Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ The Opposite of Gravity ❯ Living Under God ( Chapter 2 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Daiyaonna 
Tatsuha's accidental meeting turns into something surreal, Shuichi comes to an understanding of sorts with Hiro, and an old face returns to NG...
Anime/Manga: Gravitation Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.03.2004 | Updated On: 06.03.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 685 | Status: Completed
Tatsuha's accidental meeting turns into something surreal, Shuichi comes to an understanding of sorts with Hiro, and an old face returns to NG...
Anime/Manga: Gravitation Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.03.2004 | Updated On: 06.03.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 685 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: Me no own. Just borrowing.
Warnings: Shounen-ai, fluffiness, weird pairings, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, etc.
Track Two: Living Under God
Something warm pressed itself to his forehead and Tatsuha groaned, his fingers shaking even as they reached to feel his face, trying to reassure himself that he was alone, but a soft voice humming a wordless song proved him wrong. His eyes instantly opened, frantically searching for anything familiar, and he only found a large office decorated with record labels on the walls and an empty desk in the center. He moaned again, rolling over, expecting to fall on the floor, but found a serious gaze concentrating directly on him instead.
His cheeks instantly flamed with heat.
"Are you hurt?" The voice was tender and solemn, a complete contrast to the previous tone, and those blue eyes were narrower and less relaxed, a hint of violet-black ringing the pupils.
"I-Iie. I don't t-think so," he stammered, his pulse accelerating even more as Ryuichi's hand reached forward to withdraw the damp cloth. Skin brushed skin and Tatsuha forced himself not to shiver as a tingling sensation ran through him; he felt like he was going to pass out again.
"Good. I was afraid I had," he replied, staring blankly at the material he had clenched between his fingers while Tatsuha shifted and sat up slowly, his arm bracing the back of his skill; it still throbbed with unintended pain.
"Iie, I'm fine. I-" He paused, swallowing harshly before gazing at his lap. "Are you really Sakuma-sama?" A small, yet sad, smile slid onto his lips, and he nodded curtly.
"Hai." The sixteen-year-old immediately suffered a wave of nausea.
"Oh. I-I'm Uesugi Tatsuha. I-I really like you work. I mean, that is...it's-" Tatsuha hid his blushing face in his hands and refused to look at anything. He felt like an idiot, and even that was an understatement. Of all the things he could have said to him -his idol, his role model, his erotic fantasy- he'd had to stutter like some ogling fan-girl.
'Or one of Eiri's admirers,' he thought with distaste as he remembered the fanatic women trying to crawl all over his older brother at one of his books signings, thinking to gain some memento of him. That had been one of the most horrifying days of his life, and he certainly didn't want anyone else, especially Sakuma Ryuichi, thinking that he didn't have a brain or any sense. A soft movement pulled him from his thoughts, and Tatsuha immediately found himself nose to nose with the legendary singer of Nittle Grasper, orbs of indescribable blaze burning into his skull.
"A fan?" he questioned quietly, warm air rippling across Tatsuha's lips from his mouth, and the youth felt all feeling leaving his body. He was less than a millimeter from Sakuma Ryuichi's face, handsome as it was, and he was so close that he could taste the sweet aroma of some type of juice on his breath.
Tatsuha could not have asked for a better heaven.
"H-hai," he replied, trying to keep his voice from cracking like a boy on the verge of reaching puberty; he would die if any further embarrassment was hexed upon him. "Ever since N-Nittle Grasper became a band. That is to say I-" Tatsuha instantly stopped speaking when Ryuichi moved closer, a hand resting with intended pressure on his thigh and their lips closer than all possibility allowed before actually touching.
"Is it true? How old...I know you," he murmured in that deep consensual voice of his that always liquefied his body to mush whenever he heard it, and at that very moment, he no longer recollected anything -his name, who he was, where he was at- but the fact that Sakuma Ryuichi was sliding his fingertips along the rain-dampened jeans plastered to his legs and that he was close enough to kiss him.
Why did he have to be so mature about everything?!
"I don't see how...I...you're..." Their lips brushed for only the briefest second, but Tatsuha felt like it had lasted eternity, and his body gave up functioning, shutting down without compliance even as the door suddenly swung open, allowing two people to enter. Ryuichi ghosted away, Tatsuha aware that his serious demeanor had faded into a mask of childhood bliss, and he suddenly experienced a swell of queasiness that reminded him of his current condition and the ache in the back of his head.
He was alone, confused, and unsatisfied once again.
"TOHMA!" Ryuichi cried enthusiastically, flinging limber arms around the blonde haired man's neck in an informal greeting only known to him, and the owner of NG-Records -as well as producer and gifted keyboardist for Nittle Grasper- smiled, his eyes sparkling beneath the shadow cast over his face by the petite hat he wore. Tatsuha touched his feet to the floor and grimaced, the room spinning momentarily.
