Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ The Opposite of Gravity ❯ Returning A Favor ( Chapter 3 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Daiyaonna 
Tatsuha finally visits Eiri, Shuichi lives with the memories of becoming a singer, and Hiro ponders about his relationship with his best friend...
Anime/Manga: Gravitation Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.12.2004 | Updated On: 06.12.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 4.1K | Visits: 625 | Status: Completed
Tatsuha finally visits Eiri, Shuichi lives with the memories of becoming a singer, and Hiro ponders about his relationship with his best friend...
Anime/Manga: Gravitation Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.12.2004 | Updated On: 06.12.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 4.1K | Visits: 625 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: Me no own. Just borrowing.uncontrollable fluff (okay, so I like to write it), OOC Yuki, other pairing indications, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and failure to remember exact occurrences from the anime (I am shameless, hehe).
Track Three: Returning a Favor
Eiri's irresistible -and terrifying- gaze perforated his younger brother's as he watched him cross the bare wooden floor, puddles of water being left behind with each step. Directly trailing him, almost as faithfully as an obedient puppy, was Sakuma Ryuichi, as equally wet and soaked to the skin, his pale-colored shirt now see-through and clinging openly to his well-shaped, though somewhat skinny, frame. He stood in the middle of the room and held Kumagoro-san in front of him, wringing the bunny in a tight circle to relieve the stuffed animal of the liquid making it heavier than normal. Tatsuha chuckled, but upon noticing his sibling's eyebrow twitch, he quieted.
"I hope you had fun, Tatsuha," Eiri spoke sarcastically, his gruff voice sounding rougher than usual. Ryuichi skirted away from the writer as he walked towards them, using Tatsuha as a shield even though he peered over his shoulder to gaze at the blonde-haired man. There were few people in the known world that Ryuichi would not dare to touch or make angry, and Yuki Eiri was one of them. He seemed to be the coldest person alive, but according to his fellow singer and music rival, he wasn't as bad as he let on. Ryuichi begged to differ albeit he'd never admit it to anyone.
"Aniki," Tatsuha began, his pitch edging towards whiny. "Can't I explain." Eiri reached for a crumbled pack of cigarettes sitting on the nearest table, shaking it so see if any resided within.
"What's there to explain? You're late and dripping water all over my floor," he spat, crumbling the carton before throwing it into a metal wastebasket at his feet upon finding it empty. Ryuichi, having quickly lost interest in the frothing fight developing between the brothers, had drawn a broken pile of crayons from his jeans pockets and was sitting cross- legged on the ground, furiously scribbling tiny random pictures and kanji characters into the wood finish. Eiri rapidly found a new box of cigarettes and lit one, the nicotine-filled stick calming his nerves, and Tatsuha tried swallowing the lump in his throat.
"I...gomen ne, Aniki, but...I-I thought.." Eiri blew a cloud of smoke into his sibling's face, causing him to cough.
"Well, that must have hurt."
"Nani? Aniki." Tatsuha trailed off, evaluating his words, and he suddenly took a step back, nearly crushing Ryuichi's hand as he wrote an English word deeply into the now colorful area with a black crayon. "That was low!"
"Not any lower than your punctuality record, Tatsuha. Should I even allow you to be here? You and your friend," he quoted the word with a quick flash of his fingers, "are destroying my home."
"But that's not my fault, Aniki. Maybe if you-" Eiri arched a finely shaped eyebrow at him after removing the cigarette from his mouth.
"Maybe if I what? You're more pathetic than he is..always obsessing over things beyond your reach...like him for example," Eiri proclaimed, indicating the older man happily scrawling with the pastel-colored wax who immediately lifted his head to stare at the romance novelist and youth. Tatsuha's pale face was beginning to heat with the slightest indication of a blush, and he refused to meet the other's gaze. At first, the teen had been unsure of who he'd been speaking about, but then the obvious made itself clear; Eiri was comparing him with his lover, Shindou Shuichi and didn't appear ready to stop his assault.
"M-matte, Aniki...you don't-" Eiri smiled that bewitching grin of his -the one that made him look as sinister as he was beautiful- and flicked ashes into the small tray near his hand, which rested on the table.
"Oh, I think I do, Tatsuha," he stated, acutely aware of the strange transformation befalling the legendary singer staring up at them, his fingers poised delicately around the crayon, unmoving. "You're sixteen years old and instead of concentrating on important things that will help you, you're infatuated with a...a man almost twice your age." Tatsuha's cheeks were so crimson that they were nearly violet, and he could clearly see the question in Ryuichi's narrowed eyes that asked 'are you really that young?'. He swallowed harshly, feeling as though he had betrayed them both in some way.
"I.you said you wouldn't lecture me about what I did with my life. I can do what I want, Aniki, and that includes any "infatuations" I might have with anyone !" he shot back, scowling with an equally frightening grimace. "You make your own choices! Why can't I let you me make mine?!" Eiri seemed unfazed by the small speech, leaving his younger brother's lips trembling.
