DOGFISH, miyuki kazuya

also i wanted to be able to love. and we all know how that one goes, don't we?

It was evening, and no longer summer.
Three small fish, I don't know what they were,
huddled in the highest ripples
as it came swimming in again, effortless, the whole body
one gesture, one black sleeve
that could fit easily around
the bodies of three small fish.

Also I wanted
to be able to love. And we all know
how that one goes,
don't we?

━━━━━━

"It stinks in here."

That's the first thing Miyuki says when he steps into the studio the next day.

Jerry, at the computer, laughs quietly.

You grin. "Yeah. Sorry. That would be Dennis."

"Right. Saw the release today. They're not shutting you down."

"Well, it was put much more nicely there. They're not shutting us down now but they are giving us the rest of the year to perform well. If we don't —" you make a cutting motion with your hand across your neck "— we're out."

"Fixed our pay, though," Jerry mutters, sending you a sidelong glance.

Righttt. Dennis had unapologetically let it slip you'd been covering part of his check. You think it was revenge for him getting in trouble for not sending a representative down for the company to the press conference but really, it just makes them sound like assholes.

Jerry was a little upset about it but you'd pressed that if push came to shove, you had your sister and Hector to fall back on. He had no one other than his grandma and while DJing at parties brings in a little extra side cash, it wouldn't have been enough had you not stepped in.

But that's over now. They're paying him his old rate again.

Of course, you two might end up turned out onto the street come the new year but you'd cross that bridge when you got to it.

Miyuki doesn't say anything to that, though his eyes sweep over to you curiously. You just shake your head minutely. You'll tell him downstairs.

You and Jerry had come in early to set up. He hadn't changed much but you two needed to do a few tests, run through some things, wake up that old muscle memory of how things used to be.

Things are the same again now, except for the purple bruise on your temple, the professional baseball player standing in your studio, and the hubbub about your return tonight.

"You want anything from downstairs, Mouser?"

Jerry shakes his head. "Had Jersey Mike's earlier. I'm still good. When're you gonna be back?"

"Won't be long. We're doing BestBuy tomorrow. Probably just an hour or something. That okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Where is the Lysol, though? He is right. Freakin' stinks of weed in here."

You snicker. "It's in the closet."

"Right, thanks. Have fun."

You go over to Miyuki, who is taking in the room. Overall a small recording studio, you have the control room, where Jerry operates the sound board, then the live room — the actual studio — wherein you broadcast from. Both areas are separate from each other.  A glass window mounted above the sound board looks into it, showing the desk with the various computer screens, your mic and headphones, and a chair. On the walls inside the control room you have a few puzzles you and Jerry have done together framed, along with newspaper clippings of Night Owl's sparse mentions in the media.