"Ryuichi-san," Tohma began with a light tone, observing with a practiced glance, without taking his attention from his friend, that Sakano had stepped to the side, silently awaiting his notification. "What are you..Tatsuha-san!" The boy jumped at the sound, instantly grabbing his skull as it started to throb and attempted to smile.
"Konnichi wa, Tohma-san.I...Mika-chan asked me to bring something for you and...there was a bit of an accident downstairs so...Sakuma-" He stumbled over the name as it rolled from his lips. "Sakuma-sama helped me, and we ended up here." He'd hurriedly rushed through the explanation, leaving him short-winded, and he could hardly breathe.
He'd never talked so fast in his life!
"I see." Tohma pursed his lips before turning to his business rival and companioned producer, who was busily cleaning off his glasses. "Sakano- san...we will discuss what we were speaking about later." The stress-induced man slid the eyewear onto his face, hiding the essentially handsome features of a male in his late twenties and bowed three times, each succession lining his back perfectly parallel to the floor.
"Hai! Hai! Gomen nasai, Seguchi-sama! Please, forgive me!" He bowed again but lower so that his head almost matched the height of his knees.
"Sakano-san.enough. Now-" Before Tohma could say anything else, Sakano had fled after apologizing again, shutting the door softly behind him, and he turned his attention to Ryuichi, who was unexpectedly staring at his younger brother-in-law with a mystified expression on his face. It was strange to see the elusive-tempered singer -who had more ease speaking English than his own native Japanese tongue- completely shrouded in an appearance of contemplation different than that of when he sang or composed songs. Tatsuha, almost seemingly unaware of Ryuichi's constant examination, staggered to his feet unsurprisingly towering over the older men by several inches.
He was tall, like his brother.
"I apologize for the inconvenience, Tohma-san. Mika-chan seemed to be in a hurry and..." He was at a loss for words, and he could abruptly feel Ryuichi's gaze, though somewhat deterred, drilling into him. Tohma grinned, his graceful and almost feminine hands brushing a stray lock of hair from his vision.
"Daijoubu, Tatsuha-san..Ryuichi-san was gracious enough to deliver the case to me, and I had only assumed that Mika-san..perhaps you should call Eiri-san to notify him of your whereabouts? I would assume he might be angry at your ill-punctuality." Tatsuha nearly grabbed his sister's husband by his shoulders in panic.
"Have you spoken with him recently?!"
"Hai." The teenager swept a nervous glance at Ryuichi even as he clenched his fingers into a fist.
"Did he sound...upset?" If there was anything Tatsuha feared most in the known world, it was his elder brother's anger. He would pretend that the faulted crime didn't bother him and then strike at the least suspecting moment, venting all of his wrath. Eiri's mood swings, he would admit, had somewhat lessened since Shindou Shuichi's abrupt and unexpected move into his sibling's apartment and his heart, but they were still frightening, and therefore, the self-proclaimed brave youth had only one thing to worry about.
"A little fatigued, perhaps, but other than that.he sounded like Eiri-san." Tatsuha tilted his head to the side, contemplating Tohma's reply, and he sighed with pent-up relief, his tightened hands running over his face to smooth away the lines of stress.
"If he isn't mad then I think I should get there as quickly as possible...though I don't know how I'm going to explain why I'm late," he mumbled, bowing low before trying to leave, but warm skin enveloped his wrist, halting him, and he knew, without reason and beyond a doubt, that Ryuichi had touched him again.
"Matte, Tatsuha-kun," he instructed, his name sounding almost reverent in his lowered and rich voice. "I will accompany you, if you'd like."
His heart instantly stopped and refused to work again.
Tatsuha turned to the side, noticing the failed-to-hide grin working onto Tohma's mouth and blinked, thinking the entire ordeal was some dream of his over-active imagination. In all his life, nothing this spectacular had ever happened to him, even after he had met his sister's fiancé and had realized that he was one-third of the infamous Nittle Grasper band, but now-
He could die happy and not think twice about it.
"I-I wouldn't mind it, but..don't you have to be here? Tohma-san-" Tohma held up his hands.
"Ryuichi-san is free to come and go as he pleases. I have no say in most things that he does," he replied, winking inconspicuously at the particularly hopeful Sakuma Ryuichi.
"Naa...ARIGATO, TOHMA!" he cried, nearly choking the unsuspecting man in another hug before cheerfully skipping over to the large desk to retrieve his faithful bunny companion. "Come on, Kumagoro-san..we are going on a trip, Na No Da!" He hummed lightly as he hopped over to where Tatsuha was standing and looped his arm around the youth's own, haphazardly dragging him out of the door without a second thought. Tohma, now alone in his spacious office, walked over to his chair and sat in it, instantly reaching for the phone placed strategically on the wood surface of the bureau-like piece of furniture.
