Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ This I Promise You ❯ I Want to Spend My Life that Way (Part 1) ( Chapter 6 )

This I Promise You

Prequel to: Because of You

Written by: Chocho

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation, but I do own the poem, “My Everything” featured.

Story summary: Everybody assured him Rinjin Yasashii was just another obsessed fan with a crush and that there was nothing to worry about. Little did they know how wrong they all were.

Chapter summary: He's the love of my life. I can't even imagine what my life would be like without him and I have no plans of ever finding out. I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him.

Warnings: M-preg, explicit sex, language, violence, angst

Key: [Blah] or Blah blah blah: flashback/dream

BLAH or Blah: stressed words

*: change in POV or time

 

***

 

Chapter 6: I Want to Spend My Life that Way- Part 1

 

 

The leather chair squeaked as Eiri sat back. Taking off his reading glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, sighing deeply. Slipping his glasses back on, he stared at the computer screen, rereading what he wrote and cringed.

 

“Kami-sama! It's worse than a cheesy chick flick!”

 

People would start thinking he was a soft hearted, emotional fool. They already believed he was one of the most romantic men because of his books. If he left what he just wrote in, his reputation would only get worse. The fact that what everybody said about him was true was beside the point.

 

Highlighting the text, he was about to hit “delete” when a buzzing sound gave him pause. He blinked and glanced at his phone. The small cellphone danced across the desk top, the blinking green light illuminating the side of his laptop. He had turned off the ringers to all the phones in the apartment, including their cell phones. The singer needed as much sleep as he could get and there was no way in hell he was going to let anything wake Shuichi up. Eiri blinked at that thought. “Wow, over-protective much,” he muttered to himself. Grabbing his phone before it vibrated right off the desk; he glanced at the familiar number on the caller ID. “About time,” he grumbled. Flipping the phone open, he snapped, “Where the hell've you been?”

 

“Good morning to you, too, Eiri,” came the soft voice over the line.

 

“I've been trying to reach you all goddamned morning!”

 

“So, I've heard.” Tohma sighed. “Eiri, you really have to learn to-“

 

“Save it, Tohma! I'm not in the mood!” Sniffing, the writer cleared his throat sharply. He reached for his cup and drained the rest of the sweet liquid.

 

Tohma Seguchi raised an eyebrow as he listened to his brother-in-law. “Eiri? Are you alright?” he asked the novelist in concern.

 

Setting his empty cup on the desk and said, “Fine.” Clearing his throat, he coughed, trying to smother it. He asked his sister's husband where he has been all morning.

 

“Well, I didn't get into the office until eight-thirty because of the accident-“

 

Eiri snorted. Wow! A whole half hour before anyone else, well, except for Fujisaki but that did not count.

 

Tohma smirked. “Then Ryuichi, Noriko and I had a photo shoot and an interview for a music magazine. When I finally came into the office, I had a short meeting with Suguru. Apparently, Shindou's paranoia is contagious.”

 

“I could have told you that,” Eiri snorted.

 

Tohma smirked. “In ten minutes, I have one of several meetings that'll take up the rest of the day.”

 

“You're a busy guy, Tohma.”

 

The man chuckled. “Not only do I run NG, I'm also one of the top producers-“

 

The writer snorted again. “If you do say so yourself,” he muttered.

 

“-and Nittle Grasper is still one of the top bands in Japan,” he continued as if Eiri had not spoken.

 

“Ya know, it'd be very helpful if one of Japan's top keyboardist had a cellphone,” Eiri suggested sarcastically.

 

Actually, the man did have a cellphone. Or more appropriately, he used to have one…up until yesterday that is when it mysteriously vanished. When Eiri learned the usually clam, cool, collected and in control man misplaced a cellphone, he actually burst out laughing. Anyone would find it amusing to learn that a man who knew everything did not know where a small electronic device was. Just remembering had the writer chuckling.

 

“I do.”

 

The laughter died on Eiri's lips. “Really,” he asked, sounding doubtful.

 

“Traffic was so bad, I was able to run into the electronic store and buy one.”

 

“Uh, huh. It would've been nice to know that earlier.”

 

“You really wanted me that bad, huh,” Tohma teased.

 

Eiri rolled his eyes and snorted. “You wish.”

 

Tohma chuckled. “What did you want to talk with me about?”

 

“Shuichi.”

 

“You catch a bad case of paranoia as well?” he teased.

 

“You could say that,” Eiri deadpanned.

 

Tohma was suddenly sober. “Oh?”

 

“I want you to do something for me.”

 

All teasing was put aside. Tohma leaned forward, his face a mask of seriousness. “Name it.”

 

*

 

“No, Nakano-san, he hasn't,” the front receptionist said.

 

Hiro sighed. “Thanks, Naomi-chan.” He flipped his phone closed.

 

Suguru stared at the Bad Luck guitarist. “No luck?”