"I know what I told you, Tatsuha," he replied coolly, extinguishing the half-smoked cigarette. "However.despite what you might think, I am your brother and what you decide to do with your life up until the point you are an adult is my concern. I don't want you turning out like that baka singer who believes everything can be accomplished with just a fraction of the determination it actually takes. He relies on everyone else for his confidence-" Tatsuha clenched his fist, pointing back at Ryuichi.
"I do NOT gain my reliance from things like that !" he shouted, not realizing that his words of defense were spreading a mass amount of pain across a certain man's face. "I never have, and now you try to worry about me after six years?! It's too late for that, Uesugi Eiri! Ever since you left that day for America, I've had to do it myself. What makes you think I need you now?!" Eiri calmly walked to stand before him, his hands finding their way to damp, broad shoulders. He hadn't actually looked at his brother for a long time, and Eiri realized that Tatsuha was right; while he had been away -and even when he'd still been in Japan- his closest sibling had grown up without him. His features, which Eiri could distinctly remember being chibi-like years ago, were matured beyond all expectations, and if his ragged black hair was replaced with highlighted gold and his shadowed pupils faded to the lemon-green hue of his own, Eiri would have been staring at a mirror image of himself, only younger. It frightened him to know that his only brother, more Japanese than he could ever hope to be, was beyond being like him.
He was his near twin!
"Tatsuha.I haven't asked anything of you," he whispered, brutally resisting the urge to brush locks of ebony silk from the youth's forehead in an attempt to recover something that had been lost to him. "But you are still there when I need you..Shuichi told me what you did for him." It was odd to hear that name pronounced in his melodious low-bass voice, but Tatsuha was drowned in the hypnotic tone flowing into his ears and over his heart, and he ceased to care. He knew how much the petite boy -hardly worth being called the adult he actually was- meant to his brother, and when Eiri had completely disappeared, Tatsuha had been there, holding the youth's hand and broken heart, trying to make amends. He'd even held him while he'd cried himself to sleep some nights, perverted thoughts pushed aside though in his confusion and upset, Shuichi had tried to take "advantage" of him, calling him by his brother's name in a desperate effort to feel the "love" Yuki Eiri had given him.
He doubted he remembered, and he would never tell Eiri.
"Aniki-"
"Shh.Tatsuha...I want to thank you. It must have been difficult for you, considering his rather clingy reputation," he continued, smiling ever so slightly at the humorous thoughts flashing in his brain. Suddenly, Tatsuha wondered if Eiri could, indeed, read minds and if he had figured out what Shuichi had ventured to do to him; he blushed. "And, I also want to promise you something else. Something with a little more sustenance to it than the empty words of a bitter man-"
"Aniki, you aren't bitter..." Eiri's hand promptly covered Tatsuha's mouth to prevent him from speaking further.
"You only say that because you are my brother, but you truly haven't any idea whatsoever, Tatsuha," he muttered sourly, sneering sadly at his own words. "Do you remember that song? The one I wrote for your Nittle Grasper?" Tatsuha nodded numbly, picturing the exact moment -not believing that Eiri had called the mystical Nittle Grasper band his- and Ryuichi, who had been quiet, as well as lost in his own personal memories of the past, looked directly at Eiri, who stared back.
"Himei hodo mujaki na yoru ga hoshii," the vocalist murmured in his lyrical voice, startling the pair with his perceptiveness to understand what the infamous novelist was trying to say. In a slower tone he added, "Subete wa suna ni naru...". Eiri nodded, turning his attention back to Tatsuha.
"I want innocent more than screams," he repeated in English, hoping the teen could translate it though he knew the Japanese perfectly. "Everything turns to sand."
"Eiri...I..."
"It was that song that kept me from insanity, Tatsuha. The past threatened to kill me though I thought myself from its torture, and I had to write those words to save what was left of my soul. The baka boy never got it, but he was my connection to hope. I wanted to be innocent as you are..as you were in your childhood, but only agony was left." Eiri turned his head away, suddenly feeling weak. "Tatsuha, don't lose what it is that you have. It eventually melts into something useless if you don't know what to do with it."
"I...Eiri, I'm-" The sharp, shrill sound of a phone ringing somewhere within the apartment cut through Tatsuha's speechlessness and the silence, and Eiri moved away, the softness and tender demeanor dissolving with a wave of his hand as if it had never existed in the beginning.
"I'll be back. Don't get too comfortable," he commanded, entering the room he'd designated specifically for his laptop and writing sessions, leaving Tatsuha and Ryuichi alone. The singer, instantly abandoning his half-finished "masterpiece," leapt to his feet, Kumagoro-san clutched tightly to him in a newer appeal of affection though his precious, gem- glistening eyes were troubled.
"Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san should be leaving now, Tatsuha-kun," he whispered delicately, averting his gaze to stare at the floor instead. "We have worn out our welcome."
"Iie! Iie, Sakuma-sama, you haven't! You shouldn't let Eiri get to you like that! It's one of his less-admiring qualities, I admit," Tatsuha pleaded, afraid that his idol somehow thought him an idiot like he had feared. Ryuichi, beside himself with internal grief, smiled for his benefit.
