The Grass is Greener

So fucking bored.

Ranko sighed, watching off in the distance as her bandmates huddled around Norio in the empty soundstage that their record label had rented as a rehearsal space for the Wildfire Tour.  The orange-haired roadie was giving a lecture on how to pack up their instruments for safe transport, and given that Ranko's instrument resided in her throat, she didn't have much to gain from the discussion. 

She pressed play on the Discman clipped to the waistband of the green denim skirt she'd borrowed from her wife, pulling her headphones back over her ears. Man, it's so weird listening to myself on this thing. 

Ranko swayed her hips, singing along with herself and trying to let the rhythm of Demon in Your Radio catch her. The larger stage and the addition of two new dancers would require an entirely new dance routine for nearly all of her songs, save the ones that weren't really dance tunes anyway, like There Are No Words. 

"It's not your fault! Nobody can maintain their focus when they're sucked into the Dragon-style… owww." 

Ranko sighed, wincing and doubling over slightly. Man, being a girl fucking sucks sometimes. I'm all grumpy, and I hurt, and I don't wanna do nothin'. She grumbled loudly in the direction of the back half of the rehearsal space. And they couldn't even spring for the damn donut lady. I haven't eaten all day, and I'm friggin' starving, and they got me sitting around here like an asshole with nothing to do. They could have at least ordered some pizzas or something.

Stopping her CD player again, Ranko flopped to her backside dejectedly on the makeshift stage the roadies had erected for their rehearsals, extending her legs out and leaning back a little to alleviate pressure on her midsection. She pulled her headphones back from her ears, tossing them carelessly to the wooden platform rather than risking them getting tangled in her hair. Fuuuuuuuuck. I've become the moody, hormonal bitch I used to hate. Turning her head to the pile of backpacks near which she'd plopped herself, she bit her lip contemplatively. Maybe one of the boys brought snacks. At least they won't have to deal with me being bitchy 'cause I'm hungry on top of everything else.

She grabbed Crash's red backpack, unzipping it and peering inside. In it, she found Crash's leather gloves, a pack of cigarettes and a soft, plush cotton sweater in a vibrant green, but nothing to eat. "Dammit, man. You had one job." 

Ranko zipped the bag up again, returning it to where she found it before reaching for a forest green backpack with a tan suede bottom. Alright, Jake, you're not gonna let your girl down, are ya, buddy? A moment later, the redhead growled in frustration as she zipped her keyboardist's bag closed again and tossed it next to Crash's. You suck, man. 

Leaning back until her back touched the wooden stage, she stretched for a ratty black nylon duffel bag, unzipping it and slipping her hand inside. Oooh, hey, what's this?

She grinned as she extracted a large plastic bag full of chocolate chip cookies. Jackpot! And chocolate, too! Shin, I take back everything I ever said about you. You're a gentleman and a scholar. Peeking into the bag, she managed a tiny huff of a chuckle. I guess it makes sense that you didn't pack milk, but a girl can dream. 

Separating the green seal of the plastic bag into its blue and yellow components, she reached her hand in and extracted one of the large cookies. She bit into it ravenously, chewing it with a slight cringe. Man, Shin. We gotta find you a girlfriend, dude. These things taste like fucking dirt. But right now, I'm too hungry to care. And besides, compared to Akane's baking, this is freakin' gourmet. She swallowed, pressing the rest of the cookie into her mouth before reaching for another. 

Satisfied after a few moments, she stretched back out on the stage with a groan. I should've brought some aspirin or something. Couldn't have had that in your bags, huh, guys? Honestly. What kinds of pack mules are you, anyway?! Do you not realize what your job is as boys? She shook her head with another exasperated chuckle. Not like I couldn't have put some in my purse, I guess. Gotta remember for tomorrow.

She reached into her purse, withdrawing a small black notebook, the cover of which was printed with her signature in bright pink, and a disposable blue ballpoint pen. Opening it to the first page with writing on it, she bit the end of the pen contemplatively as she read what she'd written the day before. 

I hear it in your breathing, and I see it in your eyes. You're looking for the seething fire where romance goes to die…

With a devilish grin, she uncapped the pen, adding the next line of the new song. Oooh, that's good. 

"Um, Ranko? You okay over there?" Crash sat down on the stage next to his friend, who was curled up in a ball in the fetal position with her cheek resting on the guitarist's green sweater. She'd balled it up like a pillow under her head, and was repeatedly stroking one of the sleeves between the fingers of her left hand with a gentle touch and an almost enraptured expression. She was covered up with her leather jacket as if it were a blanket. Her still-open notebook and her CD player lay next to her on the stage floor, and her eyes were barely half-open.

