Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Sorry ❯ chapter 8 ( Chapter 8 )

“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: The race is on. Who will win?

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

Sources: Based on the song “Sorry” by Madonna

 

***

 

Chapter 8

 

(Earlier that day - In route to JFK - Sunday 400PM)

 

It felt as if hot pokers had been stabbed into his eyes. His eyelids felt like they were being weighed down with lead weights. His limbs felt like dead weights and his muscles ached.

 

He had been up for over twenty-four hours and he was dead tired. He could hardly keep his eyes open, but his mind refused to let him sleep. It was like the Energizer Bunny. It kept going and going and going-

 

Ryuichi cupped a hand over his mouth as a sudden yawn seized him. It brought tears to his eyes.

 

Cursing, he shook his head and slid down in his seat, rubbing his eyes.

 

He tried to focus on the movie currently being showed, but lost interest after five seconds. It was some sort of martial arts comedy. The intricate fighting scene was making his head spin and his eyes cross.

 

Turning his head, he glanced out the window and watched the clouds zip by.

 

They were about half an hour away from New York and then it was a hop, skip and a jump to Toronto and Shuichi.

 

He yawned loudly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

 

A sudden vibration against his hip startled the yawn right out of him. Pushing back against the seat, he lifted his hip and unclipped his cellphone from his belt. Holding his phone up, he checked the small LCD screen.

 

“NEW MESSAGE HAS ARRIVED,” he read.

 

Flipping the phone open, he read the number at the bottom of the screen. He scrunched his brow in confusion. It was a number he did not recognize, not that that was anything new. He had Shuichi, Tohma, Tatsuha and his manager's number memorized, but that was it. It would be a hell of a lot easier if his phone displayed names like the manual said it did, but then his phone was a piece of shit.

 

Frowning, he accessed the message. As he read it, he grew angry. His grip tightened around the phone. He did not have to recognize the phone number to know who sent the text.

 

“B in T in 1:45. LOL loser. Better send out an SOS. U going 2 need it.”

 

Ryuichi snarled angrily.

 

Damn that man! If he so much as touched a hair on Shuichi's head…!

 

Eiri may get to Toronto first, but that meant nothing. In the end, he would be the one to win Shuichi.

 

*

 

(In route to Pearson Int'l Airport)

 

Eiri snapped his cellphone shut, snickering devilishly. He loved his job.

 

Leaning back in his seat, he clutched his phone in his lap and turned to stare blankly out the window. He did not see the beautiful deep blue sky enveloping the plane, nor the wispy white drifts floating past the windows. The noisy buzz of the cabin was nothing more than muted white noise. All he could concentrate on was one pink haired, violet eyed pipsqueak who for some strange reason had managed to do the one thing that nobody else had been able to do since Kitazawa Yuki, make him fall in love with him.

 

Holding up his phone, he stared at it with renewed determination.

 

Shuichi would be his.

 

*

 

(2 hours later: JFK, New York City - 600PM)

 

The duration of his flight from Tokyo to Toronto with a change over in New York City was supposed to be about fifteen hours, fourteen hours and fifty four minutes to be exact. He left at quarter to five Sunday evening from the Narita Airport in Japan and was scheduled to arrive at the Lester B. Pearson International Airport in Toronto at around eight o'clock Sunday night.

While technically over sixteen hours would pass before he would arrive at his final destination, but from a certain point of view, only three hours and fifteen minutes would have passed since he left Japan. It was a bit strange and he could never get used to it. It was like being able to relive the last several hours over again, which was something he really wished he could do, especially after the complete mess he made of everything. Unfortunately, that was impossible. But he could try to fix things. That is if that bastard did not get to Shuichi first.

 

Ryuichi clenched his jaw, pursing his lips into a tight thin line. He fisted his hand, his nails digging into his palm as anger and fury surged through him.

 

He glanced at the flight schedules and cursed. His plane had arrived early at JFK, but unfortunately his flight to Toronto was delayed. They should have left ten minutes ago.

 

Dammit all to hell!

