Frozen Time

Gene did not eat. He didn't drink. He didn't even sleep. 
     His truck roared through the nighttime streets of his hometown as he burnt rubber towards the Dwight's airfield.
     As he pulled his own plane out of the hangar, he realized his doubts were clawing at him. He could almost hear them saying that it was useless; that he couldn't do anything about the situation; that he was risking everything on a pipe dream; that he should just go back home and sleep; that someone else would do something.
     His hands that were holding his pre-flight checklist faltered. He looked up at the moonless sky from where he stood next to his airplane. 
     It was such a quiet night. He thought about how much noise his plane would make; how much commotion his absence at work the next day would cause; how little chance he had of doing anything meaningful. 
     He thought about Miya.
     "Aircraft documents." He looked in the cabin of his plane grimly. "Check. Flight controls." He glanced at the buttons, switches, and throttles that covered the interior of his plane. "Free and correct. Spar bolts..."
~~~
     Mukashi had pulled so many strings he could almost see them. It had been difficult to put a single-night concert into Miya's schedule, but he'd managed to do it through reducing the amount of time Miya would spend sleeping. The venue had tried to haggle with him about how much it would cost to put her onstage after her recent fiasco involving her and the Americans; that had given him a considerable headache, especially since the venue wasn't particularly impressive, but thankfully he'd managed to use her overall status to convince them to put her on for a decent price. His higher-ups told him that concerts needed to be announced farther in advance than two weeks, though he'd managed to convince them that it was necessary to do something big and memorable after the incident with the Americans.
     The incident, unfortunately, had become extremely prevalent among the online community that had blindly supported Miya for years. In the single day that had passed, fans were already dividing themselves into factions, with some calling Miya a 'hack' and a 'fallen angel' simply because of one stupid error. 
     He could see the writing on the wall. 
     He'd been diligent with his duties; measured in his methods; excellent in his execution of Zygeist Media's managerial requirements.
     Yet one mistake was causing everything to fall apart.
     Fire blazed in Mukashi's mind. 
     He'd poured whatever was left of his soul into his work; Miya was going to be his magnum opus. She was going to be perfect; she would prove to everyone that he wasn't what they said he was. Miya would prove that Mukashi could be passionate about something. 
     If he made her successful, perfect, accomplished, then she would finally appreciate him. She would love him. She had to love him. 
     He watched as she went through her dance steps with precision and poise. She was elegant and graceful. Calm. A few times he even saw her smiling while she danced. Her instructor was smiling as well. Seeing her happy made his flames burn brighter. He snapped his fingers and called attention to himself, causing both Miya and her instructor to stop.
     "Are you having fun?" He asked bitterly. 
     Miya nodded gently before speaking.
     "I think it's fun to dance." She said with an innocent smile.
     "Are you pushing her to her limit?" He snapped at the instructor. 
     "W-well sir-"
     "That's a 'no.' Push her harder." He glared at the instructor. "This is her return to the spotlight after a disastrous outing. She cannot be mediocre; she must be superb; unparalleled." Mukashi stated. "Perfect enough to wipe the memories from the minds of the people."
     "Sir, I'm not sure that's possib-"
     Mukashi stared frostily at the instructor. The instructor swallowed nervously. 
     "Yes sir." He turned towards Miya and sighed. "From the top."
     Mukashi took a step back and watched Miya go through her, now appropriately difficult, dance routine. 
     Every day, for the two weeks leading up to the concert, he watched her practice. The dance steps were harsh. The schedule was unforgiving. Sleep was an afterthought. 
     Miya wouldn't stop smiling.
     Sometimes her smile was weary, and other times it was energetic, but it was always there. Despite everything he was doing to her and putting her through, she kept smiling. Mukashi couldn't understand it. 
     In his mind, she should've fallen back into their regular routine of despondent ambivalence. Her smile was deeply disturbing to him, and at first he didn't know why that was, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he did know why her smile was stoking the fires raging inside his mind.
     It was because she wasn't smiling for him; her manager of three years; the one who'd made her a success; the one who'd poured everything he had into her career; the one who'd helped her reach the break-even point with Zygeist Media in a blazing fast two years. 
     The days became a blur of watching her go through her routine with a placid smile. She kept trying to make small talk with him, but he steadfastly refused; she couldn't be distracted with menial things. She needed to be perfect for the upcoming concert.
~~~
     Miya felt sad whenever she looked at Mukashi. It was obvious, at least to her, that he wasn't doing well. His hair was still coiffed, his features were still striking, sharp, and handsome. From the outside, he looked almost unchanged.
     But his eyes were different.
     Before, they'd been gray like old ice; then, a few times she'd seen them become a warm gray, like a knit sweater or soft blanket. 
     Though now, every time she looked into his eyes, they reminded her of smoke. Sometimes, it was like she could see something burning inside him. As she sat one evening after practice and finished her stew, she looked at Mukashi directly and spoke.
     "M-Mukashi, you're not doing well."
     "Irrelevant."
     She bit her lip. 
     "No, it... it is relevant."
     "Don't pretend to care." He said calmly as he glanced at her empty bowl. "You've finished. Now we can go to your massage session." He stood and gestured for her to follow him.
     Miya shrunk when she heard his words; but she didn't wither. As she followed him into the hallways of the fourth floor and out of the cafeteria, she spoke again.
     "I-I'm not pretending." She muttered. "Besides, I don't like how you've been treating me lately." She said, regaining a bit of her confidence. "T-there are rules about privacy for idols-"
     "There are rules about writing correspondence too." He cut her off. "If it weren't for your immense status, that alone would have been enough to put you under review. As it stands, this concert is necessary so that your image will recover and you can continue working under Zygeist Media." He said coldly as they turned a corner and approached the massage parlors. "As for my treatment of you; consider it a penalty for your mistake with the Americans."
     Miya frowned softly.
     "Y-you've never behaved like this before."
     "I never had reason to." He said calmly. "You had been ideal up until that point."
     Miya and Mukashi stood in front of the door to the massage parlor. She turned to look up at him, though her bangs were still in the way.
     "Up until w-what point Mukashi? The point where I b-broke character, or the point where you saw that I-I was sending letters to someone that..." Her eyes widened, and she spoke the last part with clarity. "Cared about me..."
     Mukashi stared down at her silently. His eyes burned with frightful intensity.
     "Get in the parlor." He stated sharply.
     Miya glanced at the door, then at Mukashi. 
     "I-I'm sorry." She spoke shakily.
     She stepped into the parlor and closed the door behind herself.
     Mukashi looked at the door in silence.
     The fires in his mind dissipated as he slowly peered down at his hands. He realized that he couldn't make her love him; if his previous efforts hadn't been enough, nothing ever would be. A wave of cold washed over Mukashi as he examined the schedule.
     In his haste, he hadn't prepared anything concrete for Miya beyond her next concert. His eyes regained their frozen demeanor, and they looked like the eyes of a corpse.
~~~
     The moon descended over the horizon as Gene's plane touched down outside of Houston. He scrambled through tying the plane down and setting up his ride. A small part of his mind hated how much money he was spending; a much larger part of his mind told that part to shut up and let him reach Miya. 
     He ran to the airfield's edge and checked his wallet. He still had a hundred dollars and his credit card. He bit his lips in the chilly November weather.
     "I must be outta my mind." He mumbled.