 

Shaking his head, Hiro again sighed. It was ten o'clock and Shuichi had yet to make an appearance, let alone call. The mess from the earlier accident had been cleared away and traffic had finally gotten back to normal. Michael, Kei and Kai managed to come in almost two hours ago. So, there was no way Shuichi could be stuck in traffic. That left two options; one, Shuichi had overslept and would be in any time now, or two…That was something he did not want to think about.

 

There was a problem with the first option though. If Shuichi was indeed at home, why was he not answering the phone? When, by nine o'clock, the singer still had not arrived, Hiro started calling the apartment Shuichi shared with Yuki-san, but there has been no answer. That could be because the two life partners were currently “preoccupied” and could not hear the phone or…Once again, that thought was left unfinished.

 

He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to get a little worried about his best friend. In an instant, the decision was made. Hiro clipped his phone onto his belt and grabbed his jacket.

 

“Hiro? Where're you going?” Suguru demanded. “We have a deadline-“

 

“I know,” Hiro told his manager and close friend. “I'm just going to drag Shu out of bed.” He yanked open the door and gasped, jumping when he came face to face with Michael, Kei and Kai. “Kami-sama! Scared the shit out of me,” Hiro breathed, placing a hand over his racing heart.

 

“Got the coffee,” the bassist announced, holding up a cup tray.

 

Michael glanced around the studio as he and the others walked inside. “Shu's not here, yet?”

 

Kai, who had been walking towards the couch, stopped dead in his tracks as once again he got that nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. It was like trying to remember a dream after you wake up or grabbing smoke with your bare hands.

 

Suguru sighed and shook his head. “I'm just glad Sakano-san is busy helping Predilection with their debut album right now. If he were to find out our singer was over three hours late, he'd have a conniption.”

 

The others agreed.

 

“Hey, Hiro,” Kei called, catching sight of the man as he vanished down the hallway. “Where're you going?”

 

“Out.”

 

Kei exchanged a glance with the others. Kai watched as the man vanished into an elevator. That anxious feeling continued persistently. He wished he could remember what it was he was supposed to do. It was driving him insane!

 

*

 

Violet-blue eyes fluttered open. Blinking, the man rubbed blurry, sleep filled eyes and yawned. He stretched, sighing contently. Smiling, he turned towards the other side of the bed and noticed it was empty.

 

“Huh?”

 

Propping up on his elbows, Shindou Shuichi swung his legs over the side of the bed. When his feet hit the floor, his toes touched something odd. He glanced down and saw a piece of paper. Curious, he picked it up. Centered on the paper in plain font was some writing. Unable to read it in the dark, Shuichi reached out blindly for the table lamp. He blinked, momentarily blinded. When his eyes adjusted, he saw another note taped onto the alarm clock, the red numbers glowing through the sheet of paper.

 

Setting the note in his hand on the bed besides him, he lifted the paper off the clock. “'Shuichi',” the note began, “'You looked so peaceful, I didn't have the heart to wake you, so I called you in.'” Shuichi smiled tenderly at the note. “Oh, Eiri.”

 

He chuckled, grinning like a madman. The man really did love him! Sighing contently, the singer hugged the note against his chest. Still feeling elated, Shuichi pushed a hand against the mattress and stood up. The sound of crinkling had him looking down at the bed. He noticed the paper he had stepped on. Picking it up, he read it. As his eyes scanned it, his face softened, tears of joy filled his eyes.

 

A face floats in my mind.

A name is on my lips.

I can't think.

I can't concentrate.

My mind wanders constantly back to you.

I see you everywhere.

Everything reminds me of you, of the time we spend together.

I try to block you out, to forget you but nothing seems to work.

My mind won't let the memory of you go.

It wanders back constantly.

I try to hate you, to find some fault, some flaw, to tell myself these feelings aren't real,

But nothing works.

You're my despair, my longing, my dream, my hope, my love, my everything.

You fix what's broken.

Your touch stops the pain.

Your arms comfort me and protect me.

When we're apart, I long to be with you.

When we're together, I long to be inside you, to hold you close.

“I get butterflies, tongue tied.

Everything I say comes out wrong.”

When I think of you, a smile lights my face and I know you're my despair, my longing,

my dream, my hope, my love, my everything.

 

With a smile on his face, Shuichi felt tears flowing down his cheeks.

 

As a writer, Eiri found it, ironically enough, difficult to express himself in any way other than in writing. That might be the reason why he got into writing in the first place. Even though the romance author loved Shuichi more than anything, he found it difficult to say those three little words, but Shu did not mind. The man showed it in dozens of ways each day. It was in the way Eiri looked at him when he thought he was not looking, the ways his eyes followed him around the house like a person elf-struck. Eiri expressed his love by his constant support. He said, “I love you” when he could walk down the street holding Shuichi's hand, or had an arm draped around his shoulders or wrapped around his waist when the two of them were in public. He said it he allowed Shuichi to cling to him and when he stood by his side through every new scandal. It was shown when they fell asleep in one another's arms and woke up besides each other. Eiri loved him. He always had and would forever, that Shuichi was sure of. Three simple words did not matter. Anyone could say them. That did not mean that they meant it or even knew what it meant.