 

Why had Tohma not booked him on the same flight as that rat bastard, Yuki? With his influence, surely Tohma would have had no problem squeezing him on that flight. Or surely, he could have let him use his private plane.

 

If Yuki-san got to Shuichi first, he would lose everything! He had to get to Shuichi first. He had to!

 

*

 

(Tokyo, Japan - Monday, 700AM)

 

The leather squeaked as Tohma reclined in his seat. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. His eyes riveted on the framed photograph of Ryuichi, Noriko and himself from back when they were teenagers.

 

Did he do the right thing? He did not like to admit this, but he just was not so sure.

 

*

 

(Present - Lester B. Pearson Int'l Airport - 600PM)

 

He was one step closer to making Shuichi his. It would be great if Sakuma's plane would get lost or maybe there would be a huge pile up on the highway and he would get caught in the middle of it. It might be too much to ask, but he would give his left nut to make it happen, to make something happen to that idiot.

 

Eiri took one last drag of his cigarette and tossed the butt on the ground. He crushed it out under his heel and blew out a thin stream of smoke, watching as his cab pulled up. Fixing the strap of his bag that was slipping off his shoulder, he walked towards it. He shot a heated glare that would peel the paint off the broadside of a barn at a woman who walked straight for it. He felt a thrill of satisfaction when she cowered away. Opening the cab door, he slid inside, tossing his bag in before him. Slamming the door closed, he automatically locked it. “Crowne Plaza Hotel,” he told the cabbie in nearly unaccented English.

 

The guy started the meter and pulled into traffic.

 

*

 

(Half an hour later - Crowne Plaza Hotel - 630PM)

 

“Here you are, Mr. Uesugi,” the woman said shyly, her face bright red, as she held out a white plastic key card.

 

Amused by the girl's reaction, Eiri snatched his room key out of the girl's trembling fingers. “Thanks,” he smiled kindly.

 

If at all possible, the girl's blush deepened. She dipped her head, lowering her eyes to the stack of paperwork she was behind in sorting through.

 

The girl appeared to be nothing more than a child. She was a little on the short side, not much taller than Shuichi. Not exactly as tiny and lithe as his baka, but neither was she overweight either. Her chestnut brown hair hung down her back in tight ringlets. She peered up at him with yellow-green eyes before dropping her gaze again, her face burning hotly. There was nothing remarkable about her. She had average looks, was of average height and weight. Her beige suit could be purchased in any department store in the country. The only thing that stood out about her was her massive breasts. If he were not gay, he would be all over her like white on rice. Oh, well. The person he wanted to bed was a lot prettier anyway.

 

“Have a pleasant evening, Sir,” the girl wished softly.

 

“A pleasant evening”, huh? Eiri smirked as he thought about his pink haired god. Oh, he planned on it. Pocketing his room key, he shouldered his bag and strode across the lobby to the elevators, grinning confidently.

 

The girl watched the blond god walk off. She slumped down, exhaling noisily when he vanished behind a group of potted plants. That had been the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her life!

 

“Excuse me,” said a sudden voice.

 

Startled, she swallowed a gasp and jumped. Her head snapped up. Her eyes wide, she stared transfixed at the blond haired angelic god standing before her.

 

Eiri read the name on the nametag pinned to her beige blazer. Linda Murphy. “Ms. Murphy. I was wondering if you could help me with something.” He flashed the patent smile he had perfected over the years. It did not fail him.

 

Linda's face turned lobster red almost instantly. Steam whistled out from the collar of her white blouse and she practically melted into a puddle of goo behind the front desk.

 

“You see, I was told an old friend was supposed to be staying here. I was wondering if you could tell me if he had checked in.”

 

“Sure,” she whispered, dazed. With much difficulty, she tore her gaze away from Eiri and turned towards the computer.

 

Eiri noticed that she was able to regain her composure as she clicked away at the computer.

 

“And what would his name be?”

 

Eiri smirked. “Shindou. Shuichi Shindou. He's here from Japan with a band called Bad Luck.”

