Mercurial Dreams – Chapter Fourteen

Author: tashiichaan
Rating: T
Genre: Romance, angst, humour
Featuring: Sakurai Sho
Banner designed by: tashiichaan
Story Summary: Hiroki never holds expectations for anything. She never expected to be promoted just 6 months into her job; she never expected her housemate to be a little more sane; but of all those damned unexpectations, she didn’t expect to find herself drawn into the life of Sakurai Sho. She didn’t expect to fall in love with him. And it all starts with a can of Coke.

- – - – - -

Mercurial Dreams
Chapter Fourteen

Hiroki struggled to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. Her eyelids felt drugged with a weighty heaviness, and her mind in a thickened cloud and erased of any thoughts; she tried to move her hands but her limbs felt alien and refused to respond. However, her body’s stimuli were working just fine, because she could feel the soft texture of the bed she laid on. She blinked with difficulty and slowly opened her eyes, only to meet the blinding rays of sunlight glimmering cheerfully at her. She hissed quietly.

It was morning.

She rubbed her eyes, and then gasped hoarsely when she felt a sudden excruciating pounding at the back of her head. She whimpered while clutching her head, groaning in pain, “Great, a hangover…”

She reached out to the bedside table, which she knew she kept a few Panadol in the drawer in case of a terrible headache. However, the table felt foreign and unfamiliar to her touch. It was a smooth surface of polished wood, and as her hands explored further she fingered a vintage lamp that she definitely didn’t own.

In the midst of sheer perplexity, she realised the bed felt foreign, too. She didn’t remember having crisp white sheets and a thick comforter of rich cotton… In fact, she didn’t even know if she was in her own pyjamas. She glanced down at her clothes and almost felt a lump in her throat choke her. She was dressed in an oversized shirt which smelled faintly of musky cologne, and clearly wasn’t hers.

A pounding headache… woke up in someone else’s bed… wearing someone else’s clothes… WHAT IS GOING ON?!

Just as her mind was going into a frantic panic alert, she heard a muffled groan from behind. Her body went completely rigid. Suddenly it dawned on her the familiarity of the shirt she was wearing; it seemed like the perfect moment that she recalled a dulled image of her unbuttoning it from a man’s body, followed by wild kisses of passion and roving hands over a bare chest that traced lower and lower over the abdomen…

They didn’t… oh no, they did NOT have…!

As if to prove her point, she furiously rolled around in bed, hoping with such vehement confidence that the groan she heard was most probably from a slumbering pet. But despite all optimism, she was totally and in NO sane way prepared to come face to face with the sleeping figure of Sho, who had the comforter pulled up to his waist and revealing his tanned, muscled and very much naked chest.

And he was naked below the sheets.

Jun’s entire flat was then deafened with a chilling, high-pitched scream, followed by a string of high-pitched obnoxious curses, among them, “HENTAI!” and “HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!” and then came a painful echo of a tight slap.

In the kitchen and sipping coffee while reading today’s newspaper, Jun perked up in curiosity at the direction of his bedroom, and smiled to himself.

“So they’re finally awake…”

Back in the bedroom, Sho laid sprawled on the floor with his body tangled in the comforter, having been woken up abruptly to Hiroki’s piercing scream and then to be kicked unceremoniously, which sent him flying off the bed. He struggled onto his knees and peered at Hiroki huddled up at the other end of the king-sized bed, putting as much distance between them both.

“Nan da yooooo,” Sho yawned.

“Did we…? Did we have…?” Hiroki stammered uneasily. Her cheeks were blotched red in embarrassment, and she had pulled the comforter up to cover her unexposed chest.

“What?”

Hiroki lowered her voice to a tone that spoke of a forbidden secret, and whispered in fear, “Did we… have sex?”

That made Sho’s eyes widen to full attention and he sat upright in alarm. “What? No! No, we didn’t sleep together!”

“Technically speaking, we did…” Hiroki muttered.

Sho got onto his feet and the comforter fell to reveal the entire length of his body. Hiroki squeaked frightfully and quickly shut her eyes. “COVER YOURSELF, DAMMIT!” she shrieked.

“You’re such a hentai,” Sho remarked with a sneer, “I’m covered already.”

Offended, Hiroki threw down her hands angrily and shook a fist at him. “Hentai janai yo!” she retorted, and once she really paid attention to his physical appearance that she blushed furiously. Sho was indeed covered – he still had his jeans on, zipped up and clinging onto his hips. Thank goodness for propriety.

“Now, explain to me why I woke up in some stranger’s bed, beside a half-naked you, where I’m wearing your shirt!” Hiroki then frowned. She looked inside her shirt, and gasped. “I’m wearing only your shirt, and my bra and undies! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!”