 

Walking nude to the closet, Shu lifted a shoe box from the top shelf. Setting it on the bed, he lifted the lid and after a hug and a kiss, set the poem inside, replacing the lid. Returning the flimsy box to the closet, he noticed a black plastic dry cleaning bag hanging on the back of the door. Another note was taped to it. Curious, Shuichi yanked the note off the bag and unfolded it.

 

“'Don't ask any questions. Just, please, put these on and come to the living room. If you decide not to, I'll understand.'”

 

Shuichi flipped the note over in confusion. The back was blank. What was that supposed to mean? Folding the note, he set it down on the dresser and stared at the black plastic bag, trying to figure out just what kind of game his boyfriend was playing. Taking it off the hook, the singer laid it on the bed and stared at it again, trying to ascertain what Eiri could have left for him to put on.

 

His curiosity getting the better of him, Shuichi yanked the bag off, tossing it over his shoulder. He gasped as he stared down at the clothes. His hands flew to his mouth and his eyes grew wide. His vision blurred as his violet-blue eyes filled with tears. He swore his heart stopped dead for several long seconds.

 

“Kami-sama,” he whispered, his voice trembling as violently as the rest of him. “Kami-sama. This's gotta be a dream.”

 

The first thing he saw was a strand of juju beads. This twenty-one bead strand was like a Catholic rosary but shorter and represented Buddha. Next, he saw the white under kimono that was hidden under the haori and tucked into the hakama. White tabi and a pair of zori were in a clear bag hanging from the hanger.

 

The haori was a satiny smooth black silk jacket with a hand painted silk lining of a landscape. The short kimono coat had five little circular motifs woven into the cloth. The crests represented the Shindou clan. The black hakama was made of a polyester/cotton blend called duck.

 

Shuichi knew monks wore very similar outfits. Eiri, Tatsuha and their father were monks, so he had seen them in their formal wear countless times, but this time it was different. This particular attire was not for conducting Buddhist ceremonies. No, this outfit was what Japanese grooms wore when they wanted a traditional Buddhist wedding. Shuichi gasped. Did Eiri…Did that mean…? He ran a trembling hand over the soft, slick fabric of the haori. “Oh, Eiri,” he whispered. He felt like he was dreaming. And if he was, he did not want to wake up.

 

*

 

He hated waiting. He was not a very patient person. It was made worse by the fact that he quite smoking years ago. But it did not bother him as much as he thought it would, though. For Shuichi, he would wait a lifetimes, several if he had to.

 

A noise behind him had Eiri turning around. The sight that met his eyes had his heart skipping a beat and him trying to catch his breath. Standing at the head of the staircase in the five-crested haori and matching hakama, with his hair slicked back into a bun and the beads clutched in his hands was Shuichi. The boy-like man glanced briefly at him before looking away and blushing a bright pink.

 

The romance writer smirked. He's so cute when he blushes, he thought.

 

Striding across the room, Eiri waited at the foot of the stairs as his boyfriend carefully walked down to him.

 

Shuichi looked at him, his face as warm as if the sun was in his face. The look on his lover's face was something he had never seen before. His eyes sparkled and smiled. His lips curled into a tender smile. His whole face was soft and had a glow about it, a look that had Shuichi's heart beating double time and butterflies fluttering in his stomach like a swarm of trapped wild birds. His palms were slick with sweat and his mouth was as parched as a desert in a drought.

 

“Shu-chan,” Eiri managed to croak.

 

Shuichi blushed and had to look away. He was so nervous, he felt nauseous. He raised his head shyly and gazed at Eiri through his bangs. The writer was wearing an outfit similar to his. His haori was also made of black silk with an intricately brocaded silk satin lining. Unlike the grey-blue of Shuichi's, Eiri's silk lining was a gold color with an open paper hand fan with some illegible kanji, a temple in the countryside and a footbridge. Also like Shu's, the Uesugi clan crest had been woven into the fabric. It was worn over a black hakama, tabi and zori. Beads identical to the ones Shu was holding were clutched in Eiri's trembling hands.

 

Trembling?

 

Closer inspection told Shuichi that his lover looked just as nervous as he felt. He was swallowing and licking his lips constantly. His forehead, upper lip and palm were glistening with sweat. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart most likely beating a mile a minute. Just the thought of this usually calm and in-control man just as nervous as him, made Shuichi feel less so, ironically enough.

 

Taking a deep breath, Shu raised his head and held it high, staring at the other man with a tender smile and love shining in his eyes. “Eiri,” he breathed.

 

In unison, both mean reached out and linked hands. The beds clinked together between their palms. Eiri raised their joined hands and brushed his lips against the back of his boyfriend's knuckles causing the singer to blush again.

 

“C'mon,” Eiri whispered huskily. He led the singer across the living room towards the balcony door, where a shrine had been set up. He had been waiting for this his entire life.

 

***