 

“Okay. Just give me a second,” she told him. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. Her eyes zipped across the screen. “Okay. Here it is.” She pointed at the monitor as the information popped onto the screen. “Shuichi Shindou checked in…this morning.”

 

Perfect, Eiri thought.

 

Linda turned back to him and was immediately sucked back into the intensity of his beauty.

 

Flashing that dreamy smile of his again, Eiri asked sweetly, “You wouldn't be able to tell me what room he's staying in would you?”

 

Linda blinked, unable to comprehend the words coming out of this gorgeous man's mouth.

 

“You see,” Eiri continued, “I haven't seen him in over a year.” He reached across the counter and grabbed her hand. He gently raised her hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving her face. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “I would greatly appreciate it,” he whispered huskily, flashing that dreamy smile of his again.

 

“I-I-I-I, uh…Sure?”

 

Eiri's smile widened. He usually despised his looks, but if using them could get him what he wanted, then he would use every weapon in his arsenal.

 

Sorry Sakuma, he thought cheekily. You snooze. You lose.

 

*

 

(An hour later - Toronto Congress Center - 730PM)

 

Shuichi yawned loudly. He rubbed his burning eyes as the black van Daisuke had rented for their stay in Toronto pulled out of the parking lot. Sighing, he slouched down in the middle row of seats as he fingered his pink dyed locks. He clasped his hands behind his head. Stretching out his legs, he rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes.

 

He heard Hiro and Fujisaki talking and laughing behind him, but he was too tired to pay them any heed. Their driver was silent. He was always quiet, never spoke unless spoken to. It was like speaking was a deadly allergen. Meanwhile, Daisuke and Shinichiro, Shuichi's assistant, were speaking about tomorrow's schedule.

 

They had an autograph session with the other bands and singers on tour with them and several of the voice actors who had been invited to the festival. Then there was a final sound check and dress rehearsal. The concert began at about five and ran until around ten or so.

 

On the way to the Toronto Congress Center, where the Anime Fest was being held, for their interview with the radio station, Daisuke had given them a choice. They could return to Japan on Tuesday and have the next two weeks off until the Tokyo Anime Fest next Friday or they could go on to St. Catharine's for the Garden City Anime Festival and then to Winnipeg, Oshawa and finally to Anaheim, California for the Anime Expo. For the first time in his life, Shuichi was unsure what he wanted to do, go home or extend the tour.

 

Prying open heavy eyelids, he lifted his left hand and held it out above his head. He stared at his ringless hand in the bright red setting sun. Like last night, he felt absolutely nothing. And like last night, the tears suddenly stinging his eyes and blurring his vision were in response to the empty feeling he felt inside, rather than the end of his relationship with the JPOP god.

 

He was never one to shy from confrontation, but this time…This time it was beginning to sound more and more like a very good idea. He just needed some time to think and figure out what he should do next.

 

Clenching his hand, he held it tightly against his heart and squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to hold back his tears.

 

It was official. Love sucked.

 

*

 

(An hour later: JFK - 800PM)

 

Ryuichi shoved his overnight bag into the overhead compartment next to a bright red backpack, and then took his seat by the window. Fastening his seatbelt, he settled back, waiting for the plane to take off.

 

He could not believe that his flight to Toronto had been delayed for over two hours! At least they were finally on the move again. He just hoped it was not too late.

 

If Yuki-san got to Shuichi first, there was no telling how that damned writer would poison Shuichi's mind against him. He had to get to Shuichi and try to make things right. At any cost.

 

*

 

(Crowne Plaza Hotel)

 

“You sure?” Hiro asked his best friend as the group stood in the lobby of the hotel. He searched his friend's face carefully.

 

Shuichi nodded, forcing himself to smile. “I'll just order room service.”

 

“Okay. Get some rest then,” Daisuke ordered, patting the boy on the shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” Fujisaki added. “We don't need you collapsing on stage or something like you almost did last night.”

