Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ The Opposite of Gravity ❯ Confessing His Sin ( Chapter 8 )

Track Eight: Confessing His Sin

Eiri blinked, adjusting his sight to the dimness of the local hospital, and he found he was nervously biting his lip before he could pull himself together. It had been a habit he'd long forgotten or perhaps it was he'd never had to worry so much about anything before. Eiri could remember those peaceful weeks of solitary confinement where writing was the only significance in his life -that and drinking and smoking- but Shuichi's abrupt and forceful push into his life was difficult to deal with. The novelist could handle stress, or at least, he had been able to until the built-up surplus of suppressed memories had sent him to the hospital. Being back in a pristine place full of agony and the clean smell of death wasn't something he enjoyed. Eiri tried to smile as he casually strolled onto the elevator and hit the button for the specific floor the nurse at the registration desk had told him.

What women wouldn't do for a kind word and sweet smile from the ever-attractive Yuki Eiri…

The writer leaned against the wall, fingers itching to light one of the cigarettes in his pocket, but rules were rules, and Eiri didn't want to get thrown out before retrieving his lover. He could imagine the look on Shuichi's face when he showed up, almost concerned enough to care that his best friend had been hurt, and the thought was almost worth the trip. The pink-haired ball of energy was undeniably kawaii, though he was too feminine for his own good, and it was everything about him that made that allure which drew so many to him. Somewhere within him, Eiri was proud to say he had claimed the singer for his own, and just the very image of Shuichi lying wantonly in his arms sent his hormones into overdrive. Eiri knew it wasn't all about sex, not that he didn't like it, but sometimes he just couldn't help it.

He was only a man, after all, and being in an elevator brought back some fine memories.

Well, there weren't actually any memories, just one in particular Eiri could really think of, and the edge of his mouth curled upward at the thought. He'd had his first taste of the singer in an elevator, as it shut them inside their own world, and Shuichi had played the shy little virgin, blinking stupidly up at him while he'd kissed him to his content. Eiri hadn't taken the time to think he really had been a virgin -for all he knew, the boy could have been messing with his head- until the night after his first concert and Eiri had made love to him. Shuichi had cried incessantly then. `Itai, Yuki,' or `Yamero, Yuki,' had been the only thing he'd heard until he'd managed to get him subdued enough to give him the privileged experience of his first orgasm. At least, Eiri had taken it to be that. He'd certainly yelled his name loud enough, and his hearing had never truly recovered from it, but why was he thinking about all this now?

Shuichi wasn't a sex toy, but, Eiri thought with sarcasm, that could have been debatable, too. He certainly liked giving almost as much as he received.

"Konnichi wa, Eiri-san," a voice murmured softly as he stepped out of the elevator, his thoughts receding to the present despite the image of a naked Shuichi in the back of his mind. Eiri scowled habitually, disliking being snuck up upon, and he had to force himself not to roll his eyes in mock agitation. His brother-in-law emerged from the shadows, clothes a little more casual than usual, but he still looked better dressed than he did. Eiri had been in too much of a hurry to actually care, he was dressed in his writing attire -a loose pair of slacks and a shirt two times larger than his thin frame- completely mismatched with the only shoes he owned. He shrugged nonchalantly, his fingers burning to light a cigarette and smoke it.

"Tohma." Well, at least he had acknowledged him. His sister's husband brought back too many unwanted memories, though he'd confronted them with his ever-energetic lover's help. He had met Yuki Kitazawa because of Tohma and because of Tohma, Yuki Kitazawa had died, accidentally murdered in terrified self-defense.

"Eiri-san, what are you doing here? I thought you had developed a fear of these places," he spoke gently, giving him that wary smile Eiri could never trust. Tohma deciphered people, almost like a second profession he had to dutifully perform, but no one could figure the producer out. He was an unreadable book, grinning through deceit and conviction, and that single characteristic made Eiri cautious.

"I had to get out," he replied, his hand slipping into the pants pocket that held his portable pack of heaven. What he wouldn't do to just smell the nicotine…

"So desu-ka? And, a hospital was a place you chose to...get out to?" Lemon-lime eyes flashed dangerously.

"What is it that you want, Tohma?" Light reflected across his face, highlighting his platinum hair, and Eiri took a step back.

He looked like an angelic devil.

"To know how you are. We barely talk anymore, Eiri-san."

"We never talked, Tohma." He smiled smoothly at him. "I'm fine." He tried to walk past him, intent on reclaiming his lover and taking him home, where he belonged, but Tohma grabbed the writer's wrist.

"Matte, Eiri-san. That's not what I meant." Eiri glared harshly at him, almost repulsed at his contact. It had been one thing to be sixteen and comforted by him when he'd realized what he'd done, but it was something else to touch him without permission, now. Eiri could not stand it, and it was a privilege he designated only for Shuichi.

"You seem to have a lot of difficulty saying what you really mean these days, Tohma."

"Eiri-san-"

"Iie. Just let it go, Tohma. Can't you see that I don't care anymore?" Blue eyes blinked up at him, oddly reminding him of those innocent looks Shuichi would always give him to convince him to do something he wouldn't ever think of doing.

"I don't know what you mean, Eiri-san." Eiri couldn't resist rolling his eyes this time.

"You and I both know you're not stupid." He paused, his gaze flickering to watch a couple walk past them and further on down the corridor. "I didn't come here for this. Please excuse me."