"It's not that.Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san must go because there are things that need our attention." He stepped close, a drop of water, which had not dried, sliding down his cheek and along his jaw like a lonely tear as he tilted his head back to look at him.
"Oh." Tatsuha immediately felt beyond ignorant, but everything was starting to become incoherent at Ryuichi's proximity. It didn't seem that he knew what his closeness did to him, but perhaps in his own way, Ryuichi comprehended it all. "Sakuma-sama?" A shadowed grin greeted him, but the haunted look in Ryuichi's sapphire-shaded orbs sent a chill through Tatsuha.
"Hai?"
"I...I was...how did you know what Eiri was trying to tell me? I don't understand." Ryuichi's fingers skimmed over Tatsuha's cheek and briefly touched his lips before he drew away to head towards the door.
"I've experienced the same delusion of reality-" And without a sound, Ryuichi -as well as Kumagoro-san- was gone.
* * *
"Tachi...Aizawa...what are you doing back at NG-Records?! I thought Seguchi-san gave you specific orders never to return here," Hiro spoke, his voice finally returning. The red-haired youth had placed an arm around Shuichi's shoulders, but his friend was transfixed in permanent shock, his entire body still visibly shaking. Aizawa, a tenacious grin plastered to his lips, threw his head back and laughed psychotically, his hands withdrawing from the pockets of his trench coat.
"The only thing Seguchi Tohma did was direct me towards the front of an on-coming car. I was never prohibited from setting foot on NG-Records property." He gazed at his finely shaped hands, the manicured nails glistening beneath the artificial light. "How's the band, Shindou-san? Still stealing the spotlight from hapless competitors?" Shuichi opened his mouth, the beginnings of a sound on the tip of his tongue, but then he turned around and threw himself into Hiro's arms, whimpering.
"Save me," he ordered almost inaudibly, the entire ordeal with Tachi Aizawa resurfacing.
"Go ahead and scream...or cry...there isn't anyone to hear you. Even that pathetic Yuki Eiri would do nothing for you. I'll call him here if you don't believe me," Aizawa insisted, a sneer clinging to his taut features. Shuichi could feel the tightening of strong arms around his own, but he smiled nonetheless, momentarily unafraid of the man who was holding him captive by using three randomly selected thugs off the streets of Tokyo as mindless minions.
"If...if you touch Yuki...I'll...I'll kill you with my own hands!" he warned, the feel of Aizawa pulling on his lank pink hair oddly reminding him of the pain his abdomen was in. It was probably already bruised with the imprint of a shoe bigger than the width of his torso.
"Have it your way! You asked for this the day you dared rival ASK!" Aizawa threw his head back, releasing it, and Shuichi struggled fiercely, his strength centered on escaping, but two strangers holding him chuckled in his ear, their breath stale and sour, as one of them ran fingers under his shirt and over the sore skin, making him freeze with terror.
"Does your stomach hurt?" Shuichi pulled again on the hold restraining him, terrified now -as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest- and the third guy, his hair spiking and ears pierced several times, approached him, licking his lips and a burning gaze in his slit eyes. The singer bit deeply into his lip, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out as they beat and violated his defenseless body, each but Aizawa taking their turn. Somewhere off in the distance, when the anguish had been offset to a mere thrashing of fists and kicking of feet, Shuichi could hear the click of some machine -a camera- and he blacked out after that, unable to conceal anymore pain. When he awoke again, some time later, he was alone and half-naked, his clothes lying ripped and torn in a pile beside him, and Shuichi shut his eyes, the only thing he could move at the time and wept silently, hot tears comforting his injured face.
"Daijoubu-ka, Shuichi," Hiro whispered, stroking his friend's hair before glaring at Aizawa. "What Bad Luck does is none of your concern. Get lost before I help you.." The former musician lifted up his hands in defense.
"I asked for no trouble. You're the one threatening me." Hiro firmly held Shuichi to him, feeling the youth instantly cling to him like Velcro, and he clenched his teeth, realizing that Shuichi was lost in some fantasy world involving painful memories of betrayal and rape.
"I'm not threatening you, yet, Tachi-san, but if I must then I will. Now, step aside and let us pass or do you need assistance with that, too?" Aizawa scowled, his lower lip jutting out into a partial snarl, but he gave them room, the younger boy instantly moving forward, half-dragging Shuichi with him. Hiro didn't look back until they were well out of sight and near the front of the building where he had parked his motorcycle. He shook Shuichi, thinking to revive him, though he was still awake, and he sighed a frustrated breath when the limp singer clung tighter to him, his thin arms nearly choking off his air supply unintentionally.
"Shuichi, get a hold of yourself and look at me. He didn't do anything to you." He paused and stared at him, noticing the dead glaze in his usually vivid eyes. "Shuichi, are you listening to me?"
"I don't want to," he yelped, sniffling loudly in his ear. "Please don't make me..." At a loss for words, as well as beyond annoyed, Hiro skillfully reached around Shuichi, his hand unzipping and slipping into the bright orange backpack he had slung around him, extracting the cell phone Shuichi always carried. Hiro had a good idea who to call, but he couldn't remember the number, despite his friend having lived with him for almost two months, and he hit a random speed dial digit, praying to get the correct one. The ringing lasted a good minute and on the eighth faded noise, he was ready to hand up until a click, proceeded by a gruff voice, sounded.