"This is so soft…" Ranko giggled, smiling up at her friend as she patted his sweater gently. "I like it."

Her friend laughed, shaking his head. "I'm… glad you approve, I guess? You about ready to rehearse? I know you said you were hungry; wanna order some Chinese for delivery? I had no idea that whole demonstration was gonna take so long, or we'd have grabbed a bite beforehand. Sorry about that."

"Oh, it's okay." Her voice was a bit distant, and she nuzzled her cheek into Crash's sweater again with a quiet purr as if it were her favorite stuffed unicorn. "I had some of Shin's cookies. They didn't really hit the spot, though. I'm even hungrier than I was before!" She tittered cutely, leaning into her friend as if trying to keep her words secret, but forgetting to actually modulate her volume. "He's a terrible baker, Crash. He's gonna make somebody a shit wife one day."

Shinji swallowed hard, snapping his head to the pair with panic in his eyes. "You what?!" 

Ranko lolled her head to the side limply to look up at her bassist, a dreamy, far-off look in her eyes. "Yeah, sorry, dude. Normally Jake's got me covered on the snack tip, but bro let me down today. I'll make ya some better cookies tomorrow, Shin. Promise. What the heck did you put in those, anyway? They tasted weird."

The black-haired boy's eyes darted up to Crash, full of worry. "Ho… how many of those did you eat, Ranko?!"

She shrugged, giggling again. "I 'unno. Five? Six, maybe? I was really hungry. And really grumpy. Bitchy, bitchy girl. Grrrowl. But I feel a little better, though… the chocolate's helping with the cramps, I think."

Shinji's head drooped until his forehead rested in his palm. "Oh, fuck."

Crash's eyes went wide. "Shin, were those the…"

"Yes!" 

"Aw, hell." Crash groaned, shaking his head as he looked down at his friend, still splayed out on the plywood platform. "Um, Ranko, listen, I need you to sit up, okay, hon? Can you do that for me, please?" 

"Nuh-uh. Comfy." She waved the back of her hand at him, not lifting her cheek from his sweater. "Go 'way. I'm relaxing. I'll sing later." 

"Oh," Crash said, slipping his hand under the limp young woman's back and pulling her up into a sitting position. "I bet you are relaxed, all right." 

She nodded emphatically with a giggle, her eyes wide with wonder at the idea that he could guess how she felt. "I feel like a noodle!" She reached down for the cotton sweater behind her, wrapping it around her shoulders with a quiet purr as she snuggled under it. "Gimme that. It's really fuckin' cold in here, and this feels nice. So soft. Feel this, Crash! It's amazing."

Crash pulled the slender girl into a hug against his chest, mostly to keep her from swaying. "Listen to me, Ranko. I need you to try to keep it together for us now, 'kay? I know you're feeling a little goofy right now."

Ranko tittered brightly, looking up at him with a silly grin. "How'd you know?!" She reached up, tapping him on the forehead with her finger. "You're so smart, Crash."

"Ranko," the guitarist whispered, pulling her hand back as she reached for her Discman. "There was something in those cookies you ate. Come on, you gotta focus right now."

"There must'a been. They tasted like butt." She curled her legs up under her, giggling as the black nylon leggings she wore under her skirt tickled her ever-sensitive skin. "Your hugs feel really good, Crash. You know that? You give great hugs. Not like Akane, but like, really good friend hugs. The best." 

Crash groaned. "No, Ran-chan, listen to me. There was grass in those."

Nodding with a giggle, Ranko pressed closer against his chest. "They sure tasted like it."

"Ugh, Ranko…" Crash leaned down, whispering something in her ear. She shivered in his arms, just from the sensation of his breath on her earlobe and the back of her neck. 

The singer gasped loudly as he finished, rocketing her head up from her guitarist's chest and looking up at Shinji with her mouth hanging open in shock, her eyes wide. "You do drugs?!"

"Keep your fucking voice down, Ranko," Crash growled through his teeth, squeezing her tightly. He craned his neck to see if any of the record label representatives, or the new members of their traveling entourage, seemed to be reacting. "Shin, get her some water or something."

"He's a bad boy, Crash. He does drugs. Wait! I ate his… do I do drugs now? Am I… a bad girl?" Ranko giggled. "Being a bad girl is fun sometimes." She blushed. "I like being a girl. It's so much better than being a stupid boy. Except for stupid cramps. They're stupid and no fun." She offered a thumbs-down and a spattering raspberry to punctuate her point.

