Title: Wrong Turn
Author: chokingsmoker
Rating: PG [?]
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction, and the views expressed are purely the author’s. chokingsmoker does not claim any connection with Arashi, its members and Johnny’s Entertainment, or with Jack Johnson. For recreational purposes only. Use only as directed. One size fits all. Many suitcases look alike. Batteries not included.
Notes: The title used is from a Jack Johnson song; this is how I’ve pictured this song to be. It would be nice if you’d listen to the song too, if you haven’t yet. And special thanks to i_am_zan for the quick beta-reading and the generous encouragement!

But none from him.

He shakes his head, fighting the urge to leave his umpteenth voicemail.

He looks up to watch children playing.

The air is rich with shrieks of laughter. Some of the kids are chasing each other, some on the see-saws, some using the slides, the monkey bars. Children take turns at the lone spring rider. There is a new addition to the playground, he notes—an inflatable obstacle course for children between 2 and 6.

He glances at the two other males around, chatting near the potted plants opposite him, keeping watch on their respective daughters. Mothers are sitting in one of the benches, giggling, occasionally flicking their eyes at him. He must look intriguing to them, as he keeps his hat low and obviously is not accompanying any of the children in the playground. Unbeknownst to him, the women have already given him a moniker—Mr. Mysterious. Mr. Mysterious is obviously waiting for someone, they whisper among themselves. Isn’t he cute? He sure looks like someone, I just can’t remember who, someone declares.

A child runs, falls down, looks around, finds no one looking and decides not to cry. If someone was looking, he definitely would have cried, Satoshi thinks.

He smokes some, wishing he brought a pencil and his sketchpad.

He looks at his watch and resolves to wait for a couple of hours more, just to make sure it’s not a mistake. That he did not, does not, will not misunderstand.

He closes his eyes as the late afternoon breeze frolics with his hair.

A pebble bounces on the grass before rolling, not quite reaching Satoshi’s feet. He almost smiles.

An hour passes. Two hours. Three.

He’s not coming.

Satoshi calls again, but all he hears is the familiar sound of Nino’s ringing phone. It’s almost his friend now, he thinks as he swallows down a wave of desperation.

He said if he didn’t turn up…

Satoshi cuts off his thoughts and looks at the funny shapes clouds make. One reminds him of a drawing he made of Nino—Nino as a dog, with his tongue drying in the wind.

He observes the afternoon sky bathed in sunlight, the horizon a beautiful vivid orange in a vast blue background.

A mother eyes him suspiciously and he looks back disinterestedly.

Have you been thinking of doing this all along?

Satoshi holds the swing handles tightly.

The dog-shaped cloud disperses, leaving behind wisps of feather-like images.

One by one, the children go home. The silence slips in between the shadows and smiles mysteriously.

Has everything been just a lie then?

He sits on the swing, not waiting anymore, a bit numb.

It’s dusk now, he realizes with a slight jolt. His deadened fingers are still tight on the swing handles, his throat achingly dry.

The wind is beginning to chill. He looks unseeingly at the street lamps as they are lit, one by one. The first stars appear. Defeated, Satoshi stands up to leave.

Labels: fanfiction