"It's Seguchi Tohma," he said into the receiver, reclining back as he twisted the plastic cord around his finger. "Get me an outside line to Yuki Eiri please."
* * *
Red-piercing eyes smudged beneath with faded circles from lack of sleep peered hatefully over the brim of the collar of a dark trench coat at the pair of men weaving in and out of the mid-day crowd of people together. One he immediately recognized despite the disguise of an enlightening baseball cap and shadowed pair of sunglasses to be the infamous Sakuma Ryuichi, and the hidden man sneered, his handsome features almost twisting into something grotesque. His companion was tall and dark, like himself, but he couldn't tell who he was. Not that it mattered, he mused quietly to himself as he stood up from the small café seat he sat in and pulled on a pair of shades. The guy looked like a stiff-neck and star-struck as well.
'Another one of his faithful followers,' he thought in disgust as he crossed the street unnoticed and moved so that he was stealthily walking behind them. He could easily translate all that Ryuichi said due to the excited, high-pitch of his voice, but the other was quiet, silently agreeing with everything he had to say without actually speaking and leaving him in complete mystery as to who he was. He couldn't make out the face well, and the only thing that had caught his attention about Ryuichi was the faded ball of fluff clutched tightly in his arms.
It was his signature trademark.
"We're going to meet your otouto-san...hai?" With a brief nod from the mysterious youth, for he knew he could not be much older than seventeen or eighteen despite his older appearance, Ryuichi launched into a jumble of noises, painstakingly injuring his sensitively developed ears. "Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san love meeting new people, don't we, Kumagoro-san, Na No Da?" In an enthusiastic attempt to lighten the mood, his hand nodded the miniature bunny's head, and the most concise of smiles appeared on his friend's face. The man following them abruptly stopped when he sensed their slowed pace, allowing quickly walking people to push past him in an attempted camouflage as the boy turned to look behind him, expecting to find something.
'Keep going, brat.' His thoughts rang clear, and he stepped into the shadows of the nearest building, pretending to be interested in the still darkened sky, but he watched them closely and could hear Ryuichi's voice broadcast over the hustle and bustle of the traffic.
"Daijoubu-ka, Tatsuha-kun?" The watcher's ears perked up. So, the punk's name was Tatsuha? Although it sounded somewhat familiar, it would not help him; he wasn't interested in this boy.
"Anou...oh...hai, hai. Daijoubu, Sakuma-sama," he replied clearly, beginning his ascent up the street once more with the genki singer skipping beside him. "Let's hurry and meet Eiri-san before it rains again." And, it looked like it would; the sky was a terrible off-shade of gray and getting thicker with each passing second.
The other man took note of the same predicament and turned around, heading towards the NG-Records' monumental foundation with newfound speed. He could never understand why the greatest legend in Japanese pop music was so childish -doing childish things, talking with childish people- but it was one of his allures that drew a crowd. He'd had that once -fame, popularity, a voice that melted ice- but one incident had stolen it from him, wiping his slate clean and staining it with blood. No one had understood his motives behind what he had done -and why. They'd only taken the side of a foolish thing that only thought himself to be a musician -not a girl, barely a boy- and ASK had become nothing, just a whispered name in the weeks that had passed.
Tachi Aizawa thirsted for revenge, and he moved faster towards his destination, a smirk on his lips.
* * *
Shuichi panted for air, slipping down the wall he leaned against and falling into a liquefied pile of tanned skin and pink hair as the fatigue finally washed over him. His throat was raw from singing, it almost hurt to breathe, and this was the type of practice his band expected of him every time he held a microphone. He'd moped into the studio about an hour after he'd voluntarily left -having spent a good five hundred yen on a variety of vending machine items to wallow in- and Sakano-san had already been gone while the other members had been lightly chatting about nothing in particular. K, his whereabouts formerly unknown, had stood right behind him the moment he'd entered the door, his revolver cocked and the normal scheming look in his hazard sign bright blue eyes present. Shuichi hung his head to the side, his mouth suddenly drier than before at the memory, and a bottle of spring water magically appeared in his blurring line of vision. Quickly snatching it from the hand that offered the ambrosia, Shuichi guzzled more than half before taking notice of his best friend propped against the doorway beside him, his shoulder used as leverage.
"Naa, Hiro, arigato," he mumbled, placing the cap on the top and rolling the container between his pale fingers. He didn't know Hiro had moved, his thoughts being elsewhere, until he felt his presence next to him, the skin of his guitar string-calloused hands softly caressing the backs of Shuichi's knuckles with a tender sweep even as he continued to move the bottle.
