Wherever You Are

I was nervous through the entire flight, and nobody seemed to notice. I didn't know if I was thankful that no one could make a big fuss about it, or if I was so incredibly sad that I didn't have anyone to comfort me. I would glance over at Michael every so often as he sat in the seat beside me reading some sort of graphic novel, and every so often he would glance back with a smile on his face. He was so excited to be going back to Japan: the place of his dreams. I was so incredibly terrified. For Michael, it was a haven where he could be who he really was and pretend to be a normal boy with a normal life who just spent his time in playing handheld games in a maid cafe. It wasn't like that for me. Despite my father's Italian heritage and my mother's past life in France, for all intensive purposes Japan was my home. It was the kind of place that I had spent so much time wanting to forget who I was and how I got there. It was the place where I first went to public school, fell in love, gave myself away, and then suddenly needed to escape and just breathe. I was scared that we would go to the Tokyo Arena and all I would feel was the cool breath of the air conditioner on the night that Caleb took me to see SuG. I was terrified that I might be standing there in the dark, tears rolling down my face, with no way to explain the madness happening in my head. I was traumatized by the thought that Caleb might still be in that city. As large as it was, things always have a way of circling back around. It was just like how I left Japan, promising myself that I wouldn't ever come back: and yet, here I was on a plane to the center of my deepest insecurities. The plane landed, and we disembarked into Narita and I held my breath the entire walk through customs. They stamped my passport lazily and I thanked them in the Japanese that was still so fresh and clear in my mind. I still watched all of those old movies and anime programs, because Japan wasn't the problem. My problem was with the things that had happened in the city; those tender moments burned into my skin, leaving invisible scars so deep and fragile that I might combust from the still burning flame.

We stopped rather briefly so that everyone could take pictures with fans but it wasn't long before Richard was rushing everyone to get moving. We checked into the hotel with ease but my anxiety was still running high. I sent a text to Michael, inviting him to my room. I had the television on but nothing was keeping my attention. I figured that if anything could keep me occupied and ease my nerves, then sex would do it. After twenty minutes, he hadn't responded and I started to panic. He was usually my last line of defense and he was probably napping. I felt finicky. I needed to do something to calm my nerves, and what better way than with alcohol? I pried open the mini-bar and found individually dispensable mini-bottles. I pulled out a handful, quickly popping off the caps and downing them one by one without regard for the brand or the contents. Alcohol was the only thing that kept me going through the day. I wasn't an alcoholic in the truest sense of the word, but I definitely relied on it as soon as I woke up to calm my anxiety. On days like this, however, it didn't seem to be helping much. I needed to distract myself. I needed to make this city feel like more than just teenage heartbreak. I scrolled through my phone to the numbers that I hadn't called in so long. I knew that I still had at least one friend in the city who probably wouldn't mind meeting up. Besides, he probably had some sort of gossip that would make me feel better about myself. With a lot of hesitation, I dialed his number and waited on the line. It didn't take long to convince him to meet for dinner at a vending machine bar. It was always cheap in there, and it was good to be casual. I pulled my platform boots on and straightened out my hair with my fingers while I checked my appearance in the mirror. One good thing about Japan was that I didn't need to prepare myself for strange looks. If I wore black lipstick in California, I would get a lot of dirty looks from soccer moms and wannabe actresses who waited part time at tourist diners. In Japan, however, I got looks filled with admiration and inspiration for such a bold fashion choice. So I simply grabbed my backpack off of the desk in my room and left. I made sure that the door was closed behind me, and then started down the hallway to the elevator.

