#para .

THIS COULD EASILY BE CALLED A DISTRACTION OF SORTS,    only  alternatively  taken  with  suspicious   glances  or   second-guessing.   After-all,  Jet  does  not  do  a  single  thing  without  calculated  intent,  and  lately  he’s  been  focused  on  toying  with  the  other  earth  kingdom  boy  for  all  its  worth.  It  could  be  seen  as  cruel,  this  teasing  and  baiting,  but  he  was  following  all  the  guidelines  provided  ( merely  getting  a  feel  for  the  boundaries  the  other  might  have.  )    it’s   new,   it’s  refreshing,  it’s  a  necessity  among  all  this  hopelessness,   this  time  of  frustration  when  nothing  else  was  going  as  planned.   for  once  in  his  life,  he  wasn’t  exactly  catering  to  someone,  not  necessarily  taking  responsibility  for  them  either ;  they  were  just   being   and  that  seemed  to  be  refreshing  for  a  change.  if  anything,  just  mutual  contribution.               so  as  easy  and  natural  it  was  to  take  a  breath,   jet  found  himself  kissing  the  boy  on  the  cheek ;   lingering,  because  he  wanted  to  make  damn  sure  it  was  known.   he  smiles  upon  retreat,  which  it  to  say,  still   lingering  in  the  space.    it’s  the  honest  kind  of  smile  he  wears  on  occasion,  not  just  for  show,   and  it   grows  from  the  reaction.   fingers   hold   haru’s   face  level   just  beneath  his  jaw   and  he  goes  back  in.

❛❛            no  problem . . .   ❜❜       

lips  press  back  against  the  now  warmer,  flushed  skin  of  the  boy’s  cheek.   perhaps  just  a  bit  obnoxious,   grinning  against   him   and  waiting  for  him  to  push  him  away  this  time. 

PARANOID.         that’s what they were calling it,   and it felt nothing short of a betrayal on their part.     calling him paranoid was like calling his scars illusions,   his memory hallucinations,   his life no more than a simple lie:    HE IS SAFE.    that is not his reality where vigilance is not an option and ignorance could never, ever be BLISS.   innocence was bliss,    ignorance wields itself like the weapon that helped kill it.   they came to ba sing se for another chance,    but the only DELUSION he knows is that they can’t be safe when war is prevalent.   Ba Sing Se was the safest place in the world,   so naturally it was a target.    A flame only knows how to burn,   right?    

It was smart,    coming under the guise of the desperate.     He was even fooled,    a gutting reality that felt like a punch to the stomach but lingered like an infection.     He was right,    he knew he was,    he spent his life getting to know the Fire Nation too well.    They were Fire Nation.    They were here to hurt them.    He needed to protect these people, even if none of them would have his back.    He needed to protect these people in the way no one protected his own.   No more.    No more.    He’s not going to let this city crumble from within.     He won’t.    Those two Fire Nation scumbags may have their element of surprise,    but he has his own.   They planned this out well,   but they didn’t plan for him.                that will be the difference.     THIS TIME, HE’S READY.     all he needs is proof because it’s INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY in Smellerbee and Longshot’s eyes.    He has to think this through.    But it’s killing him.     IT’S KILLING HIM THAT HIS OWN FAMILY WON’T BELIEVE HIM.      he’s lost so much,    but losing their respect was a different type of injury.    

                         He needed their trust back.    His credibility.   His honor.

salt on the wound came in the form of the duke joining the Doubt and Judgement Squad.    his features soften at the boy’s omission.    from the get-go,   he had been nothing but honest with the duke,   and it was nice to think there was mutual respect between them,   even if they disagreed with the other.    funny.    all jet had ever wanted to be for the duke is be what he wished he had when he was that age:   a guardian that would do anything and everything to keep him safe.    and here he is,    trying to water seeds of doubt,   as though the soil isn’t a field of ash.    

jet clamps down on the yellow wheat straw in his mouth,   returning to the study before him as his readjusted his position for the sake of sore muscles.    ❛❛               they’re whatever they want you to believe they are.   ❜❜     he spares the duke a glance and narrows his eyes at the sound of the crinkling wrapper paper.   recognizing it as a sweet twists hunger inside him,   reminding him he hasn’t eaten in                     . . .    he can’t remember.    he rolls the wheat straw in his mouth again,   stimulating a distraction.   he’s fine.   he could just do without the duke’s feet rocking back and forth,  making a light breeze on the top of his thick head of hair.    he glares up again.