"You did well today," he murmured in the supple voice designated only for his companion. "Even Fujisaki-san-" Shuichi immediately slumped into the other youth's arms, the water-filled plastic flask rolling towards the opposite side of the hall, and he buried his nose against Hiro's shoulder, the feeling of his embrace comforting. He could remember them holding each other this way, years and years before as old and close friends would, and for some reason he couldn't quite figure out, he'd wished to be back in that time, the one where he didn't love Yuki Eiri and had only Hiro.
"I'm so stupid, Hiro," he whimpered faintly, closing his eyes against the onslaught of teas already threatening to well up and fall. "Everyone's right. I am a baka." Hiro moved his head slightly, pressing his ear to the top of Shuichi's crown, allowing his lengthy red hair to fall over his friend's features.
"So you listen to everything someone says about you?" From the way Shuichi sniffled and refused to respond, Hiro knew the answer was 'yes.' "Shuichi, people only say those things to-"
"He doesn't treat me the same anymore!" the singer cried suddenly, squeezing the warm body pressed close to him as he finally began to weep.
"Who?" He asked, though he already knew.
"Y-Yuki...he's been-been too nice...Hiro...he won't be angry with me or hit me or call me names.." Hiro chuckled softly and began to stroke Shuichi's back as he felt the hot tears soak into his white t-shirt.
"You would rather have him be this way?"
"Iie...h-hai...I-I mean...he's going to leave me again!!" he wailed, the shrill sound echoing down the hallway.
"Shuichi," Hiro replied, trying to ignore the way his best friend since childhood was wiggling closer to him. "Has it occurred to you that perhaps Yuki Eiri is trying to resolve all the conflicts he has involving you? He has been in Japan for less than a day..do you honestly believe he would throw you out right after everything that's happened?" Through the entirety Hiro had been talking, Shuichi's crying had subsided to tiny tremors and small, barely audible sobs.
"You throw me out," he finally answered, leaning back to stare into cobalt blue eyes that matched the solemn expression of his face. Hiro lifted a hand and wiped at the wetness on his cheeks.
"That's because you bother me." His statement made Shuichi's profile scrunch up into an awkward shape, and at first, Hiro thought he was going to cry again, but instead, he merely blinked.
"Hiro?"
"Nani?"
"Anou.I...anou...would- would you have...if I'd never met Yuki and-" Hiro tried to hide his surprise at the directness of Shuichi's question but found it failing. Even after all this time, his friend never knew how he'd truly felt about him -what he wouldn't have given to possess him in all the ways a person could be taken- and despite having told him countless times, and having been ignored every single one, he'd just given up, believing Shuichi to be too dense to realize that he had always wanted more than friendship. Now, the clearness of what Shuichi asked stunned him, and he thought he could feel himself blushing.
"We'll never know," he eventually responded, smiling gently, and Shuichi bit his lip, still unsure. "Come on...I'll take you home, and then you can find out for yourself what I mean." He lightly tapped Shuichi under the chin with his finger and pulled away from his grasp, standing to tower over his still contemplating partner. Abruptly, Shuichi leapt up, swinging his arms around Hiro's neck in a momentary burst of happiness.
"HIRO! You're my best friend!!" he yelped, grabbing both his hand and his once forgotten orange backpack before trying to drag Hiro down the hallway. "Let's go! Let's go!" There was a grin on his face even as he allowed Shuichi to pull him.
"What's the hurry? It will all be there when we-" Hiro broke off his sentence as his propelled body collided with the smaller one in front of him; Shuichi had stopped. "Nani? Shuichi, what's wrong?"
"I-I think I just saw Tatsuha-san." Shuichi, without any further explanation, shot off down the corridor, his lithe frame carrying him quickly over the linoleum tiles, and Hiro stood blinking, partially confused. He could only remember meeting Uesugi Tatsuha once, it being very briefly since it had been during their last concert when Shuichi had fallen through the stage floor, but he distinctly recalled Yuki Eiri's younger brother -the genetic code for blinding appeal obviously being in the family- saying that he lived in Kyoto. That particular city was a good distance away.
What would he being doing in Tokyo, far from home?
"Matte! Shuichi!" His brain kicked into gear, finding something off about the entire situation, and he chased after him, rounding the corner he'd seen him turn. "Shuichi-" Hiro stopped, his eyes nearly falling from their sockets as the sight that greeted him. Shuichi was visibly trembling, his arms dropped to rest at his sides, and he was shaking his head furiously, strands of hot pink whipping his face as he took a step backwards.
"I-Iie. Iie. You're supposed to be gone...Seguchi-san..." Hiro could only stare, his body unwilling to cooperate with his thoughts so that he could help his friend, and Shuichi huddled away, wrapping himself in his own grip to convince himself that none of it was real.