I was surprised when the doors opened and Michael was standing, looking a little surprised as well. He instantly smiled, his cheeks swelling near his eyes because of his wide styled grin. "Leda- I, I got your messages and thought I would surprise you." I entered the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. "Oh, did you?" I didn't mean to sound so cold, but I felt a little awkward that I had already made plans. He could tell that something was up too, because he didn't dare stay silent during the ride down. "Are you going somewhere, then?" I hummed a little before nodding my head. "Yeah. I'm just going out in the city." He nodded his head as if to say that he could understand why, even though he really had no idea. "Could I come with you?" I looked up at him and saw the sweetest and most inquisitive look on his face before shrugging slightly. "I guess so. I don't see why not." Michael wasn't going to get in the way of things, anyhow. I was certain that it wouldn't hurt to go out into the city that he loved so much. So we walked down the street, pacing through the crowd towards the station. His hand kept bumping against mine and I would pull my hand away, only to hear Michael grumble an embarrassed "sorry, accident." It was quickly growing annoying, but I wasn't about to make a fuss over something that was happening on accident. Plus, the train often rattled at it's fast speed and caused it's occupants to sway back and forth. We departed the station and I received a message on my phone from my friend. "Exit 2?" I smiled and followed the signs in the all too familiar characters towards the second station exit. Michael was doing his best to keep up, and wasn't doing so badly at it either. I left him in my dust, though, when I caught sight of him. He had gotten so much taller since the last time that I had seen him, but his tattoos was completely recognizable in the sea of suits and uniforms. It also helped, I suppose, that he was about six foot tall and very obviously a foreigner. His dark skin made him look less Irish and more Hispanic. I wasted no time in running to him, ignoring the fact that my boots made me equally as tall (if not a few inches taller) and that they were heavy as I jumped up to hug him. He held me tightly, holding me up off the ground and gave me one fast spin around before planting me back on my feet. I was greeted with his half smile and dark eyes. I didn't realize it quite then, but he was nearly the exact opposite of Michael with his arms and neck covered in bold colored ink and his septum pierced. I noticed it when Michael finally caught up to us and I introduced the pair of them. Michael was wearing a white Green Day shirt and dark wash skinny jeans. Anthony was wearing a black shirt with cut off sleeves; a picture of Ozzy Osbourne was printed on the front and he had paired it with a pair of straight legged jeans that made him look taller than he was. Michael's short hair was dyed bright red, but Anthony had no problem sporting his nearly shaved dark hair. It was really quite strange to see them next to each other, a complete juxtaposition for two people who were born from the same emotional seed.

We walked to the vending bar together, Tony and I leading Michael as he lagged behind. I couldn't blame him, per se. Tony and I gossiped in Japanese about the local politics and the last three girls that he had dated. Tony was an incredibly romantic person and often felt that he needed a woman in his life to balance him out. He had a sweet spot for the innocent looking Japanese girls that he met at the market who dressed the mannequins standing in the alley and he had admittedly made a name for himself among them. He was a foreigner, and that made it easy, but he was often given nick names regarding his sexual preferences and they were things that I would never want to repeat for fear of making him uncomfortable. I had known him when he was young, after all. Before his body was inked over and muscular, he was merely a lanky Irish boy who had a computer engineer for a dad. He saw me as a muted girl who wore the ugliest blue dress to school every day before Caleb had taken me shopping for actual clothes. These were things that we discussed, in English, with Michael while we sat in the vending bar. Michael politely laughed, though he clearly didn't understand what was so funny about me not knowing certain bands. He was growing more and more impatient, and it was starting to weigh down on the atmosphere. The sun had already set when I suggested that we change scenery. Tony was newly in love with a culture club not too far away from us, and I suggested that I meet him there later after dropping Michael off at the hotel. Michael didn't agree in the least: if Tony and I were going to go drinking then he wanted to come and see the night life. I did my best to hide how annoying he was being. Couldn't he see that I was trying to save him from his awkward boredom? Whatever, I thought. I didn't want to put Tony in the middle of any arguments so I just swallowed how angry I was getting. We rode the train together, but I vowed that I was going to ignore Michael for as long as he was acting like an uninterested prick. Tony and I continued all of our reminiscing at the club while the music bumped loudly all around us. Tony was telling me about the DJ, a thick girl from Ginza who had given up a life as a dancer to play in this club and several others. He admitted that he had a crush on her, and when she left the platform to get a bottled water Tony acted quickly to follow her. He greeted her with a hug and introduced me, and we politely bowed to one another while Michael was left standing awkwardly behind me. He reached out for a handshake with her, but I slapped his hand away. I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face while I asked her how she wrote her name. It may seem like an odd questions for Americans, but in Japan it was necessary to ask how it was written. She happily obliged, spelling it out. Miyake Ayumi was a name that certainly fit her well. She had long black hair but wore brightly colored extensions with inked patterns displaying different animal prints and shapes. She was wearing a cropped shirt with cut off sleeves and light wash denim shorts. It wasn't the kind of outfit that I would have dressed her in, but it was cute as a daytime look. Her Japanese was obviously from the city, with her light accent and the speed at which she talked. I wondered if I could keep up, but I did without problems. I listened to her talk about how she got started mixing, and that she originally just wanted something different to dance to. She used to attend the art institute in Yokosuka, but realized that her true dream was just in music. I admitted that I could relate and talked about my band.

