Authors Notes: Okay, heres the thing. This was supposed to be a present for Dana-chans birthday on August 14th, but I finished it on June 22nd, so I decided to give it to her early as a belated 100-fic present and give her the leagueshippy that I was supposed to give her for her 100-fic present to her for her birthday.
breathes
The inspiration for this fic can be credited to both Not The Same by Bodyjar, and a conversation I had with my friend Sarah at her boyfriends house, about first loves and her ex who I hated.
Title comes courtesy of the song of the same name by Machine Gun Fellatio.
Oh yeah ... this egoshippy (Kasumi x Shigeru) and indigoshippy (Kasumi x Hiroshi). Doesnt make sense? Read on.
Disclaimer: Pfft, because people read these. I do not own these characters, or settings or anything else. Blah blah blah.
Part 1: Manywords
Perfect: adj. To be in a state of perfection
It was the primary adjective used to describe the relationship between Kasumi Yawa and Shigeru Ookido. They were a tabloid journalists dream - she, the tempestuous water trainer with a collection of Pokemon that was in inverse proportion to the size of her waist, and he, her solid, successful, fearless protector.
She was delicately beautiful, he was ruggedly handsome. They both stemmed from old-money families in their respective hometowns, and the size of their bank accounts combined with the magnitude of their talent to make them prominent figures on local A-Lists.
The only thing that outshone the pair was the emerald-cut diamond ring that would soon be adorning Kasumi's graceful ring-finger. They had the same friends, the same goals, the same interests.
Kasumi's father adored Shigeru, and Shigeru's mother adored Kasumi. Shigeru's older sister, Nanami had proclaimed that Kasumi was the baby sister she'd never had, and Kasumi's ditzy, glitzy sisters were all in agreement that Shigeru was one hell of a guy.
Perfect.
Kasumi had stability, she had popularity, she had a boyfriend that other girls would kill for. In a few years, they would have an extravagant wedding. Kasumi would wear a specially-designed couture bridal gown that would cost more than most of her friends cars. They would live happily ever after in a beautiful house bought by doting, wealthy parents.
Perfect.
Perfect as a single dewdrop, solid as a rock. Kasumi and Shigeru, Nanami and Satoshi, Takeshi, Sakura, Ayame, Botan ... all of them thought that this was a relationship that would never be tested.
On August 14th, they were proven wrong.
As far as SMS messages went, this one had been fairly innocuous. Five letters, all in capitals - he hadn't even bothered to change from upper to lowercase - and one question mark, all of which formed a fairly generic line of questioning. Hardly worth the money it had cost to send. It was not, however, what it said that was important, but the source.
It was this simple fact that Kasumi was trying her hardest to convey to Takeshi, with little luck. Takeshi, who was tiring of being Kasumi's loyal and faithful sounding board, sighed.
"Kasumi, you're overreacting."
Too offended to even sputter indignantly, Kasumi instead thrust her impossibly tiny Nokia at Takeshi. Takeshi read the line of text on the screen for third time, and remained as unmoved as he had been the first time.
HOW R U?
"That's disgraceful," he said dryly. "I wouldn't stand for that if I were you."
Kasumi flung herself dramatically - for she'd always had a flair for the dramatic - into the wooden railback chair opposite Takeshi.
"Dammit, Takeshi," she said irritably, dropping her airs and graces for one rare moment. "Stop being so damn pedantic and realise that its who its from, not what it says that is the issue here."
"Who cares?" Takeshi asked, not for the first time.
The source Kasumi was referring to, whose name she was carefully avoiding saying aloud, was her ex-boyfriend, Hiroshi.
"How could you not care?" Kasumi demanded. "My ex-boyfriend, who I haven't spoken to in two years sends me an SMS out of the clear blue sky, and you're acting as if this is an everyday occurrence!"
Takeshi sighed again.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"I want you to tell my why he wants to know how I am!"
"In the event that I develop psychic abilities, I'll let you know."
Kasumi scowled across the table.
"Honestly, Takeshi, I'd have thought that you, of all people would –"
Takeshi interrupted before the guilt trip hit maximum velocity.
"God, Kasumi, you're making a big deal out of nothing." He snorted derisively, softly. "He was probably cooked out his mind anyway."
Kasumi reeled back as though shed been slapped.
"He's not like that anymore, Takeshi, and you know it." She lowered her eyes. "I don't know why you all have to keep bringing that up."
"And I don't know why you keep defending him," Takeshi countered.
Kasumi floundered for a response, which was in vain given the fact that she herself wasn't sure why she defended Hiroshi. In her silence, Takeshi's eyes lit with realisation, but the light in his eyes was not one of happiness, but one of weary resignedness and understanding. There might have been disappointment hidden in there. Kasumi didn't care to look for it.
"I see," Takeshi said softly.
Kasumi shifted uncomfortably under his lucid gaze.
"You see what?"
"A smart, beautiful water trainer who's still carrying a torch for her jerk of an ex-boyfriend."