"I thought I would receive a warmer welcome than this," a voice that haunted the genki singer's nightmares murmured softly, and Hiro couldn't stop his lips from moving or the name from sounding.
"Tachi Aizawa-"
TBC-
Warnings: Shounen-ai, fluffiness, weird pairings, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, etc.
Track Two: Living Under God
Something warm pressed itself to his forehead and Tatsuha groaned, his fingers shaking even as they reached to feel his face, trying to reassure himself that he was alone, but a soft voice humming a wordless song proved him wrong. His eyes instantly opened, frantically searching for anything familiar, and he only found a large office decorated with record labels on the walls and an empty desk in the center. He moaned again, rolling over, expecting to fall on the floor, but found a serious gaze concentrating directly on him instead.
His cheeks instantly flamed with heat.
"Are you hurt?" The voice was tender and solemn, a complete contrast to the previous tone, and those blue eyes were narrower and less relaxed, a hint of violet-black ringing the pupils.
"I-Iie. I don't t-think so," he stammered, his pulse accelerating even more as Ryuichi's hand reached forward to withdraw the damp cloth. Skin brushed skin and Tatsuha forced himself not to shiver as a tingling sensation ran through him; he felt like he was going to pass out again.
"Good. I was afraid I had," he replied, staring blankly at the material he had clenched between his fingers while Tatsuha shifted and sat up slowly, his arm bracing the back of his skill; it still throbbed with unintended pain.
"Iie, I'm fine. I-" He paused, swallowing harshly before gazing at his lap. "Are you really Sakuma-sama?" A small, yet sad, smile slid onto his lips, and he nodded curtly.
"Hai." The sixteen-year-old immediately suffered a wave of nausea.
"Oh. I-I'm Uesugi Tatsuha. I-I really like you work. I mean, that is...it's-" Tatsuha hid his blushing face in his hands and refused to look at anything. He felt like an idiot, and even that was an understatement. Of all the things he could have said to him -his idol, his role model, his erotic fantasy- he'd had to stutter like some ogling fan-girl.
'Or one of Eiri's admirers,' he thought with distaste as he remembered the fanatic women trying to crawl all over his older brother at one of his books signings, thinking to gain some memento of him. That had been one of the most horrifying days of his life, and he certainly didn't want anyone else, especially Sakuma Ryuichi, thinking that he didn't have a brain or any sense. A soft movement pulled him from his thoughts, and Tatsuha immediately found himself nose to nose with the legendary singer of Nittle Grasper, orbs of indescribable blaze burning into his skull.
"A fan?" he questioned quietly, warm air rippling across Tatsuha's lips from his mouth, and the youth felt all feeling leaving his body. He was less than a millimeter from Sakuma Ryuichi's face, handsome as it was, and he was so close that he could taste the sweet aroma of some type of juice on his breath.
Tatsuha could not have asked for a better heaven.
"H-hai," he replied, trying to keep his voice from cracking like a boy on the verge of reaching puberty; he would die if any further embarrassment was hexed upon him. "Ever since N-Nittle Grasper became a band. That is to say I-" Tatsuha instantly stopped speaking when Ryuichi moved closer, a hand resting with intended pressure on his thigh and their lips closer than all possibility allowed before actually touching.
"Is it true? How old...I know you," he murmured in that deep consensual voice of his that always liquefied his body to mush whenever he heard it, and at that very moment, he no longer recollected anything -his name, who he was, where he was at- but the fact that Sakuma Ryuichi was sliding his fingertips along the rain-dampened jeans plastered to his legs and that he was close enough to kiss him.
Why did he have to be so mature about everything?!
"I don't see how...I...you're..." Their lips brushed for only the briefest second, but Tatsuha felt like it had lasted eternity, and his body gave up functioning, shutting down without compliance even as the door suddenly swung open, allowing two people to enter. Ryuichi ghosted away, Tatsuha aware that his serious demeanor had faded into a mask of childhood bliss, and he suddenly experienced a swell of queasiness that reminded him of his current condition and the ache in the back of his head.
He was alone, confused, and unsatisfied once again.
"TOHMA!" Ryuichi cried enthusiastically, flinging limber arms around the blonde haired man's neck in an informal greeting only known to him, and the owner of NG-Records -as well as producer and gifted keyboardist for Nittle Grasper- smiled, his eyes sparkling beneath the shadow cast over his face by the petite hat he wore. Tatsuha touched his feet to the floor and grimaced, the room spinning momentarily.
"Ryuichi-san," Tohma began with a light tone, observing with a practiced glance, without taking his attention from his friend, that Sakano had stepped to the side, silently awaiting his notification. "What are you..Tatsuha-san!" The boy jumped at the sound, instantly grabbing his skull as it started to throb and attempted to smile.