❛❛   come on now,     what did I teach you about taking watch?   ❜❜    as much as he wants to snatch the restless action from above,   he wills the boy to remember.   his gaze shatters at the next words though.     that’s it then.    his family is really picking strangers over him.    when he looks back down,   he takes the straw from his mouth and rolls it between his fingers.    there’s a string of silence.    ❛❛    I don’t know what exactly you’ve been through,   but I know what I have,   okay?     I don’t care if they have the best fucking tea in the world.    I care about you.   I care about these refugees.   Why can’t you trust me?   ❜❜   his brows knit together,    ❛❛   Maybe it doesn’t matter if you do or not.   I’m going to look out for you anyway.   Like I always have.  ❜❜   LIKE I ALWAYS WILL.    

He was supposed to be well above these sort of things.

If anyone were to ask, he took three wrong turns too many. Only Nakai would let it be known to himself that it had been part accident part intentional curiousity. He understood the way in which genetics worked, for the most part, they were hard to avoid, and he’d accepted it for the last few years. Or so he thought. But one too many jokes detailing the state of his hairline, and grainy tabloid shots heralding “proof” he did in fact make use of hair plugs had started their work on his insecurities. He’d seen no reason to deny his hair, and was often the first to poke fun at himself, frequenting in his use of hats when the situation allowed him to. Stylists were adept at maintaining his hair in a way that would shield as much of his hairline. Bangs had become a necessity.

But the thought of making due without hats ever again, and excusing the prolonged fuss over what would be done with his hair, clenched his belly in hushed enthusiasm. Perhaps he was grasping at straws he shouldn’t have, setting himself up for disappointment– but there was nothing the mc could lose. So he entered the store front, wary of the smell of incense that invaded his senses, and the candles that dotted the interior in great numbers. He wasn’t all that much of a believer, skeptical in his very nature. But he’d heard things, and the shop was a mere blocks away from his hotel. There was no harm in checking it out. Even if something similar to regret weighed down on the tops of his shoulders, eyes veering around the store and its contents. He couldn’t be all that sure what he was looking for, but he swore to himself if he saw anything resembling a human limb, he’d leave and never return. 

The invitation had been unexpected.

Normally Nakai avoided these sort of events unless he was hosting or scheduled to perform. In this instance, neither of the two usual consequences applied, and yet finding a way out of it was more difficult than he preferred. Management believed it would make for a good opportunity, a way to network with the up and coming, make himself a place in the eyes of the korean public. Nakai knew they were pushing it with thoughts like that. He wasn’t nearly as popular in the foreign country as they attempted to make him believe. At forty three, he was above bureaucratic manipulations, and knew when he was being toyed with. His manager on the other hand saw no reason as to why the ticket should go to waste. He prodded him with the excuse that the mc had nothing scheduled the day after, and had little reason to turn down such an offer. Nakai had plenty but no one was entirely willing to listen.

So that was how he found himself directed through a throng of knees and elbows into a seat that had apparently been reserved for the former japanese idol. Mildly distracted by the hum of korean around him, he touched his pocket where he’d slid his korean dictionary for safe keeping. He never knew when he needed the contents of its pages. It wasn’t unlike the shows he frequented back in japan, but for the language barrier, the atmosphere was the same. Hot lights stained every corner of the stage, and people filled the seats around him. If anything, he felt centuries old and rickety even in his finely fitted three piece suit between the gaggle of spritely and beautiful men and women alike. Quiet where he sat, he eyed the empty seat beside him, hoping in hush it would remain that way. Anything to keep from struggling with his korean pleasantries.

“M’feeling nervous today, that’s not like me is it?” A husk of laughter parted his lips around the haphazard greeting. At this time of night, Nakai had already drained a can of beer by the time he’d reached the buzzing station. Even after the group had disbanded, the mc was determined to keep the radio show. Some girl took up a half hour of his saturday evenings– time better spent sat before the microphone than it was settled beneath his kotatsu back in the apartment. By eleven in the evening he was relaxed, and it was a set up he’d grown quite familiar with. He’d been hosting the show since 1995, and what had started as a brief experiment had expanded into a weekly schedule Nakai had yet to tire of. “I’ve got a different sort of show in store for all of you tonight, so look forward to it. Some girl Nakai’s we’ve got a guest what’s going on special!” 