“Woah, calm down,” Sho reasoned, holding his hands out in defence, “Look, all I remember before I passed out was you ravaging my shirt off. Then you puked on your own shirt, and I had to take it off because it smelled horrible.”

Hiroki suddenly covered her chest with her hands protectively. “You… stripped me?” she whispered.

“I kept your undergarments on, so no, I didn’t strip you,” Sho answered, but he couldn’t suppress a smug grin forming on his face, “Matsujun flat-out refused to lend any of his precious shirts, and you had already passed out, so I just dressed you in my shirt and let you sleep on the bed. After passing out myself, I don’t remember anything else.”

But Hiroki wasn’t listening. Her jaw had dropped, her face scrunched up in such scandalised expression as she mouthed, “You… you saw me… almost naked…?”

Sho shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal. “So?”

Hiroki gaped at him. “What do you mean, ‘so’?! I HAVE MY DIGNITY AS A WOMAN, AND YOU MAKE IT SOUND LIKE IT’S OKAY TO SEE ME HALF-NAKED?! JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE OH-SO-POPULAR AND OH-SO-HOT THAT YOU THINK IT’S JUST OKAY, HUH?! SO THAT’S HOW YOU TREAT WOMEN! YOU CHAUVINISTIC PIG!”

“Yeah… what! Wait, I mean, no! No!” Sho stammered. He was now cowering under Hiroki’s furious rampage and started edging slowly away from her.

“YOU’RE JUST UNBELIEVABLE! GET OUT!”

“Wait, just listen — ooof!”

Sho’s face was smacked silly with a fluffy pillow flung by Hiroki. Moaning, he barely recovered before another pillow thumped him squarely in the face again.

“I – WANT – YOU – OUT!”

“Okay, okay!” Sho yelled. He scrambled across the room and barely missed a pointed-toe heel Hiroki chucked at him, which hit the door lamely as Sho threw himself out of the room and out of the danger zone.

He breathed heavily as he leaned flat against the closed door. That crazy woman – simply accusing him of something and then throwing a terrible tantrum on her own claim! He wondered inwardly if this abnormal outburst of rage may had been contributed to these common mood swings women had before the time of the month… and just then he noticed Jun leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, carrying a cup of freshly-grounded coffee and peering at Sho in amusement.

“Well, that wasn’t how it’s supposed to turn out,” he sighed.

“You mean all this is planned?!” Sho roared, glaring at his bandmate.

“Of course,” Jun replied nonchalantly, “If we all hadn’t butted in and played matchmaker, you wouldn’t have slept with her… right?”

Jun grinned, and Sho started studying his toes intently, when in truth he was blushing unconsciously. Jun walked over and passed the coffee to Sho, who – despite his embarrassment – couldn’t resist the fragrance of caffeine, murmured ‘thanks’ and drank it. Jun moved closer and knocked politely on the door.

“What…” a voice moaned from inside.

“Just got your clothes from the dry-cleaners, they’re hanging at the closet,” Jun told her cheerfully, “Oh and, there’re some painkillers on the bedside table, if you’d like. I suspect you’ll be needing it for the conference later…”

There was a sudden dramatic knock, followed a muffled painful groan that made Jun and Sho exchanged confused glances. Then there was a loud shuffling inside for a full minute, all the while salacious swearing uncensored to their ears that almost made Jun laugh out. Sho glowered at him to shut up, just as the door swung open to reveal Hiroki already dressed in her office attire, struggling to strap on her heels while massaging her head.

“My god, this headache is splitting my head apart,” Hiroki said. She hopped out on one foot but lost her balance, and Sho grabbed her waist to hold her up.

“Did you take the painkillers?” he asked with concern.

She nodded with eyes half-closed, not even bothered to fight him off due to earlier mishaps. Numbly, she grabbed Sho’s coffee and gulped it down in one straight go, much to Sho’s dismay, and returned the empty cup.

“I’m supposed to be at the conference hall ten minutes ago!” she cried out, her eyes now wide open and darkened with panic.

“I’ll drive you,” Jun nodded instinctively, already grabbing his jacket from the coat hanger and fetching his car keys, “you have to switch subway lines if you want to get to Shibuya from here, and that takes longer. Sho, go get dressed!”

“Eh?! But they’re from yesterday and they’re not clean!” Sho whined.

Jun fixed him the infamous torturous-death-by-Matsumoto-if-you-don’t-listen-to-me glare and said icily, “We get new outfits there for the promo. Dress, now. Hiroki, get something from the kitchen or you’re going to faint.”

With Jun driving and unashamedly exceeding the speed limit, and Sho sitting obediently beside him, Hiroki was in the backseat, reading through her notes as a last-minute preparation for all her duties at the conference. She had to meet with the press and brief them on the conditions of the questions they were limited to, then she had to meet the hosts for the conference, as well as the camera crew and, nonetheless, her supervisor, Ichida, because he was there to monitor her conducting herself as a worthy PR agent.

