Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Splinters of a Song ❯ = track four = ( Chapter 5 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

= Splinters of a Song =

Warnings and disclaimers same as in the Prologue. Nothing has changed much from that one to this one. Ryuuichi POV again. Mention of Ryuuichi x Touma in this part, as well as some references to ep. three of the anime. This part contains a ToumaxRyuuichi lemon. My lemon writing skills aren't much so bear with me.
Author notes: The lyrics are from the song 'I saw my lady weep', an ayre from the 1600's written by John Dowland. It's an interesting piece to hear and perform, especially as it was meant to be. It can be found in a collection of works done by Oxford University Press in any music store that caters to singers of classical works.

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= Track Four =

It was later when I heard the door hiss open and closed behind me. I was busy watching the dust motes dancing on the sunbeam, laying stretched out on the threadbare couch, Kumagorou acting as a pillow for my head. I didn't bother to see which blonde it was until I felt the soft slap on my leg. Letting my arm drop I gave Touma a tired frown, sat up and rubbed my face. The blonde sat gracefully on the cushion next to me and waited while I gathered my thoughts together.

After K's blunt announcement, I decided not to stick around in that overly bright office. My sudden decision to run must had startled K for my manager- - former manager, rather- - chased me out the office down several halls, up a couple flights of steps and a few other places until I lost him somewhere around the sound studios. Wanting time alone to think and needed the quiet to do so without having all my thoughts crowding in on each other, I found a soundproof studio to hide in and think.

The soundproof room was not like a lot of the other rooms in N-G, all bright and shiny with new furniture and the latest equipment. Instead it had a battered couch, two old chairs, an upright piano and a bench. There were a couple stands folded and resting in the corner for sheet music and a couple of sockets to plug in guitars or other type of equipment along the one bare wall. Windows set high above the upright let in a soft breeze as well as plenty of light and I bet that this room saw a lot of use for impromptu jam sessions at all times of days and night. It reminded me of that room where I first became a part of Nittle Grasper, though there was one difference. This room did not smell of canned oysters like that room did so long ago.

I grabbed Kumagorou and hugged the bunny close, watching as Touma drifted to the upright and placed his fingers on the keys. Chords sounded in the air. First G then A flat then C sharp, building mountains of sound from the modest looking instrument. I listened for a few moments, watching those slender fingers play over the keys, the graceful neck arched, those bright eyes focused on his fingers. At first the notes were random, bits and pieces snatched from songs old and new, but then the tone changed, the notes settled into a familiar song. I let him play the first verse through then joined the piano on the second verse, letting my feelings echo in the song.

Sorrow was there made fair
And passion wise, tears a delightful thing
Silence beyond all speech a wisdom rare
She made her sighs to sing
And all things with so sweet a sadness move
As made my heart at once both grieve and love

Touma's hands stilled on the piano, his head rising to look at me, blonde brows pulled into a slight frown. My voice finished the bitter sweet song, singing it as it was probably once meant to be sung with the echoing notes only telling the singer what note comes next.

O fairer than aught else
The world can show, leave off in time to grieve.
Enough, enough your joyful looks excels,
Tears kills the heart, believe.
O strive not to be excellent in woe,
Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.

"Sometimes I forget you had classical training, Ryuuichi," he finally said, turning and taking a seat on the hard piano bench.

"I doubt my Noh sensei would have approved my taking a liking for Western music," I replied, feeling the corner of my mouth twist.

He dismissed that thought with a wave of his hand. "You have a good voice for that style of music."

"I'm good at mimicking all kinds of styles." I shrugged, wrapped my arms around my legs and resting my chin on my knees. "Was K really mad at me for running?"

"He was more concerned that you would hurt yourself than he was mad."

"I'm over that."

"Are you really, Ryuuichi?"

I glanced up at Touma, seeing the concern in his eyes and thought it over before nodding slightly. His stiff posture relaxed slightly as he took off his hat and crossed one leg over the other. He still looked like someone sitting in a board meeting or awaiting an award. I guessed it was from his youth, which was rough in some ways and lucky in other ways. At least his family semi-approved of their son's musical inclination, though they were not happy he went into mainstream music instead of classical.

"Mind telling me what is happening and why my manager of over three years is quitting?"

Touma sighed. "That American needs to learn better Japanese. He is not quitting, merely finding a new position once his contract with you is done."

"Can you just explain it to me in simple language?"

