Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Sorry ❯ chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

“Sorry”

Written by: Chocho

Disclaimer: I don't own Gravitation.

Story summary: AU. Ryuichi? Or Eiri? That is the question. Who will Shuichi chose? (Shuichi/Ryuichi, Ryuichi/Tatsuha, Shuichi/Eiri)

Chapter summary: Eiri arrives in Toronto

Warning: Language, OOC (Duh! Do I look like the creator?)

Sources: Based on the song “Sorry” by Madonna

 

***

 

Chapter 7

 

(Sunday evening - Lester B. Pearson International Airport, Toronto Canada)

 

Among the dozens of people exiting the plane with their carry on luggage trailing behind them, was one man who stood out. Tall with a light complexion, dirty blond hair that hung like a curtain over his eyes that were hidden behind a pair of dark shades and tickled the collar of his open, button down dark green shirt. Under the shirt was a black T-shirt with a peeling white decal advertising some rock band currently under contract with NG Pro, which was tucked in a pair of low waisted, tight, boot cut, dark blue, stonewashed jeans. His gold earring twinkled as the light hit it.

 

Eiri drew the gaze of everyone around him, men, women and everyone in-between equally as he strode down the ramp and onto the solid ground of the waiting area surrounding the gate, his heels making a clunk on the tiled floor.

 

He scanned the open, airy, way too bright and sardine packed airport. The noise was overwhelming. He could hardly hear himself think. The waiting area and the area surrounding the gate and boarding ramp were full of people waiting to either board the plane or waiting to greet friends or relatives exiting the plane.

 

Shouldering his bag, Eiri pushed his way none too gently through the crowd of people whose loitering was blocking traffic and headed towards customs and Shuichi.

 

*

 

(Crowne Plaza Hotel, Don Valley, Toronto)

 

His suit was as white as his professionally whitened teeth. There was not a wrinkle, crinkle or crease to be seen on the suit that was not supposed to be there. The silk button down shirt was the deepest royal blue and it made the white of the suit glow. The solid black tie vanished into the shirt. His black dress shoes shinned like a new coin in the hallway lights. His hair was slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck, the tresses hanging down between his shoulder blades.

 

Shouldering his black leather bag, he stepped out into the hall and shut the door to his hotel room behind him. Jingling the handle, he made sure it was securely locked. It was.

 

He raised his head as he turned and caught sight of Hiro stepping out of his hotel room several doors down. “Ready?” he called.

 

Hiro shut the door to his hotel room and glanced up. He watched as his tour manager strode down the hall towards him. Taking a deep breath, he shrugged. “I guess,” he sighed.

 

Last night after the concert in Pittsburgh, the roadies had packed up the gear and headed straight to Toronto. Instead of driving from Pittsburgh to Toronto, Daisuke had managed at the last minute to hire a private plane to take Bad Luck's equipment and crew to the concert hall so they could set up for the concert on Monday night, which was tomorrow.

 

Bad Luck themselves had taken a flight early this morning and had gone straight from the airport to the auditorium for a sound check and a quick run through of the set list. Then it was off to the hotel for a late lunch, or early dinner depending on how you looked at it, and a short nap. And now at quarter to six, they were off to do a radio interview at a local radio station that was broadcasting live at the Anime Festival.

 

Apparently, each week the radio station featured an up and coming band, a band not in the main stream but has been making a name for themselves and creating a buzz. This week, they decided to feature Bad Luck. Hiro had to admit that it was good publicity not only for the band, but for Japanese music in general. But anything that Bad Luck had to appear on was the bane of their existence. There was no telling what could happen, especially where Shuichi was concerned. But then again, K had a lot to do with everything that went wrong. To him all roads lead to Rome, which was not a sentiment everybody shared. Hiro was not the only one grateful to have Daisuke with them on this tour. With him, things have been going rather smoothly, but again there was Shuichi. His best friend was an enigma and there really was no telling what would happen.

 

Suddenly Hiro felt nauseous.

 

Daisuke grinned as he watched his guitarist's face twist into a grimace. “Don't worry,” he chuckled, patting the young man on the shoulder. “You'll do fine!”

 

Hiro looked at him sharply out of the corner of his eyes. It made Daisuke's grin widen.

 

“Anyway,” he continued, “where's Shuichi and Fujisaki?” he asked, glancing up and down the hallway.

 

“Fujisaki's down in the lobby.”

 

Daisuke nodded. “'Kay. And Shuichi?”

 

Hiro shrugged. He chucked his head towards the closed door opposite his hotel room.

 

Daisuke followed Hiro's gaze. It was Shuichi's hotel room. There was a “Do Not disturb” sign hanging from his doorknob.

 

“Fujisaki and I were going to head down to the lobby to wait for the van and I decided to check on Shuichi, see if he was awake.”

 

Daisuke nodded. It was a cold day in Hell when Shuichi was able to get up and make it anywhere on time by himself.

 

“I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer so we figured he had already gone downstairs and just forgot to take down his sign, but when we got to the lobby, he wasn't there. Nobody had seen him. So, I came back up to try his room again. I called his room and his cell, but I still couldn't get hold of him.” With a sigh, he glanced at his friend's door with a frown between his brows. “I'm sure he's just sleeping and turned off his phone or something.”