"This better be important." A smile spread across Hiro's face.
"Yuki Eiri, there is something I must discuss with you," he replied, aware of the slight increase of breath on the other side.
"Who." A small chuckled escaped the older man. "What is it that you want?" Hiro, licking his lips in an almost nervous manner, hurriedly relayed the details of their meeting with Tachi Aizawa to his best friend's lover, instantly scared of the silence that followed.
"Is everything-"
"Can you get him here or do you need help?" Hiro blinked at the unexpected request.
"I can manage," he finally answered, intently aware of the heat flooding through him from Shuichi's proximity. "He's still mobile."
"Good-" A second later, the line went dead, and Hiro replaced his companion's phone, carrying him outside to where his trustworthy bike sat. He had never placed anything in front of him while he'd driven before -Shuichi had always ridden behind him with his body pressed snuggly to his- but it seemed he didn't have a choice; Shuichi wouldn't clutch at anything but his neck. Hiro eased him onto the seat, steadying him with a practiced hand, but before he could do anything else, fingers enveloping a fistful of his loose t-shirt gripped him tightly.
"Shuichi," Hiro whispered, trying to pull away from the hold. "You have to let me get my arm around you." Shuichi's grip melted away, and Hiro straddled his bike, a supportive limb wrapped securely around a thin waist, pink hair tickling the side of his face when Shuichi reclined back, resting on him. The position was all too inviting, he would never have known, but Hiro quelled his thoughts, furious with himself for thinking such things. It was true he desired his best friend in a way that was forbidden to a relationship, but he had not realized how much it had hurt after he'd told Shuichi to get a lover, either boy or girl, when all he'd wanted was the singer to choose him, and he'd picked someone else -a man with fame, sex appeal, and a number of other qualities Hiro did not have. There was only one person he could love without being expected to be so many things he wasn't, and he had unconditionally allowed him to slip away.
Hiro would admit that there had been others, albeit the number was less than the fingers on his hand, but none had a fraction of the traits Shuichi possessed. He had even experienced a flicker of attraction for a certain Kyoto girl that contributed more to him than he could ever have asked, but time had told them that it wasn't right to be together as anything other than friends, and Ayaka had known, though she had never said, how he'd truly felt for Shuichi.
"Yuki..." The soft moan pulled him from jumbled thoughts, and Hiro realized that he'd almost missed the correct apartment. It was a miracle in itself he had made it this far without any accidents, and he couldn't even remember ever starting his motorcycle.
"Daijoubu-ka, Shuichi," he repeated, turning off the ignition after coming to a stop and gracefully sliding to the ground with Shuichi in his arms. "Don't worry." Hiro situated him in his grasp and appeared in front of Eiri's door in less time than he'd thought; Shuichi really didn't weigh very much. The apartment opened without Hiro having to push the buzzer and cobalt came face to face with somber lime for the first time in nearly a month. He would have bowed out of respect, but all he could do was nod his head.
"He doesn't appear to be mobile, the baka," Eiri examined, an unexpected grin on his face, and Hiro swallowed. The man looked like a dangerous feline stalking prey.
"I believe you should take him now," Hiro instructed, presenting the wide-eyed, yet stiff, boy to the lover whose place he wanted to take. "He wants you."
"Of course," he replied, smiling with sarcasm at the double meaning in his words as Shuichi was exchanged from roughened sun-burnt hands to smoother pale ones molded for the thing they did best -writing fictional romances for young women already in love with him.
Hiro did his best not to scowl and bowed.
"Please, take care of him..." Hiro glanced up from beneath his crimson bangs, surprised to find tenderness on the usually stoic writer's face. His hand was absently petting the soft skin of Shuichi's cheek, and Hiro had to fight back a wave of impending jealousy.
"He will be fine," Eiri told him, reaching down with Shuichi still in his arms to slip off his gyms shoes and set them aside.
"And the concert tomorrow." The novelist caught the edge of the door in his free hand, sizing up the youth.
"You will have your singer there." And, Eiri promptly closed Hiro out of his personal world, frantically lifting Shuichi so that he was forced to stare at him with lifeless eyes. "Shuichi? Shuichi?"
"Y-Yuki??" The genki vocalist blinked, tears brimming in his sapphire blue orbs, and he closed them, the liquid slipping down his colorless cheeks. "You know my name..." Eiri would have laughed had he not been on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Shuichi had only once looked as though he was dead, and it hadn't been a pleasant experience for either of them.
"Baka," he muttered, tightening his hold on him as he leaned down to kiss him. The moment didn't last long due to Shuichi's crying, but he was moving now, clinging hopelessly to his taller lover. Eiri vaguely comprehended that he was wearing his favorite shirt and that it was getting ruined by the tears soaking into it, but he shrugged it off and wrapped Shuichi into a tighter embrace, lifting him on to the tips of his toes.