"K-san has been contracted for as long as you are doing solo work in America, correct?" I nodded slowly. "You've only made a three record deal with your American label, which will be finished when you record those last three tracks." I nodded again, everything starting to make sense to me. "K-san will be a free agent at the completion of that album and was looking into how to extend the contract with N-G concerning you when he over heard me speaking with Sakano-san concerning his poor management of Bad Luck. As a producer Sakano-san is good but his management skills are atrocious, and told him as such after Shindou-san refused to act upon my suggestions to make Bad Luck better."

Raising a shoulder in a shrug, Touma looked unruffled at the concerns of Suuichi's refusal, but I knew him better than most. Suuichi must have been either very stubborn or very good to keep from having himself and his friend being kicked out the studio and black labeled for that refusal. Suuichi got Touma mad and survived. Maybe the pink haired teen was a lot tougher than his opening day jitters revealed. It made me wonder if we were anything like that when we were still young and trying to break down doors as well.

"As I said, K-san over heard and in the course of the talk concerning renewal of his contract, he asked over who I would get to manage Bad Luck now. My answer was not acceptable to him. Like you, he seems to be rather interested in Shindou-san's career. And dropped some rather broad hints that he would manage them a lot better than anyone else in N-G. And that is when you walked in."

"Oh," I replied, nodding my head slowly. Then gave it a second to sink into my skull. "Oooh, why didn't K say so? And here I thought he was purposely dumping me."

A soft smile touched his cupid bow lips, softening the hard look in his eyes. He stood and crossed the room, his pose as graceful of that of a dancer's. One slender hand rose, pausing millimeters from touching my cheek. I tilted my head, closing the distance between us, looking up at him, watching those crystalline aqua eyes, and smelling the light fragrance of his cologne. The soundproofing on this room made it quiet and private, locking us in our own private world. Too bad I had to break it wide open again.

"What about Mika?"

The colour of his eyes muted and he tried to yank his hand back but by then I had covered it with one of my own. He frowned, locking gazes trying to out stare me, read me right and sat down on the couch next to me with a soft sniff of disapproval. Kumagorou went onto on of the chairs and I shifted so I could read his eyes.

"C'mon, talk, Touma," I said, mouth curling up in what felt like a nasty smile. "It's probably not as bad as the shit you told me six years ago."

His eyebrows rose, his pale skin paling further until I was almost sure he would pass out on me. But he gave a little shake of his head, pressed his lips together in a frown and glared at me. That was much better than the horrible face he was making before, but I was immune to his glares and threats and practically anything else that he could throw at me. Like a very few people in this world, I knew Touma before during and after those events that one lazy summer and I was not someone he could get rid of or ignore.

He looked away, staring at the sun shadows on the far wall and sighed. I gave him some time, brushing my fingers lazily up and down his arm, feeling the tenseness in his muscles. He married her to please his parents, something that I could never do. But sometimes I wonder how much he really cared for her. Last night, he reacted like someone that hadn't been bedded for years.

"Mika-san and I have an understanding concerning some things," he said slowly, probably trying to gather his thoughts.

"Uh-huh."

I kept my thoughts to myself about how him sleeping with his old lover may not be a part of the understanding they might have. He glanced back at me, lips pressing together, eyes narrowed. The problem with me being able to read him was that he knew my moods better than anyone and could read me just as easily. No doubt he could hear my thoughts a mile off.

"Granted, I doubt that she would be too pleased that we've renewed our acquaintance, but she knows how my tastes run and she isn't going to deny me my pleasures."

"Except the fact that you probably haven't seen anyone except me," I hazarded and saw it hit the mark as Touma's features went cherry red.

". . .It wouldn't do for someone in my position to be out. . .cruising for dates downtown. . . "

"I do it all the time."

"You were in America. That sort of thing is expected of their musicians."

"But I'm not an American musician but Japanese. You don't expect me to live like a monk just because you had asked me to wait for the ten years to be up, did you?"

He looked sadly down at me and I couldn't stand it anymore. Letting go, I pushed off of the couch and paced the room, feeling the headache boil behind my eyes. Seven years ago, our little daydream was interrupted by real life. The marriage to Mika had been arranged since they were still in diapers between the two Kyoto families, and even though Touma was a superstar and the closest thing to a lover I would ever have, he answered their summons to return home. Nittle Grasper wasn't the big shiny legend it is now, just a powerhouse of music and super stardom. So the two months he needed then to arrange his wedding to Mika and the following six months he took off later that year to take Eiri to New York had almost spelled Nittle Grasper's doom. And it broke me.