"There's only four of us," I said, holding up four fingers in case she couldn't hear me over the music. In the corner of my eye, Michael was looking confused about the amount of fingers I held up. "We love to play though. You should check us out." She handed me her phone and I typed in my number and name, given the Kanji that was I had to work with, and handed it back with a smile and a nod. She had to get back to work because the song was almost done, and Tony wanted to go find a seat from which he could drink and enjoy the set. Although Michael had done well so far with the fact that I was ignoring him, I knew that I couldn't logically push him aside all night. We needed to talk about how much of a buzzkill he was being and it was a conversation that I didn't want to have in public. I said my goodbyes to Tony, hugging him tightly once again and thanking him for everything. I had a lot to thank him for, too. Not only had he met up with me that day, but he had been one of the only people that I could count on as I grew up in this city. Even when I wore the ugly blue dress, he was still kind to me and treated me as more than just a strange girl. He looked beyond my appearance and into my soul, and he saw something in me that made him certain that I was meant for a different kind of life. He said that he was going to check out the show later when I offered to have tickets left for him, but Michael was quick to point out that the arena was already full. I gave him a begrudging stare. "Then I guess you'll just have to come backstage and help me with costumes, okay Tony?" Michael's eyes turned darker somehow and I refrained from the strong desire to smirk as we left the club. I was still ignoring him as we walked to the station, although Michael was barraging me with questions. He rapid fired them, growing more and more upset at my lack of responses. "So, you guys are just old friends?" I avoided looking at him as we boarded the train, one of the last of the night. "You never dated him or anything? Cause you guys seem to have a really close relationship." The car was nearly empty so I took a seat, biting my tongue because that statement was so offending. I don't have to sleep with someone to be close to them, you fool. Instead, I kept looking ahead as the tunnels shot passed the windows. "I only ask because it was kind of strange, how comfortable you were." I couldn't hold back anymore. My head whipped to see him sitting next to me, his eyes suddenly wide at the site of fire captured and stilled in my eyes. "Well, you and the rest of bed are really close, Michael. Have you sucked Luke's dick lately or was it Calum's turn this week?" His entire face fell and he began to pay more attention to his shoes. I imagined that he was trying to think of some sort of witty comeback but after several minutes he had said nothing else.