With well timed precision, the show’s producer set the beginning of Lauper’s girls just want to have fun, the infectious tune filling the silence as Nakai took to quietly greeting the musician standing at the door. To say he was nervous wasn’t quite right, despite what he had only just said. He made a living hosting a variety of shows, and was well trained in the art of accommodation, but nerves still sizzled under his skin. It kept him on his feet, made what he did invigorating if not a tiring experience when the week was through. “Takamizawa-san, it’s been a while. Please– have a seat.” Nodding his head in hushed greeting, he politely waited for his senior to get settled in across from him, clearing his throat before the music came to a slow, signalling his return. “Ah, you’re all in for a treat. We have an amazing guest tonight, if you haven’t heard of him, what’re you doing with yourself? Please give a warm some girl welcome to Takamizawa Toshihiko.” Cue the prerecorded audience applause midi file. Nakai couldn’t help but grimace at the sound decision, but that sort of thing was usually left to the technician. The very same one who insisted the listeners enjoyed inserts of that nature.

Before his thoughts could completely derail, he sent the older man a wide grin, taking in what he could of his gaudy outfit and impressive hair. “Let me ask you something. How long does it take you to dress like that? ‘Cause I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything less than luxurious.” Nakai was blatantly teasing, but it was all good natured, something he found rather easy to do behind the guise of his hosting veneer. Certain reactions were expected of him, and he took to them easily at this point in his career. “This was a little last minute wasn’t it? Our apologies. Once we realized you had the time, well, we had to grab you before someone else did. Listeners didn’t even know you were showin’ up tonight.” 

He was in no mood to be sick. It really shouldn’t have been all that much of a surprise, as his sleeping pattern was poor at its best. Nakai teetered between a balance of daily schedules and haphazard freedom on the weekends when he could spare the time. Even still, he tended to take advantage of that time in ways that were the least beneficial to his health. There were baseball games to watch, drinking dates to fulfill. 

Coming off the tail end of a particularly long week, drawn up in a guise that included a surgical face mask and glasses, he left his apartment in search of cold medicine that wouldn’t need a prescription. Over the counter solutions were always much easier, as he more often than not didn’t have the time to visit his doctor. That was a tendency he’d been recently warned to fix after the surgery he’d undergone to remove the benign tumour from his throat in June. If nothing else, the mc was more wary of any telltale signs, even if he likely hadn’t learned his lesson. Not entirely anyway.

The drugstore was a short walk from his apartment, making the journey ideal even in the slow to arrive cold that threatened to take over the city. Fall was leisurely in making itself known this year, and he couldn’t say he was all that bothered by it. He could still get away with a short sleeved jacket, and a beanie pulled low over his brow. As the store was open late into the evening, he was in no particular rush, but he made it past the automatic doors in what might’ve been record time. Curt in his polite nod to the cashier that stood guard, he immediately made for the cough and cold section. It was only an itch and the occasional cough, but with a schedule like his, he couldn’t risk coming down with something worse. Scouring the aisle wasn’t a chore until he spotted a stranger skulking the same shelves as well. As luck would have it, as he seemed to be running out of it quite a bit lately, they both reached for the same cough syrup, fingers brushing where they slowed. It was the last one of its kind on the shelf, and Nakai could only stare above his face mask, gaze hooded as he considered the awkward circumstances.

Nakai hadn’t exactly thought this through.

The flight in had been an easy one, relatively shorter than the one’s he’d become accustomed to. At his age he was just happy to have fitted in a few minutes of sleep between the booklet in his lap that detailed his korean plans. Nakai quietly filled himself in on the schedule, he would guest on a burgeoning music show in the capital the following day before filming a brief guest spot in a drama. He thought it was rather strange he got the gigs at all, considering the fact he was never all that known for his korean. Tsuyoshi had been the one to teach himself hangul, and go so far as to make respective ambassador visits to the country in his ever amiable way. Nakai almost wished he’d taken his member’s impromptu hangul lessons a little more seriously back then.

The problem started long after the plane reached the ground. Armed with his wheeled suitcase, barely woken up manager, and a japanese-korean dictionary, they were driven up to their hotel, and it was then regrets were to begin. Nakai was a fitful sleeper, nocturnal in his habits, so even as his manager dove into the neatly folded sheets– he was unable to do the same. It had been over a year since his last trip to the country, so he pulled on a coat, shades and newsboy cap and made for the street. Despite the fact he would have an early morning, he let the chill of the late evening thrum across his skin. There was no reason against him venturing out on his own, as there was a brief sense of freedom stalking the streets of a city that didn’t know him all that well. Or so he thought.

Soon after he’d freed a cigarette from his dwindling carton, and followed an indiscriminate path of street signs and headlights– familiarity was long gone to be replaced with a slow sense of unease. Nakai knew nothing of the city, as he relied on the directive of drivers’ and staff alike. His korean was miserable to say the least, yet there he stood below the flashing neons of a nightclub for all he knew, gaping in poor concentration. If he stared down a road sign and the korean dictionary now open between his hands long enough; perhaps the hangul would morph into something closer to kanji.