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“AND I COULD TASTE IT ON HER LIPS WHEN WE KISS.”
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ALFRED X KIKU?
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Alfred sighed into the dirty air of New York City. He watched as lights flitted across his vision, horns honked in the far distance, billboards and bright colors of white, pink, and such filled his eyes. A cold wind presided over the city tonight, although it didn’t affect Alfred in a slightest way.
If anything, the wind just made him sorrowful, staring into the once lively city he knew, the place that he would show Kiku around. However rather quickly, the lively city turned into a pale gray, all the buildings held the same properties and it didn’t feel the same without Kiku by his side.
To be honest, his Japanese “friend” was the only thing that was saving him from falling deeper into depression. Alfred hoped that one day, Kiku would return, so he could feel him in his arms. Though, his feelings were denied, the flattery Alfred would get around Kiku, he assumed the flushing of cheeks was just most likely the cold nipping at his face anyway. So for now, Alfred stared off into New York City, slipping out a cigarette as he lit it, taking a drag. It really wasn’t worth continuing to feed into this addiction, it wasn’t really worth wanting to live on too. It wasn’t worth anything to be away from Kiku. Alfred tapped his cigarette against the chipping metal railing, little sparks of ash fell out, falling uselessly onto the ground beneath him.
Alfred rummaged through some stuff in his drawer, a determined expression on his face. It was his first time moving out of Queens, he thanked the lords that he wouldn’t have to continue on in this horrible environment. Nothing felt better.
These thoughts came to a halt when his fingers hit something hard. Alfred tilted his head, uncovering an old lighter that Kiku used to use to smoke. It was black with a tinge of red at the bottom. He still remembered the hell he got through just to get Kiku to quit, fortunately quickly afterwards, they became best friends. Alfred chuckled and kept it on his nightstand, he couldn’t wait to see Kiku again next week. They had planned a museum visit somewhere in New York City, and it was one of the first times in years that Alfred got to go. Again, he thanked the lords that he was moving. He’d be closer too.
Alfred felt something else, an old book that Kiku used to own.
The news flashed across Alfred’s face as swiftly as a knife swipe to a hand. Kiku’s vehicle shown shattered and crumpled into pieces on the side of the highway, Alfred didn’t believe it at first. It was only once Kiku’s lifeless body was shown did he.
All the sudden, it didn’t matter to Alfred anymore, he closed the TV and felt numb tears streak down his cheeks, meeting each other at the bottom of his chin, eventually falling onto Alfred’s sweatpants. It left little dots, which looked like holes, holes which were delicate and let anything in, but as anything passes through, it leaves quickly. Alfred stood up from the couch, sobbing into his room as if it would wrap its arms around him. He was met face-to-face with Kiku’s old lighter. Contemplating on it, Alfred just accepted it. He opened his nightstand drawer and took the pack of cigarettes Arthur jokingly gave to him for his birthday. Guess it wasn’t funny anymore while Alfred lit the cigarette up and took a breath. It burned his throat as if simmering edges. The sensation restricted him from sobbing more, no matter how much it attempted to cause him to gag, Alfred didn’t do anything. It just felt, numb.
He turned around, keeping the cigarette in his mouth as he slid the book off his coffee table in his room on the way out.
Alfred sat in the kitchen table, opening the book as he took puffs of his cigarette. Each time it burned his throat.
The book turned out to be a Japanese bedtime story, enough to soothe one’s mind to fall asleep. That’s what Kiku would say, Alfred remembered it clear as glass.
The tears fell onto the book too.
The tears fell on the lighter too.
The tears fell in his own soul too.
The tears fell into his fate too.
The tears fell into his heart as well.
He remembered that night, tossing the cigarette out the window just from how much it hurt.
Alfred couldn’t look at New York the same anymore, he turned back and slid the balcony door behind him. Alfred stood there, staring down at his cigarette, then at his living room table. And there it was, Kiku’s lighter and book, two things that he could reminisce.
He looked back onto the balcony, finally, sliding the balcony door open again, dropping his cigarette onto the floor and extinguishing it with his slipper.
Alfred took Kiku’s lighter and book from the living room table. He slid another cigarette out of his pocket, returning back to his balcony. He placed the book on a random stool, then took his lighter and put the cigarette in his mouth. He placed the lighter right between the pages of Kiku’s book and the butt of the cigarette. Alfred proceeded to roll his thumb off the lighter and watched as a spark flashed, lighting up the cigarette along with the book. He took a few steps back, smoking his cigarette while watching the book gradually wither away under the calm fire, softly eating away at its pages.
Something’s you need to let go.
Alfred sighed and quickly extinguished his cigarette, squishing it under his slipper before returning back into his apartment.
He left the two dead cigarettes, flat, next to each other while the soft crackle of quiet fire wilted the book in the background.
Tell me less over the phone, Kiku. I can’t wait.””