"Konnichi wa, Tohma-san.I...Mika-chan asked me to bring something for you and...there was a bit of an accident downstairs so...Sakuma-" He stumbled over the name as it rolled from his lips. "Sakuma-sama helped me, and we ended up here." He'd hurriedly rushed through the explanation, leaving him short-winded, and he could hardly breathe.
He'd never talked so fast in his life!
"I see." Tohma pursed his lips before turning to his business rival and companioned producer, who was busily cleaning off his glasses. "Sakano- san...we will discuss what we were speaking about later." The stress-induced man slid the eyewear onto his face, hiding the essentially handsome features of a male in his late twenties and bowed three times, each succession lining his back perfectly parallel to the floor.
"Hai! Hai! Gomen nasai, Seguchi-sama! Please, forgive me!" He bowed again but lower so that his head almost matched the height of his knees.
"Sakano-san.enough. Now-" Before Tohma could say anything else, Sakano had fled after apologizing again, shutting the door softly behind him, and he turned his attention to Ryuichi, who was unexpectedly staring at his younger brother-in-law with a mystified expression on his face. It was strange to see the elusive-tempered singer -who had more ease speaking English than his own native Japanese tongue- completely shrouded in an appearance of contemplation different than that of when he sang or composed songs. Tatsuha, almost seemingly unaware of Ryuichi's constant examination, staggered to his feet unsurprisingly towering over the older men by several inches.
He was tall, like his brother.
"I apologize for the inconvenience, Tohma-san. Mika-chan seemed to be in a hurry and..." He was at a loss for words, and he could abruptly feel Ryuichi's gaze, though somewhat deterred, drilling into him. Tohma grinned, his graceful and almost feminine hands brushing a stray lock of hair from his vision.
"Daijoubu, Tatsuha-san..Ryuichi-san was gracious enough to deliver the case to me, and I had only assumed that Mika-san..perhaps you should call Eiri-san to notify him of your whereabouts? I would assume he might be angry at your ill-punctuality." Tatsuha nearly grabbed his sister's husband by his shoulders in panic.
"Have you spoken with him recently?!"
"Hai." The teenager swept a nervous glance at Ryuichi even as he clenched his fingers into a fist.
"Did he sound...upset?" If there was anything Tatsuha feared most in the known world, it was his elder brother's anger. He would pretend that the faulted crime didn't bother him and then strike at the least suspecting moment, venting all of his wrath. Eiri's mood swings, he would admit, had somewhat lessened since Shindou Shuichi's abrupt and unexpected move into his sibling's apartment and his heart, but they were still frightening, and therefore, the self-proclaimed brave youth had only one thing to worry about.
"A little fatigued, perhaps, but other than that.he sounded like Eiri-san." Tatsuha tilted his head to the side, contemplating Tohma's reply, and he sighed with pent-up relief, his tightened hands running over his face to smooth away the lines of stress.
"If he isn't mad then I think I should get there as quickly as possible...though I don't know how I'm going to explain why I'm late," he mumbled, bowing low before trying to leave, but warm skin enveloped his wrist, halting him, and he knew, without reason and beyond a doubt, that Ryuichi had touched him again.
"Matte, Tatsuha-kun," he instructed, his name sounding almost reverent in his lowered and rich voice. "I will accompany you, if you'd like."
His heart instantly stopped and refused to work again.
Tatsuha turned to the side, noticing the failed-to-hide grin working onto Tohma's mouth and blinked, thinking the entire ordeal was some dream of his over-active imagination. In all his life, nothing this spectacular had ever happened to him, even after he had met his sister's fiancé and had realized that he was one-third of the infamous Nittle Grasper band, but now-
He could die happy and not think twice about it.
"I-I wouldn't mind it, but..don't you have to be here? Tohma-san-" Tohma held up his hands.
"Ryuichi-san is free to come and go as he pleases. I have no say in most things that he does," he replied, winking inconspicuously at the particularly hopeful Sakuma Ryuichi.
"Naa...ARIGATO, TOHMA!" he cried, nearly choking the unsuspecting man in another hug before cheerfully skipping over to the large desk to retrieve his faithful bunny companion. "Come on, Kumagoro-san..we are going on a trip, Na No Da!" He hummed lightly as he hopped over to where Tatsuha was standing and looped his arm around the youth's own, haphazardly dragging him out of the door without a second thought. Tohma, now alone in his spacious office, walked over to his chair and sat in it, instantly reaching for the phone placed strategically on the wood surface of the bureau-like piece of furniture.
"It's Seguchi Tohma," he said into the receiver, reclining back as he twisted the plastic cord around his finger. "Get me an outside line to Yuki Eiri please."