“How much further?” Hiroki asked Jun in a panicky voice.

“A few more minutes,” he assured her.

Hiroki ate the bananas she picked out to calm her nerves. Not only was she nervous about her first project, but she was terrified beyond all her worst nightmares of the ominous prospect of being late for her first project, which would thus giving a bad impression to her supervisor – all because she had gotten horribly drunk on a very wrong day! She wondered if it was possible to put all the blame on those five damnable boys, who just so happened to have the misfortune of being the very clients she was working with.

Once reaching the office, Hiroki gave Jun a quick thank-you-I-owe-you-a-lot and dashed out to the conference hall, where she discovered the cameramen were already setting up the lighting and cameras, and a few reporters were buzzing around the hall trying to get inside information from the crew. On the stage, she saw Ichida scanning around for a sign of her, and Hiroki waved frantically to get his attention.

“Gomenasai, Ichida-san!” Hiroki apologised, quickly bowing down as soon as she reached him. “Had a small emergency! I’ll get to work now!”

Ichida, a good-looking man in his early thirties, smiled with understanding and patted her shoulder. “It’s alright, I suspected it was the nerves playing at you. Anyways, a few of the crew members aren’t exactly punctual too, so you won’t be the only one getting punished today,” he joked, and gave her a wink. Hiroki breathed out a sigh of relief.

Enduring the numbness from the painkillers, Hiroki went on to fulfil her authority. She addressed the members of the press who were compliant with the noted conditions; she went to monitor the cameras and was given the full green-light from the director. She spoke with the two hosts, a young woman and an older man, and was assured that they would be the source of entertainment. The young woman then asked if she was alright, because Hiroki appeared every bit beaten up with fatigue, and her face was lined with weariness. Hiroki assured her jokingly that she wouldn’t play the damsel in distress for the day, and quickly scrambled off to avoid further interrogating.

Five minutes before showtime, she went backstage to Arashi’s dressing room and knocked on the door with a temporary label ‘Arashi’. She opened the door a little and poked her head through the crack. “You guys ready?” she asked.

The boys were just putting on their dark jackets as a couple of female stylists fussed over their collars and attempted to flatten invisible creases in their shirts, and a makeup artist was putting on some blusher on Ohno’s face. Aiba and Jun, who were already prepped up and ready, got up and exited the dressing room, but not before winking suggestively at Hiroki. Aiba even bent down to Hiroki and murmured excitedly, “Nice one, last night!” And left before Hiroki could round on them heatedly.

“We’re done,” one of the stylists announced, and they were ushered out of the dressing room. Ohno and Nino left after them (smiling at Hiroki too, but there was something mischievous and triumphant in Nino’s wicked grin…). Sho, however, made no move to follow after them. Still standing at the door, Hiroki held her breath and blushed as she studied him. He was wearing a white tank top underneath the zippered motorcyclist jacket, along with a military cargo pants. He looks so good… she murmured inwardly.

After what seemed like hours, Sho finally crossed the room and headed to the door, but then he stopped directly in front of Hiroki. He was slightly taller than usual, thanks to his boots, and the tip of Hiroki’s head barely reached his chin. Hiroki had her mom to blame for the atypical below-average height of an Asian.

“How’re you doing?” he asked, as though trying to strike up a conversation.

She bit her lip and replied a little dizzily, “No more headache, but the painkiller’s numbing me. I feel like I might just fall apart if I don’t stand firm on my feet.”

“It’s common when you have a hangover.” Sho hesitated, took a deep breath, and continued in regret, “Okay here’s it. I’m sorry for, y’know, what happened last night and this morning. I shouldn’t even have drunk anything, and I don’t want you to assume I’d taken advantage of you.”

Hiroki shook her head repeatedly and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, we were both intoxicated. I shouldn’t have drunk anything, knowing I don’t drink…” her voice drifted away. Then absent-mindedly she started arranging Sho’s jacket like a fussy mother, and brushed off invisible soot off his sleeves. “I’m sorry for screaming at you, too. I was really mad and I couldn’t control myself,” she sighed.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Sho vowed vehemently. He bent his head down and stared at her, “I’ll treat you out one day.”

Hiroki smiled widely. She craned her neck and locked eyes with him, and nodded. She was about to say, “Do your best,” but she was cut off mid-sentence when Sho suddenly leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

“I promise,” he murmured, and then he turned and strode off to the stage.

Hiroki stood rooted to the spot, clutching her hand over the spot where Sho’s warm lips touched. “Do your best,” she repeated, watching the back of his retreating figure.

~