 

Daisuke nodded. “Probably,” he agreed, “The strain of this tour seems to be taking its toll on him.”

 

“Yeah,” Hiro said nodding. He knew how stressful it was for Shuichi. As Bad Luck's lead singer and front man, he was put in a more demanding position then the rest of them. “But when he doesn't answer the phone or the door…”

 

“Hm,” Daisuke nodded in understanding. “Ya know, why don't you head on down with the others and I'll go check on Shuichi.”

 

Hiro looked a little uncertain.

 

The tour manager chuckled. “Go!” he ordered, giving the guitarist a playful shove.

 

“Alright! Alright! I'm going.” Hiro gave the older man a quick wave and strode off down the hall towards the elevators.

 

Smiling in amusement, Daisuke crossed the hall and rapped lightly on Shuichi's door. There was no sign of life from inside the suite. With a frown, Daisuke knocked harder on the door. Once again everything remained still and quiet.

 

“Shuichi?” he called through the door with another knock. “Shu, it's me! The van's here! We have that interview at six! Shuichi?” He banged sharply on the door.

 

Sighing in frustration and growing annoyance, Daisuke tried the doorknob and to his surprise and delight found it unlocked. He would have to have a serious talk with Shuichi about that.

 

Fixing his bag that was sliding off his shoulder, Daisuke swung open the door and peered inside. A cave of darkness greeted him. He pushed the door open wider with his index finger and took a step inside.

 

The first thing he noticed was a clicking sound. He glanced in the direction the sound was coming from.

 

As his eyes began to adjust, he started to make out the vague shapes of the furnishings.

 

Daisuke spotted Shuichi sitting at the far side of the room in front of a laptop. The light from the screen illuminated his face. The nineteen year old was staring almost in a hypnotic trance at the computer screen, his chin cupped in his hand while his other hand moved back and forth over the keyboard. The light on the screen flickered, changing the shadows and contour of Shuichi's face.

 

He opened his mouth to call out to the boy, but thought better of it. Stepping deeper into the suite, Daisuke quietly shut the door behind him, being careful not to let the door latch catch.

 

Setting his bag down on the floor by the door, he silently strode through the living room, skirting the sofa. As he neared Shuichi, something on the computer screen caught his attention. But before he could get much of a look, the laptop snapped shut.

 

“Hey, Daisuke,” Shuichi greeted in surprise. “I didn't hear you.”

 

“And Hiro,” Daisuke added.

 

“Huh?” Shuichi blinked blankly.

 

Daisuke shook his head. “Nothing. Are you ready?”

 

“For what?”

 

Daisuke rolled his eyes. He should have known. “The interview.”

 

“What interview?”

 

“The radio interview, Shuichi.”

 

Shuichi just continued to stare at Daisuke blankly. He blinked long and slow, utterly confused. What was-?

 

“Oh, shit!” he gasped, his heart racing as he suddenly remembered the six o'clock radio interview. He glanced at his wrist watch and cursed loudly, his eyes bugging out of his head.

 

Daisuke stared sharply at his singer's hand. He frowned deeply. He was not wearing his ring.

 

*

 

(Night before - Pittsburgh)

 

Daisuke crouched by Shuichi's head as the teen slept the sleep of the dead. A gentle smile softened his features as he watched his singer snore softly. Reaching out a hand tentatively, he lightly brushed a lock of dark burgundy-pink back behind Shuichi's ear. Drawing his hand away, he ran his knuckles gently across Shuichi's damp cheek.

 

As he continued to watch Shuichi sleep peacefully, his chest rising and falling gently, he could not help but think how beautiful Shuichi was, despite his gothic attire, the sweat drying on his olive complexion, him smelling like BO, the makeup aisle on his face and the exhaustion lining his perfect, angelic face. Daisuke felt his pulse start racing and a blush flushed across his face as he continued to watch the teen sleep. He licked suddenly dry lips. He really was incredibly beautiful.

 

Sighing heavily, he sat back.

 

That was why his guilt was killing him. If it was not for him, then none of this would be happening. Because he was the one who had introduced Ryuichi to Tatsuha nearly a year ago at an NG Pro party. Not knowing that a major scandal it would become was not an excuse. It was his fault Shuichi was suffering.

 

He was not stupid. He knew why Sakuma Ryuichi had not returned any of his boyfriend's phone calls. He was well aware of why Seguchi Tohma had not called Shuichi back. All you had to do was look at Ryuichi's history and it did not take a genius to figure out what was going on. Daisuke was not sure who else suspected Ryuichi's relapse, but he was positive there was one. The question was did Shuichi suspect it?

 

Daisuke gazed down at the band in his hand and then looked at his singer's pale, drawn, tear streaked face. He thought back to the fit Shuichi had earlier at the hotel.

 

Yes, it was entirely possible he did suspect.

 

The tour manager centered his attention on Shuichi as his breathing rhythm changed. His eyes fluttered open. Flipping onto his back, Shuichi rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and gave a loud yawn.