He could always buy another.
"Aniki?" Eiri's eyes immediately flashed open at the voice. He'd completely forgotten that his brother was there, and he was standing at the other end of the hall, looking at him strangely. The writer easily lifted Shuichi into his arms and walked with him past Tatsuha towards their room.
"Don't touch anything," he commanded, disappearing entirely behind another door, and Tatsuha smiled.
TBC-
Track Three: Returning a Favor
Eiri's irresistible -and terrifying- gaze perforated his younger brother's as he watched him cross the bare wooden floor, puddles of water being left behind with each step. Directly trailing him, almost as faithfully as an obedient puppy, was Sakuma Ryuichi, as equally wet and soaked to the skin, his pale-colored shirt now see-through and clinging openly to his well-shaped, though somewhat skinny, frame. He stood in the middle of the room and held Kumagoro-san in front of him, wringing the bunny in a tight circle to relieve the stuffed animal of the liquid making it heavier than normal. Tatsuha chuckled, but upon noticing his sibling's eyebrow twitch, he quieted.
"I hope you had fun, Tatsuha," Eiri spoke sarcastically, his gruff voice sounding rougher than usual. Ryuichi skirted away from the writer as he walked towards them, using Tatsuha as a shield even though he peered over his shoulder to gaze at the blonde-haired man. There were few people in the known world that Ryuichi would not dare to touch or make angry, and Yuki Eiri was one of them. He seemed to be the coldest person alive, but according to his fellow singer and music rival, he wasn't as bad as he let on. Ryuichi begged to differ albeit he'd never admit it to anyone.
"Aniki," Tatsuha began, his pitch edging towards whiny. "Can't I explain." Eiri reached for a crumbled pack of cigarettes sitting on the nearest table, shaking it so see if any resided within.
"What's there to explain? You're late and dripping water all over my floor," he spat, crumbling the carton before throwing it into a metal wastebasket at his feet upon finding it empty. Ryuichi, having quickly lost interest in the frothing fight developing between the brothers, had drawn a broken pile of crayons from his jeans pockets and was sitting cross- legged on the ground, furiously scribbling tiny random pictures and kanji characters into the wood finish. Eiri rapidly found a new box of cigarettes and lit one, the nicotine-filled stick calming his nerves, and Tatsuha tried swallowing the lump in his throat.
"I...gomen ne, Aniki, but...I-I thought.." Eiri blew a cloud of smoke into his sibling's face, causing him to cough.
"Well, that must have hurt."
"Nani? Aniki." Tatsuha trailed off, evaluating his words, and he suddenly took a step back, nearly crushing Ryuichi's hand as he wrote an English word deeply into the now colorful area with a black crayon. "That was low!"
"Not any lower than your punctuality record, Tatsuha. Should I even allow you to be here? You and your friend," he quoted the word with a quick flash of his fingers, "are destroying my home."
"But that's not my fault, Aniki. Maybe if you-" Eiri arched a finely shaped eyebrow at him after removing the cigarette from his mouth.
"Maybe if I what? You're more pathetic than he is..always obsessing over things beyond your reach...like him for example," Eiri proclaimed, indicating the older man happily scrawling with the pastel-colored wax who immediately lifted his head to stare at the romance novelist and youth. Tatsuha's pale face was beginning to heat with the slightest indication of a blush, and he refused to meet the other's gaze. At first, the teen had been unsure of who he'd been speaking about, but then the obvious made itself clear; Eiri was comparing him with his lover, Shindou Shuichi and didn't appear ready to stop his assault.
"M-matte, Aniki...you don't-" Eiri smiled that bewitching grin of his -the one that made him look as sinister as he was beautiful- and flicked ashes into the small tray near his hand, which rested on the table.
"Oh, I think I do, Tatsuha," he stated, acutely aware of the strange transformation befalling the legendary singer staring up at them, his fingers poised delicately around the crayon, unmoving. "You're sixteen years old and instead of concentrating on important things that will help you, you're infatuated with a...a man almost twice your age." Tatsuha's cheeks were so crimson that they were nearly violet, and he could clearly see the question in Ryuichi's narrowed eyes that asked 'are you really that young?'. He swallowed harshly, feeling as though he had betrayed them both in some way.
"I.you said you wouldn't lecture me about what I did with my life. I can do what I want, Aniki, and that includes any "infatuations" I might have with anyone !" he shot back, scowling with an equally frightening grimace. "You make your own choices! Why can't I let you me make mine?!" Eiri seemed unfazed by the small speech, leaving his younger brother's lips trembling.
"I know what I told you, Tatsuha," he replied coolly, extinguishing the half-smoked cigarette. "However.despite what you might think, I am your brother and what you decide to do with your life up until the point you are an adult is my concern. I don't want you turning out like that baka singer who believes everything can be accomplished with just a fraction of the determination it actually takes. He relies on everyone else for his confidence-" Tatsuha clenched his fist, pointing back at Ryuichi.