Takeshi's words stung like a bee, and she stood abruptly, delicate hands shaking with unidentifiable emotion.
"I can't believe you just said that," she said tremulously.
Takeshi, however, was not about to backtrack or apologise. Instead, he gazed up at his friend with what was unmistakably wistfulness.
"You have a wonderful thing with Shigeru, Kasumi. He offers you so much. Please don't ever forget that."
Hiroshi. It had been a long time since Kasumi had allowed herself to remember. Mostly because all of her friends had chosen to forget or ignore it. Takeshi liked to avoid the topic all together. Satoshi liked to skirt it with delicate wording and subject changes. Shigeru ... Shigeru opted for solid, unbreakable denial.
They'd had a relationship, though the word hardly did it justice. It was on-and-off, hot and cold, it was unconventional, but at the same time, it had been heart-stoppingly intense.
It had lasted for little less than a year.
Hiroshi had been in the midst of his delayed teenage-rebellion stage at the time, fuelled by his parents' unexpected divorce. He had been dark and tragic, rebellious and sexy and Kasumi, who, despite all her travels was completely sheltered, had been mesmerised.
He'd seemed like a rock star at the time, Kasumi remembered ruefully as a VW Beetle cut in front of her on the Old Hanada Road. He'd had a certain disregard for rules, a certain 'so what?' attitude that had been appealing to Kasumi, who had lived under her father's misguided strictness for so long. She'd been completely pulled into it all.
Unlike her friends, Kasumi did not see her relationship with Hiroshi as a mistake. It had been exciting, a little dangerous, and regardless of the grief it caused her, it had been worth it. He'd treated her badly, she knew that now. He'd been too caught up in his own grief about his parents to really care about her, and consequently he was one of those guys who never called when he said he would, never went where he said he would go, never did what he said he'd do. But despite all that, she'd be at his side every time he called for her. She dropped everything for him more than once. She'd neglected her friends, her family, herself. Still, she didn't regret it. It hadn't been wasted time. She'd learnt a lot from him.
He was her first.
Hiroshi hadn't been good with words, hadn't been good at expressing that he cared. He was gruff, silent, oftentimes moody. But when he made love to her, he conveyed all the tenderness, all the love that he never really managed to put in words. He had a way of looking at her, touching her that was on an ethereal level. He treated her like a goddess. He made her feel beautiful.
It was with a sickening twist of her stomach that Kasumi realised she missed that tenderness, that beauty, that love. She missed him.
You have a wonderful thing with Shigeru, Kasumi. He offers you so much. Please don't ever forget that.
Takeshi was right. He always was. She knew that.
But - and all cheesy Hallmark slogans aside - her heart didn't.
There was something to be said for girl-to-girl Deep & Meaningfuls. Better than anything any of her father's therapist friends could ever offer her. The problem was, Kasumi didn't really have many girlfriends. She had her sisters, who were all lovely and sweet, but had the collective depth of a cookie sheet. There was Nanami, but she couldn't really talk to Shigeru's sister about this. There was Hanako, her substitute mother, who dispensed good advice as long as sex wasn't involved.
Kasumi was desperate. Nothing else would explain her decision to drive the three-and-a-half hours to visit Imite. Imite was wonderful - pretty and fun and incredibly insightful. Best of all, she was the only one who hadn't crucified her for her relationship with Hiroshi.
Kasumi cringed at the memory of said 'crucifixion' - the intervention that Satoshi had organised. She'd come home from Hiroshi's, to find her sisters, her father, Takeshi, Satoshi, Hanako in the living room, all looking rather grim.
"We're concerned," Takeshi had said.
"You've neglected everything," Sakura had said.
"No matter what I do, you rebel against me," her father had said, heartbreaking bewilderment in his eyes. "You fight with your sisters, you sneak out at night, you lie to me ... Kasumi, can't you see what you've let him do to you?"
An intervention, Satoshi had called it. More like an ambush, Kasumi had accused angrily. Who were they to tell her to run her life, her relationships?
The clincher had been Satoshi, sweet, unassuming Satoshi who was ropeable with anger at what Hiroshi had done to her.
"It isn't a relationship, Kasumi," he had said quietly. "Relationships involve respect, and Hiroshi doesn't respect you. He's using you – can't you see that?"
It was Satoshi's uncharacteristic quiet, and his willingness to speak against someone who had once been his best friend that convinced her. No matter how tight a hold Hiroshi had on her heart, no matter how giddy he made her, it had to end. He was no good for her.
She'd told him they couldn't see each other anymore the next day. For a moment, she saw true, raw emotion in his eyes. It was quickly replaced with annoyance, followed by an air of 'who cares?'.
They hadn't spoken since then.
She'd cried for a few days after, always in secret. She didn't want her friends to see. She didn't want them to try and convince her she was better off without him. And then, miraculously, Imite had shown up at her front door one morning with a paper bag of comfortingly fattening chocolate croissants, and a hug.