He may have been harsh, but he wasn't cruel.

"What did you come here for, then, Eiri-san?"

"Think about it. You'll figure it out...eventually." Eiri resumed his course of action, the dimmed hallway barely lit enough to allow him to read the room numbers, and he could hear the soft sigh of disappointment as he fled. He hadn't wanted any confrontations, especially with Tohma, since it would have only ended in someone getting hurt, but Eiri supposed it was unavoidable. He didn't have any real control over the situation. Eiri ignored the guilt rising in his chest -it was one annoying side effect of having Shuichi as a lover; he could always soften him- and entered the doorway designated to be Nakano Hiroshi's, his name printed neatly beside the entrance.

His eyes adjusted to the bright shine of the moonlight pouring into the room, instantly narrowing in on the tiny body curled up against the bed, pink hair contrasting with the white blanket covering the singer's friend. Eiri glared at the fact Shuichi's fingers were tightly intertwined with the guitarist's, but he knew it was nothing to truly worry about. Shuichi obviously loved his companion, but it was a different form of love than what he felt for Eiri. At least, Eiri thought that to be true. Sometimes, it was difficult to tell with his rambunctious lover always flitting about saying `Hiro, this,' and `Hiro, that,' with the customary `Sakuma-san, this,' and `Sakuma-san, that,' to follow.

Maybe Shuichi loved everybody. Eiri did not know.

The novelist's steps evaporated when he'd walked halfway across the floor, his vision finally adjusting itself to the lack of illumination, and he blinked at the extra person occupying a chair by the window, eyes fixed at some untraceable object in the darkened distance. Eiri was almost sick of seeing the image of Sakuma Ryuichi everywhere around him -Shuichi worshipped the pop star legend and his brother was beyond obsessed with him- but something seemed different about him as Eiri watched the man shift in his seat. He held himself with more dignity and had less of a child's expression upon his face, even the frown was almost fashioned to fit his elfin features, but there was something in his shadowed orbs of sapphire that nearly made Eiri shudder. He looked worn, stretched too thin over the course of time, and at that very moment, Sakuma Ryuichi showed every day of his thirty-one years in the pitiful loneliness the once-popular vocalist was silently conveying.

How could anyone truly compare his precious Shuichi -young and full of life- with something as half-dead as him?

"Naa, Yuki Eiri-sama," Ryuichi murmured, noticing him despite the fact that he had not moved. "Are you here for Shuichi?" The honor and respect surprised Eiri. He never would have thought one as greatly cherished as Ryuichi would hold an equal amount of the same emotion for someone as rash as his petite lover. Shuichi was famous, Eiri would admit, almost as much as the other had been, but he hadn't the natural, untapped talent Ryuichi still possessed.

"Hai." His voice sounded cold and empty in the vast room, but Ryuichi didn't seem to care what his answer was. He rubbed the outstanding white patch of gauze on the inside crook of his elbow and turned to stare at him, completely exhausted.

"Daijoubu, Yuki Eiri-sama. He's fine." Eiri gazed at him, almost speechless, and he then turned towards Shuichi, watching with fascination as the boy mumbled in his sleep and commenced to openly drool on the sheets.

"Baka," he murmured, walking to stand next to him. Eiri no longer wanted a cigarette as badly as he wanted and needed Shuichi. He was the epitome of beautiful -soft locks of mesmerizing pink falling over his tiny, kawaii ears and the neck he liked so much- and Eiri instantly forgot that he was in a hospital, in a room with two other people. He knelt beside him, articulate fingers stroking at his cheek, and hazy blue eyes slowly peeked open, staring at him in a daze before one of his timid, blood-boiling smiles slid onto his face. Eiri couldn't help returning the gesture, and he tilted his head to the side, running nimble fingers into the strands of his hair. "Are you hurt?"

"Iie, demo-" Shuichi glanced nervously at Hiro, his face serene in the moon's glow, and he agonizingly worked himself free of his friend's hold before turning to wrap his arms around his lover. His familiar tobacco and cologne smell swathed him, and he nuzzled his neck, whimpering quietly. "Hiro's-" He was obviously on the verge of tears from the fault in his light, nearly childish voice.

"I know," Eiri whispered softly, enfolding the singer in his arms. "I know." Shuichi shook his head and sniffed.

"Iie. It-it was my fault, and-and…Yuki, I have to tell y-you something…" Eiri peeled him off of him to tilt his chin up.

"Urasai." The writer crushed him mouth forcefully against Shuichi's lips, his tongue prying between them to delve inside, and he could feel himself getting lost even as the vocalist struggled to get away.

"Iie, Yuki! This is important-" Eiri grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Then what is it?" he hissed furiously, upset that his fun was not being so willing as usual. Shuichi bit his lip.

"Well, you see I…I-I mean…Hiro and I…we-" The chair Ryuichi was sitting in -the singer quietly forgotten in his own world- flipped backwards as he suddenly stood, eyes frantically searching the room before landing on the almost intertwined Eiri and Shuichi. A blush fell onto his face.

"G-gomen. GOMEN!" he repeated, fleeing the room, his fluffy bunny companion forgot on the sill of the window he'd been looking out of. Shuichi blinked in confusion, staring brazenly up at his lover, and Eiri only glanced back at him, unable to answer his silent question.

Why had Ryuichi been crying?

TBC-