guys as much as they did Ð it never stopped us from
WORSHIPPING YOU GUYS. To us you guys were amazing, and so what if we were never
seen? Just being there, being on stage with you guys Ð being part of the show
was enough!"
"So what's the problem then!?" Daryan shouted
back, rivaling him for the tone. The whole cell shook with the vibration of the
sound. "What's the problem if you guys don't even care about the press
seeing you or not?"
"The problem Ð the problem is that even you guys Ð even
YOU GUYS don't see us there!" Nail roared back.
"Never once did you guys looked backwards Ð NEVER ONCE,
did you guys noticed us. To you guys, it might as well be the same whether or
not we are there. You're the main act, you're the front show. It might not have
hurt when the public doesn't even recognize us because we're not the poster
boys but goddamit! It hurt when your own supposed friends don't even care if
you're there!"
"And that's when you acted so selfishly Ð smuggling a
cocoon and doing all that SHIT, knowing full well that if you're caught we're
sinking with you guys. You want money? I'll GIVE YOU all my GODDAMNED money.
Not enough!? FUCK Ð I'll rob a bank for you, but you never cared Ð never asked
Ð it was all about you! You just jumped in Ð eyes closed, and dragged us down
into the quicksand with you! And Klavier is just the same! We never existed to
you guys Ð we're just shadows to you!"
"Oh RIGHT! So what? What I do with my life is my
business, ain't it? So I got caught Ð big deal! Stop crying little boy, and
move on with life! You want a hanky!? Here Ð take a fucking tablecloth, you
whiny little bitch!"
Daryan wished his damned leg would support him enough to
allow him to THROW himself at that bastard to strangle the life out of him.
Forget about what started the fucking conversation Ð how dared he accused him
of being selfish, of ruining the whole gig? So WHAT if he did? He's a free
bitch, baby.
Nail apparently disagreed though, from the way he was
shouting at him. "That's precisely IT! Always thinking about yourselves.
The band was something that belonged to us too! Just as much time as you guys
spend on it Ð we spent it too! Those songs, they didn't just belong to you, or
Klavier, or any one of us. It was a whole group thing Ð we sink and swim
together, and you just cut off our lifeline JUST. LIKE. THAT."
"First it was you, bitch that you are. So fine Ð FUCK
YOU. Then it's Klavier Ð walking in, walking in with that goddamned fucking
SMILE on his face, announcing that bitch, you guys can go fuck yourselves,
because you're NOT WANTED. And that was what did it," He dragged in a deep
breath, signaling the end of the argument. He took several deep breaths that
shook, and the walls just peered back at him in their yellowish stained self.
He shrugged, almost calculated in the way it just plain
didn't care, and then he smiled the friendly Nail Colfin smile. Half his
fanbase was because of that smile Ð so friendly, so lovely. He would be your
best friend, your confidant.
"That was what got me so sick of the both of you. I'm
done Ð done with being nice, of smiling and pretending it doesn't FUCKING hurt,
of always being the shoulder to cry on when I feel like crying myself. Enrich
won't do anything about it. He doesn't have the balls. Zee is almost as bad as
you guys. He'll just go have more of his exciting life. And so it's just me
left. And I decided to do something about it."
"You realize that we made
you, don't you?" Daryan snapped. "You were just a dork until we let
you join Ð hell, you were even wearing braces when we first met you Ð how lame
was that?"
Nail didn't rise to the bait though. "That's right Ð
that's me. Average, plain Neil. You guys made me Ð made the band Ð made it all.
The Gavinners belonged to you guys. You were it's daddy-o, and Klavier's the
bitch for it. But once you made it, you can't unmake it just like that. It
belonged to us too. The both of you just took it and did what you want with
it."
"It was ours to unmake," Daryan hissed back.
"You're right about one thing and one thing alone Ð The Gavinners was
ours. Our love child. We wrote every song and worked every gig, and what we did
with it was our business."
"Then that is where we must agree to disagree
then." He replied quietly.
And that was it. That was really it. There really is nothing
to say anymore, because somewhere along the line Ð The Gavinners, the link that
had bound them all together had been severed. Daryan had bigger things to worry
about now. Klavier had his Apollo. They left Nail with nothing Ð and in his little
petty way, he had tried to strike back Ð tried to unmake the damage and reform
the band. He wanted the band to go back to the way it had been Ð and Daryan
didn't try to understand him. Maybe it was the money he wanted, maybe it was
fame, or maybe he just wanted his friends back Ð but that's something Daryan
would never understand.
He's a moving straight-ahead person. The person who never
looks back and reminiscent once something is done and cannot be undone. If
people fall from the side of the road, then that is their own weakness.
Daryan's not a hard man. He's just a man with a straight and true path. He
walks his way, and he takes his highway.
Yes, they must agree to disagree Ð because they will for the
rest of their life.
"You realize that I'm going to tell Gavin this,
right?" He asked him quietly.