"I do NOT gain my reliance from things like that !" he shouted, not realizing that his words of defense were spreading a mass amount of pain across a certain man's face. "I never have, and now you try to worry about me after six years?! It's too late for that, Uesugi Eiri! Ever since you left that day for America, I've had to do it myself. What makes you think I need you now?!" Eiri calmly walked to stand before him, his hands finding their way to damp, broad shoulders. He hadn't actually looked at his brother for a long time, and Eiri realized that Tatsuha was right; while he had been away -and even when he'd still been in Japan- his closest sibling had grown up without him. His features, which Eiri could distinctly remember being chibi-like years ago, were matured beyond all expectations, and if his ragged black hair was replaced with highlighted gold and his shadowed pupils faded to the lemon-green hue of his own, Eiri would have been staring at a mirror image of himself, only younger. It frightened him to know that his only brother, more Japanese than he could ever hope to be, was beyond being like him.
He was his near twin!
"Tatsuha.I haven't asked anything of you," he whispered, brutally resisting the urge to brush locks of ebony silk from the youth's forehead in an attempt to recover something that had been lost to him. "But you are still there when I need you..Shuichi told me what you did for him." It was odd to hear that name pronounced in his melodious low-bass voice, but Tatsuha was drowned in the hypnotic tone flowing into his ears and over his heart, and he ceased to care. He knew how much the petite boy -hardly worth being called the adult he actually was- meant to his brother, and when Eiri had completely disappeared, Tatsuha had been there, holding the youth's hand and broken heart, trying to make amends. He'd even held him while he'd cried himself to sleep some nights, perverted thoughts pushed aside though in his confusion and upset, Shuichi had tried to take "advantage" of him, calling him by his brother's name in a desperate effort to feel the "love" Yuki Eiri had given him.
He doubted he remembered, and he would never tell Eiri.
"Aniki-"
"Shh.Tatsuha...I want to thank you. It must have been difficult for you, considering his rather clingy reputation," he continued, smiling ever so slightly at the humorous thoughts flashing in his brain. Suddenly, Tatsuha wondered if Eiri could, indeed, read minds and if he had figured out what Shuichi had ventured to do to him; he blushed. "And, I also want to promise you something else. Something with a little more sustenance to it than the empty words of a bitter man-"
"Aniki, you aren't bitter..." Eiri's hand promptly covered Tatsuha's mouth to prevent him from speaking further.
"You only say that because you are my brother, but you truly haven't any idea whatsoever, Tatsuha," he muttered sourly, sneering sadly at his own words. "Do you remember that song? The one I wrote for your Nittle Grasper?" Tatsuha nodded numbly, picturing the exact moment -not believing that Eiri had called the mystical Nittle Grasper band his- and Ryuichi, who had been quiet, as well as lost in his own personal memories of the past, looked directly at Eiri, who stared back.
"Himei hodo mujaki na yoru ga hoshii," the vocalist murmured in his lyrical voice, startling the pair with his perceptiveness to understand what the infamous novelist was trying to say. In a slower tone he added, "Subete wa suna ni naru...". Eiri nodded, turning his attention back to Tatsuha.
"I want innocent more than screams," he repeated in English, hoping the teen could translate it though he knew the Japanese perfectly. "Everything turns to sand."
"Eiri...I..."
"It was that song that kept me from insanity, Tatsuha. The past threatened to kill me though I thought myself from its torture, and I had to write those words to save what was left of my soul. The baka boy never got it, but he was my connection to hope. I wanted to be innocent as you are..as you were in your childhood, but only agony was left." Eiri turned his head away, suddenly feeling weak. "Tatsuha, don't lose what it is that you have. It eventually melts into something useless if you don't know what to do with it."
"I...Eiri, I'm-" The sharp, shrill sound of a phone ringing somewhere within the apartment cut through Tatsuha's speechlessness and the silence, and Eiri moved away, the softness and tender demeanor dissolving with a wave of his hand as if it had never existed in the beginning.
"I'll be back. Don't get too comfortable," he commanded, entering the room he'd designated specifically for his laptop and writing sessions, leaving Tatsuha and Ryuichi alone. The singer, instantly abandoning his half-finished "masterpiece," leapt to his feet, Kumagoro-san clutched tightly to him in a newer appeal of affection though his precious, gem- glistening eyes were troubled.
"Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san should be leaving now, Tatsuha-kun," he whispered delicately, averting his gaze to stare at the floor instead. "We have worn out our welcome."
"Iie! Iie, Sakuma-sama, you haven't! You shouldn't let Eiri get to you like that! It's one of his less-admiring qualities, I admit," Tatsuha pleaded, afraid that his idol somehow thought him an idiot like he had feared. Ryuichi, beside himself with internal grief, smiled for his benefit.
"It's not that.Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san must go because there are things that need our attention." He stepped close, a drop of water, which had not dried, sliding down his cheek and along his jaw like a lonely tear as he tilted his head back to look at him.
"Oh." Tatsuha immediately felt beyond ignorant, but everything was starting to become incoherent at Ryuichi's proximity. It didn't seem that he knew what his closeness did to him, but perhaps in his own way, Ryuichi comprehended it all. "Sakuma-sama?" A shadowed grin greeted him, but the haunted look in Ryuichi's sapphire-shaded orbs sent a chill through Tatsuha.