 

Daisuke suppressed a laugh, but could not stop a smile from spreading across his face. As the boy stretched, his lithe body elongating, his shirt rode up, revealing his flat, tiny waist. Daisuke's breathing hitched. He tore his gaze away from Shuichi with much difficulty, blushing.

 

Sighing, Shuichi settled back onto the couch, running his fingers under his eyes, remembering too late he was still wearing makeup. He glanced at his fingers, now smeared black. Rubbing his fingers together, he glanced up and jumped, swallowing a yelp.

 

“Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty,” Daisuke chuckled with a wide smile.

 

Exhaling noisily, Shuichi glared at Daisuke as he tired to slow his racing heart. With a hand over his racing heart, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the couch.

 

Yawning again, he scrubbed his hands over his face, not caring if he spoiled his already messed up makeup. When he dropped his hands and opened his eyes, he blinked and pulled his head back, frowning. He lifted his eyes from the band lying on Daisuke's hand to look at Daisuke. “What's this?”

 

“Your ring.”

 

“My…Oh.” Shuichi's face dropped.

 

Daisuke studied Shuichi closely. “It was on the floor.”

 

“Thanks,” the singer mumbled. Reaching out, he snatched the ring. He stared blankly at it as it lay in his hand.

 

“Are you okay?” Daisuke asked cautiously.

 

“Yeah,” Shuichi told him distractedly. Closing his hand over the wedding band, he said unconvincingly, “Fine.”

 

*

 

(Present)

 

“Why didn't you come get me earlier?” Shuichi cried out in panic, snapping Daisuke out of his reminiscing. Cursing, Shuichi flew past Daisuke. Cutting through the living room, he jumped the sofa and coffee table as if they were hurtles and raced into the bedroom slamming the door shut behind him.

 

Daisuke snickered. Shuichi acted as if being late meant the end of the world.

 

He jumped when he heard a sudden loud crash from the bedroom. “Shuichi?” Daisuke called.

 

“I'm fine!” Shuichi called back.

 

“What happened?”

 

“N-nothing!” There was a muffled clatter. “Shit,” he heard Shuichi curse.

 

Daisuke sighed heavily and shook his head. There was never a dull moment.

 

He crossed the room towards the heavy blackout curtains. Searching among the folds of the drapes, he pulled the cord and watched as the curtains parted, revealing sliding glass doors that opened out onto a small balcony overlooking the city. The once dark suite was thrown into sudden brilliant light.

 

Much better, he thought.

 

Turning, Daisuke scanned the living room of Shuichi's suite, taking in the modern, contemporary décor that he was not too fond of. He spotted his bag by the doors, then the kitchenette with its coffeemaker and hotplate. His eyes then landed on the desk to his left with the laptop sitting on it.

 

He frowned.

 

His mind flashed back to that brief glimpse he had caught of the screen before Shuichi shut it down. He could not be sure, but from what he had been able to see, it looked as if Shuichi had been looking at a photograph of a high-rise apartment complex. He could have sworn there had been some people in the picture, though he had not been able to make out who they were. He wondered curiously what the photo had been of and if it had something to do with Shuichi's strange behavior.

 

He turned to stare at the closed bedroom door, still frowning.

 

The bedroom door opened suddenly and Shuichi stepped out. Daisuke was taken back by the singer's appearance. He had on a pair of dark blue jeans that rode low on his hips with a white T-shirt that had some obscure black decal under a white stripped unbuttoned button down shirt and a black blazer. He had chosen a pair of black boots. His hair had been combed, tamed and was hanging loose and neat around his shoulders. Daisuke looked closer and noticed that Shuichi had put on little makeup. Male he may be, but an entertainer he was. No star would be caught dead without some sort of makeup on in public, especially if they had to make a public appearance.

 

Shuichi caught Daisuke staring and with a toothy grin, held his hands out and twirled. “What do you think?” he asked brightly.

 

Gorgeous, he thought. Out loud he said, “Not bad,” with an approving nod.

 

“Really?”

 

Daisuke nodded. “Yes, really. You look amazing.”

 

Shuichi squealed and clapped his hands, bouncing in excitement.

 

“So, you ready?”

 

Shuichi nodded, beaming.

 

“Okay.” Daisuke strode across the room and shoulder his bag. Swinging the suite door open, he stepped back and swept his hand out. “Après vous, Monsieur.”

 

“Merci,” Shuichi responded with a graceful nod as he swept past his manager and stepped out into the hall.

 

Daisuke chuckled with an amused shake of his head. Shuichi had a hard time speaking English, yet he had been able to pick up some French from him. Go figure.

 

He shut the door making sure it was locked and trotted down the hall to catch up to his singer. Shuichi was standing in front of the elevators, pushing the down button. Daisuke immediately zeroed in on Shuichi's still ring-less hand. He frowned.

 

The elevator dinged and moments later, the doors slid open. Shuichi clasped his hands behind his back and danced onto the elevator, humming happily. Daisuke followed him and pressed the button for the lobby, deep in thought.

 

As the doors slid shut, Daisuke had a sinking feeling he had the answer to all his questions.

 

***