"I heard you ended it with Hiroshi," she'd said, head angled sympathetically. "Are you okay?"
That was it - no judging, no disappointment, no you-should-have-known-better frown. Just pure sympathy and unparalleled friendship. Kasumi had cried on Imite's shoulder for three-quarters of an hour.
That, Kasumi acknowledged, was the problem with having mostly guys for friends. They just didn't understand girl things.
"Kasumi, where are you?"
If it hadn't been for the way he drew out the word 'are', Kasumi might have been annoyed. But that slight intonation let her know that Shigeru was worried about her, which made her smile and frown at the same time.
"I'll be home by dinnertime," she responded as she turned into Imite's picture-perfect, leafy street. She was evading the question, and he'd know it.
"That's nice," Shigeru said wryly. "Where are you?"
"I'm, uh, visiting Imite," she admitted. No point in lying. They had the same friends, news travelled fast. He'd find out the truth eventually.
There was a brief silence.
"Is everything okay?"
"Oh, sure," Kasumi assured him brightly, lodging her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she parked out the front of Imite's house. "It's just been awhile since we caught up, you know?" She paused, then decided to play her trump card. "It's a girl thing."
"Girl thing," he echoed, amused. "Enough said. You probably won't get in till late tonight, so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"'Kay. Love you."
"Love you, too."
It wasn't a lie. Kasumi did love Shigeru, she knew that.
She hung up, tucked her phone in her shoulder bag, slid out of her Lexus. The minute she stepped onto the path that led to the door of Imite's funkier-than-thou weatherboard house, Imite stepped out of said house. Imite's face lit up, and she rushed down the path to engulf Kasumi in a hug that was equal parts 'I missed you' and 'It's okay'.
Kasumi smiled slightly - Imite knew her too well.
Imite pulled back, studied her friends face.
"Ouch," she said with a wince. "Something big's bothering you, huh?"
Yes, Imite knew her too well - almost a little too well.
"Uh-huh," Kasumi agreed in a small voice, looking down at the mosaic-tile path underfoot. She looked up, forced a wry smile.
"How'd you know?"
Imite rolled her eyes, then linked arms with Kasumi.
"Come on, sweetheart. Tell me all about it."
It must have looked odd.
Kasumi Yawa, the pretty, well-groomed, nineteen-year-old daughter of the Tajiri Yawa, sitting in the middle of a lush green lawn, legs crossed Indian-style. Kasumi could care less how odd it looked. All she knew that right now, sitting on the front lawn making daisy chains with Imite was beyond therapeutic.
Imite joined the two ends of her daisy chain together, then draped the wreath on Kasumi's head like a delicate tiara, looking at her expectantly. Kasumi slit the stem of her daisy with her thumbnail and eyed Imite anxiously.
"So?"
Imite picked Kasumis cell phone up and studied the screen, where Hiroshis message still lay.
"What tangled webs we weave when we're all on twelve-month cell phone contracts with 45 of free calls a month," Imite said with such convincing sorrow that Kasumi laughed out loud. Imite smiled at her friend's laughter.
"Did you write back?" Imite asked without warning, causing Kasumi to blink, taken aback.
"No," Kasumi responded, threading a daisy through the hole. "I didn't know what to say."
"Fair enough," Imite agreed, draping a daisy-tiara on top of her glossy teal hair. "So, lets get rid of pretences and acknowledge that this rather pathetic SMS has got you questioning your feelings for Hiroshi."
Kasumi frowned thoughtfully - Imite had a knack for dumbing things down to their most basic level. It made everything seem less scary.
"Right," Kasumi admitted reluctantly, shifting her position on the grass slightly - it was leaving little grass imprints on the backs of her thighs. "I mean, I'm not saying I'm in love with him or anything but –"
Imite rolled her wide eyes and deftly linked two lengths of daisy chain together, looping it around her narrow hips like a belt.
"You don't need to explain yourself. You had like zero closure. Of course you're unsure how you feel."
"Closure," Kasumi echoed thoughtfully.
"Closure," Imite confirmed with a nod, causing her daisy-tiara to slip forward slightly. "Look, I know everyone would murder me for saying this, but if you ask me, you need to see Hiroshi again."
Kasumi inhaled sharply. She felt like she had when she was seven and Sakura had pushed her off the monkey bars and knocked the wind out of her. It must have shown on her face, because Imite softened her eyes.
"I can't," Kasumi said desperately. "Shigeru hates Hiroshi. I can't just go running off to visit him. Shigeru and I are like, engaged to be engaged. This would shatter him."
"But isn't that better than searching for closure later?" Imite pointed out gently, but firmly. "How would Shigeru feel then, his wife, the mother of his children, running off to her ex-boyfriend to confront her feelings?"
Kasumi lowered her eyes, threading two daisies together with shaking hands. She could feel Imite's eyes, both sympathetic and probing, watching her intently.
"Do it now, Kasumi," Imite advised, voice soft. "There's less at stake."