Bare Skin
It was a little after three in the morning but Azuma was still wide awake. His mind was travelling a hundred miles per hour and his bed felt nothing but prison. His pillows didn’t help calm his anxieties and he was afraid that when he closed his eyes, he would see the same scene playing over and over again. He didn’t want to be a prisoner of his hellish memories so he got out of the room.
He couldn’t stand the void. As usual. And the only remedy to it was to have company at this late hour. He was scrolling through his contacts, reading invitations from his former patrons. He hummed in childish delight when he realized he actually had the dorm memorized. The place was blanketed in darkness, save from the moonlight, all thanks to the money-grubbing yakuza’s rules. He navigated his way to the entrance successfully until he stopped.
At first, Azuma thought he was imagining things. Perhaps it was the reflection of the moon against a window but when he stepped back, he realized the door to the bath was opened and the lights were on. Who could it be at this hour? And who was brave enough to go against Sakyo’s words?
With padded footsteps, he went inside, not bothering to close the door. ‘Is it a burglar?’ he thought. He reached for the nearest object, which was an empty laundry basket and headed towards the tub where he heard someone humming. The voice sounded feminine, familiar even, that when he had gotten a look, he was only half-surprised.
Ruari Takeshima, the Mankai’s resident acting coach, was sitting on the edge of the tub. The first thing he noticed was her unusual unruly pink hair, and her clothes. Her baby blue blouse was half-opened, her underwear on display. The same goes for her pants that were stuck mid-thigh, and the actress looked like she didn’t have any plans on removing everything else.
Azuma put down the basket, the noise making her look up. She was surprised for a moment, before smiling. The white-haired male’s chest hurt a bit. She was smiling but the scene before him was so unfamiliar he didn’t know what to do. But Azuma was Azuma, and he was the guy who was calm in most dire situations.
Without asking any questions, he moved towards her, lithe fingers fiddling at the bottom of her top. “Can I help?” he asked, softly, afraid that she’d crumble in the slightest force.
She nodded, tilting her head to the side with that same smile that Azuma was starting to hate. He avoided looking at her and worked with removing every piece of outer garments. His touches were gentle, feather-like. He was afraid she’d turn into dust any second but he couldn’t bring himself to be quick with his movements. What if she did disappear after? So, he took her time, pulling the fabric out of her limbs achingly slowly lest he accidentally scare her off and run away.
When she was left with her underwear, he looked up at her, asking the silent question. Which, again, she nodded in return.
He took a deep breath. His loneliness from earlier was completely forgotten but instead replaced with utter concern for the girl. She looked like she wasn’t doing this to seduce him, not with her empty blue eyes and her sad smile. Azuma was used to her moments of silence but it was never like this. Never one with so many unanswered questions. Not with fragile bones and voiceless words. He was used to people’s worries and fears, but he never had to face anyone’s demons like this. What was he ought to do?
Pale fingers sifted through his hair and he looked up in surprise. Ruari was smiling to him still, but this one had little mirth. “You worry too much, Azu, but who worries for you?”
Minutes passed and Azuma was still stunned into silence. Here she was falling apart yet she took the time to comfort him. He stepped forward to help her, not to get help from her. He chuckled humorlessly, leaning his face against her palm. “You’re such an angel.”
“Even when I look like this?”
Azuma blinked. He was confused. What did she mean? When she looked broken like this? Exhausted flesh and mind burning out? Everyone had this side, he was sure of it, but not once did he see them ugly like this. By no means do they look beautiful, but he refused to romanticize something tragic and painful. He wouldn’t do them the injustice. However, he remained bewildered by her inquiry.
She must have seen the confusion since she leaned a little closer. Azuma could now see the freckles dusting across her nose and cheekbones. Her usual blue eyes now had specks of green splattered in them. Was this what she meant or was it the strong scent of alcohol from her mouth?
He offered her a smile, before removing the rest of her clothes. She was stark naked but Azuma was hardly interested. Folding the sleeves of his top and pants, he carried her down to the bath. Warm water soaked him but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t that cold. Not when Ruari’s hot tears continued to fall on his bare arms.
Azuma would like to know what happened. He wanted her to share the burden with him like how she smiled for his sake earlier. He wanted to understand her shadows like how her eyes searched the darkness in his.
But not tonight.
Tonight, Azuma’s only priority was to tell her how she was human. How she was like the moon, bright on the most part but hid away from the light at times, and that it was okay. How her scars looked like her and no one else. The truth could wait. Right now, Ruari needed him to wrap his arms around her, whispering, “You’re beautiful, my angel.”