In the hotel lobby, we waited for the elevator and I suddenly found myself wanting to question him. The tables were reversed, and I wondered if he would react the same way as I did. "Do you know how much of an asshole you were to Anthony?" The doors to the elevator pulled apart and the both us entered in unison. My finger smashed the button for my floor. "He was so incredibly kind to you but you couldn't say a single thing without sounding like a total moron." His voice piped up, loud and aggressive. "I wasn't being a moron, I was protecting you. He's not right for you, Leda." I rolled my eyes. "We're just friends, Michael! Friends. You know, the thing that happens when you pull your head out of your ass and treat people like they matter." I glanced at the floor indicator screen, realizing that we were not being lifted fast enough for my liking. I smashed the button in again, several times as I tried to get it to move at a faster rate with no success. "I'm glad you know how friends are made, Leda. I was starting to wonder if you were trying so hard to be mysterious that you forgot how to do that." I scoffed, my throat suddenly tender from the exasperated sound. "Mysterious? Are you fucking kidding me? Just because I don't want to date you, I'm suddenly mysterious?" He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it, his eyes somehow growing softer as I began to top my foot in my large boots. It was rather difficult but I needed to move somehow before I punched him. I had, after all, resisted the strong urge to harm him for quite some time. I pushed the button for my floor again, pushing it in so hard that it nearly stayed pressed in when I removed my finger. I went in to press it again, but could suddenly feel Michael's hand on my shoulder as he pulled me around and pressed me into the wall there. He kissed me, rather feverishly, and I lifted my hands to push him away but quickly changed my mind as his mouth moved to my throat; leaving sloppy wet kisses before he trailed to my exposed collarbone. I had lanky limbs, but my collarbones were the only bones you could see and he knew full well that it was a total weakness. I moaned sharply underneath his mouth and I could feel him grinning wildly against my skin as he used his teeth in that delicate place.

The elevator doors opened and he pulled me by the hand, suddenly seeming so sure and dominate, leading me down the hall to my room. We stopped several times to kiss and he pressed himself against me before letting me free to open the door. I reached into my pocket for key card, only to find it empty except for a few yen from the vending bar. I checked my other pocket, which was also empty aside from my passport and California driver's license. Michael looked at me with suspecting eyes, uncertain of if I was being genuine or not. Impatient, he leaned down and growled into my neck, biting me hard and making me slap him away. I pulled my backpack off and opened it up, searching the contents frantically for my room key. I didn't have many card shaped items, but I was hoping that I didn't have to go to the front desk. Michael's hands were slipping under my shirt and caressing the bare skin of my back, causing my skin to respond effectively with goosebumps down my arms. I could hear him snicker and I groaned, angry with myself. I had just remembered that I had left it on the desk in the room when I grabbed my backpack. I turned around to face him and he started laughing as quietly as possible, considering that we were in the hallway. "Come on, I can't wait much longer. Let's go in." I gave a weak smile and he paused, his laughter dying out rather quickly. "Are you locked out?" I bit my lip, diverting my eyes before nodding in confirmation. He chuckled and rolled his eyes, pulling me closer and wrapping his arms around me. "Let's go get another card." My voice sounded as annoyed as I felt, but he shook his head before once again taking my hand and leading the walk back to the elevator. "We'll just go to my room." I shook my head as the doors slid open and we stepped back inside of the box. "I have to get a replacement, Michael." He kissed my cheek, beginning to reignite the lustful heat building in my chest. "So then, you will. Later. But I need you right now." I sighed, partially because he was being whiny and I hated that in him. I was also sighing because he was pressed so tight against me that I feel him growing hard in his already tight jeans. "Please, Leda." As much as I hated how needy he was, he knew that I liked it when he begged me. He didn't have to lead the way to his room, we walked there together and he unlocked the door.