* * *
Red-piercing eyes smudged beneath with faded circles from lack of sleep peered hatefully over the brim of the collar of a dark trench coat at the pair of men weaving in and out of the mid-day crowd of people together. One he immediately recognized despite the disguise of an enlightening baseball cap and shadowed pair of sunglasses to be the infamous Sakuma Ryuichi, and the hidden man sneered, his handsome features almost twisting into something grotesque. His companion was tall and dark, like himself, but he couldn't tell who he was. Not that it mattered, he mused quietly to himself as he stood up from the small café seat he sat in and pulled on a pair of shades. The guy looked like a stiff-neck and star-struck as well.
'Another one of his faithful followers,' he thought in disgust as he crossed the street unnoticed and moved so that he was stealthily walking behind them. He could easily translate all that Ryuichi said due to the excited, high-pitch of his voice, but the other was quiet, silently agreeing with everything he had to say without actually speaking and leaving him in complete mystery as to who he was. He couldn't make out the face well, and the only thing that had caught his attention about Ryuichi was the faded ball of fluff clutched tightly in his arms.
It was his signature trademark.
"We're going to meet your otouto-san...hai?" With a brief nod from the mysterious youth, for he knew he could not be much older than seventeen or eighteen despite his older appearance, Ryuichi launched into a jumble of noises, painstakingly injuring his sensitively developed ears. "Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san love meeting new people, don't we, Kumagoro-san, Na No Da?" In an enthusiastic attempt to lighten the mood, his hand nodded the miniature bunny's head, and the most concise of smiles appeared on his friend's face. The man following them abruptly stopped when he sensed their slowed pace, allowing quickly walking people to push past him in an attempted camouflage as the boy turned to look behind him, expecting to find something.
'Keep going, brat.' His thoughts rang clear, and he stepped into the shadows of the nearest building, pretending to be interested in the still darkened sky, but he watched them closely and could hear Ryuichi's voice broadcast over the hustle and bustle of the traffic.
"Daijoubu-ka, Tatsuha-kun?" The watcher's ears perked up. So, the punk's name was Tatsuha? Although it sounded somewhat familiar, it would not help him; he wasn't interested in this boy.
"Anou...oh...hai, hai. Daijoubu, Sakuma-sama," he replied clearly, beginning his ascent up the street once more with the genki singer skipping beside him. "Let's hurry and meet Eiri-san before it rains again." And, it looked like it would; the sky was a terrible off-shade of gray and getting thicker with each passing second.
The other man took note of the same predicament and turned around, heading towards the NG-Records' monumental foundation with newfound speed. He could never understand why the greatest legend in Japanese pop music was so childish -doing childish things, talking with childish people- but it was one of his allures that drew a crowd. He'd had that once -fame, popularity, a voice that melted ice- but one incident had stolen it from him, wiping his slate clean and staining it with blood. No one had understood his motives behind what he had done -and why. They'd only taken the side of a foolish thing that only thought himself to be a musician -not a girl, barely a boy- and ASK had become nothing, just a whispered name in the weeks that had passed.
Tachi Aizawa thirsted for revenge, and he moved faster towards his destination, a smirk on his lips.
* * *
Shuichi panted for air, slipping down the wall he leaned against and falling into a liquefied pile of tanned skin and pink hair as the fatigue finally washed over him. His throat was raw from singing, it almost hurt to breathe, and this was the type of practice his band expected of him every time he held a microphone. He'd moped into the studio about an hour after he'd voluntarily left -having spent a good five hundred yen on a variety of vending machine items to wallow in- and Sakano-san had already been gone while the other members had been lightly chatting about nothing in particular. K, his whereabouts formerly unknown, had stood right behind him the moment he'd entered the door, his revolver cocked and the normal scheming look in his hazard sign bright blue eyes present. Shuichi hung his head to the side, his mouth suddenly drier than before at the memory, and a bottle of spring water magically appeared in his blurring line of vision. Quickly snatching it from the hand that offered the ambrosia, Shuichi guzzled more than half before taking notice of his best friend propped against the doorway beside him, his shoulder used as leverage.
"Naa, Hiro, arigato," he mumbled, placing the cap on the top and rolling the container between his pale fingers. He didn't know Hiro had moved, his thoughts being elsewhere, until he felt his presence next to him, the skin of his guitar string-calloused hands softly caressing the backs of Shuichi's knuckles with a tender sweep even as he continued to move the bottle.
"You did well today," he murmured in the supple voice designated only for his companion. "Even Fujisaki-san-" Shuichi immediately slumped into the other youth's arms, the water-filled plastic flask rolling towards the opposite side of the hall, and he buried his nose against Hiro's shoulder, the feeling of his embrace comforting. He could remember them holding each other this way, years and years before as old and close friends would, and for some reason he couldn't quite figure out, he'd wished to be back in that time, the one where he didn't love Yuki Eiri and had only Hiro.