Crash shook his head with a light chuckle, sweeping her red hair out of her face where it had become disheveled as she lay on the stage. "I'll have to take your word for it, Ran-chan." He reached up for the bottle of water Shinji handed him, passing it down to his delirious charge. "Here, drink this. It'll help." 

"Ooh, good idea! My mouth tastes like blanket." Ranko reached for the clear plastic bottle with both hands, lifting it to her mouth. After a moment, she pulled the bottle back down, looking at it incredulously. "Oh! Duh." She shook her head, unscrewing the white plastic bottle cap and tossing it aside before trying again to extract the liquid from its container. 

Akane's gonna kill us, Crash thought with a sigh. "Shin, you and Jake go over and keep the others busy, and I'll see what I can do to sober her up. C'mon, Ran-chan. Let's walk it off a little. Stand up." He started to rise, dragging her dead weight to her feet. 

"No! I don't want to!" She pounded on his chest gently, a whiny pout in her voice. "You guys should go practice. I'm gonna just go sit over there." 

Under the circumstances, I suppose she can be forgiven for being a brat, he thought with a chuckle. "No such luck, missy. Come on. We gotta go to work now."

"Is she alright," came a booming drawl from behind Crash. 

The guitarist turned, looking up into the eyes of one of their new roadies. He squinted a bit. the stage lamps glaring off of Lance's bald head shining into his eyes. "Yeah, she's good. She's just a little sleepy. Isn't she, Ran-chan?"

Ranko giggled, swaying a little on her chunky heels like a rag doll in her friend's arms as she met the enormous man's gaze. Her glassy eyes weren't entirely pointed in the same direction. "Crash says we have to sing now. But we can't. Ken's not here." She leaned over with a vapid giggle, stabbing her right hand out at eye level and poking Lance firmly in the sternum twice with her outstretched index finger. "You ate him, didn't you? Admit it. That's how you get so big, eatin' poor, innocent drummers."

Crash could only shake his head in response to the American's confused expression. He wasn't sure if Lance's mystification was due to his not understanding Ranko's Japanese, or just her ridiculous accusation not making much sense. Probably a bit of both, he thought.

"Ken's gonna be here in a little bit, Ranko. He's just at an appointment right now." Crash rubbed her back firmly through her long-sleeved candy-cane-striped tee shirt, trying to stimulate her blood flow. 

"It's not fair," Ranko whined loudly. "How come he gets to not be here, and I gotta be here? My girl parts hurt and I just wanna go sleep."

Oh, don't worry. You're gonna sleep like a rock tonight, kiddo. "It's because you're the star, Ranko. Now let's go. C'mon, let's sing something." Crash looked up at the giant man hopefully. "Hey, I bet Lance would love to hear one of the new songs you've been working on. Why don't you sing Hole in the Wall for him?" 

"Pffffft," Ranko replied, blowing a raspberry at her friend and paying no mind to the spittle she expelled onto his black Jimi Hendrix tee shirt. Stupid girl parts. 

"Or, you know, that works too, I guess." Crash groaned loudly. What am I gonna do with her?

Lance leaned down to Crash, whispering to him in English. "Get some coffee in her." 

"Oh, no, she's fine. Just a little tired. She's okay." Crash bounced Ranko in his arms as he replied to Lance in his native tongue, willing the songstress to support her own weight more fully. 

"Sure, right. I used to see this all the time in the Navy. Seriously. I'll get her some coffee. How does she like it?" Lance grinned down at the slight woman in her guitarist's arms. 

Crash shrugged. "Never seen her drink it before." 

"Black it is," Lance said with a nod and headed off to the large silver urn situated on a folding table near the restrooms at the far end of the soundstage.

"I don't like coffee," Ranko said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. "It's hot. I don't like hot. It hurts. Stupid cat's tongue."

"Cat tongue? Huh? Girl, you're even further gone than I thought." Crash laughed. "Don't you worry. We're gonna get you perked right up and you're gonna rock this rehearsal." 

Ranko nodded matter-of-factly. "Cat's tongue. It's this weird thing that makes my skin all extra touchy. It makes hot and cold hurt a lot, and it makes hurt hurt a lot more too. Stupid fuckin' Cologne. But it makes things feel really nice sometimes too. Like Akane. Akane makes me feel really nice. Sooooo nice." She purred quietly, resting her cheek on his chest. "And, like, that time you kissed me. That felt really nice, too."

"Wait, what?!" Crash looked down at her incredulously. He started to step back, but thought better of letting the wobbly girl go at the last moment. And what does aftershave have to do with it?