He didn't call into the room, already confidant that Luke was spending the afternoon with Sarah. "She's his girlfriend now." It was enough of an explanation for me as we yanked clothes off of each other, garments flying in no general direction. It was always that way between Michael and I. One minute, I was hating him and trying to figure out how to get him as far away from me as possible; the next minute, I was moaning with his head down between my thighs. There was no real way to explain it, really. Did I hate Michael, or not? I wasn't even for certain. I knew that he was awfully obnoxious but I couldn't deny that he had always been at my beck and call when I needed him. When I made him angry, he didn't transform into the kind of person who wanted to hurt me; contrarily, he got turned on when I made him upset. These were things that came to mind when we had finished for the night and he once again wrapped himself around me. We laid in his bed, and the warmth of our bodies filled the room while he nuzzled his face into my neck. We were silent for a long time, and then he spoke up again. "Leda," he was testing the water. Perhaps he was making sure that I was awake. I hummed as a simple gesture of how alert I was. He continued momentarily. "I just got really jealous, is all." I rolled my eyes at the thought of me getting together with Anthony. Tony was incredibly kind hearted but much like Michael, he was incredibly needy for my taste. Even so, I wasn't the kind of girl who was ever going to survive a relationship. Surely, Michael would have to come to understand that about me. "Anthony is just my friend," I said finally. Michael gave a small nod that pressed his face further against my neck so that the next time he spoke, his lips were gently pressed against my skin. "But it was the first time that I realized," He paused, yet again testing for how I would respond. I thought about the things that he might say. It was the first time that he realized what? He must have known that I was attracted to other guys. Maybe he didn't want me to sleep with him if I was interested in someone, but that still negated his understanding of my desire to be without romance. I waited with bated breath. "Realized what, Michael?" He sighed, a hot breath of air flooding over my throat. "I really don't want to fuck this up." His voice was weak and cracked near the end of his sentence. I took a second to consider the fact that he very well could be crying. I thought about getting up and leaving the bed, but I was uncertain of what he was trying to say. I rolled over so that we were facing each other, and was unsurprising that his eyes were puffy and watered. His hand rubbed up and down my back, it was a relaxing feeling but it made me rather uncomfortable. "I just realized," he started again, pausing yet again and I swallowed hard. He must have seen how aggravated I felt because he finally continued just as I opened my mouth to speak. "I realized how much I like you." That was all it took.

I climbed out of the bed and wasted no time in getting dressed. Michael bolted upright and raced me to see if he could get dressed first, all in an attempt to stop me at the door. "Leda, I can't help it-" I interrupted him, doing my best to push him away from the door where he held it shut. "I can help it, so I will." He scoffed, being pushed away from the door enough for me to leave but he simply followed me down the hall instead. "Please, Leda, I am trying here. I swear to you, it doesn't have to be perfect. It's okay if you hurt me, but I need to know if this could go somewhere. I need to try-" I smashed in the button for the elevator before deciding that it was taking too long. I quickly walked farther down the hall, heading to the stairs. "Well, let me make it very clear for you one final time, Michael." I yanked the door to the staircase open, huffing as I stepped through. My voice began to echo through the walls. "I do not want a boyfriend. We don't have to try anything to know that this, this will go absolutely nowhere." I started down the stairs, not daring enough to look back. Michael said nothing but I could hear him grumble rather loudly before the door behind me slammed shut. I went to the front desk to retrieve a replacement for my room key and they obliged rather quickly. Back in my hotel room, I threw my backpack down on the desk and immediately began removing my clothes for a shower. I scrubbed my hair and skin and somehow felt angry that I was cleaning Michael off of me more than I was just trying to get clean. I climbed into bed, ready to finally sleep in private. The problem was that I couldn't fall asleep. I was really upset at Michael, but also really angry at myself. Sure, he didn't understand me but that was partially my fault for not forcing him to understand. He said that he wanted to continue whatever our arrangement was, but I should have been smart enough to cut him off then. There was nothing wrong with him that deemed him poor boyfriend material. There were certainly a lot of girls in his fan base and that obviously meant something. I just didn't need or want a relationship. I didn't want to give my life to someone, or have them devote themselves to me. I didn't want to hold hands on the street, or talk about getting married. I didn't want to explain to people every fight and try to decode every wayward glance. I was just fine being on my own. More than that, I was happy to be on my own. This whole topic was making me nervous and caused my head to hurt. I climbed out of bed, got redressed and walked down to the hotel bar. I sat for a few hours, talking to the bartender about random things. Mostly, we talked about the changes being made to the subway system. His name was Satoshi and he was incredibly surprised by my ability to speak Japanese, but he was happy to continue the conversation that way. He asked me about my boyfriend, the tall red head that he had seen me with earlier. I scoffed and tried to laugh it off, except the laughter would not come out. "He's not my boyfriend." Satoshi tilted his head, looking incredibly confused. "I don't mean to offend you. It just looked like such a close relationship. If you are just friends, then that's okay with me. I'm sure you will find someone more attractive and more your style." He smiled rather politely and I finished yet another drink. I looked into the mirror behind Satoshi, catching a glimpse of my red face. It was safe to say that I was officially trashed, and I needed to get to bed. I paid a large portion of my bill with the leftover yen in my pocket and asked him to charge the rest to the room. He bowed and waved goodbye and I did, too.