"I'm so stupid, Hiro," he whimpered faintly, closing his eyes against the onslaught of teas already threatening to well up and fall. "Everyone's right. I am a baka." Hiro moved his head slightly, pressing his ear to the top of Shuichi's crown, allowing his lengthy red hair to fall over his friend's features.
"So you listen to everything someone says about you?" From the way Shuichi sniffled and refused to respond, Hiro knew the answer was 'yes.' "Shuichi, people only say those things to-"
"He doesn't treat me the same anymore!" the singer cried suddenly, squeezing the warm body pressed close to him as he finally began to weep.
"Who?" He asked, though he already knew.
"Y-Yuki...he's been-been too nice...Hiro...he won't be angry with me or hit me or call me names.." Hiro chuckled softly and began to stroke Shuichi's back as he felt the hot tears soak into his white t-shirt.
"You would rather have him be this way?"
"Iie...h-hai...I-I mean...he's going to leave me again!!" he wailed, the shrill sound echoing down the hallway.
"Shuichi," Hiro replied, trying to ignore the way his best friend since childhood was wiggling closer to him. "Has it occurred to you that perhaps Yuki Eiri is trying to resolve all the conflicts he has involving you? He has been in Japan for less than a day..do you honestly believe he would throw you out right after everything that's happened?" Through the entirety Hiro had been talking, Shuichi's crying had subsided to tiny tremors and small, barely audible sobs.
"You throw me out," he finally answered, leaning back to stare into cobalt blue eyes that matched the solemn expression of his face. Hiro lifted a hand and wiped at the wetness on his cheeks.
"That's because you bother me." His statement made Shuichi's profile scrunch up into an awkward shape, and at first, Hiro thought he was going to cry again, but instead, he merely blinked.
"Hiro?"
"Nani?"
"Anou.I...anou...would- would you have...if I'd never met Yuki and-" Hiro tried to hide his surprise at the directness of Shuichi's question but found it failing. Even after all this time, his friend never knew how he'd truly felt about him -what he wouldn't have given to possess him in all the ways a person could be taken- and despite having told him countless times, and having been ignored every single one, he'd just given up, believing Shuichi to be too dense to realize that he had always wanted more than friendship. Now, the clearness of what Shuichi asked stunned him, and he thought he could feel himself blushing.
"We'll never know," he eventually responded, smiling gently, and Shuichi bit his lip, still unsure. "Come on...I'll take you home, and then you can find out for yourself what I mean." He lightly tapped Shuichi under the chin with his finger and pulled away from his grasp, standing to tower over his still contemplating partner. Abruptly, Shuichi leapt up, swinging his arms around Hiro's neck in a momentary burst of happiness.
"HIRO! You're my best friend!!" he yelped, grabbing both his hand and his once forgotten orange backpack before trying to drag Hiro down the hallway. "Let's go! Let's go!" There was a grin on his face even as he allowed Shuichi to pull him.
"What's the hurry? It will all be there when we-" Hiro broke off his sentence as his propelled body collided with the smaller one in front of him; Shuichi had stopped. "Nani? Shuichi, what's wrong?"
"I-I think I just saw Tatsuha-san." Shuichi, without any further explanation, shot off down the corridor, his lithe frame carrying him quickly over the linoleum tiles, and Hiro stood blinking, partially confused. He could only remember meeting Uesugi Tatsuha once, it being very briefly since it had been during their last concert when Shuichi had fallen through the stage floor, but he distinctly recalled Yuki Eiri's younger brother -the genetic code for blinding appeal obviously being in the family- saying that he lived in Kyoto. That particular city was a good distance away.
What would he being doing in Tokyo, far from home?
"Matte! Shuichi!" His brain kicked into gear, finding something off about the entire situation, and he chased after him, rounding the corner he'd seen him turn. "Shuichi-" Hiro stopped, his eyes nearly falling from their sockets as the sight that greeted him. Shuichi was visibly trembling, his arms dropped to rest at his sides, and he was shaking his head furiously, strands of hot pink whipping his face as he took a step backwards.
"I-Iie. Iie. You're supposed to be gone...Seguchi-san..." Hiro could only stare, his body unwilling to cooperate with his thoughts so that he could help his friend, and Shuichi huddled away, wrapping himself in his own grip to convince himself that none of it was real.
"I thought I would receive a warmer welcome than this," a voice that haunted the genki singer's nightmares murmured softly, and Hiro couldn't stop his lips from moving or the name from sounding.
"Tachi Aizawa-"
TBC-