 

Something inside Shuichi snapped. Fisting his hands at his sides, he glared at his keyboardist with hatred in his eyes and venom dripping from his canines. He snarled, his lips peeling back. Everything that Fujisaki Suguru did, everything that came out of his mouth pissed him off. It was a given. And today was no different. Actually, if anything, it was worse. He was in no mood to deal with his crap.

 

He took a step towards the smaller man. “You-!”

 

“That's enough,” Hiro said calmly, stepping in-between them. Hiro placed his hands on Shuichi's shoulders and back him up several steps.

 

Behind him, Fujisaki stared at his singer wide eyed, confused and shocked. What had just happened?

 

“C'mon,” Daisuke told him, draping an arm around his narrow shoulders. He steered the young teen towards the restaurant, Shinichiro trailing behind them.

 

Shuichi felt his anger evaporate just as fast as it appeared. Suddenly, he felt drained and exhausted. He peered around Hiro's broad shoulders at Fujisaki's retreating form. What the hell was wrong with him? What had he tried to do? Sure Fujisaki irritated the hell out of him, but still… His chest suddenly hurt and his soul felt heavy. Maybe he should take the next two weeks off. If for nothing more than to clear his head before he did something he regretted.

 

“I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't…” He stepped away from Hiro as his words became lodged in his throat. The world around him blurred behind a mist of tears.

 

Hiro frowned. “Shu…Are you alright?”

 

Shuichi shook his head as a tear rolled down his cheek. He did not have the strength to lie, not that Hiro would believe his lie anyway.

 

“Just…” He cleared his throat forcibly and blinked away the veil of tears blinding him. “Just tell Fuji…” Shuichi shook his head, unable to go on.

 

Hiro frowned. “You know you can always talk to me, right?”

 

Shuichi did know that. He gave his friend a genuine smile. “I know. Thank you.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he turned around and walked to the elevators.

 

Hiro watched his friend as he pressed the button for the elevator. There was a “ping” and the doors slid open. Shuichi stepped inside and pressed the button for their floor. The doors slid closed without Shuichi once looking up.

 

*

 

The white key card was slid into the slot above the door handle. The light flashed green and the door swung open.

 

Shuichi dragged himself inside and shut the door behind him, locking it securely. He lifted the strap of his bag over his head and set it on the floor against the wall. He tossed his room key onto the nearest table and then toed off his shoes. He peeled off his socks and tossed them onto the floor next to his shoes.

 

Straightening, he closed his eyes and sniffed, wiping at a tear that trickled down his cheek.

 

“It's about time you got back…you damned brat.”

 

Shuichi froze at the sound of that voice. His heart started racing. His palms grew slick with perspiration. Breathing heavily, he slowly opened his eyes and turned towards the sound of the voice.

 

His heart stopped dead.

 

“Y-Yu…ki?” he gasped.

 

Eiri stepped out of the shadows and into the light streaming in through the balcony doors from the setting sun.

 

Tears streamed down Shuichi's face. He could not believe it! Was this a dream? Was he hallucinating? Was this really Yuki, his Yuki, standing before him? It couldn't be. It just…It was impossible! It was…

 

Eiri took a step towards Shuichi and watched the mixture of emotions flicker across his face. He smiled gently at the teen. “Yes, Shuichi. It's me,” he assured him, his voice gentle.

 

That was all the assurance Shuichi needed. With a sob, he raced across the room and flung himself into Eiri's waiting arm, crying hysterically into the writer's shoulder.

 

Eiri wrapped his arms around Shuichi, holding him tightly against him and buried his face in his soft hair, vowing to never let him go again. It had been a year in the making, but he finally had his brat back.

 

*

 

(3 hours later)

 

It was nearing midnight when a cab pulled up in front of the Crowne Plaza Hotel. The man inside handed the cab driver a wad of cash. Gathering his bag, he opened the cab door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, shutting the door behind him.

 

As the cab pulled carefully into traffic, the man tipped his head back and glanced up at the hotel.

 

“Shuichi,” he whispered.

 

***