The redhead giggled behind flushed cheeks, nodding again. "Yep. I don't like boys, but it made me all tingly anyway. Couldn't help it. So you better be good and not kiss me no more, 'cause I get all fuzzy when people touch me." She poked at his nose with her finger as the words no more escaped her lips, nearly missing and stabbing at his eye instead. "I don't want to, it just happens. I can't help it. Sometimes even hugs make me all buzzy inside." She snuggled tighter into his arms, whimpering contentedly. "Your hugs feel so good, Crash. So happy. Happy hugs. I didn't used to get hugs, but now I get lots of hugs, and that's better."

Crash blinked, shaking his head in shock. "Is… is this why you wouldn't work with anybody else but Aki on the Sneak video?"

Ranko nodded with a vacant laugh. "I didn't want nobody makin' me feel all whoooo like that 'scept Akane. 'Specially not with all you nasty perverts watchin' me." She poked him accusingly in the chest with a single outstretched finger. "Icky, icky boys."

"And…" Crash's eyes widened, more and more of the oddities he'd witnessed and questions he'd had in his two years of friendship with his band's lead vocalist beginning to come into focus in his mind. "Turn Me Off/Turn Me On?"

"Yep! It's all about Akane makin' my brain go all blerp." Ranko let her neck and back go limp and lolled her head against his shoulder for emphasis. "Like, when she goes…"

"Okay," Crash retorted, cutting her off with a nervous chuckle before she could continue her sentence. "I don't need to know. That's between you two."

Ranko nodded. "I made you blu-ush," she giggled in a sing-song voice. "Speakin' of. The Cat's Tongue. It's a secret, so don't tell nobody. My sisters don't even know, 'cause I don't want 'em thinkin' I'm a weirdo. Am I a weirdo, Crash? I don't wanna be a weirdo. I worked really hard to not be a weirdo anymore."

Smiling down at his friend with a shake of his head, Crash squeezed her tighter around her back. "No, Ranko. You're not a weirdo. Special, I'll give you, but not weird."

"You sure? I feel pretty fuckin' weird right now." She giggled again. "Oh, that's the drugs, isn't it?!"

"Probably, but let's not talk about that in front of everybody, okay? Shh." He beamed amusedly down at her, chuckling quietly to himself. "Don't worry, Ranko. I'm not gonna kiss you anymore, promise."

Ranko nodded, patting him on the shoulder gently. "That's good. You're a good guy, Crash. You aren't all gross and nasty like most boys. I like you. You won't get all lonely when we're out there on tour and try to come sneak some kisses, right? You better not, anyway. I don't wanna have to tell Ukyo you're being bad, 'cause she's gonna kick your ass so bad if you don't behave. Whack with that big ol' spatula of hers, right upside those big, goofy ears of yours." She gently swatted at the side of his head with her palm for emphasis. 

"Plus, if you kiss me again, Akane'll kick your butt, too. She's pretty possessive of me." The redhead blushed, idly fingering the silver heart swaying from the white lace choker around her neck. "But if you're good, then you're not being bad, and I don't gotta tell nobody you're being bad, and that's good, right?" She looked down at her fingers with confusion in her eyes, tapping one fingertip after the other as if trying to count backwards and unwind her own logic in her mind. "Right."

Crash laughed heartily, shaking his head in amusement at his stoned friend. "Akane's right, you know. You really are a silly girl."

"Yeah, but you love me," Ranko mewled quietly, rubbing her cheek softly against his shirt. The transfer of Jimi Hendrix' logo, cracking in places from too many trips through the dryer, tickled her skin.

The guitarist could only nod in assent. "Yeah, I do, goofball."

"Here," Lance said in English, returning with a steaming white styrofoam cup. "Get this in her, and then find her something to eat. What did she take?"

Crash sighed, replying in kind. "Weed. A lot. She didn't know. Hang on to that a second for me and let it cool, though, okay?" 

She trusted me with that Cat's Tongue thing. I need to look out for her. 

The dark-skinned roadie nodded, smiling at the singer supported in her guitarist's embrace. "You two are really close, aren't ya? Anyone can tell."

With a gentle nod and a soft smile, Crash turned his eyes down to the shock of red hair pressed against his torso. "Yeah, I guess we are. In a way, I guess you could say we saved each other. She's my best friend." He swept a strand of hair away from Ranko's cheek, switching back into Japanese. "Isn't that right, Ran-chan?" 

"... Ranko?" 

The guitarist could only chuckle quietly over the gentle snore he received in reply from the limp young woman resting against his chest.