The elevator was not a nice experience on the way up. First of all, I could hardly stand on my own and needed to lean against the wall. I leaned against the same portion of the wall that I had been pinned to a handful of hours before and as I realized it, I could feel myself growing dizzy and warm. Why did I feel like the bad guy, here? I was painfully clear about what I wanted right from the start. When he asked me what was so bad about dating him, I was honest that I didn't want a boyfriend. I had given him a series of outs, a means by which he could exit the arrangement without anyone's feelings getting hurt. So then, why was it that when he admitted his feelings that I felt so terrible? No, I thought. Fuck Michael. Fuck him. He's the one who doesn't fucking understand. My blood was boiling by the time the doors slid open at my floor. I pressed the button to send the elevator up two more floors, and I waited impatiently for the doors to open. It took me a few minutes, but I finally remembered where his room was and did not care about the sleeping guests as I pounded on the door. My brain was restless, but I was pissed. "Michael Clifford!"I knew that he could hear me from inside, because I could also hear Luke in the room, complaining. I banged on the door again, continuously. "Michael! Michael! I have something to say to you!" The door swung open, and it was Luke with tired eyes, shirtless but wearing sweatpants as I pushed him aside and charged into the room. Michael was laying in bed, playing a handheld Nintendo until he saw me. He closed the game he was playing, an expression on his face so contorted that I couldn't tell if it was his in disgust or shock. "Are you drunk?"

Drunk? I didn't want to, but laughter bubbled from somewhere in my throat and suddenly I was cackling and leaning my back against the wall to catch myself from falling. Luke crossed the room to his phone where it lay on the bed, and began dialing a number. I couldn't stop laughing and Michael made quick work to get out of bed and try to make me sit down. I smacked his hands away and turned around so that my head was resting on the wall as Luke reached whoever was on the line. "Leda is completely wrecked. You should probably come get her. My room." I stopped laughing when he asked for someone to retrieve me, like an out of control animal. I stopped laughing, but I was not calm. I whipped around to see Michael with his hands up, as though ready to defend himself if I were to physically attack. "I am not the bad guy, Michael Clifford!" He shook his head. 'What? Leda-" I snarled at him. "No, shut up! I'm talking!" He stepped back and Luke rolled his eyes before sitting down on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes.

"I told you for the very beginning that I didn't want none of that stupid romantic bullshit." Luke's head perked up at this statement, his eyes darting from Michael to me several times over. "I meant it, Michael. I still do. I mean," I paused, quickly running out of breath. "Fuck." I sat down in the arm chair right beside me and leaned back, all of the blood leaving my head as the room began to spin. I hadn't been this far gone in so long. My tolerance for alcohol had been so high that I began to wonder just how much I had been drinking that day. "I don't want to hurt you, Mikey." My voice sounded so much like a whimper that I felt ashamed in front of Luke, who was still trying to piece the situation together when suddenly there was a knock on the door. Both of the boys turns to look before Luke got up to answer it. I didn't look. My eyes stayed fixated on Michael, my thoughts rushing back to the memory of the way his eyes looked when he was trying not to cry. "I don't want you to hurt me. I'm so fragile, Mikey. I'm so weak." I closed my eyes to blink, and then-