I prowled the room restlessly, from wall to wall, corner to corner, avoiding furniture on instinct alone. Touma stayed where he was, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching me for signs of cracking. There was a time I would have dug out a razor or a knife or break some glass to cut myself. Like singing it was a release of all the pent up hurt and emotions that would not stop screaming inside my head, but I was better now. No more scaring friends about my ways of expressing emotions that I did not even know the names for. I smacked a hand hard against a solid object, closing my eyes and resting my head against the mustard yellow wall.

"I don't think I can wait that long, Touma," I said softly, my voice sounded like a tired whine to my ears. "I've tried, but I don't like being alone. Can't. . . can't you call it off early?"

"I've asked, Ryuu," his voice was soft as mine as he moved. I shuddered faintly, feeling those strong keyboardist hands resting on my shoulders, feeling his warm breath against my neck. How long have I been wanting this, needing this? How long has it shattered me not to feel anything like this?

"The arrangement between our families was for ten years before either of us can break it off," he continued, his voice muffled slightly when he pressed his face against my shoulder, hands going from my shoulders to my waist. "Mika has her boyfriend hiding in the shadows. . . I just thought it would be easier. . ."

I ached to turn around, to pull him into my arms and hold him, to chase away the shadows in his voice. I remembered a different time, the same voice echoing in my memory, the broken phrase of how it was his fault and that he had killed Eiri just as surely as Kitazawa had. Remembering how my song shattered like crystal dropped from the Tokyo Tower watching a stranger in Touma's skin accept Mika as his wife then proceeded to ignore me for her and her shattered brother. I remembered and could not move.

". . .Easier to keep to the letter of the contract if we broke up before the wedding. I didn't think that it would take this long to find a way around it. . ."

Remembering how cold my bed was since that day, remembering how alone I felt, remembering the sharp splinters clawing at me, the first time I slashed at myself to find some way to scream what I was feeling. Remembering turning to Kumagorou for just a touch of having someone that cared for me as much as I cared for them. Remembering again the dingy room where I first met the others of Nittle Grasper. I shivered, feeling his arms around me, and leaned back against his taller form.

"We all had hoped that it would be easier, but life isn't a song or a video," I sighed, tilting my head to look at him. "Touma. . ."

His eyes were the colour of fresh bluebells still touched by morning dew. Fingers gentle cupped my chin, his lips closing over mine in apology and promise. So gentle, even though it was his stranger's face that broke me all those years ago. Arching up against him, I whimpered, my right hand going to his hip, my left to knock off his hat and to tangle in his fine blonde hair. The last thinking part of me was glad we were in that little obscure soundproof room.

We kissed for a long time, lips parting for air, tongues twining between us then pressing close again, soft sounds swallowed in the throat of the other. His fingers played across my body like one of his keyboards, finding all my spots, tugging me free of my clothing, tracing patterns across my shivering skin. My own fingers were not idle in freeing him of his own clothing, tracing the taunt skin over his ribs cage, following the faint line of golden curls down. He cried out, breaking from the kiss and fumbled with his jacket pockets. I leaned against the wall, raising my right leg to wrap around his hips and draw him even closer where I wanted him to be. He gave up his search to steady himself against me, his hands gripping my hips as I teased him.

He bent down to claim my lips again, his hips moving up against me, his hardness sliding right where I wanted it. I pulled my lips away, my back arching, my legs going around him, feeling him so hot and hard and filling me just right. My gasp was echoed by his low moan, his lips trailing down my neck, my hands digging into his shoulders. We held still like that for a long moment until I shifted, trying to get him to move. His fingers dug into my hips, his teeth nipped at my neck then he started moving.

It was a rhythm older than time. He pressed deep, drew back, pressed deep again, over and over. I clung to his shoulders, trying to match each movement, but lacking true leverage to dictate the dance. Odd sounds escaped my lips, whimpers and whines and moans for more, harder and faster until he covered my mouth with his own, burying my words somewhere behind his tonsils. Our slow rhythm lasts for only a short while as our bodies moved harder and faster against each other, bodies' slick with sweat, my back arching getting closer. Then wetness filled me, hot and thick, my name on that light, hoarse voice. Shuddering, my head fell back on my shoulders as I came, silently screaming his name, following him into oblivion.