"Hai?"
"I...I was...how did you know what Eiri was trying to tell me? I don't understand." Ryuichi's fingers skimmed over Tatsuha's cheek and briefly touched his lips before he drew away to head towards the door.
"I've experienced the same delusion of reality-" And without a sound, Ryuichi -as well as Kumagoro-san- was gone.
* * *
"Tachi...Aizawa...what are you doing back at NG-Records?! I thought Seguchi-san gave you specific orders never to return here," Hiro spoke, his voice finally returning. The red-haired youth had placed an arm around Shuichi's shoulders, but his friend was transfixed in permanent shock, his entire body still visibly shaking. Aizawa, a tenacious grin plastered to his lips, threw his head back and laughed psychotically, his hands withdrawing from the pockets of his trench coat.
"The only thing Seguchi Tohma did was direct me towards the front of an on-coming car. I was never prohibited from setting foot on NG-Records property." He gazed at his finely shaped hands, the manicured nails glistening beneath the artificial light. "How's the band, Shindou-san? Still stealing the spotlight from hapless competitors?" Shuichi opened his mouth, the beginnings of a sound on the tip of his tongue, but then he turned around and threw himself into Hiro's arms, whimpering.
"Save me," he ordered almost inaudibly, the entire ordeal with Tachi Aizawa resurfacing.
"Go ahead and scream...or cry...there isn't anyone to hear you. Even that pathetic Yuki Eiri would do nothing for you. I'll call him here if you don't believe me," Aizawa insisted, a sneer clinging to his taut features. Shuichi could feel the tightening of strong arms around his own, but he smiled nonetheless, momentarily unafraid of the man who was holding him captive by using three randomly selected thugs off the streets of Tokyo as mindless minions.
"If...if you touch Yuki...I'll...I'll kill you with my own hands!" he warned, the feel of Aizawa pulling on his lank pink hair oddly reminding him of the pain his abdomen was in. It was probably already bruised with the imprint of a shoe bigger than the width of his torso.
"Have it your way! You asked for this the day you dared rival ASK!" Aizawa threw his head back, releasing it, and Shuichi struggled fiercely, his strength centered on escaping, but two strangers holding him chuckled in his ear, their breath stale and sour, as one of them ran fingers under his shirt and over the sore skin, making him freeze with terror.
"Does your stomach hurt?" Shuichi pulled again on the hold restraining him, terrified now -as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest- and the third guy, his hair spiking and ears pierced several times, approached him, licking his lips and a burning gaze in his slit eyes. The singer bit deeply into his lip, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out as they beat and violated his defenseless body, each but Aizawa taking their turn. Somewhere off in the distance, when the anguish had been offset to a mere thrashing of fists and kicking of feet, Shuichi could hear the click of some machine -a camera- and he blacked out after that, unable to conceal anymore pain. When he awoke again, some time later, he was alone and half-naked, his clothes lying ripped and torn in a pile beside him, and Shuichi shut his eyes, the only thing he could move at the time and wept silently, hot tears comforting his injured face.
"Daijoubu-ka, Shuichi," Hiro whispered, stroking his friend's hair before glaring at Aizawa. "What Bad Luck does is none of your concern. Get lost before I help you.." The former musician lifted up his hands in defense.
"I asked for no trouble. You're the one threatening me." Hiro firmly held Shuichi to him, feeling the youth instantly cling to him like Velcro, and he clenched his teeth, realizing that Shuichi was lost in some fantasy world involving painful memories of betrayal and rape.
"I'm not threatening you, yet, Tachi-san, but if I must then I will. Now, step aside and let us pass or do you need assistance with that, too?" Aizawa scowled, his lower lip jutting out into a partial snarl, but he gave them room, the younger boy instantly moving forward, half-dragging Shuichi with him. Hiro didn't look back until they were well out of sight and near the front of the building where he had parked his motorcycle. He shook Shuichi, thinking to revive him, though he was still awake, and he sighed a frustrated breath when the limp singer clung tighter to him, his thin arms nearly choking off his air supply unintentionally.
"Shuichi, get a hold of yourself and look at me. He didn't do anything to you." He paused and stared at him, noticing the dead glaze in his usually vivid eyes. "Shuichi, are you listening to me?"
"I don't want to," he yelped, sniffling loudly in his ear. "Please don't make me..." At a loss for words, as well as beyond annoyed, Hiro skillfully reached around Shuichi, his hand unzipping and slipping into the bright orange backpack he had slung around him, extracting the cell phone Shuichi always carried. Hiro had a good idea who to call, but he couldn't remember the number, despite his friend having lived with him for almost two months, and he hit a random speed dial digit, praying to get the correct one. The ringing lasted a good minute and on the eighth faded noise, he was ready to hand up until a click, proceeded by a gruff voice, sounded.
"This better be important." A smile spread across Hiro's face.
"Yuki Eiri, there is something I must discuss with you," he replied, aware of the slight increase of breath on the other side.