But Nail just shrug. And maybe he realizes that The
Gavinners is really gone. Just another boy band in the wind. "Tell
him," He replied. "It doesn't matter anymore. Everyone has their own
way to go now. I'm just stuck at the crossroad with no compass, that's
all."
"Have you ever considered asking Enrich and Zee about
starting the band together Ð just the three of you?"
"No..." He admitted, looking wistful. "Do you
think they will?"
"I don't know," Daryan stated honestly. "But
here's one thing : Write it on your hand if you don't trust your head : We're
not coming back, Nail. Can't even if we want to. I'm going, back to prison or
away. Klavier's happy now, and you can't take it away from him even if you want
to. You might as well suck it up. Get your act together. Move."
Nail said nothing. Then in the end, he said the truest thing
he had said all night long.
"I've gotta go."
Daryan grinned. "Go then Ð and good luck on the
highway...Bitch."
"Humph. As if I won't see you in a couple of days to
ship you off in a box, you Elvis impressionist."
"Can it, pink head."
Nail tutted, and stuffed both hands into his pants' pockets
because his coat was gone. Daryan doesn't offer a hand to shake. He doesn't
either. It's a wrong thing to do Ð something too formal for a bunch of guys
who've seen each other's green face as they throw up their insides all over the
toilet. They don't hug either, because that's for friends, and they're no
longer friends.
Then Nail saluted him, and maybe that's the best way to say
goodbye when there's nothing else you can say - and unlocked the cell door to
let himself out. Then the footsteps echoed all the way out. They stop for a
couple of moments near the door, but soon they're on their way again Ð and
Daryan had this funny feeling Ð and he doesn't know if he should bawl like a
baby or just be melancholic Ð but he had a funny feeling he wouldn't be seeing
his friend anymore, ever. It's like graduation when you've got good school
years. You know you've got to step out or be pushed out Ð but it doesn't make
it any easier. The future's a question mark, and it's easier to stand there
wondering and meandering, trying to walk back into the building you just walked
out of than to be brave and see what's outside.
When Daryan was sure Nail was gone, he slipped out of the
bed and limped over to the one Nail had just vacated, still kinda warm and
smelling like that chemical bag of his. Machi's on the other side of the bar,
leaning against it and looking at the opposite wall.
"Hey kid,"
"Yes?"
"...Looks like I have a vacancy for a friend right now.
Wanna fill a form?"
"Mr. Colfin...He is not friend anymore?"
"He is. Just that we've gone down different paths, and
I don't fancy ever seeing him again. So I've got an empty spot Ð wanna fill
it?"
Machi giggled weakly. "You'd have friends that shoot
you, Mr. Crescend?"
"Ah, all my friends shoot me. It's one way or another.
Guns or words, through the shoulder or the heart Ð either way they all do
it."
"Okay then," Machi announced, utterly deadpanned.
"Do we spit and shake, as you Americans say, Mr. Crescend?"
"Nah. You get the job if you'll sing a song with
me."
"What song?"
"Ever heard of Billy Joel's The Entertainer? He's the
same guy who sang Piano Man."
Machi leaned his head against the bar, and their heads would
have knocked together if it wasn't for the bars. "Machi knows...Little, I
think."
"Fuckamazing," Daryan whispered. Then he looked up
at the swinging dirty bulb, and slowly closed his eyes and started singing.
" I am the entertainer, and I know just where I stand :
Another serenader, and another long-haired band..."
Machi smiled. He's heard the song before, though he had no
idea what it meant. It sounded happy though, and Daryan...Daryan didn't sound so
happy. He just seemed sort of...Happy-sad. Does Machi makes sense?
"Today I am your champion, I
may have won your hearts Ð But I know the game, you'll forget my name. Took me
years to write it, the best years of my life..."
"Too slow, Mr. Crescend," Machi said softly.
He ignored him, and the song just skipped nonsensically. His
voice kind of broke too, but Machi didn't bother correcting him on that one.
"I am the entertainer, and I
know where I stand. Another serenader, and another long-haired band..."
Machi just listened to the sound of the second guitar of The
Gavinners, repeating the words over and over again in a cracked voice. Maybe
Daryan misses the band too. Or maybe he really does regret what he did to break
up the band, and what pieces he left behind and the shit fan he blew all over
the place. The things he left behind for people to pick up. Maybe he really
does miss his friends, and the times at the bars, singing all the way until 2
in the morning because they're not popular yet, and just a couple more hours
means a couple more customers that might turn out to be their golden
opportunity.
Maybe he really does care, really did miss the times they
had boasting about non-existent contracts to supermodels, and then they would
try to get Klavier's pants off to figure out of if gay guys had penises too
when they're drunk enough. Maybe he missed having fun with them, missed the
band, regrets what he did, but it's something no one would ever know - because
Daryan never did say, and never would say. Maybe. That's a very nice word -
makes the world a lot more sentimental - and if you ask him, all he'll do is
sing the song for you.