"Who." A small chuckled escaped the older man. "What is it that you want?" Hiro, licking his lips in an almost nervous manner, hurriedly relayed the details of their meeting with Tachi Aizawa to his best friend's lover, instantly scared of the silence that followed.
"Is everything-"
"Can you get him here or do you need help?" Hiro blinked at the unexpected request.
"I can manage," he finally answered, intently aware of the heat flooding through him from Shuichi's proximity. "He's still mobile."
"Good-" A second later, the line went dead, and Hiro replaced his companion's phone, carrying him outside to where his trustworthy bike sat. He had never placed anything in front of him while he'd driven before -Shuichi had always ridden behind him with his body pressed snuggly to his- but it seemed he didn't have a choice; Shuichi wouldn't clutch at anything but his neck. Hiro eased him onto the seat, steadying him with a practiced hand, but before he could do anything else, fingers enveloping a fistful of his loose t-shirt gripped him tightly.
"Shuichi," Hiro whispered, trying to pull away from the hold. "You have to let me get my arm around you." Shuichi's grip melted away, and Hiro straddled his bike, a supportive limb wrapped securely around a thin waist, pink hair tickling the side of his face when Shuichi reclined back, resting on him. The position was all too inviting, he would never have known, but Hiro quelled his thoughts, furious with himself for thinking such things. It was true he desired his best friend in a way that was forbidden to a relationship, but he had not realized how much it had hurt after he'd told Shuichi to get a lover, either boy or girl, when all he'd wanted was the singer to choose him, and he'd picked someone else -a man with fame, sex appeal, and a number of other qualities Hiro did not have. There was only one person he could love without being expected to be so many things he wasn't, and he had unconditionally allowed him to slip away.
Hiro would admit that there had been others, albeit the number was less than the fingers on his hand, but none had a fraction of the traits Shuichi possessed. He had even experienced a flicker of attraction for a certain Kyoto girl that contributed more to him than he could ever have asked, but time had told them that it wasn't right to be together as anything other than friends, and Ayaka had known, though she had never said, how he'd truly felt for Shuichi.
"Yuki..." The soft moan pulled him from jumbled thoughts, and Hiro realized that he'd almost missed the correct apartment. It was a miracle in itself he had made it this far without any accidents, and he couldn't even remember ever starting his motorcycle.
"Daijoubu-ka, Shuichi," he repeated, turning off the ignition after coming to a stop and gracefully sliding to the ground with Shuichi in his arms. "Don't worry." Hiro situated him in his grasp and appeared in front of Eiri's door in less time than he'd thought; Shuichi really didn't weigh very much. The apartment opened without Hiro having to push the buzzer and cobalt came face to face with somber lime for the first time in nearly a month. He would have bowed out of respect, but all he could do was nod his head.
"He doesn't appear to be mobile, the baka," Eiri examined, an unexpected grin on his face, and Hiro swallowed. The man looked like a dangerous feline stalking prey.
"I believe you should take him now," Hiro instructed, presenting the wide-eyed, yet stiff, boy to the lover whose place he wanted to take. "He wants you."
"Of course," he replied, smiling with sarcasm at the double meaning in his words as Shuichi was exchanged from roughened sun-burnt hands to smoother pale ones molded for the thing they did best -writing fictional romances for young women already in love with him.
Hiro did his best not to scowl and bowed.
"Please, take care of him..." Hiro glanced up from beneath his crimson bangs, surprised to find tenderness on the usually stoic writer's face. His hand was absently petting the soft skin of Shuichi's cheek, and Hiro had to fight back a wave of impending jealousy.
"He will be fine," Eiri told him, reaching down with Shuichi still in his arms to slip off his gyms shoes and set them aside.
"And the concert tomorrow." The novelist caught the edge of the door in his free hand, sizing up the youth.
"You will have your singer there." And, Eiri promptly closed Hiro out of his personal world, frantically lifting Shuichi so that he was forced to stare at him with lifeless eyes. "Shuichi? Shuichi?"
"Y-Yuki??" The genki vocalist blinked, tears brimming in his sapphire blue orbs, and he closed them, the liquid slipping down his colorless cheeks. "You know my name..." Eiri would have laughed had he not been on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Shuichi had only once looked as though he was dead, and it hadn't been a pleasant experience for either of them.
"Baka," he muttered, tightening his hold on him as he leaned down to kiss him. The moment didn't last long due to Shuichi's crying, but he was moving now, clinging hopelessly to his taller lover. Eiri vaguely comprehended that he was wearing his favorite shirt and that it was getting ruined by the tears soaking into it, but he shrugged it off and wrapped Shuichi into a tighter embrace, lifting him on to the tips of his toes.
He could always buy another.
"Aniki?" Eiri's eyes immediately flashed open at the voice. He'd completely forgotten that his brother was there, and he was standing at the other end of the hall, looking at him strangely. The writer easily lifted Shuichi into his arms and walked with him past Tatsuha towards their room.
"Don't touch anything," he commanded, disappearing entirely behind another door, and Tatsuha smiled.
TBC-